July 7, 120 AC.
Dawn had barely broken over the Blackwater, yet the docks and city gates of King's Landing were already choked with iron and silk. Renowned lords from across the Seven Kingdoms flooded the capital, drawn by the rare spectacle of a double celebration: the engagement of Prince Aegon to Princess Helaena, and the remarriage of the Princess of Dragonstone.
Beneath the veneer of celebration, the nobility had fractured into two distinct camps.
Two-thirds of the visiting lords could not stop singing Prince Aegon's praises. They spoke loudly in every tavern and courtyard, declaring that stable maritime trade had only returned to the Seven Kingdoms because of the Prince's steel. Some, fueled by wine and gossip, boasted of "latest news" from the Stepstones—claiming the thirteen-year-old Prince had personally led a vanguard, hacking through dozens of pirates with his own blade.
Had Aegon heard them, he would have been mortified. Flying a dragon into battle was one thing; a boy his age carving through a horde of pirates on foot was a bard's exaggeration.
A smaller, though no less vocal, faction spent their breath recounting the glory of Princess Rhaenyra's youth, back when she was hailed as the Light of the Kingdom. They whispered dark rumors in response, suggesting Aegon hadn't conquered the Stepstones so much as he had been hounded out of them by the Triarchy and the Dornish. To them, the raiding in the south was not a sign of Aegon's victory, but proof of his failure to secure the narrow seas.
On the packed avenues of the city, these two truths finally collided.
The scarlet warhorse of House Bracken met the ravens and dead weirwood of House Blackwood. The two Riverlands houses, ancient enemies bound by blood feuds, sat atop their mounts, glares burning through the humid air.
Lord Humphrey Bracken, a staunch supporter of the Greens, looked down his nose at Samwell Blackwood. The crowd of lesser nobles instinctively drew back, vendors sensing the tension and scurrying to sell snacks to those eager for a show.
Humphrey was the first to draw blood with his tongue. "Oh, if it isn't Samwell. Today is the day the Princess remarries. Have you come to offer your blessings with that thick hide of yours? Ah, forgive me—my memory fails. A remarriage surely needs no blessings. It feels... inappropriate, wouldn't you say?"
"You foul-mouthed fool," Samwell retorted, his face darkening like a storm cloud. "I've noted every word. I will ensure the Princess and His Majesty hear exactly how a Bracken speaks of the royal family. We shall see how sharp your tongue is when you're answering to the King."
Humphrey's expression flickered, but he quickly recovered, a cold smirk touching his lips. "As you wish, idiot. You'll be the one to lead House Blackwood to ruin. I'll be waiting for that day."
With a sharp pull of the reins, Humphrey turned his horse and departed. The crowd groaned in disappointment; they had hoped for steel, not just spit.
Only after the Brackens had vanished did the Gold Cloaks emerge to "maintain order." The City Watch was now a house divided. One half followed Gwayne Hightower, loyal to the Queen's blood. The other half answered to the newly reinstated Commander—Prince Daemon Targaryen.
Upon his return, King Viserys had expanded the Watch to six thousand men, appointing Daemon as a second Commander. With Daemon's legendary charisma and ruthless methods, Gwayne had been nearly sidelined. It was only through Otto Hightower's constant counsel that Gwayne kept any semblance of authority.
As evening approached, the Red Keep prepared to blaze with a thousand torches.
King Viserys had risen before the sun, personally reviewing every detail of the day's rites. Clad in his heavy royal robes, he greeted the visiting lords with a jubilant heart. To him, the flattery was a balm.
"Your Majesty, the union of Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon will lead us to a new age of prosperity!" one lord shouted.
"Prince Aegon's vigil in the Stepstones has secured our future! House Targaryen is eternal!" cried another.
Viserys beamed. In his mind's eye, he saw a kingdom healed, a legacy that would endure until the stars fell from the heavens.
The doors to the Throne Hall swung open, and Queen Alicent entered. She wore a gown of striking Hightower green, looking more elegant and noble than she had in years. Since Otto's return had relieved her of the heavy burden of political scheming, the lines of worry had vanished from her face. She looked a decade younger, possessed of a radiant, mature beauty that commanded the room.
"Your Grace," Lord Humphrey Bracken cooed, leading a swarm of nobles away from the King to surround her. "The union of Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena is the greatest fortune to befall the realm. It preserves the purity of the dragon's blood."
Viserys felt a momentary twinge of awkwardness as half his audience abandoned him for his wife, but he smiled nonetheless. He crossed the hall, taking Alicent's hand and kissing her cheek.
"My dear Queen, you are breathtaking today."
"Am I?" Alicent teased, her eyes sparkling. "Does that mean I was plain yesterday?"
Viserys chuckled. "You are more beautiful with every sunrise, my love."
The nobles erupted into a chorus of sycophantic praise, their voices filling the hall until Otto Hightower arrived to disperse them with a single, stern look.
"I've had quite enough, Father," Alicent whispered once they were alone. "Their obsequiousness is enough to turn one's stomach."
"You didn't used to mind being the center of the world," Otto remarked with a rare, dry smile.
"That was then," she sighed, swirling the wine in her glass. "As Aegon grows, the flattery only gets thicker. I have no one left to simply speak with. I wonder where he is... his letter said he would arrive today, but there is no sign of a dragon in the sky."
"He will be here," Otto said. He looked at his daughter, noting her confidence. "You seem well, Alicent. You miss him that much? Perhaps you should simply go live in the Stepstones under his protection."
"Viserys would never allow it," she said, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm not so old that he's lost interest in me yet. Besides, your daughter is quite charming, isn't she?"
Otto gave a soft, knowing chuckle. "Your charm has not diminished, my dear. Though, compared to your mother, you still have a little way to go."
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