Alright guys, another chapter is here!
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I'm just trying to do my best as a new author, so I genuinely welcome thoughtful, logical criticism I can actually apply to improve. The goal is to get better with every chapter.
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(POV/Rheala 3rd)
The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms
Rheala of House Targaryen, the daughter of King Viserys the First and the wife of Aegon the Second of House Targaryen. That was who she was; that was her identity.
Yet to her, it meant nothing when it came to her children.
All of those titles were nothing compared to her title as a mother, and yet she could not help but feel like an absolute failure as she watched her children play together while she stood by the chamber doors.
As a young lady, one of the things she had dreamt of was the day she would have children of her own—how well she would treat them, how she would care for them and give them comfort in times of sorrow, how she would be the first hand they sought when they needed aid.She had hoped to be a strong rock for her children—something her own mother... was not.
All of the dreams she had, all of the hopes, were the complete opposite of how their own mother, Alicent Hightower, had raised them.
Yet she had failed
.Somehow, amidst the safety of her own house, her children—her beloved children—were almost murdered.
And it haunted Rheala to the core.
She tried. She tried to be strong for them, but it was becoming ever clearer that what they had done—what her mother and grandfather had done—to put Aegon, her beloved, who was going mad with rage these days, on the throne did not align with her hopes as a mother.
And as she looked at her children, Rheala was beginning to realize she would have to choose between being a source of comfort to them... or a protector.
As she stood there, staring at the three small figures with tufts of white hair, playing, oblivious to the dangers around them, Rheala came to a decision.
She would speak with her mother.Because she was beginning to understand her. Slowly.
The reason Alicent had been so distant. The reason she was so hard on them. The reason they had never truly understood each other.
Because the conclusion Alicent Hightower had come to was the same one Rheala was coming to right now.
She could not hope to be both a caring mother and a protective one. For if she chose the path of protection, it would consume the time and energy she needed to care.
Thinking about her mother roused another thought in Rheala as she looked toward the window, watching the fully risen sun.
She should have been back from the Sept by now... where is she? Rheala thought.
It was a consistent habit of Alicent Hightower—after her visit to the Sept, she would see her grandchildren, and from there, begin her day full of tasks and political intrigue.
Yet, this morning, she was nowhere to be seen.
"Where could she be?" Rheala murmured aloud, and the servants in the room glanced in her direction, wondering if she was speaking to one of them.
.....
(Vealor pov)
(Vealor POV)
I heard the whistle of air behind me as I ducked under a sword swing, cutting down the man in question as I continued my assault, blocking the sword strike of another guard and kicking his abdomen, sending him crashing into the guard behind him.
I felt Yue strike down another man as he held his own against numerous foes.
Yue may not have been the most skilled swordsman, but his unique style—minimal movement and efficient striking—was a deadly combination. If one was not used to such efficiency, they would be cut down before they even realized what had happened.
"My lord!" I heard Yue's shout amidst the groaning and screaming of dying men as I sidestepped an incoming strike, hitting the throat of my attacker and feeling them crumble and choke, their windpipe crushed.
"Yes!" I replied, twirling to evade more strikes as I sensed the shuffling feet of two guards trying to attack me simultaneously. Their method failed as I quickly dispatched both, leaving them one limb less than when they entered the sept.
I felt Yue's presence behind me as he dealt with two men at once, making sure to keep observing him so he did not make a mistake that could cost him his life. I closed the distance between us while the chaos around us refused to subside.
"We need to get out of here. It won't be long before this commotion draws even more men, and we'll have our hands even fuller than they are now," he said, taking one man down while ducking under the slash of another, quickly bringing his blade down in a swift arc, ending him in one motion.
But as he reveled in his small victory, he missed one guard creeping up behind him. The guard swung his sword straight for Yue's neck.
As I observed the steel soaring through the air toward Yue's throat, I simultaneously evaded a sword strike and grabbed Yue's scruff, yanking him just enough for the blade to miss him.
I heard a sharp intake of air from Yue, the realization of what had nearly happened hitting him hard.
"Stay alert!" I shouted, snapping him out of his shocked state.
He quickly blocked another sword strike from the same man who had just tried to take his head, and with a swift slash, he bypassed the chainmail and took his attacker's head.
"I'm sorry, my lord!" Yue spoke, steeling his senses once again, his movements now much more precise and deadly.
I dropped to my knees, twirling as I sliced through the legs of multiple men before standing up to block two incoming strikes.
"Don't worry about it. But what you said is true—I can already sense more than a dozen men marching toward the sept," I informed him as I dealt with the two men in front of me.
"We need to find a way out!"
But just as I said that, amidst the grunting of fighting men, I heard the distinct sound of hooves striking stone.
My attention shifted momentarily before being drawn back by the war cry of an enemy soldier charging at me, making his presence a beacon.
He swung down hard, but I lightly tapped his sword, redirecting his force before cutting his arm off in one swift motion.
SWISH
The man crumpled to the floor, screaming in pain.
"Aaaugggghhh!"
Before I could process anything else, I heard the neighing of a horse and saw Ser Steffon entering the sept, holding the reins of another horse.
"My prince!" he shouted, catching both mine and Yue's attention.
Yue, hearing the call, quickly kicked the man he was dealing with away before turning to look at me, already beside him.
"Let's go," I ordered.
Both of us ran to the horse, Yue mounting first as I swung myself up behind him.
"You ready, my lord?" Yue shouted over his shoulder as I sensed the reinforcements closing in just outside the sept.
"Just go! We don't have time!" I barked before turning to Ser Steffon. "There are more than a dozen men outside the sept—we don't have the luxury of hesitation. We ride toward Dragonmont. Do you understand?"
Steffon nodded firmly.
"Good. GO!"
I tapped Yue, and with a swift kick, he urged the horse forward and we were off toward the Dragonmont.
.
....
(Alicent /3rd pov)
The Queen Regent of the Seven Kingdoms was currently shocked beyond belief.
Her morning had begun with the same routine it had followed every morning for as long as she could remember.
She had woken up with a heavy heart, just as she had since the passing of her husband, and to placate her feelings, she had gone to the Sept, like she often did.
This time around, though, there was an unwanted guest in the form of Rhaenyra, her childhood friend. They had a very emotional back and forth—so much so that, without meaning to, she had discovered that her husband, whom she had thought… no, whom she had wanted to believe had named Aegon heir with his last breath, had not done so.
If anything, he had been rambling about an old story, which she had stupidly interpreted as her son having the right to inherit the throne.
Which she was starting to regret by the day.
She was torn over Rhaenyra. On one hand stood her childhood friend, who had lost her father, her birthright, and, as if to twist the knife deeper, her own child.
A child who was killed by the very person she now remembered had once been sent to the Sept as punishment for that same crime.
Aemond.
She had tried to urge Rhaenyra to leave, but she was too stubborn, and it had cost her dearly when Aemond caught her trying to flee.
In that moment, Alicent Hightower felt both afraid for her friend… and yet relieved at the same time.
Maybe this would be it.
Maybe everything would end with Aemond capturing Rhaenyra.
Though she had long forgotten that hope was only a fleeting feeling—and that reality always had a different plan.
And this plan came in the form of a monster in human clothing.
Vaelor Targaryen.
The heir to the Iron Throne after Rhaenyra. Her firstborn son, who—until a moon ago—they had thought perished, lost to the sea.
Yet there he stood in front of her, looking as imposing as ever.
His face was completely scarred, his eyes—two ever-present white orbs.
Alicent had felt fear when she saw him. Not because of Vaelor himself, but because of the confidence and poise he carried himself with. She had been around warriors and knights her whole life, so she could tell when a warrior was just a little more formidable than the rest.
Yet when she looked at Vaelor and the three people shadowing him, she could not help but compare them to predators stalking their prey.
And when she came to this conclusion, the only thing she could think of was her and her sons' safety.
So she had called for the guards who had escorted her and Aemond, thinking they would be safe.
That was far from the truth.
It started with Aemond.
He, in his arrogance, believed he could take on Vaelor. Whether it was because of insecurity or something else, Alicent could not tell. But what had unfolded next—their battle—was something she would never forget.
Vaelor had first commanded two of his people—one of whom Alicent now realized was a woman—to escort Rhaenyra out. At first, she thought it absurd. They were surrounded.
But it was a stupid thought.
For Vaelor, without even looking, had taken down one of the guards blocking Rhaenyra's way with a knife he threw. The other was subdued by one of his men, who—without hesitation—cut him down after Vaelor's blade had lodged itself in the first guard's neck.
Before Alicent even knew what had happened, Rhaenyra was gone.
And in the next moment, she saw only her son being brutally beaten, like a child trying to fight a grown man.
There was not even a hint of difficulty in Vaelor's movements. Everything was effortless, as if he could read Aemond like an open book.
It scared her like no other.
Though what happened next—that was something she would never be able to unsee for the rest of her life.
Two men—Vaelor and the one she heard him call Yue—took down a dozen knights without so much as breaking a sweat.
If the Sept had once been the closest thing to heaven—
Now, as she looked at the mangled, disembodied bodies littering the sacred ground—
It could only be compared to the depths of the Seven Hells.
She watched as Vaelor and his men escaped, just as a robed figure rode into the Sept on horseback. Alicent recognized him immediately.
Ser Steffon.
Alicent stood there, frozen for what felt like an eternity before she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder, rousing her from her dazed state.
"... M-My Queen."
One of the guards, one of the lucky few who had survived, woke her from her shock.
Alicent, who felt nauseous, scared, helpless, looked around at the ruined Sept, seeing no monks or septas—having most likely fled after witnessing the carnage.
Then her eyes landed on the unconscious form of her son.
Without thinking, she started running toward him before falling to her knees, cradling his limp body.
"Aemond… Aemond… Oh gods, please…"
She panicked, shaking his body, seeing his chest rise and fall but no sign of movement from him.
"Aemond, please, wake up!"
She shook him harder, just as the sounds of shouting reached her ears—more men pouring into the Sept. Someone must have called them.
Her gaze flickered toward the doors, missing the fluttering eyelids of Aemond as he slowly began to wake.
"Mother?"
His voice was weak—a whisper.
Alicent's head snapped toward him, relief crashing over her.
"Aemond… thank the Seven," she whispered, bringing her head down to his chest in sheer gratitude.
Then, Aemond stirred further. His vision swam. His breathing was shaky.
And then—
"Where is he!?"
With a sudden burst of rage, Aemond shoved his mother aside and tried to stand, only to wince in pain as his body protested.
Alicent panicked. "No, don't! You've been hurt! We have to bring you to the Grand Maester—"
"I don't need a Maester," Aemond growled, his hands curling into fists, his entire body shaking with rage.
His eye darted across the bloodied Sept, realization dawning upon him as he took in the chaos.
And then—his expression twisted. His shock turned to fury.
His eye landed on the discarded sapphire, the one that had once been in his socket.
His fingers brushed over his now empty eye—a slow trickle of blood still seeping from the wound.
Then, he sneered.
His hand shot out, pointing at a guard. "You."
The man stiffened. "My Prince?"
"Bring me a horse. Now."
The guard scrambled away.
Alicent stepped forward, gently placing a hand on her son's shoulder. "Aemond, please, you're injured—"
Aemond slapped her hand away.
Then, he turned to face her fully, his expression dark, furious.
"And you," he spat, his voice dripping with venom. "Do not think me stupid. I know you were speaking with that whore from Dragonstone before I arrived."
Alicent froze.
"What were you doing, huh?" Aemond stepped closer. "Planning to forfeit the throne to her?"
Alicent didn't think.
She slapped him across the face.
The sound echoed in the ruined Sept.
Silence.
Aemond stared at her, expression unreadable.
Then—his lips curled.
And for the first time in years, Alicent felt true fear of her own son.
Aemond brought his hand up in front of Alicent, making her eyes snap shut, thinking—fearing—he was going to strike her.
But instead, he simply held a pointed finger before her eyes.
Alicent, realizing this, slowly opened her eyes to the sight of his outstretched hand.
"Don't ever do that again," he said, his voice low, sharp as a blade.
They stood there, staring at each other in silence. The hall was deathly quiet, the only sound being the heavy breathing of the men around them.
Then—
The silence was shattered by the sound of an approaching horse.
"My prince, the horse," the guard Aemond had sent out announced, arriving at the scene, his eyes darting around at the gathered men—many of whom seemed visibly shaken.
Aemond, who had been staring daggers at his mother, his face unreadable, finally turned on his heel.
And in one swift motion, he mounted the horse.
"Call for reinforcements," he ordered coldly, his voice carrying across the hall. "Tell them the pretender queen and her spawn are in King's Landing. Whoever finds them… kill them on sight."
With that, he kicked his horse into motion, riding out—leaving chaos in his wake as the hall erupted into action.
Alicent stood frozen, watching the disappearing figure of her son.
If she could even call him that anymore.
"My queen."
A voice pulled her from her thoughts. She turned slowly.
"We have to get you to safety. It's dangerous here," a young guard urged, his tone urgent yet careful.
But Alicent barely heard him. Her gaze drifted downward, landing on the lone sapphire lying abandoned on the ground.
It haunted her.
Still, she swallowed thickly, forcing herself to move.
With slow, heavy steps, she followed the guard
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