When Helaena woke, it was not yet dawn.
She lay beside Aemond and could feel that her husband was already awake—his body taut, like a bow drawn to its limit.
She turned gently and, in the candlelight by the bedside, saw his violet eyes open, fixed on the ceiling, as if lost in thought.
"You haven't slept?" she asked softly.
"Can't sleep," Aemond replied, his voice a little hoarse.
"There's still too much to arrange."
Helaena reached out and touched his face. His skin was still cold beneath her fingertips.
"After today… will everything be all right?"
"No," Aemond answered honestly. "After today, everything truly begins."
He sat up.
Helaena helped him dress—first the white shirt, then the padded layer beneath the mail.
Finally, she placed on him the black coat she had sewn herself, bearing the three-headed golden dragon.
"I had another dream," Helaena said.
Aemond paused as he fastened his belt. "What dream?"
"There were dragons… and fire…"
"That great red dragon fell from the sky…"
Her voice was very soft. "The flames looked at me. It said…"
"One man crowned king, ten thousand reduced to ash…"
Aemond turned, walked to the bedside, and knelt. He gently took her hand and looked up at her.
"Helaena, a dream is only a dream."
"Things are shaped by men. Nothing is beyond changing."
Helaena wanted to believe that.
Yesterday, when she had gone with her mother Alicent to the sept to pray to the Seven, she had heard the whispers of the noblewomen.
They said the king had only just died, and the prince was already rushing to crown his brother Aegon. They said Aemond held all military power, and one day he might usurp his brother's throne.
They said this war would drown the Seven Kingdoms in blood.
A maid knocked and entered, bringing hot water and towels. After washing, Aemond fastened the sword Blackfyre at his waist.
At last, he glanced at Helaena. "Stay with Mother today."
"No matter what happens, don't leave her side."
"And you?"
"I'll make sure everything proceeds smoothly," Aemond said. A cold glint flashed in his violet eyes.
"Whoever dares cause trouble today, I'll kill them."
He turned and left.
As the door closed, Helaena heard the dense, rhythmic footsteps outside—not just Aemond alone, but the long-awaited royal guard, marching away in heavy, orderly steps.
...
Aegon's leg throbbed with pain.
Not long ago, a physician arranged by Aemond had just changed his dressing and rewrapped the wound.
But a broken bone was still a broken bone—it would take time to heal.
Now he stood before a mirror, leaning on a cane, staring at the man reflected there in coronation robes.
"Your Grace, it's time to depart," a maid reminded softly.
Your Grace.
The words made his heart tremble.
From this day on, he would be Aegon Targaryen II, lord of the Seven Kingdoms.
Yet he felt no joy—only fear.
He feared the Iron Throne. He feared war. He feared Rhaenyra and Daemon.
And he feared his brother Aemond—the one who always stood behind him, pulling every string.
He feared that faint, ever-present sense of death…
The door opened.
Queen Alyn entered.
She wore a white velvet gown trimmed with sable at the collar, and a golden crown set with sapphires upon her head.
"I'll help you," Alyn said gently.
Aegon knew what she was thinking.
She was queen now.
This woman he had married for politics—though there was no burning love between them—he had to admit, Alyn was a good wife.
She always thought of him. She always planned for his sake.
The maids withdrew.
Alyn straightened his clothes, her movements light. Still, the pain made Aegon frown slightly.
"Bear with it," she whispered at his ear. "After today, you'll be king."
"Everyone's fate will be in your hands."
"In my hands?" Aegon gave a bitter smile. "Or in Aemond's?"
Alyn's hands paused. After a moment, she said, "Aemond is your brother. He will assist you."
"Assist? Or control?"
"You have the name. Everyone acknowledges you."
"The nobles acknowledge me, but the army is his. The governance comes from him too."
"And these Crownlands lords—he's the one who tamed them into dogs."
When he finished speaking, the husband and wife looked at each other.
Alyn was the first to avert her gaze. She spoke softly, trying to persuade him: "No matter what, you must first sit upon the Iron Throne."
"Only after you sit it can we speak of anything else."
Aegon sighed helplessly.
A knock came from outside. "Your Grace, the Royal Guard has assembled at the Red Keep."
"It is time."
It was Ser Criston Cole's voice.
Aegon took one last look at the mirror.
The silver-haired, handsome man inside wore the king's black robes—but leaned on a cane, like a crippled dragon.
"Let's go," he said.
...
The sun rose, but the morning mist had yet to disperse.
At the foot of Visenya's Hill, a sea of people gathered.
The smallfolk of King's Landing crowded both sides of the road, craning their necks in anticipation.
Today was not only a coronation—there would also be rewards. White bread without limit, free meat stew, and each person would receive two copper stars.
A new king handing out food and coin—that, to many of the smallfolk, was what mattered most.
"Make way! Make way!"
Along the road, the king's soldiers shoved the crowd aside roughly, clearing a path for the escorting knights of the Royal Guard.
Those slow to react were knocked down, causing brief disturbances that were quickly suppressed.
Two carriages came from the direction of the Red Keep.
The first carried Aegon, Alyn, and Alicent. The second carried Helaena.
Aemond did not ride in a carriage. He had already gone ahead to the great hall, preparing.
To prevent any possible mishap.
...
Inside the carriage, Aegon sat in silence.
Alyn looked tense, holding his hand.
Across from them, Dowager Queen Alicent was dressed in black, her head veiled, her expression solemn.
"Aegon?" Alicent asked softly. "Are you not pleased?"
Aegon gave a bitter smile. "This crown… Aemond would wear it better than I."
"Perhaps I was never suited for it."
Hearing her eldest son speak such foolishness again, Alicent suppressed her anger.
"Don't speak such nonsense!"
"You should at least show some dignity—face all this with a smile."
"And your father was poisoned. You must avenge him."
"Enough." Aegon cut her off. "Whether it was Rhaenyra who killed him isn't even certain."
"You wretched boy!" Alicent raised her hand and struck him lightly.
Alyn quickly touched Aegon's cheek. Fortunately, it wasn't hard—no mark remained.
Otherwise, it would have made a spectacle at the coronation.
"You doubt your brother?" Alicent's voice trembled. "You doubt Aemond?"
"No." Aegon lowered his head and took out the Valyrian steel dagger from his robe.
It was his father Viserys's relic. He turned it in his hand.
"You all say I'm a fool, but I can see the ambition in Aemond's eyes."
"He doesn't even try to hide it."
"What am I to him?"
"A stepping stone?"
"Aemond would never," Alicent said firmly. "Not while I still live."
"You are your father's chosen heir."
"I'm only… the choice he had no other option for…" Aegon looked out at the cheering crowds and sighed.
Alicent fell silent.
Suddenly, Aegon turned his head, looked at her, paused—and asked: "Mother… did you ever love me?"
Alicent froze.
After a long while, she said, "You truly are a fool…"
The carriage continued forward, and outside, the roar of the crowd grew louder and louder.
---
I will post some extra Chapters in Patreon, you can check it out. >> patreon.com/TitoVillar
---