Chapter 6: The Unseen Hand of Fate
[POV: Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, The Queen Who Never Was - 101 AC]
The chill of the cavernous hall in Harrenhal did little to quell the heat of Rhaenys's fury. It was the year 101 AC, the year the old King Jaehaerys called his closest family and advisors. The air crackled with hushed whispers and thinly veiled ambition. She sat beside her husband, the Sea Snake, Lord Corlys Velaryon, her back straight, her chin held high, but her heart a tempest. This was her birthright, or that of her son, Laenor. Her claim, undeniable through her father, Aemon, the King's eldest son. Yet, they had gathered to deny her.
Her gaze swept over the assembled faces, a tapestry of skepticism and veiled contempt. They spoke of the Iron Throne, of succession, of ancient laws, but beneath it all, Rhaenys heard the true refrain: a woman cannot rule. And then, they spoke of Viserys, her soft-spoken cousin, Aemon's younger brother. He was amiable, learned, but hardly possessed the fire of their ancestors. He would be king.
But the true surprise, the true twist of the knife, came when the old King Jaehaerys, frail but still commanding, addressed the matter of future succession. He spoke of preserving the lineage, of ensuring strength. And then, he named Raegon, Viserys's eldest son, as heir to the Iron Throne, to be betrothed to Rhaenyra.
A child. A boy barely older than a babe, chosen over her son, over her own rightful claim. Raegon had been brought forward, a quiet infant, swaddled in silk, his silver hair a stark contrast to the dark cloth. He lay there, utterly unaware of the seismic shift in history he represented. Rhaenys felt a strange, inexplicable chill. Not fear, but a prickle of something ancient and deep, a sense of fate undeniable. There was something about that child, even then, that was… different. Jaehaerys had spoken of Raegon with a conviction that brooked no argument, a finality that silenced all dissent. The old King had seen something, a vision perhaps, that none of them could fathom. It was the right of the gods, he had said, and the lords had bowed. Rhaenys had seen it – the way Jaehaerys's eyes had lingered on Raegon, a look of profound understanding, of something beyond mere lineage. It was as if the old King had looked into the very soul of the infant and seen a destiny fixed by forces unseen. The will of the gods, Jaehaerys had called it, and it had quieted even the most vocal of her supporters.
She hated the injustice, the blatant disregard for her line. Yet, there was a part of her, a deep, ancient Targaryen instinct, that recognized the hand of destiny. Jaehaerys had chosen well, in his own way, even if it meant sidelining her. The boy Raegon, with his purest Targaryen blood, was clearly favored by the old King. Rhaenys knew that a king of Jaehaerys's wisdom would not make such a monumental decision lightly. There was a reason, hidden from them all. A reason whispered only to the gods, perhaps, or in dragon dreams that only true Targaryens could understand. She had heard tales of Raegon bonding quickly with Alduin, a dragon of immense power, even as a babe. Such a strong bond, so early, was rare. Perhaps Jaehaerys had seen the dragon in the child, and known the path of the future lay with him.
[POV: Lord Corlys Velaryon, The Sea Snake - 101 AC]
The salty tang of the sea was far from the stale air of Harrenhal, and Corlys Velaryon felt a familiar unease as he listened to the endless, droning arguments. It was the year 101 AC, and this gathering was nothing more than a thinly veiled charade to deny his wife, Rhaenys, her rightful place. He, the Sea Snake, who had sailed to the ends of the known world, who had built the wealth of Driftmark with his own hands and ships, was being sidelined by fearful lords who clung to ancient, broken traditions.
He had expected the slight against Rhaenys. The lords of Westeros were cowards, afraid of a woman on the Iron Throne. He had championed Laenor, his son, his strong, dragon-riding son. But even that was not enough. The old King, Jaehaerys, had silenced all opposition with his pronouncements, and then had spoken of Raegon.
Corlys watched as the swaddled infant, Raegon, was presented. A babe, fragile and unknowing. Yet, Jaehaerys's voice had resonated with an authority that left no room for doubt. "The future of our House lies with the line of Viserys, and through Raegon, his firstborn son. He is to be betrothed to Rhaenyra. This is the will of the gods, for the safeguarding of our lineage." The family and advisors, who had argued endlessly about legal precedents and male primogeniture, had fallen silent before the old King's pronouncement. It was as if Jaehaerys was speaking not just to them, but to something ancient and powerful, something beyond human understanding.
Corlys knew about Raegon. He had heard the stories, impossible for such a young child, of an unnatural stillness in the boy, a calm even amidst the chaos of court. He had heard whispers of the boy's extraordinary connection to Alduin, a dragon that seemed to grow faster and fiercer than any before him. He had also heard hushed tales from the stablehands, from the men who worked with the beasts in the Dragonpit, of strange occurrences when the child was near, a calming effect on the most agitated animals. He dismissed them as fanciful tales, but the sheer conviction in Jaehaerys's voice when he spoke of Raegon lingered. There was a hidden strength there, an inherent power that even Corlys, a man of the practical world, could sense. It was as if Jaehaerys, in his advanced years, had seen something in Raegon that others could not. He had seen the "right of the god" in the child, as Rhaenys called it, a divine mandate that superseded mortal laws. This was not just about lineage; it was about a force of nature. Corlys might resent it, but he recognized it. The path of the Sea Snake was always to see the currents of power, and this one flowed strongly towards Raegon.
[Interaction between Rhaenys and Raegon, years later - 110 AC]
Years later, on a brisk morning in the year 110 AC, Rhaenys found herself walking through the Dragonpit. The air vibrated with the low rumble of great beasts, a sound that always made her feel more at home than any castle. She spotted Raegon, now a young man, tall and poised, standing near the colossal sleeping form of Alduin. His hand rested lightly on one of the dragon's immense scales, and Alduin shifted, a low purr rumbling in his chest, a sound Rhaenys had rarely heard from any dragon, let alone one so fearsome.
"Prince Raegon," she greeted, her voice carrying a regal authority that few dared to ignore.
Raegon turned, his violet eyes meeting hers, sharp and intelligent. There was a quiet intensity about him, a stillness that was both unsettling and commanding. "Princess Rhaenys," he replied, giving a respectful nod. "A fine morning for dragons, would you not agree?"
"Indeed," Rhaenys said, stepping closer, her gaze sweeping from him to the dark, gleaming scales of Alduin. "Though your dragon seems... unusually content in your presence. He rarely allows others such closeness."
Raegon smiled faintly. "Alduin understands. He is a part of me, as I am a part of him."
Rhaenys felt a flicker of the old anger, the resentment from the Great Council, but she pushed it down. She had come here for a reason. "You were chosen, Raegon, over many others with strong claims. My son, for one. And my own. Do you ever wonder why?"
Raegon looked at the distant, spiky silhouette of the Red Keep against the morning sky. "The Iron Throne," he said, his voice thoughtful. "It is an ugly chair, isn't it? A testament to Aegon's conquest, forged from the swords of the vanquished. It looks as if it seeks to devour its occupants." He paused, then turned back to her, his gaze firm. "Grandfather said it was the will of the gods. And I believe him."
Rhaenys raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his blunt assessment of the throne. "The will of the gods can be a convenient shield for mortal ambition."
Raegon let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh. "Perhaps. But Grandfather was not a man of convenience. He saw what others did not. He saw the potential for ruin, for our family to turn on itself, to tear itself apart over that… chair." He gestured vaguely towards the Red Keep. "He saw that the Iron Throne could become a trap, a curse. He knew it could destroy our family."
He then looked directly at Rhaenys, his eyes holding a depth that startled her. "The Iron Throne will not destroy our family, Princess. Not if I can help it. Targaryens atop our dragons can melt ten chairs like that. What matters is the bond between us, the strength of our blood, and the future of our House, not who sits on a pile of rusted blades."
Rhaenys stared at him, surprised by the conviction in his voice, by the understanding he seemed to possess. He spoke with a wisdom that felt far beyond his years, a perspective that was distinctly different from the power-hungry courtiers. There was no boast, no arrogance, only a quiet certainty. She had come seeking answers, perhaps even to gauge his arrogance, but she found only a solemn dedication. Perhaps Jaehaerys had seen more than just a direct bloodline. Perhaps he had seen the one who could truly lead the dragons, and keep them from destroying themselves. The "Queen Who Never Was" felt a rare flicker of hope for the future.