99 AC / 54 HA
Viserys
Grandfather's face tightened at the revelation. I could see he harboured the exact same thoughts I did. Daemon was already wed. While a tryst with an Imperial Princess could prove immensely beneficial to our House, the road to securing that destination was paved with likely rebellion. King Jaehaerys had cultivated a reign defined by justice and fairness. He could not sully decades of pristine reputation by annulling a consummated noble marriage on a whim.
"Are you certain?" the grandfather asked, his purple eyes cutting sharply towards my father.
Father offered a nod. "Daemon professed as much to me during my stay. The Princess also made her own efforts. She extended regular invitations for meals and sparring sessions over the course of the month we resided there. I initially believed she was aiming for my approval." Father paused, reconsidering his words. "No, it was more akin to assent. She wanted me to know, yet she was never forceful about her intentions. It was a remarkable display of power tempered by tact."
Father seemingly praised the foreign Princess for her guile. It was strange to see him offer that mocking smile.
Uncle Vaegon chimed in, his maester's chain rattling as he leaned forward. "Father, regardless of the origin of this affair, it is imperative we do not nip it in the bud. An alliance between the Iron Throne and the Imperium will bring about advantages that far outstrip any marriage in the history of our dynasty."
Grandfather did not share my uncle's enthusiasm. "No, Vaegon. You are blinded by the benefits of this arrangement and entirely miss the shortfalls. A marital alliance certainly holds immense benefits, but only when the right people are wed. The Emperor has only three children. If he ever agrees for his eldest daughter to marry a Targaryen, he will undoubtedly demand she be crowned Queen alongside her husband." Grandfather's gaze swept over me briefly before locking back onto Vaegon.
"As things stand, we do not have a man apart from Daemon to offer for such a union. I agree that the Princess has taken a liking to him, and while that may be answer enough for you two, I find it sorely lacking. The Emperor has not made his own wishes on the matter known. There is a reason for his silence. Until we know his thoughts, I cannot commit to your proposal." Grandfather answered in his capacity as king, his voice staunch and entirely devoid of sway.
"Father, then why not name Daemon the heir? After all, Baelon is your heir. Daemon can simply take the throne after him." Uncle Vaegon spoke the treasonous words offhandedly, as if discussing the weather.
BAM!
Before Vaegon could utter another syllable, my father's gauntleted fist slammed brutally onto the oak table. I did not even have time to process the shock of my uncle's proposal before Father's rage violently erupted.
"Mind your tongue, Vaegon! If anyone is to accede the Iron Throne after myself, it is Rhaenys. Aemon would be ashamed to hear you casually plot against his daughter's birthright!" Father roared, his voice shaking the very room. His dragon blood was burning hot.
A sharp pang of dejection settled in my chest. Father had not even considered me as a potential heir. I understood his profound love for Uncle Aemon, and I knew he would never willingly usurp his elder brother's line. It was only under Grandfather's direct threat that he had accepted the title of Prince of Dragonstone, yet he had made it abundantly clear he would never usurp Rhaenys. Still, a part of me yearned for him to favour his own blood, to view me as his rightful successor. It was a selfish thought, but not a treacherous one, for I never intended to act upon it. The ambition remained locked securely in the dark recesses of my mind.
Outwardly, I maintained a mask of pure stone throughout the shouting match. I stared down at the polished grain of the table before finally raising my head. I was startled to find that Grandfather had not been watching the shouting match between his sons. He was staring directly at me. He looked deeply amused. A tiny, knowing smile inked his wrinkled face before he finally turned his attention back to the argument.
"Baelon, rid yourself of these foolish notions of nobility. If anything, Viserys will be King after you. A woman can never sit the Iron Throne," Uncle Vaegon argued back, entirely unfazed by the outburst.
"Yes, she can! We are the blood of Old Valyria. We are one of the Forty. We have Dragons. We decide what is and isn't! If the lords of Westeros hold too many opinions on our succession, then they may test their grievances against Blackfyre and Vhagar on the battlefield. Rhaenys is Aemon's heir, and thus the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms," Father shouted back, his jaw clenched tight.
"You are absolutely right, brother. Every word until the very last," Vaegon countered smoothly. "For you see, we are Dragonlords. We are one of the Forty. We are Targaryens. But Rhaenys is not. Not anymore. She is wed to Corlys. She is a Velaryon. Giving her and her children dragons was a mistake, but Father allowed it. Yield any more ground, and the Targaryen dynasty will cease to be, replaced entirely by House Velaryon. That is saying nothing of Father's own claim to the throne, which rests entirely upon the precedent of excluding the female line. If you now proclaim Rhaenys to be Queen, you are abolishing that precedent. You will unleash chaos upon future generations." Uncle Vaegon delivered the stark warning with scathing criticism.