Chapter Text
THE BLACK DRAGON TRIUMPHANT
Being the Final Destiny of Ice and Fire
By Archmaester Lonnel of King’s Landing, in the Reign of Aella II
With Editorial Commentary and Recovered Accounts
CHAPTER I — THE HEIR, THE GRIEF, AND THE SHADOWED HAND
(With Reference to “The Black Triumph,” written in the 7th Year of Queen Aella II's Peace)
“History is a lantern held by the victors; yet even in shadow, the truth of dragonfire leaves its marks.”
— Archmaester Vaelarion, Commentary on the Reigns of the Targaryen Queens
I, Lonnel, Archmaester of history in the reign of Aella II Targaryen, set quill to parchment to correct the distortions long whispered by the maesters of Oldtown, whose loyalties, even in the centuries after their disgrace, incline forever toward their fallen Hightower patrons.
No subject has suffered greater mutilation beneath their quills than the reign of King Viserys I and the ascent of Queen Rhaenyra, who preserved the dragons, the dynasty, and the prophecy of Aegon the Conqueror.
For the sake of truth—and in honor of Her Grace Aella II, current rider of the ancient Syrax—I present the first uncensored account of the fall of the Greens.
This chronicle draws upon many sources:
- The Black Triumph, an early and overtly pro-Targaryen account;
- Ash and Sea, the Velaryon sea-records;
- The Testament of Daemon, a collection of The Rogue Prince’s sayings and war-letters;
- fragments of banned Green texts, preserved only so that they might be refuted;
- the sealed court archives of King’s Landing; and, most importantly,
- the Deepscrolls of Dragonstone, recovered during Queen Aella II’s restorations.
From these, a truer picture emerges.
Let this chapter begin with the sorrow that shaped the realm.
THE DEATH OF A QUEEN
“Never had the Red Keep felt colder than on the night Queen Aemma died. King Viserys walked the halls like a man newly returned from war—though the wound was in his heart and not his flesh.”
— The Black Triumph
Queen Aemma Arryn, beloved by all, died giving birth to a boy who lived but a single day. The loss was not merely familial; it struck the King’s very identity. King Viserys, whose joy was his family, withdrew into silence, refusing counsel, refusing comfort.
The Velaryons, who had long supported Princess Rhaenys’s own claim, offered condolences with genuine affection, for Lord Corlys Velaryon admired Viserys even when he disagreed with him.With a daughter of age, Lady Laena Velaryon,the Court and the Realm expected the ambitious Sea Snake to seek a Crown, albeit that of a Consort Queen's, for his and Princess Rhaenys Targaryen's line.
Prince Daemon Targaryen,rider of Caraxes, brother to the King, wore a face of stone, but those close to him knew he raged inwardly. He had loved his frail and gentle cousin and good sister, Queen Aemma in his own way, and he loved his brother more.
Yet in this void of grief, another force crept forward.
HIGHTOWER’S CALCULATION
Otto Hightower, Hand of the King, had the uncanny ability to judge the weakness of men as other men judged horseflesh.
As it is written in Ash and Sea:
“Where Corlys saw a friend undone, Otto saw a throne unattended.”
It was he who pressed Viserys to name his sole issue, Princess Rhaenyra as heir. The choice gladdened much of the realm, yet, his reasons were neither pure nor loyal. For a young woman—even a dragonrider—seemed, to his mind, a crown more easily managed or overturned than a warlike prince.
Here Oldtown misjudged the blood of the dragon.
Rhaenyra embraced the duty with a solemnity that startled even the King.
Daemon, who had long felt the sting of being passed over, bowed to his beloved niece publicly. It was the first of many times the Rogue Prince placed the Realm's Delight above all others.
Yet the Hightowers had only just begun their plotting.
A SNAKE’S ENTRANCE
We of later ages have been fed the fairytale of innocent Alicent Hightower: dutiful daughter, gentle friend, pure-hearted companion to princess and king.
The Deepscrolls of Dragonstone contradict this.
Alicent was clever and ambitious, subtly coached by her father—trained to read grief and weaponize it. One night, some weeks after Queen Aemma’s passing, she came to the King’s chambers with an old book of Valyrian legends said to have been Aemma’s favorite. She offered comfort, then companionship, then warmth.
The maesters of Oldtown would have us believe Viserys was seduced by beauty alone. But Viserys was no fool. He knew manipulation when it touched his hand.
After that night, he privately offered Alicent moon tea and a generous dowry to marry a loyal knight of the Crownlands. He meant her no cruelty; he wished merely to make the error harmless.
Alicent accepted the tea with bowed head and pretty words. Then, in the privacy of her chamber, she poured it into the hearth and watched it burn.
Her ambition had already awakened.
INTERLUDE I
Rhaenyra’s POV
The council chamber smelled of ink and cold stone. My hands lay folded in her lap, one thumb twisting around a ring on her finger.My Mother's ring. It was the only sign of my perturbance. I kept my face still, as Aunt Amanda had taught me. Smile with your eyes if you must, but never with your mouth.I might be drowning in the grief of my Mother's loss,but the Realm's Delight cannot falter.
My father stood before them, still as a statue carved of pale marble. Looking at him made strange emotions stir in my heart.Anger,for his murder and betrayal of my beloved Mother.Yet,pity, for the Crown that demanded more from him than he could give. Grief had hollowed him, but now something else had filled the space—something hard, bright, and dangerous. The air around him felt charged, like the moments before a dragon opens its jaws.
Otto Hightower knelt before the Iron Throne, his daughter at his side. Alicent’s face was blotched red with tears. She looked smaller than Rhaenyra remembered, a frightened girl clinging to her father’s robes.
I watched her without pity.
Her father began quietly.“You came to me with counsel, Otto. Counsel poisoned with your own ambition.Each time my family has suffered a loss,yours has gained”
Otto lifted his head. “My King, I have served—”
“Silence.” father’s voice cracked like a whip. “You set your daughter upon me like bait on a hook.”
Alicent flinched. Daemon’s eyes gleamed with predatory satisfaction.
“You sought to cloud the succession,” the King said, stepping forward. “To endanger Rhaenyra’s birthright.”
Otto swallowed. “My King, the child—”
“Is a bastard of your design,” Father interrupted.“And will not bear the name Targaryen.”
Alicent’s tears spilled over. Daemon snorted softly.
The King’s voice grew louder, filling the chamber.
“I strip you of the office of Hand. I strip you of honors, incomes, protections.
You and all your line are banished from King’s Landing.
You will return to Oldtown, and you will never again set foot in my court.”
Alicent choked on a sob. “My King—”
“You, girl,” father said coldly, “have betrayed the memory of my wife and the trust of my daughter. Any child you bear will hold no claim, no title, no right. You will go with your father. You will not return.”
Daemon stepped forward, smiling like a cat who had found the cream.
“Well spoken, brother.”
Father ignored him. He took my hand and raised me up beside him.
“Behold your future queen,” he declared. “Let all know: the line of Rhaenyra Targaryen shall inherit the Iron Throne. No other.”
I felt heat blossom in my chest—pride and anger tangled together.I would be Queen,my heir after me,but my Mother was gone,when I had lived for fourteen summers.My father’s hand trembled around mine, but his words did not.
The guards moved in. Otto and Alicent were lifted to their feet and turned toward the doors. Alicent cast one last, wet-eyed glance back at the throne. I met it without blinking.I wondered how many times her wet eyes and wounded nailbeds hid her ambitions and lies.As my closest companion of 10 years was dragged away,the last vestiges of the girlhood that shattered with my Mother's death,died an ignominious, screaming death.
The great doors slammed shut behind them.
It sounded like a tomb sealing.