Queen Aemma Arryn labored for hours in pain, her cries echoing down the halls of the Red Keep. The castle was quiet elsewhere, but not from peace the silence came from worry. The Queen had lost several babes before. Now, she was again with child, and King Viserys was convinced this would be the long-awaited male heir.
He waited outside the birthing chamber, pacing nervously. The Queen's screams did not stop. Maester Mellos emerged, blood on his hands, his face strained and grim.
Inside, Aemma gasped for breath, soaked in sweat, tears streaking her face. Viserys sat beside her, whispering to her gently, trying to soothe her, telling her they would have a son, their family would be whole, their line secure.
But the Maesters could not deliver the child. The Queen was weakening, and the babe would not come. Viserys was forced to choose: save his wife, or his son. He chose the son.
Aemma screamed as the Maesters cut her open. Viserys wept at her side, holding her hand as her life left her body. Their son, Baelon, was delivered small, struggling to breathe, but alive.
By nightfall, Baelon was dead.
Smoke rose over King's Landing as a pyre was lit on a hilltop. Rhaenyra Targaryen stood with Ser Harwin Strong beside her. Her golden dragon, Syrax, perched behind her.
She stared at the covered bodies of her mother and baby brother, the grief etched deep on her face. Her father stood apart, silent and broken.
She stepped forward and gave the command.
"Dracarys."
Syrax opened her jaws, and fire swept over the pyres. The bodies burned as the family watched. The Queen and the child were gone.
Later, Prince Daemon Targaryen, brother to the King, gathered with the City Watch in the Street of Silk. He toasted loudly in a brothel, surrounded by gold cloaks and women.
"To Baelon Targaryen, the Heir for a Day," he said, raising a cup.
Word reached the King swiftly. Otto Hightower, Hand of the King, brought it to him that very evening. Viserys was silent at first, then demanded Daemon's presence.
Daemon arrived in the Great Hall of the Red Keep, where Viserys sat upon the Iron Throne. His voice was low and cold.
"You chose to celebrate your own rise, laughing with your whores and your gold cloaks."
Daemon looked at him. "We all mourn in our own way, brother."
"My family just died," Viserys said, trembling. "And you… you chose to mock me. To mock Baelon. My son."
Daemon did not speak.
"You are to return to Runestone. You are to leave immediately."
Daemon held his brother's gaze for a moment, then bowed his head.
"As you command."
He turned and walked away. Viserys remained alone, beneath the blades of the throne.
Soon after, Viserys summoned his daughter, Rhaenyra.
He spoke to her beside the skull of Balerion the Black Dread, deep beneath the Red Keep. He told her of the secret passed from king to heir of Aegon's dream, the prophecy of the Song of Ice and Fire. Of the need for a Targaryen to sit the Iron Throne when the darkness comes from the North.
Then he named her his heir.
At Dragonstone and across the Seven Kingdoms, the lords gathered. Rhaenyra stood tall before them in the throne room as Viserys spoke.
"I, Viserys Targaryen… hereby name Rhaenyra Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone, and heir to the Iron Throne."
Each lord bent the knee, House Stark, House Velaryon, House Baratheon swearing fealty.
The chapter closed in quiet flame, firelight flickering across Rhaenyra's face. The realm had a new heir.
And the realm would remember.
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Just a quick chapter and yes it's a time skip, at the current moment it's is the start of house of the dragon and soon the fun will begin