Viserys Targaryen was only a daughter away from becoming Henry VIII. This is the story of how things would be different if he was a little more ambitious and stupid.
As the first century of the Targaryen dynasty came to a close, the health of the Old King, Jaehaerys, was failing. In those days, House Targaryen stood at the height of its strength with 10 adult dragons under its yoke. No power in the world could stand against it.
King Jaehaerys reigned over nearly 60 years of peace and prosperity. But tragedy had claimed both his sons, leaving his succession in doubt. So, in the year 101, the Old King called a Great Council to choose an heir. Over a thousand lords made the journey to Harrenhal. Fourteen succession claims were heard but only two were truly considered: Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, the King's eldest descendant, and her younger cousin, Prince Viserys Targaryen, the King's eldest male descendant.
It was declared by all lords paramount and lords vassal of the Seven Kingdoms... that Prince Viserys Targaryen was to be made Prince of Dragonstone. Rhaenys, a woman, would not inherit the Iron Throne. The lords instead chose Viserys... my father. Jaehaerys called the Great Council to prevent a war from being fought over his succession. For he knew the cold truth. The only thing that could tear down the House of the Dragon... was itself.
And this is the story of how my father managed to do that singlehandedly.
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Queen Aemma Arryn, my mother, was a half-Targaryen by birth. Sired by the widowed Lord Arryn and mothered by naïve Princess Daella Targaryen. She was the fifth child of the old lord and her mother had already closed her eyes to the world before she opened hers to it.
She was a good person, true and kind, loyal and sweet, dutiful and obedient. Most said that she was no true dragon for she lacked the hot temperament of our house, condemned fire and hated blood. It is because they had never seen her in childbirth, fighting for her dear life. If they would witness those moments they would know she was a truer dragon than the king, my father.
Some would say he was born to be a king, and people who never met him and the people who were living in caves. Born as the eldest son of Baelon and Alyssa Targaryen, a couple who loved each other more than they loved their children. Distant and irresponsible, I do not remember my grandparents but the lack of information about them showed me that neither my father nor my uncle knew them enough to share stories with me. And of course, having a father but never truly having a dad, had messed up my father.
I too never had a dad.
My father and my mother's union was not something planned. King Jaehaerys was many things and being wise was one of them. He had planned to marry my father to his other cousin, the Princess Rhaenys, or The Queen Who Never Was, as you would know. Daughter of his heir, Prince Aemon and his half-sister, Jocelyn Baratheon. Now, she was a true Targaryen, a true dragon, a true queen. The only disadvantage she had was the lack of a cock between her legs. And this only caused the mighty lords of Westeros to dismiss her claim altogether and focus on her son, Laenor instead.
Good Queen Alysanne, my great-grandmother and Prince Aemon, my great-uncle, trained her well. Campaigned for her rule even before Aemon himself died. But Jaehaerys, the young prince who fought against Maegor's tyranny, and managed to break out peace with the Faith, had become narrow-minded with every passing year. The Maester -Hightower dogs, and the Faith -again, the Hightower dogs, pulled the great king from his dearest wife and poisoned his mind. Alysanne died from a broken heart while Jaehaerys turned his back on every Valyrian tradition.
