The Marriage Pact

Honor

With the kidnappers locked away in the dungeons, and the children restored to their carers and under the strong protection of the Cargyll twins, the princes were at last able to join the others in the Great Hall. Jace went to the side room where his mother and grandsire were anxiously awaiting him.

"Jace!" his mother exclaimed upon seeing him. "Where have you been?"

He assured her he would explain everything after her coronation, and Rhaenyra was obliged to be satisfied; they'd kept everyone waiting for long enough as it was.

"Are we ready to begin then, Your Grace?" Ser Harrold Westerling inquired politely. He'd been standing guard over Viserys during the whole of the debacle.

The King nodded and rose shakily to his feet, stooping over his cane.

"Yes, it is time."

***

Trumpeters trumpeted, drummers drummed, and the doors of the Great Hall swung open.

"King Viserys of House Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm," Ser Harrold announced.

One hundred gold cloaks drew their swords, forming a saber arch, and King Viserys limped his way to the Iron Throne for the very last time. His family were waiting for him at the end of the aisle. He smiled at them, through his pain and through the tears welling up inside him. He loved them all so dearly, more so than they would ever know.

"Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone, and her son and heir, Prince Jacaerys."

Despite being seven months pregnant, Rhaenyra walked to the Iron Throne with both grace and dignity. She was dressed in a rich maroon velvet gown with golden Myrish lace. Her bodice glittered with diamonds, and her fingers were adorned with several fine rings. She looked every inch the Queen.

Jace followed a few steps behind her, and as he passed beneath the saber arch, the gold cloaks lowered their swords two by two, creating a rippling wave of iron.

Rhaenyra knelt before her father and the High Septon and the room fell silent.

"My people, it is your great good fortune and privilege to be here today to witness this," said Viserys, addressing them one last time as King. "This is a new day for our city, a new day for our realm, a new Queen to lead us. I know you will show her the same respect and loyalty you have always shown me." And on that final note, he nodded to the septon to begin.

"May the Warrior give her courage," the septon annunciated, smearing oil across Rhaenyra's forehead. "May the Smith lend strength to her sword and shield. May the Father defend her in her need. May the Crone lift her shining lamp and light her way to wisdom."

The septon set aside the dish of holy oil and ceremoniously lifted the crown from Viserys' head, holding it high for all to see.

"Let the Seven bear witness, Rhaenyra Targaryen is the true heir to the Iron Throne," he proclaimed. Slowly, he lowered the crown onto her head. Then he stepped back and bowed.

"All hail Her Grace, Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of her name, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm," boomed Ser Harrold.

And just like that, it was done. Rhaenyra was the anointed Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. She rose to her feet, and turned to face her people as thunderous applause broke out, her children clapping the loudest.

Had she been alone, Rhaenyra would have shed tears; tears of gratitude, relief, love, fear, and joy. There had been many times when she'd doubted whether this day would ever arrive. But it had. She was Queen now -the first ever ruling Queen- and she vowed that no one would ever see her cry again. She was already set at a disadvantage because of her gender. There could be no vulnerability. She would not be perceived as weak.