The only thing that could tear down the House of the Dragon was itself.
Let the Dance begin.
Let the Blood War commence.
[house of the dragon season 1 - ?]
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"As the first century of the Targaryen Dynasty came to a close, the health of the Old King, Jaehaerys, was failing."
Harrenhal, a fortress notorious for its dark history, became the unlikely stage for a momentous event. Within its cavernous halls, a tapestry of humanity awaited the king's decree. Lords and ladies, their faces etched with ambition and apprehension, jostled for position. Maesters, their white cloaks stark against the gloom, navigated the crowd, carrying an object that held the weight of a kingdom – a colossal coffin.
"In those days, House Targaryen stood at the height of its strength, with ten adult dragons under its yoke. No power in the world could stand against it. King Jaehaerys reigned over nearly sixty years of peace and prosperity. But tragedy had claimed three of his sons, leaving his succession in doubt. So in the year one hundred and one, the Old King called a Great Council to choose an heir."
Jaehaerys, a frail figure cloaked in the twilight of his reign, sat upon the Iron Throne. Beside him, a pregnant Aemma stood with her husband, Prince Viserys Targaryen. His expression, a mask of stoicism, concealed a churning maelstrom of emotions. Across from them, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, her fiery spirit undimmed, sat with her husband, Lord Corlys Velaryon.
A small hand, clutching Rhaenys' tightly, belonged to Raella Targaryen, the king's youngest grandchild. At six years old, she was a mere wisp of a girl, yet her eyes held an uncanny wisdom that belied her age. While the weight of the council pressed heavily on the adults, for Raella, it was an adventure, a front-row seat to history unfolding.
"Over a thousand lords made the journey to Harrenhal. Fourteen succession claims were heard but only three were truly considered. Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, the King's eldest descendant, and her younger cousin Prince Viserys Targaryen, the King's eldest male descendant. The third one, though technically valid, was dismissed due to her age. That was Raella Targaryen, the King's youngest granddaughter."
The tension crackled in the air as the maesters placed the massive coffin before the Targaryen family. Inside lay the skeletal remains of Balerion the Black Dread, a potent symbol of Targaryen power. King Jaehaerys reached into the coffin, his gnarled fingers withdrawing a rolled parchment – the verdict of the council.
"It is declared," his voice, raspy with age, echoed through the hall, "by all lords paramount and lords vassal of the Seven Kingdoms, that Prince Viserys Targaryen be made Prince of Dragonstone."
A wave of applause erupted, a bittersweet symphony. Relief washed over Viserys, yet a flicker of disappointment flickered in his eyes as he glanced at Rhaenys. Raella, sensing the shift in her cousin's demeanor, squeezed her hand in silent comfort, a gesture of solidarity between two young Targaryens on the cusp of a destiny yet to unfold.
"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 being fought over his succession. For he knew the cold truth."
Across the aisle, Rhaenys' expression remained unreadable, a mask of stoicism hiding a storm of emotions. Raella, her gaze flitting between her cousins, offered a small, hesitant smile to Viserys, acknowledging his burden and the weight of the crown he now bore.
"The only thing that could tear down the House of the Dragon, was itself."
The future of the Targaryen dynasty was secured, for now. Yet, a seed of doubt had been sown. The embers of discontent, fanned by the very decision made that day, would one day ignite a fire that would consume Westeros in a Dance of Dragons and a Blood War.
It is now the ninth year of King Viserys I Targaryen's reign. 172 years before the death of the Mad King, Aerys, and the birth of his daughter, Daenerys Targaryen.
