The Bronze Dragon-A House of the Dragon fanfic

Chapter 42

The aftermath of the vicious Blood and Cheese incident would have dire ramifications for what was to come. Both the Blacks and Greens had committed crimes that could not be walked back. They were now at war, and the Dance of the Dragons-as it has become known-would prove to be the most devastating in the realm's history.

For my father, he now had to face a choice: choose a side, or stay out. Much as I'd like to say he reached his decision solely because of me, I think that Lord Kermit's well-earned disappointment in him played a role. It was, after all, his home region where the war would be mainly fought.

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They were all sitting around the central table of the Great Hall. Daevar had a mind to call the castle's council together, but figured that he needed to make his decision with everyone important present. Helaena's eyes were bloodshot from crying; her sister had done nothing to deserve what had happened. Rhea was held tight at her chest, despite the fact she was sleeping.

"So . . . Aegon or Rhaenyra?" Asked Kermit. He was sitting next to Maester Barden, who for once wasn't chafing at his presence. "Pretty shit choice we have in front of us, isn't it?" He added. Ben, sitting next to him, grunted in agreement.

"I had thought that we could avert the worst." Daevar said. "Even after the Greens usurped the crown . . ."

"A war was inevitable at that point, My Lord." Barden said. "As soon as Rhaenyra began sending ravens, she couldn't back down, and neither could Aegon." he sighed. "By virtue of their crowns, neither of them could afford to back down."

"Barden is right." Willam said. "The one who did back down would've looked like a fool."

"This was my failure." Daevar said. "I thought war could be avoided."

"It was our brother and your father that did this." Daeron said. "They were the ones who pushed us to this point."

"Jaehaerys was a boy of six . . ." Helaena said, her voice wobbling. Daevar took her hand, trying to steady her. Even Arrow, tucked away in one corner of the room, sensed something was wrong, padded over and nudged her slightly.

"It was barbaric." Gerold spat. "Murdering a child . . ."

"May he burn in the hottest of the Seven Hells." Julia said quietly, though that said more than if she had shouted it.

"The hottest parts of the Seven Hells are reserved for others, My Lady." Septon Carrick said, turning to Daevar. "I'm afraid we must make a choice, My Lord. We must back either Aegon or Rhaenyra."

"Or someone else." Daevar said. "We have a potential claimant in this room." He turned to Daeron. The boy's face showed a mix of surprise and terror at the suggestion; he had never been trained to rule anything!

"M-me?" Daeron asked, pointing to himself.

"Why not? You're a King's son. Your claim is just as legitimate as Aegon and Rhaenyra's You've been in battle. You have the respect of soldiers." Daevar said. He hoped Daeron would at least listen to what he was saying; they would have a far easier time declaring him for the Iron Throne than simply finding someone else.

"I . . . I'm not meant to be King, Daevar." Daeron replied. "I don't know how to rule . . . I know dragons and that's it."

"The same might be said for Aegon or Rhaenyra." Julia said. "You have the most legitimate claim to the crown here."

"What about Helaena?" Daeron said. "She's older than me."

"I'll never sit on that throne." Helaena said quickly.