✅️ The Last Velaryon - Robb Stark

55 - The Iron Throne

The air in the Red Keep was thick with unease, a miasma of past betrayals and uncertain futures. The Iron Throne, a twisted monument of conquered swords, loomed before me, an object of both fascination and disgust. By my side stood Robb, his presence a comforting anchor in this viper's nest of a city. Little Cadenza, bundled in his arms, slept soundly, blissfully unaware of the weighty decisions being made around her.

"Are you alright, Haelesa?" Robb murmured, his grey eyes searching mine. "You seem distant."

I managed a weak smile. "Just thinking," I replied, my voice barely a whisper. "Thinking about everything that's happened, everything that's yet to come."

We were surrounded by our advisors and bannermen. From the North, there were the Glovers, the Manderlys, staunch and loyal to Robb. Edmure Tully, his face drawn with worry, represented the Riverlands. And then there was my father, Lord Velaryon, the last true scion of our once-proud house, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and apprehension. Tyrion and Chezney stood a little apart, their presence a calming influence amidst the tension. My best friend, a reassuring smile directed my way.

"So," Robb began, his voice resonating with authority, "we must decide what to do with this... mess." He gestured towards the Iron Throne with a disdainful wave of his hand. "Westeros needs a ruler. And it seems, for now, that decision falls to us."

A murmur rippled through the room. All eyes were on Robb, waiting for him to declare his intentions. I knew what he was going to say, we had discussed it at length in the privacy of our chambers, but the weight of the moment still pressed down on me.

"I have no desire to sit on the Iron Throne," Robb declared, his voice ringing with sincerity. "My place is in the North, with my family, ruling Winterfell. My goal has always been to bring my sisters home, to live a life of peace and to watch Cadenza grow with my wife."

A collective sigh of relief swept through the room. I could see the tension ease from Edmure's shoulders, the worry lines on my father's face soften. The North would not be dragged into the game of thrones.

"And I stand with my husband," I added, my voice clear and strong. "My heart belongs to the North, to Winterfell, and to House Stark. It is not for me to rule here, in this city of shadows and lies."

I saw the relief on Chezney's face and I knew she had been worried about me. Being here would be just a reminder of the past.

Robb continued, "Therefore, we will nominate someone to take the throne. Someone who desires to rule, someone who believes they can unite the Seven Kingdoms and bring peace to this war-torn land."

The silence hung heavy as everyone looked around, wondering who would be put forward. Several names were suggested, each met with arguments and counter-arguments. The debate raged for hours, each faction pushing for their preferred candidate. Robb and I listened patiently, offering our opinions when necessary, but mostly letting the others hash it out.

"My King, my Queen," I saw my father fidget as he began hesitantly, "I must speak on the matter of House Velaryon. As you know, my house has been diminished, almost extinguished, after the fall of House Targaryen. With respect, I would like to put my house forward to be rebuilt in the eyes of Westeros."

I knew what he was going to ask. I met his gaze, a mixture of understanding and sadness swirling within me. He continued, "Your Grace, you have the power to legitimize bastards. I have... children who carry my blood. They are good people, loyal and capable. Legitimize them, give them the Velaryon name, and you will give my house a future."