After a forbidden night with Ser Criston Cole, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen is forced by her father, King Viserys, to drink the moon tea and protect her honor. To shield her image further, she weds Ser Laenor Velaryon, and together they move to Drift...
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Present Time Red Keep, King's Landing
The throne room buzzed like a disturbed hive, whispers breaking out in sharp bursts, then swelling into a low, frantic roar. Nobles leaned over one another with wide eyes, their hands pressed to their mouths, their voices trembling with disbelief.
The Crown Princess... a daughter? A bastard daughter?
The words spread like wildfire. Ser Criston Cole—King's sworn protector, the Princess' sworn shield. Could it be true? Had he fathered her child all those years ago? He stood rigid now, pale and tight-jawed, but the scandal clung to him like a shroud.
What had become of the child? Was she hidden? Dead? Or living still—somewhere, perhaps watching them even now? Would she be silver-haired like the Targaryens, or dark-eyed and fierce with Dornish blood? The questions tore through the lords and ladies like knives.
"Enough!" King Viserys bellowed, shoving himself up from the Iron Throne, his cane thundering against the stone. "Everyone who is not Princess Rhaenyra, Prince Daemon, Ser Criston Cole, Ser Harrold—or our guests from Valyria—OUT!"
His voice cracked like a storm breaking.
"But, Your Grace!" Otto surged forward, eyes blazing. "The Small Council must remain. This revelation—this bastard—could shatter the realm. If the lords learn that Princess Rhaenyra bore—"
"This is between my daughter, my brother, and me!" Viserys' voice lashed through the air, and with it came a sudden hush. He pivoted toward Otto, face flushed with rage. "OUT, I said!"
"Even me?" Queen Alicent's voice cut through the silence, sharp as a blade. She strode forward, green silk whispering across the floor as she placed herself before her children. Her fury lit her eyes like emerald fire.
Behind her, Aegon smirked openly, as though this were a mummer's farce performed for his amusement. Helaena whispered strange fragments under her breath, rocking slightly, her fingers tugging at her nails. And Aemond, one-eyed and stone-faced, stood at rigid attention, his jaw clenched, his hand flexing at his side as though itching for a sword.
"I am your queen, your wife, Viserys!" Alicent hissed, her voice carrying clear across the chamber. "And our children are Targaryens. We have every right to stand here. Every right to hear a matter that threatens us all!"
"AND I AM THE KING!" Viserys' roar exploded across the hall, shocking even those long inured to his temper. His thin frame trembled with the effort, his golden mask glinting in the torchlight. He struck his staff against the floor so hard the sound cracked through the chamber like thunder.
Gasps echoed. One lord stumbled back. A lady pressed a hand to her chest.
"When I command," Viserys thundered, voice raw with fury, "I am OBEYED! All of you—OUT!"
