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Chapter 30: Chapter 25: Second LovesChapter Text

"Strongwine, a listening ear, a good atmosphere and hopefully right after a breakup. And don't forget the bottle of blood."

-Lady Daena Fyre, giving romantic advice to her younger sisters

106 AC, Citadel, Oldtown

I snapped my fingers, fire blooming on my fingertips. Illuminating the pitch black room I was in. Utterly bare, without windows and only air holes in the wall. The door was iron-banded oak, and locked from the outside, designed to prevent not even a single mote of light into the room. There were no lamps, braziers or candles in this room, all save for one made of dragonglass, resting atop a tall and spindly table.

I cracked open the book I brought with me, reading the High Valyrian glyphs of Candles and Candlemakers, a book that was half instructions for the ritual creation of glass candles, half user manual for them. Flipping to the bookmarked page, I produced chalk from my bag and began drawing the appropriate magic circle on the table.

Glass candles were essentially the smartphone of Old Valyria, capable of hundreds of functions. It had a photograph function, a light function, information storage capabilities and much more. It recharged itself by siphoning the mana that diffused off dragons, and was passcode protected to prevent unauthorised users from accessing it. And because of how many many many, unauthorised users tried to access it over its centuries in the Citadel, it was now in lockdown mode, ignoring any and all attempts to light it.

So I had to crack it open the hard way, by using the factory reset code, essentially.

The glass candles needed proof that the person accessing it was an authorised user. Dragonlords held much information on their personal candles, and it would be disastrous if a rival family got ahold of them. It was oddly nostalgic to Earth, and the electronics of people. My old bully Samuel once stole my phone, hacked into it, and sent insulting WhatsApp messages to everyone I knew. Ever since then, I never lent anyone any of my electronics.

Now, I was banking on the dragonlords not changing the glass candle before me from the usual default factory reset code, given that it was sold to foreigners. Which meant that I had to draw a certain magic circle around it in chalk, following the specific pattern illustrated in the book. Which I had done.

I read the next step, drawing my knife and pricking my finger with it. A single drop of blood touched the circle, and I spoke the necessary incantation.

"Twisted shard of frozen fire, awaken from your slumber and restore functionality." I ordered in High Valyrian.

For a minute, nothing happened, apart from me awkwardly standing there and feeling like a chuunibyou. And then the candle lit up. Burning with internal light, glowing but not fully ignited. Ready to do my bidding.

Yep, same factory reset code. Any descendant of the Forty Families with sufficient blood purity could ignite it if they used the same magic circle and incantation.

I gripped the candle in my hand, extending my will into it, much like how I inserted my will into my spells, reshaping the world to do my bidding. I willed it to shine, and shine it did, illuminating the room I was in with its baleful glare. The grey stone of the wall seemed silver in its shine, the wooden floors and rafters like freshly cut trees. Even the slender birch table it sat atop seemed electrum. A twist of my will made the light fade in intensity, no longer causing every colour to look unnaturally exaggerated.

It was so easy, commanding this one slender piece of obsidian to do my bidding. It was intoxicating. I felt like the entire world was at my fingertips, like time itself had bent the knee, awaiting my commands.

I flicked my wrist, causing the candle to project a three dimensional image of myself. Like a hologram. I dismissed the image of Rhaenyra and thought of my family. They appeared as bid. Images so lifelike I thought that they stood before me.

My father, sixty-five years old, a stout and grey-haired Malay man. My mother, a beautiful and petite Chinese woman, looking no older than forty despite being sixty-three. My older brother, a tall, pale and handsome twenty-nine-year-old that resembled my aunt. My younger brother, a mischievous little brat even at age eighteen going on nineteen, his features a near carbon copy of our father's. My daughter Yuri, a sweet nine year old whom so resembled her mother.

And the two loves of my life. The unattainable flower, Yuuki, the image of a Japanese beauty. Pale and athletic, with soft features and long silky hair. The girl next door, Alice, while not as lovely, was more down-to-earth. Petite and brown-skinned, slightly chubbier and curvier, with a dimpled smile and vibrantly dyed hair.

And last but not least, myself. A twenty-eight year old man whom greatly resembled his mother. Averaged height and build, with facial features more pretty than handsome.

Tears welled up in my eyes at the sight of all of them. I'd nearly forgotten how they looked like. I wept softly at the feet of my family. Wishing to touch, but unable to hold. God how would they look like now? It had been nine years since I died. My parents would be in their seventies. Would my brothers be married? Did they have nieces or nephews I never met? What about Yuri? Who raised her after I was gone?

My will (Yes, I had a will, my mother made me write one when I turned twenty-one and update it every year) made it clear that Yuuki had first refusal for the custody of our daughter. Did she choose to take her daughter, or did she let my family raise her? Did Yuuki and Alice move on? Yuuki was a strong and independent woman whom didn't need no man in her life, but Alice was horrid at moving on. I was her rock.

She might have committed suicide. A voice whispered in my head. She depends on you. She's invested so much of her soul into you that she hardly has anything left. It's why she was willing to do anything to get even a fragment of your love.

Fuck. There was a non-negligible chance that she actually did it. Wouldn't be the first time she was suicidal. She tried to overdose sleeping pills when Mr James died, and he was just her homeroom teacher. I was her long-term boyfriend. We'd dated for almost a decade. Heck, I had the engagement ring hidden in my pocket, just waiting for the right time.

I waved my hand, removing the images. I didn't want to think about what I had lost.

I decided to try out the other features of the glass candle, fooling around to take my mind off my lovers. Playing around with the light function, I made it go disco ball for a bit, took a few selfies of myself, watched old videos of Valyria, fooled around on the GPS and map function, made it deploy a holographic blade and pretended I was a Jedi.

Now in a much better mood, I wondered if I could do what mages could supposedly do and peer through the glass candle, seeing people far far away. Mustering all my willpower, I willed myself to see through it, to peer beyond the walls of the Citadel and see half a world away.

Images filled my mind, flitting through like a slideshow on fast forward. I clutched my head in pain, forcing myself to focus through the stream.

I am Rhaenyra Targaryen. I ordered in my head, my voice like iron. I am here and now. Deny me not my will.

The images swam, slowing down but not resolving in quality.

I saw olive skinned men and women sitting together in a building of sandstone. War. One hissed, his voice like a viper.

I saw platinum haired men meet with olive skinned men and men wearing strange hats. War. One of them said, voice ringing with will. War. Another agreed. War! Another shouted, the cry taken up by every man in their vicinity.

I saw men and women in furs and pelts, gathering under a tent in a blizzard. War. The slender man with a bronze helmet declared.

I saw men in black and gold, in a room with a black chair like a kraken. War. The gaunt man on the chair ordered.

And then I saw a beautiful woman with red eyes and hair looking straight into my eyes. I shall see you soon, Prince. She told me in a deep, melodious voice that sounded like an exotic spice.

I gasped and cut the connection, severing the flow of information. Well if that wasn't ominous as fuck.

The creaking of the door hinges shook me out of my thoughts. Uncle Vaegon stood on the other side of the doorway with a trio of other archmaesters. Daylight streamed into my cell. It was now morning. I had lost nearly an entire night to the candle. I simply smiled at them, walking past the stunned men. As I left the room, I snapped my fingers, extinguishing the glass candle and plunging the cell back into pitch darkness.

Utter silence was left in my wake.

———

106 AC, Skies between Oldtown and King's Landing

"So what exactly was the point of spending a night in that dark room if you weren't going to swear your vows?" Laena asked as we flew, winter wind whipping at our hair.

"To prove that I could do it." I told her. "I could have been the youngest maester in history, and the first female. I didn't, as I would become King, but I wanted to show those hidebound grey rats that I could do it. And that other girls could as well."

"Well that would been something for the history books." My girlfriend said. "First female maester. Youngest maester ever. Quickest chain forging ever."

"True, but I'm after a greater prize." I laughed. "I'm going to be the first woman to sit the Iron Throne. And nothing and nobody is going to stop me."

Laena laughed with me, the two of us continuing that for awhile before we dipped beneath the clouds and saw King's Landing beneath us. Laena blew her horn, Command rippling through our dragons. The three of them began a slow and gentle descent, careful not to jostle the box the two older dragons held between them.

We flew over the city walls, gliding towards the fields outside the city limits. We ordered the four older dragons to descend as gently as they could, Vhagar, and Silverwing gently lowering the box carried onto the ground. As soon as it touched the ground, the two dragons landed softly, allowing the awaiting Dragonkeepers to rush forwards and undo the chains connecting their harnesses and saddles to the box's corners.

The box opened up as well, Rhaegar opening up a door on its side and stepping down onto the snowy field. Behind him trooped out Daenys and Uncle Vaegon, as well as the Hightowers, Alicent's relatives whom had come for the wedding. Transporting people on dragonback was one of the fastest ways to travel, but there simply wasn't enough space for many. Hence I came up with the Skycart, which was essentially a reinforced wheelhouse of steel chained to the dragons' saddles, for them to carry. While four adolescents were required to lift it, Vhagar and Silverwing were large and powerful enough that only two were required. And with it, we could transport dozens of people across the Seven Kingdoms in a matter of hours at only minor losses to speed.

Laena and I dismounted, my girlfriend passing the dragon horn to Bell, whom blew it once, Balefyre leading the older dragons back to the Dragonpit.

———

106 AC, Red Keep

"Rhaenyra!" My father called out, pulling me off my saddle and twirling me around. "I've missed you!"

"I've missed you too." I got out, as he crushed me in a bear hug. Thankfully, my father eventually released me, allowing me to suck in great breaths of air. I turned to look at the woman behind him, whom once upon a time taught me how to sew at the Old King's bedside. My eyes narrowed as I took in the slight swell in her midsection.

"Really, Father? Really?" I disdainfully asked, turning a baleful eye on him.

"I know, I know." He plaintively sighed. "Her father wasn't happy either. So I decided to do the honourable thing."

I just sighed and rubbed my forehead.

"Can we have a private conversation, father?" I asked, flicking a look at Alicent. "I think we need to discuss this."

———

106 AC, King's Solar, Maegor's Holdfast

"I told you about this." I reminded him. "I told you not to get remarried. Why didn't you listen to me?"

"Rhaenyra, I understand that you're angry—" My father began before I angrily interrupted him.

"Angry? Yes, I'm angry. Do you understand what you've done?" I demanded.

"Well what would you have me do? I was drunk and lonely. And she was beautiful and a good listener. I couldn't resist." He protested, withering under my glare. "I deflowered and impregnated her. What else could I do but the honourable thing."

I let out a very long sigh and facepalmed. So he fell for that old trick. Ply the guy with alcohol and make him remember his lost love and loneliness. Then afterwards, seduce him when he is too drunk to resist and make him take responsibility the next morning. I'd be angrier if it weren't for the fact that I fell for such a trick in my past life. Except as I previously said. Alicent Hightower wasn't Alice Sethi. One was a golddigger after queenship. The other was a broken soul whom wanted to find companionship in an equally broken person.

I was pretty sure Alicent even used the old strongwine and chicken blood trick to make my father think he really deflowered her, instead of his brother getting there first.

"I'm not against you finding a new love." I told him. "You could take a thousand mistresses for all I care, and father enough bastards to field an army. What I am against, is you marrying her."

"I will not father bastards like my brother!" Viserys protested, the faintest touch of anger lacing his voice.

"Why not? The Dragonseeds are all well taken care of. Better than some trueborn lordlings." I shot back. "It wouldn't have been irresponsible for you to add to their number."

"I will not do such a shameless thing!" My father thundered.

"Shameful? I see no shame in fathering a bastard! I see shame in not taking care of them." I thundered back.

Quite frankly, I had a bastard. And did I see shame in fathering Yuri? Nope. I took pride in the fact that I fucking took responsibility for fucking her mother. I was nineteen and stupid. It would have been trivially easy to drop her off at some random orphanage. In fact, my father all but ordered me to do such a thing. But no, I stuck to my principles. I promised Yuuki I'd take care of our little girl, and I did it. I risked disownment and arrest, jumped through every hoop and wormed through every loophole, anything that let me bring that tiny newborn back from UK to Singapore, even if she technically didn't have a passport or citizenship in either country. In the middle of the Covid-19 pandemic no less! And I would do it all over again if I had to.

"By cavorting with another woman, a man shames his wife, even if he takes care of the resultant child." Viserys said.

I forced myself to swallow the very rude and hurtful retort that I was about to say. It wouldn't do to further anger my father. He was friendly and amicable, but had a great temper buried deep within.

"But what happens if she births your sons?" I asked him. "Do you think that they'll obey the line of succession and crown me, when they could sit the throne in their own right?"

"They will." The king said with ironclad certainty. "If all ten of Daemon's sons can do such a thing, then mine certainly can."

"Shaeterys doesn't press his claim because he knows I can order him executed for it without lasting consequences." I bluntly told my father. "As does Rhaegar, Aerion, Erik, Haegon, Vaelon, Baelon, Aemon, Lucerys and Daemon."

"You are my legal firstborn son and heir! The line of succession is clear!" My father shouted at me. "Your brothers will obey it and obey it happily! This conversation is over!"

Well that conversation was a bust. I really was in no place to pass judgement over him. Not without feeling like a hypocrite given my sordid love affairs with Yuuki and Alice.

Ah well, time for plan B. Wonder what colour they'll call this wedding.