Chapter 34:

[The battlefield at the Trident is littered with the dead and dying, the waters of the river running red with blood. The air is thick with the scent of iron and smoke. King Aegon VI, astride his dragon Fenrir, lands at the edge of the carnage, his expression dark as he surveys the aftermath. Before him lie the lifeless bodies of Prince Rhaegar and Robert Baratheon, their weapons still embedded in each other's flesh. The remaining forces of both factions stand frozen, their fighting halted by the king's sudden arrival. Jon Arryn, now leading Robert's faction, and Ser Arthur Dayne, representing Rhaegar's loyalists, step forward to greet their sovereign.]

Jon Arryn (bowing deeply): "Your Grace, we did not expect—"

Aegon VI (coldly interrupting): "No, you did not. Because if you had, perhaps this madness could have been avoided."

Arthur Dayne (kneeling): "Your Grace, Prince Rhaegar—"

Aegon VI (raising a hand to silence him): "Is dead. As is Robert. And for what? Pride? Stubbornness?" (He dismounts Fenrir, his boots sinking slightly into the mud as he steps forward, his gaze sweeping over the assembled lords and knights.) "Tell me, Jon—did you truly believe allowing Robert to wage this war would end well?"

Jon Arryn (grimacing): "Your Grace, Robert was beyond reason after Lyanna's disappearance. We tried—"

Aegon VI (sharp): "Tried? You indulged him. You let him drag half the realm into bloodshed over a slight that could have been settled with words, not swords."

Jon Arryn (lowering his head): "I bear the blame, Your Grace. But Rhaegar's actions—"

Aegon VI (cutting him off again): "Were reckless. But they did not warrant war. And now my stepson—my nephew—lies dead. As does the son of my own cousin." (He exhales, weariness creeping into his voice.) "This ends now. You will all return to your camps. Bury your dead. But Rhaegar and Robert will be returned to their families—Rhaegar to Dragonstone, Robert to Storm's End."

Arthur Dayne (hesitant): "Your Grace, what of Princess Elia and the children? They remain in King's Landing—"

Aegon VI (firm): "They will be protected. As will Lyanna Stark, wherever she is." (He turns to Jon Arryn.) "And you, Lord Jon—you will answer for your part in this. But not here. We will settle this in King's Landing."

Jon Arryn (nodding solemnly): "As you command, Your Grace."

Aegon VI (addressing both factions): "This rebellion is over. Any man who raises his sword again will answer to me—and to my dragons." (A low rumble from Fenrir emphasizes his words.) "Now go. Prepare to march. The realm will not bleed further today."

[The lords and knights disperse, the weight of the king's words settling over them. Aegon VI remains standing between the bodies of Rhaegar and Robert, his expression unreadable as he gazes down at them. After a long moment, he turns away, mounting Fenrir once more as the sun begins to set over the bloodied Trident.]

[Setting: The grand courtyard of the Red Keep in King's Landing. The evening sky is painted in hues of orange and purple as Fenrir, King Aegon VI's dragon, descends with a mighty gust of wind, scattering leaves and dust. The royal guards and servants scramble to make way as the king dismounts, his expression weary but resolute. Waiting for him are his sons, Prince Daeron of Summerhall and Prince Daemon Targaryen, both dressed in fine but battle-ready attire, their faces a mix of concern and curiosity.]

Prince Daeron (stepping forward, bowing): "Father. You've returned."

Prince Daemon (crossing his arms, frowning): "And not a moment too soon. The city's been restless since word of the battle reached us."

Aegon VI (exhaling deeply, his voice heavy): "Restless? That is the least of our worries now." (He removes his riding gloves, his gaze distant for a moment before locking onto his sons.) "Rhaegar is dead."

Daeron (stiffening, eyes widening slightly): "...What?"

Daemon (jaw tightening): "Robert?"

Aegon VI (nodding grimly): "Dead as well. They killed each other on the Trident. By the time I arrived, it was already done."

Daeron (running a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply): "Gods... So the war is over, then?"

Aegon VI (grim): "In the worst way possible. I commanded both factions to stand down. They will march here for the aftermath talks. Robert's body is being taken to Storm's End for burial. Rhaegar... will rest in Dragonstone."

Daemon (grunting): "At least you stopped the slaughter before it got worse."

Aegon VI (shaking his head): "Not soon enough. Too many are dead because of pride and recklessness." (He looks at Daeron, his tone shifting to something firmer.) "Which brings me to you, Daeron."

Daeron (raising an eyebrow): "Me?"

Aegon VI (nodding): "With Rhaegar gone, the line of succession must be upheld. You are now Prince of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne."

Daeron (blinking, momentarily stunned): "...I—"

Daemon (smirking, nudging him): "Congratulations, brother. Try not to die before the coronation."

Daeron (glaring at Daemon before turning back to Aegon VI): "Father, I... I understand the duty, but what of Rhaegar's children? His son, Aegon—"

Aegon VI (raising a hand): "Will be cared for. But the succession was always clear—Rhaegar was my heir by circumstance, not blood. You are my eldest trueborn son. The throne will pass to you."

Daemon (leaning against a pillar, arms crossed): "And what does that make me, then? The spare?"

Aegon VI (giving him a dry look): "Prince of Summerhall. And you will share its management with your sister, Alyssa."

Daemon (snorting): "Ah, so now I have to share power with our dear sister? Wonderful."

Daeron (ignoring Daemon's remark, thoughtful): "And what of the rebels? Jon Arryn, the Starks, the Tullys... What happens now?"

Aegon VI (folding his hands behind his back): "They will answer for their choices. Some will keep their heads. Others... will not be so fortunate."

Daemon (grinning darkly): "Now that sounds entertaining."

Aegon VI (shooting him a warning look): "This is not a game, Daemon. The realm must be stabilized, not torn further apart."

Daeron (nodding): "Understood, Father. What do you need from us?"

Aegon VI (relaxing slightly): "Prepare for the arrival of both factions. Ensure the city is secure. And Daeron—ready yourself. The lords will expect strength from the new heir."

Daeron (straightening, jaw set): "I won't fail you."

Daemon (stretching lazily): "And I'll try not to burn anything down while you're busy being responsible."

Aegon VI (pinching the bridge of his nose): "Just... try not to make things worse, Daemon."

Daemon (grinning): "No promises."

[The king sighs as his sons exchange glances—Daeron solemn, Daemon amused. The weight of the future presses upon them, but for now, they stand united. The courtyard falls into an uneasy silence, the distant sounds of the city a reminder that the game of thrones is far from over.]

[Setting: The King's private office in the Red Keep, a spacious chamber lined with shelves of scrolls and ledgers, illuminated by the flickering glow of hearthlight and candles. King Aegon VI sits behind a heavy oak desk, his expression grave as he slides a thick file across the polished surface toward Prince Daeron. Prince Daemon leans against a bookshelf, arms crossed, watching with a mix of amusement and wariness. The weight of the coming days hangs heavy in the air.]

Aegon VI (tapping the file): "Read this. It outlines the punishments and concessions for the rebel factions after the war."

Daeron (taking the file, flipping through it): "Fifty-fifty split with Robert's allies, thirty-fifty with Rhaegar's… Jon Arryn and Hoster Tully stripped of their titles?" (He looks up, brow furrowed.) "Harsh."

Daemon (snorting): "Harsh? Jon let Robert throw the realm into chaos, and Hoster played both sides like a mummer's farce. They're lucky they're not losing their heads."

Aegon VI (nodding): "Ronnel Arryn and Brynden Tully will take their places. Both are steadier hands."

Daeron (scanning further): "Lyanna Stark confined to the North… with Rhaegar's child." (He exhales slowly.) "So it's true, then. The girl really did run off with him."

Aegon VI (grim): "And now the realm has bled for it. The boy will be raised as a Snow, far from King's Landing. Less temptation for future rebellions."

Daemon (grinning darkly): "Ah, yes. Another secret Targaryen bastard—just what the realm needs."

Aegon VI (ignoring Daemon's remark, focusing on Daeron): "The bigger problem is Dorne. Elia will not take kindly to her son, Aegon, being bypassed in the succession—no matter why Rhaegar was named heir in the first place."

Daeron (rubbing his temple): "They'll see it as an insult. As if we're casting aside Rhaegar's line."

Aegon VI (leaning forward): "Which is why you will betroth your eldest, Baelon, to Rhaegar's daughter, Rhaenys. Unite the claims. Dorne keeps its blood on the throne, even if not through Aegon."

Daemon (whistling lowly): "Clever. A political marriage to soothe their pride."

Daeron (considering, then nodding): "It's a fair compromise. But what of Aegon himself? He's still Rhaegar's heir by Dornish law."

Aegon VI (calm): "He will be granted lands—House Stokeworth's holdings, once they are dealt with for their treachery. A new seat, a new name. He will have power, just not the throne."

Daemon (raising an eyebrow): "And if he grows up resentful?"

Aegon VI (firm): "Then we deal with it. But I will not punish a child for his father's mistakes."

Daeron (closing the file, resolve hardening): "I'll speak to Cersei about the betrothal. She won't be pleased, but she'll understand the necessity."

Daemon (smirking): "Oh, I'd pay good coin to see that conversation."

Aegon VI (dryly): "Focus, Daemon. You'll have your own duties—Summerhall's management, shared with Alyssa."

Daemon (rolling his eyes): "Yes, yes. Rule alongside our ever-dutiful sister. Thrilling."

Aegon VI (standing, signaling the end of the discussion): "The aftermath talks begin in a week. Daeron, prepare your household. Daemon, keep your tongue in check during the proceedings."

Daemon (mock salute): "No promises, Your Grace."

Daeron (ignoring his brother, bowing slightly): "It will be done."

[The king exhales, the weight of the realm pressing upon him. The game of thrones continues, but for now, the pieces are moving as he commands. The fire crackles in the hearth, casting long shadows across the room—shadows of the past, and those yet to come.]

[Setting: The King's private office in the Red Keep remains quiet except for the crackling of the hearth. The weight of recent events lingers in the air as the conversation takes a more somber turn. Daeron, holding the file of post-war decrees, hesitates before voicing his concern.]

Daeron (frowning slightly): "Father, what of Mother and Elia? They're still in Dragonstone with the younger children. Should we send word to them about... Rhaegar?"

Aegon VI (pausing, his gaze distant for a moment before refocusing): "Not yet."

Daemon (tilting his head): "They'll find out eventually. Better they hear it from us than from some drunken sailor's gossip."

Aegon VI (shaking his head): "The war isn't truly over until the aftermath talks are settled. If we tell them now, Rhaella will demand to return, Elia will be in mourning, and the children will be caught in the storm of it all—before we've secured the realm's stability."

Daeron (concerned): "But keeping this from them—"

Aegon VI (firm but not unkind): "Is the lesser cruelty. Dragonstone is secure. Let them have peace a little longer. Once the terms are finalized, then we tell them. Rhaella deserves to hear it from me directly. And Elia..." (He exhales.) "She will need time. But she will also need to understand the betrothal between Baelon and Rhaenys—for her daughter's future."

Daemon (leaning back, arms crossed): "So we're lying by omission. Bold strategy. Let's hope Mother doesn't take it personally when she finds out we waited."

Aegon VI (shooting him a look): "This isn't a jest, Daemon."

Daemon (holding up his hands): "Never said it was. But you know how she gets. And Elia? She's Dornish. She'll see through any delay."

Daeron (thoughtful): "Perhaps... we send a vague message? Assure them of our safety, but say the situation is still unfolding? That way, they're not completely in the dark."

Aegon VI (considering, then nodding slowly): "A careful wording. No details, but no outright deception. Yes. That might suffice for now."

Daemon (grinning): "Ah, the art of saying nothing while sounding wise. A skill you've mastered, brother."

Daeron (ignoring him, focused on Aegon VI): "I'll draft it. Something neutral. Enough to keep them from worrying—or suspecting."

Aegon VI (approving): "Good. But ensure no raven flies until after the factions arrive in King's Landing. The last thing we need is a grieving Elia or an angry Rhaella descending on the city before we're ready."

Daemon (muttering): "Because nothing says stable succession like a furious queen and a heartbroken princess arriving mid-negotiation."

Aegon VI (pinching the bridge of his nose): "Daemon."

Daemon (holding up his hands again): "Just saying what we're all thinking."

[A tense silence settles. The fire pops in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the room. The weight of secrets, grief, and duty presses down—but for now, the decision is made. The truth will wait. The game continues.]