King's Landing, 95 AC – The Red Keep
The news of Vaeron's exile arrived swiftly, carried by a raven from Dragonstone. It was a letter addressed to King Viserys, written by none other than Prince Daemon, his words cold and pragmatic.
Vaeron, the bastard of Dragonstone, had been sent away. For his own safety, Daemon claimed. Yet there was no mistaking the true nature of the prince's gesture: an act of defiance against the growing influence of House Hightower and their manipulation of the crown.
The letter was read aloud in the throne room, and as the final words were spoken, a heavy silence fell upon the gathered courtiers.
King Viserys I Targaryen, sitting upon the Iron Throne, seemed drained, his gaunt face a mask of weariness and frustration. His eyes, once sharp and commanding, now appeared clouded, as though he carried a burden too great for his frail shoulders.
"Is this what it has come to?" he asked, his voice low and tired. "My brother's actions, undermining the very fabric of this crown?"
His words echoed through the hall, but no one dared to answer immediately.
The Small Council Room, Hours Later
Viserys convened the Small Council in private, the weight of his brother's defiance pressing down on him. Ser Otto Hightower, his Hand, was the first to speak.
"Your Grace, Daemon's actions are not only reckless—they are dangerous. This bastard, Vaeron, could grow into something far worse than we can control. The boy is Targaryen blood, with a dragon. His mere existence threatens the legitimacy of your heirs."
"I've not forgotten his bloodline," Viserys said, his voice tight with the strain of conflict. "Daemon has created a potential rival—no, a new faction—that will undoubtedly stir trouble if left unchecked."
"A faction? A dragonrider?" Lord Corlys Velaryon, master of ships, raised a brow. "Aye, perhaps. But the boy is not yet a threat."
"Not yet," Otto emphasized, his voice icy. "But he will be. And if we wait too long, we might find ourselves fighting a war to stop him. A war that could fracture the kingdom—again."
The tension was palpable. Viserys closed his eyes for a moment, the weight of the crown too heavy upon him.
"Daemon does this to spite me," Viserys murmured. "He's no longer just my brother. He's a rebel. And I cannot allow him to tear the realm apart."
Later that Day – Queen Alicent's Chambers
Queen Alicent sat by the window, gazing out over the Red Keep's sprawling gardens, her expression unreadable. Her mind, however, was far from peaceful.
Her son, Aegon, would one day rule the Seven Kingdoms. That much she knew. But now there was another player in the game, one who could claim the throne with the same fire as the Targaryens.
"Daemon's bastard," she murmured under her breath. "What a clever little move."
Ser Otto entered, his face as composed as ever, but the tension in his eyes told a different story.
"Daemon has exiled him," Alicent said, turning to face him. "But it will not be enough. There will always be whispers of his name."
"A name that could one day rival Aegon's," Otto replied, his tone laced with concern.
"Do you think Daemon sent him away to protect him?" Alicent asked, a bitter smile creeping onto her lips.
"No," Otto replied coldly. "Daemon exiles his rivals. This boy could be something more. The question is, what will we do about it?"
King's Landing – The Streets
Rumors spread quickly through the streets of King's Landing, carried by gossiping peasants, merchants, and beggars alike. The name Vaeron Waters was whispered in dark corners, along with talk of a dragon and a future that could shatter the peace King Viserys had struggled to maintain.
To the common folk, Vaeron was a symbol of something they could not name—a spark of hope, perhaps, or a sign of change. To the nobles, he was a threat—one that had been too close to the flames.
The Red Keep – The Iron Throne Room
King Viserys, finally alone in the throne room, stared at the throne—the symbol of his family's rule—and found himself wondering if the crown was worth the cost.
"Daemon has thrown another stone into the water," he whispered to himself. "But I will not let it drown me."
A heavy sigh escaped his lips, and the king's gaze turned to the halls beyond. He could feel the walls closing in, the ever-present tension between his bloodline and his ambition. His throne was not as secure as it seemed, and the road ahead was fraught with danger.