Game Of Thrones: The Dragon Targaryen

House Targaryen of King's Landing

King Aegon Targaryen- nearing 19, no longer betrothed

Princess Daenerys Targaryen- nearing 17, not betrothed

Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen- nearing 17, not betrothed, heir to Iron Throne and Prince of Dragonstone

Princess Rhaenys Targaryen- 20, married to Willas Tyrell

House Targaryen of Duskendale

Lord Aelor Targaryen (38) and wife Alysanne Lefford (35)

Renlor Targaryen- 16, 'married' to Myrcella Langward, heir to Duskendale

Aemon Targaryen- 15, not betrothed, heir to Golden Tooth (through Alysanne's father Lord Leo Lefford)

Rhaella Targaryen- 13, deceased

Baelon Targaryen- 12, not betrothed

Daemon Targaryen- 6, not betrothed

Saera Targaryen- 3, not betrothed

Alyssa Targaryen- infant, not betrothed

House Targaryen of Summerhall

King Viserys Targaryen- 22-23, not betrothed, currently waging war for Iron Throne

Daena Waters- 1, not betrothed

Daenella Waters- 1, not betrothed

House Arryn

Lord Jon Arryn and wife Lysa Tully

Artys Arryn- 14 Not betrothed, heir to the Vale

Aemma Arryn-14 Not betrothed

Robin 'Sweetrobin' Arryn- 9, not betrothed

House Stark

Lord Eddard Stark and wife Catelyn Tully

Lyanna Stark- 34, not married, mother of Jaehaerys Targaryen

Robb Stark- nearing 17, not betrothed, heir to the North

Sansa Stark- 14, not betrothed

Arya Stark- 12, not betrothed

Brandon Stark- 11, not betrothed

Rickon Stark- 7, not betrothed

House Tyrell

Lord Mace Tyrell and wife Alerie Hightower

Willas Tyrell- 24, married to Rhaenys Targaryen, heir to the Reach

Alester Tyrell- 3, son of Willas and Rhaenys, not betrothed

Osmund Tyrell- 2, son of Willas and Rhaenys, not betrothed

Garlan Tyrell- 21, married to Leonette Fossoway, no issue

Loras Tyrell- 17. not betrothed, in service to Renly Baratheon

Margaery Tyrell- 16, not betrothed

House Baratheon

Lord Stannis Baratheon and wife Arnette Swann

Shireen Baratheon- 13, not betrothed

Steffon Baratheon- 7, not betrothed, heir to the Stormlands

Lyonel Baratheon- 1, not betrothed

Renly Baratheon- 22, not betrothed, currently pressing claim for Storm's End alongside Viserys Targaryen

House Lannister

Lord Tyrion Lannister, unmarried

Cersei Lannister, married to Lord Alaric Langward

Ser Jaime Lannister, Brother of the Night's Watch

Ser Kevan Lannister, heir to the Westerlands in absence of issue of Tyrion

House Tully

Lord Edmure Tully- 29, unmarried

Catelyn Tully, married to Eddard Stark

Lysa Tully, married to Jon Arryn

*heir to Riverlands is Robb Stark in absence of issue of Edmure

House Martell

Lord Doran Martell and (estranged) wife Mellario of Norvos

Princess Arianne Martell- 23, not betrothed, heir to Dorne

Prince Quentyn Martell- 19, betrothed to Gwyneth Yronwood

Prince Trystane Martell- 16, not betrothed

Queen Elia Martell- deceased, mother of King Aegon Targaryen and Princess Rhaenys Targaryen

Prince Oberyn Martell and paramour Ellaria Sand

Oberyn's bastard daughters the Sand Snakes, Obara, Nymeria, Tyene, Sarella, Elia, Obella, Dorea and Loreza

House Greyjoy

Iron King Balon Greyjoy and wife Alannys Harlaw

Prince Rodrik Greyjoy- slain by Lord Jason Mallister of Seagard

Prince Maron Greyjoy- 30, married to Gysella Goodbrother, no issue, heir to Iron Islands

Princess Asha Greyjoy- 25, not betrothed

Prince Theon Greyjoy- 21, not betrothed

Victarian Greyjoy, brother of Balon, wives are deceased, no issue

Euron Greyjoy, brother of Balon, not married

End of Index

She's dead. All these years I've taken for granted that she would one day be my Queen, and now she is dead.

King Aegon Targaryen, sixth of his name, sat with his head in his hands, elbows braced on a small table in the King's Tower at Castle Black. Out of the window on the wall facing him he could see both the gate and bottom of the stairs going up the Wall. He'd been the first King in over one hundred years to stay in the one hundred foot tall tower; Aegon had noticed as soon as he'd stepped through the oak and iron door how clean the tower had been scrubbed, clearly having been gone over immaculately since the Night's Watch received word of his imminent arrival.

Aegon hadn't loved Rhaella by any means. She was—had been—a sweet, kind girl whom he had been raised with since he was five years old. Although he had always known she was to one day be his Queen, it had still been difficult for Aegon to not see her as a sibling, as he did her elder brothers. I suppose that wouldn't have been too terribly amiss, what with our family history.

He remembered how confused he had been as a boy, when he'd read of the Targaryen custom of brothers marrying sisters. Shouldn't that mean he would one day marry Rhaenys, not Rhaella? His uncle had put those questions to rest in a way that would sooth a child, and it wasn't until years later that Aegon learned Aelor believed the i.n.c.e.s.tuous couplings of their ancestors—including his own mother and father—the reason so many Targaryens went mad. Aegon was prone to agree; Aelor was self-admitting proof of it himself.

A marriage between cousins, however, was commonplace in Westeros nobility, even in Houses who didn't have three-headed dragons on their banners, and Aelor hadn't entirely forgone the idea of keeping the blood of old Valyria as pure as reasonably possible. So Rhaella had been raised from birth to one day be the Queen of Westeros, a position her mother had unofficially held for years, and Aegon had been encouraged to always treat her as a betrothed. He didn't realize how much he had taken that for granted, the whole-hearted acceptance that they would one day be married whether they wanted it or not.

Now she was dead, burned to death in the same passage his birth mother had once carried him through to safety. Dead due to the machinations of the uncle he had exiled and, indirectly, empowered.

Dead due to Aegon's inability to do what needed done. I should have killed Viserys then. I was weak when I should have been strong. I was Aegon, when I should have been Aelor.

The ravens and messengers had come within hours of one another, great flocks of them from seemingly every noble house south of the Neck, telling their stories of the hell the city of his birth had become. They'd received words of the Ironborn weeks prior, of their pillaging along the Eastern coast, but his advisors both here at the Wall and back in the heart of the Seven Kingdoms had urged him to remain in the North, as they had the Ironborn horribly outnumbered and men like Jon Arryn and Jason Mallister were perfectly capable of handling the situation.

Aegon would have ignored that and rode south anyway if not for the things he had seen.

The men of the Watch had been hesitant of taking a King ranging what with the wildlings and…other hazards, but Aegon had been adamant and they knew better than to deny him. He hadn't been in a skirmish as his uncle and cousins had reportedly been, a fact that rankled him, but he had ridden days north of the wall, and seen something that scared him far worse than the Ironborn had.

A hundred thousand men, women and children were hard to hide. Aegon, Ser Barristan and his Night's Watch escort has sighted them in a distant valley from a ridge named this that or the other. They had stretched nearly as far as he could see, an ocean of wildlings descending on the Wall.

It had been as close as the rangers had taken him. It had been close enough.

Twelve hours ago Aegon Targaryen would have told you nothing would move him from his spot defending the Wall. Now, however, the bustle of men and horses preparing to move could be heard outside his tower.

He would forever be thankful for Aelor's decision to build more passages and for Viserys' disregard for learning about them, for it had been all that saved his aunt and the rest of his family. The preparations made by Alysanne, Tyrion and Varys had allowed them to escape to Rosby, from which a fishing boat from a nearby village had been sent on to Rook's Rest and the fastest of the sh.i.p.s docked there had been sent to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, dodging the sh.i.p.s of the Golden Company. Another of the endless ravens had been sent from Cotter Pyke at Eastwatch, and with it the letter.

The message from Alysanne had been brief and to the point, and Aegon couldn't help but think she had left something major out, though he had no knowledge as to what it might be. The calligraphy in Alysanne' steady hand informed him of the successful escape of Daenerys, Lord Tyrion and the others, as well as the death of Rhaella. She also mentioned those who hadn't made it to the mustering point; Elia Sand, Ser Manfred Darke and, perhaps most devastatingly, Myrcella Langward, who was apparently pregnant with Renlor's bastard. Wise of them, to create the story of a hasty marriage. I'll have to commend her if I ever see her again.

The Seven I hope I see her again.

Atop the pain of Rhaella's death was the fear for the rest of his family. There were no loyal men to protect them from Viserys and his army, all of them by the design of his youngest uncle—or at least his advisors—hundreds of miles away preparing to ransack the Iron Islands. While they certainly had known of Viserys' invasion for days now and were undoubtedly moving to counter the threat, Aegon knew full well that Viserys would stop at nothing to track down his sister and the rest of the family who had loved him so. It was why they hadn't fled to Duskendale—it was both the obvious choice and farther than Rosby, and the Golden Company fleet had undoubtedly instantly sailed there at the discovery that the Royal Family had escaped.

Alysanne was fully aware of their danger. Lord Tyrion, stubborn in his role of Regent, had ridden towards Seagard, to meet with whatever army he came across first. Alysanne and the others had barely stayed long enough for her to pen the letter before they had ridden towards the Eyrie. Aemma Arryn was among those with his family, and she was to get them access to the impenetrable castle in the Vale. Lord Gyles Rosby—too old and ill to have traveled with his men to the war in the west—had offered the rest of his household guard to escort them, despite the likelihood that his hold would soon be assaulted.

It was a long way to go with a high level of risk—for all they knew, the very message Alysanne had sent might be intercepted—but it was there best bet. Aegon had sent a detachment of his best riders on his fastest mounts south with Ser Arthur Dayne to try and link up with them, but he knew it was unlikely they would before Alysanne and the others reached the Eyrie, if they made it that far. While Ser Arthur could move faster with his riders than Alysanne could with the women and children, they had many more miles to cover in harsher terrain.

Still, Aegon had to do something. His Kingdom was falling apart, and he was too damn far away to do anything about it.

He had sent orders for Aelor to take command of the Targaryen forces at Castle Black. He had left out word of Rhaella's death. Aegon meant to march south with a clear head, to handle this as a King would, not with the blind hatred Aelor was sure to bring. He knew in his heart Aelor would likely follow anyway, but he had ordered nothing of the Princesses' death to be mentioned before Aelor arrived here at the center of the Wall. He hoped his uncle would realize that a true threat resided on the other side, though he doubted the man would. Still, he intended to be far south by then.

Aegon also knew in his heart that this was the action of the jealous boy he still was inside, wanting to handle this direct action over the defense of a Wall, but he had justified it to himself so much he had started believing it.

The King grunted as he heard the door to his tower open, not taking his head from his hands. "Leave me. I do not wish to be disturbed until the men are ready to ride south."

An ancient voice answered, old and wizened. "Not even by an old man?"

Aegon's head shot up to see old Maester Aemon in his doorway, one hand still on the wall the blind man had used to guide himself. The King of the Iron Throne shot to his feet and rushed to his kinsman's side. "Uncle Aemon! You're intrusion would be most welcome."

Aegon helped his great-great uncle to the chair opposite the one he had just vacated. "Aemon has spent most of his time in the North in my library. He seems to have taken more after me than my name."

The King nodded, smiling though he knew the Maester of the Night's Watch couldn't see it. "He has always loved books."

"Aye, so Aelor wrote to me. But today Aemon came to me in tears, speaking of a sister he has lost."

Aegon dropped his head. He had felt the younger Aemon deserved to know of his sister's death, no matter how hard it had been to deliver the news. He had taken the news in silence with a strength Aegon didn't know he possessed, rising and leaving with a carefully blank face. "I spared my uncle Viserys for a crime nearly a year ago. Now it seems that mercy has gotten my future Queen killed."

Aemon said nothing, the oldest living blood of the dragon regarding the King with sightless eyes. Before he knew it, Aegon suddenly found himself speaking again. "For years I was raised worshipping Aelor like one of the Seven. I heard tales of his bravery on the battlefield and his decisiveness in handling Robert's Rebellion. I heard how he killed the oldest Baratheon in single combat over the body of my dead father, saving not only me but our entire dynasty at the same time. As a boy, I thought he was the Warrior himself.

"And then I grew older, became more independent, and the stories changed. Instead of the praises sung by mean seeking his favor, I heard the atrocities he committed. How he burned a city to the ground, not caring if there was innocents left inside its walls. How he gave a Lord Paramount over to a Prince of Dorne to be tortured to death, then mounted his head on a spike for over a year. How he slaughtered babies for the sins of their fathers when the Rogers' tried to kill Alysanne. How his cruelty matched his compassion for his family. No longer was Aelor a man to be worshipped, but a monster to be abhorred. Yes, I learned from him. I absorbed my lessons on stewardship as earnestly as I received his guidance on swordsmanship and tactics. I hung at Aelor's heels, desperate to earn the respect others held for him, and then realized that respect was brought more from fear than anything else and began plotting to earn it through other means. I told myself I would be a better man than my uncle is, that I would not kill so wantonly, that I would rule with a just hand. I told myself I would be a better man, a better ruler, just and kind and loved by my vassals. I told myself I would be everything my uncle was not."

Aegon found himself on his feet, staring out the window overlooking the gate as his hands gripped the sill with white-knuckles. "And in my effort to be so, I made a weak decision that ended in the death of my cousin, the sweetest child the Seven had ever graced Westeros with. In my jealousy to be anything but Aelor Targaryen, I became a fool who allowed a murder go unpunished." Aegon chuckled darkly. "I succeeded in one thing, at least. I am certainly not my uncle. He would have executed Viserys, and none of this would ever be happening."

Aemon had remained silent through the King's tirade, though when Aegon turned from the window he found the old man had twisted in his seat to face him, having followed the sound of his voice. The two regarded one another, the young man in sudden shame and the old man in blind contemplation, before the Maester spoke. "You did the right thing, you know. Sparing Viserys."

"Clearly not, or Rhaella would still live."

"If you had killed Viserys as you claim Aelor would have—a point I disagree on—you would be called the Kinslayer, and none would follow you any more willingly than they followed Aelor." He waved a hand, cutting off Aegon's protest. Bloody hell, how did he even know I was going to talk? "Your uncle confided in me long before the long years he protected your reign, Aegon Targaryen. He was once much like you believe it or not, a young boy who was just and kind. He is that no longer, it is true; I have seen the change in him through his letters. The stories of your uncle's valor are every bit as true as the stories of his atrocities. They are who he is, just as you are who you are. "

The old man reached his hand out, and Aegon went forward to take it. With surprising strength the maester pulled Aegon down close to his face, leaning close to talk in his soft voice into his young kinsman's ear. "Justice and kindness are not sins any more than they are virtues. A King rules as a King must. There is no written book of rules, no instructions on what makes a great King. A great King takes what is thrown his way and he overcomes it. You have done all you have known to do, but now you must do what must be done."

The Maester released his grip, though he had not finished speaking. "You are a young King who has had the virtue of time to be a boy. But now that time is over. You have the potential to be the greatest King since Jaehaerys the Conciliator, but not by becoming your uncle. You have to be the King you are inside. You have to be the man you are inside.

"I will tell you the same thing I told your uncle Aelor during the Rebellion.

"Kill the boy. Kill the boy, and let the man be born."