Ice and Fire: Reign of the Dragon.

Chapter 419: Inheritance Issues

The Red Keep, the Imperial Council Chamber
On both sides of the long table, the flickering candlelight illuminated every tense face.

Prime Minister Lingol Varese sat at the head of the table, the silver dragon laurel emblem on his chest glowing coldly under the firelight. His fingers tapped the tabletop, the rhythm as steady as a war drum.

"In accordance with the king's will, today's topic is: Garin Targaryen—" he began slowly, "should he be officially included in the royal line of succession?"

Lord Blood Raven Brynden slowly stood up and placed his orb in the groove representing the chief intelligence officer. His single eye glowed deeply in the candlelight, as if it could see through people's hearts. The white crow fluttered its wings uneasily on his shoulder. This was the number of white crows the Marquis had replaced.

"Recognize the son of a bastard as a legitimate Targaryen?" His voice was as low as an undercurrent beneath the ice. "Today we add him to the family tree and allow him to inherit. The roots of the Dance of the Dragons and the Blackfyre Rebellion will sprout again."

He tapped the table with his fingertips, and each tap seemed to hit everyone's nerves.

"My Lords, how many years have passed since the Blackfyre Rebellion?"

The Minister of Finance, Count Harry of Florence, sneered and slammed the account book in front of him. This illegitimate son of Aegon III was rewarded with a large piece of land after the war because he stood firmly on the side of the royal family and Vareses. Count Harry took the opportunity to change his illegitimate son's surname, adopted a knight's son as his heir on the recommendation of King Daeron and Ringol, and established his own family.

"Princess Daenerys is Prince Baelor's only daughter. According to Queen Rhaenyra's bloodline, she should be the first heir to the throne of Dragonstone, unless Prince Baelor designates other heirs after he ascends the throne. But no one dares to predict what will happen in the future." His eyes were as sharp as a knife, sweeping across the crowd. "Once we recognize Garin's bloodline, Garin, as a male heir of Targaryen, will cause controversy in the issue of succession." He deliberately glanced at Daemon Velaryon, "."

He slowly unfolded a piece of parchment, on which were densely recorded the attitudes of the major families towards the inheritance law.

"Queen Rhaenyra brought the legitimacy of designated succession and female inheritance. The Vale has always had a tradition of female rulers, and the North." He paused meaningfully, "The Starks have never denied the right of female inheritance. They showed their loyalty when Queen Rhaenyra was in power. Do you really think they will quietly accept the possibility that a 'black-haired bastard' has priority over Princess Daenerys?"

Daemon Velaryon slammed the table and stood up. The seahorse brooch reflected a cold light in the candlelight.

"Lessons? The lesson now is that the Targaryen family is dying of male descendants!" His voice was like waves hitting the shore, "Gaelin's succession line ranks after all the legitimate princes. Baelor, Rhaegal, Aerys, Maekar, and even Maekar's son Aegon are ahead of him! Acknowledging him is just adding another backup option!"

He turned to Grand Maester Harris, who was stroking the gold ring on his necklace.

"Grandmaster, tell them the order of succession."

Harris cleared his throat. "According to the law of succession, Garin's succession order is after all male heirs, and after Princess Daenerys, whether according to Andal succession law or according to convention."

"That's all!" Damon interrupted loudly, "Gailin won't affect the succession, but he can provide a new branch for the royal family, a backup option!"

Galwyn Corbray's white robes remained motionless, but the veins on his sword-grip were throbbing.

"I do not understand the law." The captain of the Kingsguard's voice was like steel. "But three months ago on Driftmark, Garen Targaryen single-handedly killed three pirates. When his sword pierced the throat of the last one." He looked directly at Brynden. "The pirate's blood splattered on his face, and his purple eyes shone like dragon flames. That was the look of a warrior. I believe that if he is allowed to tame dragons, he will tame dragons like a true Targaryen and prove himself like his father."

The Prime Minister's fingers rested on his orb.

"Brynden," he said suddenly, "what have your eyes seen today?"

The bird on Bloodraven's shoulder suddenly cried shrilly. Brynden sat down.

"There are two options." His voice was hoarse. "If we acknowledge Galen, the issue of succession rights will still affect the fate of the kingdom in the future. If we don't acknowledge him, our future may fall into deeper darkness."

"Your Majesty wants stability," Ringol said word by word, "not to show the Seven Kingdoms the farce of royal brothers fighting and arguing about bloodline."

boom.

The door suddenly opened.

When the servant fell in, blood was still flowing from his forehead.

"Prime Minister, His Highness Meka," he knelt on the ground, "forcing Garin to compete in the training ground! He said he wanted to 'prove his bloodline with the sword'!" "Seven levels of hell!"

Ringol frowned, but immediately relaxed.

The next moment, the Prime Minister was furious.

"Does this fool want to write a song about 'Royal Dissension' and spread it throughout the Seven Kingdoms?" The Prime Minister roared, shaking the candle flames wildly. "Does he want every tavern to discuss 'The Targaryen family would rather fight among themselves than face the issue of succession'?"

Brynden had already grabbed his orb.

"Galwyn! Roland!" He shouted, his eye bloodshot, "Break every sword involved in this!"

The sand of the arena was already riddled with indentations from Prince Maekar's gilded boots, and the long sword in his hand flashed an arrogant cold light in the sunlight.

Garin stood at the other end, silently adjusting the laces of his leather armor. The old leather armor he brought from the manor was already worn out, and there were still traces of long-term training on the left shoulder, like some kind of silent mockery. He had no dragon, no gorgeous armor, only the long sword that his father had stuffed into his hand before he left.

"First round!" The herald raised the flag embroidered with the Targaryen family emblem and was about to wave it down.

"Stop!"

A loud shout tore through the noise.

The crowd parted like a tide, and two white horses galloped over, the dust kicked up by the horses' hooves forming a golden mist in the sun. Galwyn Corbray's white robe fluttered in the wind, and the gemstone on the scabbard reflected a cold light; Roland Crakehall followed closely behind, and although the greatsword was not completely unsheathed, the heavy hilt was already against his palm, ready to cut off anyone's reckless action at any time.

Maika's smile froze on his face, and the tip of his sword dropped an inch slightly.

"Kingsguard?" He narrowed his eyes, his voice full of deliberate contempt, "Since when did the king's guards start interfering in the prince's private affairs?"

“This is not a private matter.”

A third voice came from the shadows, as low as crow feathers brushing against dry bones.

Brynden walked slowly into the arena, scanning everyone present with his one eye, and finally fixed on Maekar's face. A white crow landed on his shoulder, and its dark eye reflected Maekar's instantly tense body.

"The Royal Council was just discussing this." Brynden's voice was not loud, but it caused the entire arena to fall into silence, "whether Garyn Targaryen should be officially included in the royal succession sequence."

Maika's knuckles turned white from cracking.

"And now," Brynden continued, turning his one eye toward Garin, "all of King's Landing will know that Prince Maekar attempted to preempt the agenda of the small council by engaging in a private fight."

There were gasps from the sidelines. Maika's face instantly turned red, but Garin seemed to see a hint of a smile on the prince's lips.

"Inciting a succession dispute," Galwyn Corbray added coldly, "even for a prince, it is a serious crime."

The tip of Maika's sword finally dropped completely.

In the silence, Prince Reg suddenly laughed out loud. He strode to Garin, tore off his purple silk cape embroidered with a three-headed dragon, and threw it to Garin, whose face was covered in blood.

"Put it on, brother," he announced in a deliberately loud voice. "You deserve our last name!"

(End of this chapter)