Chaos.
That was all Baelon could use to describe the scene before him.
Complete. Utter chaos.
His father hobbled across the hall, cane striking against the stone as he barked orders at the attendants. "Fetch the Maester! Now!"
Rhaenyra knelt by the twitching form of her eldest son, her hands trembling as they hovered over him, afraid to touch him yet afraid not to.
As if her warmth could offer the boy some hope of salvation, yet her attempts were rendered useless, all the while her breath came in broken gasps as tears streamed down her rounded features.
Viserys, having sent for Gerardys, turned back, trying to impose order upon the unravelling scene before him.
"Enough, Rhaenyra!" He called. "I understand your sorrow, but it does nothing to help young Jacaerys. We must wait for the Maester."
"H-help…?" Rhaenyra echoed faintly, the word barely leaving her lips as if she did not quite understand it herself.
Viserys grimaced but motioned to Lucerys and Joffrey. "Attend to your mother."
The boys moved quickly, though their faces betrayed their fear, their hands unsure as they tried to steady her.
And in that moment…the room was split.
Rhaenyra and her family were unravelling like loose lines of thread, caught in the throes of shock and grief.
Across from them was a different scene.
Alicent sat there still, her posture rigid, her expression even more so, betraying not a thought.
Beside her, Aemond likewise watched.
Calm. Cold. And at the corner of his lips…curled the faintest hint of a smile.
Aegon, however, was different.
He leaned forward slightly, his brow furrowed, something troubled flickering in his gaze as he watched the scene unfold.
At his side, Cassandra clutched her child close, who had rushed into her arms following the chaos, whispering softly in an attempt to soothe him as the boy began to cry, his small sobs swallowed by the greater turmoil of the hall.
"Baelon."
The voice pulled him back.
Viserys had already made his way to him and Helaena, his breathing uneven as he leaned upon his cane. "Is there anything you can do with… that."
Baelon understood.
There was no need to say it.
His gaze flickered briefly toward Jacaerys, the boy's face now the same colour as his mother's eyes, his body still trembling weakly against the floor.
"Unfortunately… no." Baelon shook his head. "I can heal flesh wounds." He paused for a beat. "But rot, and even poison—"
He sighed.
"They are not something I can overcome. If it were…" His gaze shifted back to his father for a brief moment. "You would have been healed long ago."
"Alas…" Viserys murmured, as his gaze drifted across the room.
For a fleeting second…Baelon felt the man's gaze on his mother just a moment too long.
Baelon narrowed his eyes slightly, but said nothing.
Instead, he turned as movement stirred near the entrance.
The new Grand Maester had arrived.
Gerardys pushed his way through the gathered attendants, his arms laden with small vials filled with strange, murky concoctions that clinked faintly with each hurried step.
His expression was tense as he moved toward the fallen princeling without hesitation.
The hall fell into a suffocating silence as the Grand Maester knelt beside the boy.
The Grand Maester wasted no time.
First pressing lightly against Jacaerys' throat, feeling for any sign of breath, of pulse. And, from his sombre face, Baelon could tell the results weren't anything pleasant.
The man's fingers shifted to the boy's wrist, then to his neck once more, searching, confirming as if he was in denial.
Gerardys leaned closer.
Two fingers gently pried open the prince's mouth, his brow furrowing as he examined the tongue, the throat, both of which had become discoloured.
A small vial was brought forth, and with a cloth, he dabbed lightly at the boy's lips, bringing the scent close to his nose…then paused.
His expression tightened.
And with it—
So did the room.
Gerardys exhaled slowly before rising to his feet, turning toward the King.
"Your Grace…" he began. "Prince Jacaerys cannot be saved; he has already passed." He shook his head faintly. "This bears the mark of the Tears of Lys. It is a cruel poison...there is little that can be done once it takes hold."
Baelon watched as Viserys closed his eyes.
His pale hand tightened around his cane, far tighter than his frail form should have allowed.
"Thank you, Gerardys," he said at last, voice low.
For a moment, the King simply stood there.
Then—
"Prepare him," Viserys commanded, his voice regaining a touch of authority, however brittle it may be. "He is to be washed, anointed, and wrapped in proper linens. Send for the Silent Sisters, they will see to his rites."
The attendants hesitated only briefly before bowing their heads, moving forward with haste.
White cloth was brought as the boy was covered up, for the Stranger had taken him.
Now, the living could only prepare what remained.
Baelon watched.
And felt the tension in the room deepen.
Even beside him, Helaena had fallen still, her brows drawn together, her expression tight, regret plain upon her face.
It had been a single day.
A. Single. Day.
And already, blood had been spilt.
Baelon exhaled slowly, resisting the growing urge to simply leave, to walk out, to vanish, to be anywhere but here.
He could already hear it.
The whispers.
The streets of King's Landing would feast upon this.
Look here, look here!
The twins return, and death follows.
A nephew slain, a path cleared!
Baelon grit his teeth at the thought.
Viserys would not believe such nonsense.
But others?
That was another matter entirely.
And then—
Something snapped. No. Something in Rhaenyra snapped as she rose to her feet with violence, her grief shattering into something far, far more volatile.
"Is it because you now have confidence?!" She snarled her gaze, snapping toward Alicent before flicking toward Baelon and Helaena. "Is it because of them that you dare to do something so despicable?! If I had known, I would have long—"
"Enough!"
Viserys' voice cut through the hall.
But Rhaenyra did not stop.
"Father!" She cried, half between rage and shock. "Are you protecting this vile woman? She has murdered your grandson, your eldest grandson!"
Around them, servants shrank to hide their presence as they handled the corpse.
Baelon could not blame them. The air itself felt ready to ignite at even the smallest flame.
"ENOUGH, RHAENYRA!" This time, Viserys roared, his voice carrying with a force that silenced the room entirely.
His gaze burned as it swept across them all.
"I will investigate this," he said. "And I will bring justice to Jacaerys."
"Justice?" Rhaenyra let out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. "What justice can bring my son back?"
Alas, Viserys did not yield. Not this time.
"Then what would you have me do?" He demanded, anger flaring now. "Kill the Queen of the Realm on accusation alone?!"
Baelon watched this all, feeling an eerie sense of familiarity. He pondered for a moment, but then realised where it came from.
'This is just like Driftmark…' His eyes drifted to Aemond, who noticed him and gave a small nod in his direction.
Returning the gesture, Baelon threw his gaze at his mother, who was bearing the brunt of Rhaenyra's fury. 'It's just the roles have flipped.'
Like everyone else, Baelon had an inkling of a guess as to who did this, but knowing it was useless.
Worse yet, even if his mother was found guilty...could he really watch her die? He doubted it.
Still, he could only hope that this mess would not turn into anything bloodier yet; that thought seemed paler the longer he looked at the raging Rhaenyra.
***
The hearth burned quietly beside Alicent, its flames licking at the air as it crackled, the only sound to break the silence that had settled over the solar.
"Do you have something to ask?" Alicent turned her gaze toward the man seated opposite her.
"Merely a burst of curiosity, Your Grace." The clubfoot smiled faintly in reply, fingers steepled lightly in his lap.
Yet as the moment lingered, that smile dulled, thinning at the edges as his eyes sharpened. "May I ask why you did this?"
Alicent scoffed, though it came a touch too quickly. "Whatever do you mean?"
"Your Grace…" Larys pressed, his voice soft, almost patient. "We both know what I mean."
Silence followed.
The flames flickered, casting restless shadows across the chamber, their amber glow dancing across Alicent's face as her composure held.
"They…" She began, her lips pressing thin before the words forced their way out. "…were going to poison them."
Her hands tightened against the arms of her chair. "Poison my children."
Despite the quiet of her words, they hid ferocity.
She could still recall it. Clearly.
The moment Larys had brought her the information, as he always did. The return of Baelon and Helaena. The whispers that had followed.
The scheme that had been set in motion by the pompous bastard stationed in the Stepstones and his Twin Whores of an alliance.
Baelon.
Helaena.
Her children…schemed to drink poison on the day of their return.
Her gaze flickered to the memory of them seated at the table, grown, distant, changed in ways she had not been there to witness.
A hollow ache settled briefly in her chest.
"So you used their scheme against them?" Larys' voice cut cleanly through her thoughts, dragging her back. "Your Grace…surely you do not consider that clever."
His tone remained gentle.
Almost kind.
But Alicent knew better. She knew the viper hidden beneath his words.
"His Grace will require no proof to understand your hand in this," Larys continued, tilting his head slightly. "Your life may remain your own…but your freedom?" A faint shake of his head. "That is another matter entirely."
Alicent did not look at him.
Instead, her gaze returned to the hearth.
To the flames. They burned steadily, uncaring, alive in a way she had not felt in years.
"But I will not die," she said quietly.
There was no fear in it.
Only certainty.
Her fingers traced the carved arm of her chair, slow, absent, as her thoughts settled into place.
Yes, her position was weakened.
Her allies on the council had been stripped away. The walls were closing in. And soon enough, Viserys would act. Confinement, perhaps. After all, once he learned the truth, she doubted he would truly harm her.
Rhaenyra may have thought herself to be Viserys' favourite, but her years of politicking and arrogance had worn much of that affection away.
All Viserys held for her now was guilt towards her mother. The only woman he had truly loved.
And yet, the fool was blind to it all the while, still indulging in her arrogance.
Still...none of it mattered.
Not truly. Because she had a new reliance.
Baelon.
Helaena.
They had returned.
And with them—
Power.
Real power.
Their mere presence would help her, even should they refuse her requests.
After all, they were her children. In the eyes of outsiders, it seemed inevitable they would be tied to the Greens.
Alicent's gaze lingered on the fire; she could feel the gentle warmth of the hearth wash over her face.
Alas, beneath the warmth lay a mind long consumed by indifference.
'This...is merely the beginning.'