The King arrived, supported by the Kingsguard, his face the color of old parchment, his breathing ragged and labored.
Queen Alicent followed closely behind, her green dress impeccably neat, a stark contrast to the chaos before them.
The moment the Queen's gaze fell upon the scene, her breath hitched.
She saw the blood smeared across Aemond's face, the pool of gore on the floor, and the retreating form of the maimed boy.
She raised a hand to her mouth, stifling a cry of horror.
"Seven Gods above..." Viserys swayed on his feet, staring at the carnage.
"This... this is..."
"Your Grace!" Rhaenyra, clutching her unconscious son, turned her head. Tears streamed down her face, cutting through the grime.
"Look! Look at what your son has done!"
"He tried to murder my boy! He pierced his eye with a dagger!"
"No, it wasn't like that!" Alicent rushed forward, throwing her body between Aemond and the accusing glares.
"Look at Aemond's face! He is injured too! This must have been an accident!"
"An accident?" Daemon's voice cut through the air, cold and sharp as a razor.
"Your Grace, how many coincidences do you think it takes for a dagger to find its way into a child's eye accidentally?"
"When children fight, anything can happen!" Alicent's voice rose, shrill with panic.
"They must have started it! They slashed Aemond's face! Look at him, Your Grace!"
"It was Lucerys who pulled the dagger. He tripped and injured his own brother," Aemond repeated, his voice calm, his violet eyes void of emotion.
"You're lying! I didn't!" Lucerys shouted immediately, desperation fueling his denial.
"It was you."
"I saw Aemond stab Jacaerys!" the other children chimed in, a chorus of damning voices.
Chaos flooded the Dragonpit like a rising tide.
"Enough!"
Viserys's roar tore through the noise, though it ended in a coughing fit.
The King's gaze shifted painfully between his second son, bloody and defiant, and the trail of blood left by his eldest grandson.
His kingdom, the peace he had so painstakingly maintained, his family, already fragile as thin ice, shattered completely in that moment.
"First... save the children first," he wheezed.
"Maester! Where is the Maester!"
The Maesters hurried forward, gasping collectively at the severity of the wounds.
They worked quickly, bandaging the dagger before carefully lifting Jacaerys onto a litter.
The unconscious youth let out intermittent, low moans, his body twitching with spasms of pain. With every twitch, Rhaenyra's face turned a shade whiter.
Once Jacaerys was carried away, only a pool of dark, almost black blood remained on the stone floor.
The Dragonpit fell into a dead silence.
All eyes were fixed on Aemond.
Alicent tried to shield him, but Aemond gently pushed his mother's arm aside and stepped forward.
He stared at the blood, then met Rhaenyra's hollow, hateful gaze, Daemon's mocking scrutiny, and finally his father's face, a mixture of grief, anger, and profound helplessness.
"Father, it wasn't me," Aemond said, his voice clear and firm. "It was Lucerys."
"Five children have identified you! And you still make excuses!"
Viserys stepped forward, trembling with rage, and delivered a sharp slap across Aemond's face.
Smack
"Would five children unite to frame you? You are the oldest one here!"
Smack
Aemond did not dodge. He did not flinch.
A trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, joining the dried blood already there.
"You would rather believe them... than your own flesh and blood?"
He looked up, staring directly into his father's eyes.
Viserys saw the fire in his son's gaze.
For a fleeting instant, doubt slithered into his heart. Could he truly have been framed?
"Your Grace! You strike your own son on the word of outsiders?" Alicent's face burned with fury.
"Queen, I suggest you mind your words. I am the King's eldest daughter," Rhaenyra countered coldly, her voice trembling with suppressed rage.
"My sons have the blood of the dragon. They are heirs to the Iron Throne."
"I am the King's own brother. Are my daughters also outsiders in the Queen's eyes?" Prince Daemon added, his tone dangerously indifferent.
"Besides, five witnesses have unanimously accused Aemond, Your Grace."
Aemond knew the truth. On Viserys's scale, he never weighed even a tenth of Rhaenyra.
He turned his gaze toward Lucerys. The boy lowered his head, refusing to meet his eyes.
The other children looked away, one by one.
Smack
Another slap landed. Viserys was incensed by the unextinguished defiance in Aemond's eyes.
"Even now, you dare to threaten them with your glare!"
"Aemond! Don't..." Alicent fell to her knees, clutching her son tightly.
"Your Grace, if you must strike someone, strike me!"
The Queen looked up, tears streaming down her face.
"You... you..." Viserys looked at the pleading Queen, his raised palm freezing in mid-air.
The strain was too much; his body went limp, and he nearly collapsed.
"Your Grace!" The Kingsguard rushed forward to catch him.
Rhaenyra gave Aemond one last look of pure venom.
She had no time for this now; Jace's life hung in the balance. She turned and swept out of the cavern.
Daemon lingered a moment longer. He looked at Aemond, who stood with a straight back despite the beating.
The Prince raised a hand and lightly tapped his own cheek, a silent, mocking salute to the boy's resilience. He admired the grit, but they were enemies now.
Daemon turned and followed Rhaenyra.
At that moment, heavy, rhythmic footsteps echoed from the tunnel entrance.
Leather boots and a metal cane struck the stone floor in an alternating beat, thud, clack, thud, clack.
A tall, majestic figure appeared at the entrance, blocking the flickering torchlight.
Lord Corlys Velaryon had arrived.
He had not rushed. He was fully dressed in a dark blue velvet coat embroidered with the silver seahorse, his white hair perfectly groomed.
Every wrinkle on his face seemed etched by salt and wind, his expression as hard and cold as a reef.
Corlys did not look at his departing grandchildren, nor did he chase after the litter carrying Jacaerys.
Though whispers throughout the Seven Kingdoms claimed Rhaenyra's sons were Strong bastards, Jacaerys was his grandson in name, the link connecting House Velaryon to the Iron Throne.
His sharp, grey-blue eyes swept over the blood on the floor.
Corlys's gaze met Daemon's briefly as the Prince passed him. Between the two men, no words were needed.
They were the pillars of the Blacks.
The playful glint at the corner of Daemon's mouth deepened, while Corlys's face remained like the sea before a storm, unfathomable.
"Your Grace," Corlys's voice cut through the weeping and chaos like a blade.
Viserys looked up, pain etched into every feature.
"Corlys... you've seen it all..."
"I have seen the irreparable harm suffered by the heir of House Velaryon."
Corlys's voice wasn't loud, but it brought an instant hush to the Dragonpit.
"And I see that the perpetrator is still standing here."
Alicent snapped her head up.
"Lord Corlys! This was an accident! It was a fight between children that got out of hand... it was Lucerys who accidentally harmed his brother."
"Your Grace," Corlys nodded slightly, perfectly polite yet radiating menace, "when a weapon is thrust into a Prince's eye socket, it has moved beyond the realm of children's scuffles."
"This is an atrocity. A grave offense against the future of the realm, against Driftmark, and against the King's own blood."
He took a slow step forward, his cane tapping the stone.
"Princess Rhaenyra is my daughter-in-law, and Jacaerys Velaryon is my grandson. In his veins flows the blood of Old Valyria. To harm him is a direct provocation to Driftmark, to the Velaryon fleet, and to the Crown itself."
"Your Grace," he turned to the swaying Viserys, "this happened on Driftmark, under my roof. As the Lord of the Tides, I demand a full investigation and a just trial."
"The honor of House Velaryon, and indeed the stability of the realm, depends on it."
He did not explicitly demand Aemond's head, but the words 'just trial' carried the weight of a guillotine.
Alicent's face turned white as paper. As a Hightower, she understood the language of power.
This was no longer a family tragedy; it was a political crisis involving the realm's most powerful naval force.
Even if Aemond was telling the truth, they had lost the war of witnesses.
In his mother's arms, Aemond understood too.
He watched the Sea Snake calmly.
The old man wasn't here to mourn; he was here to negotiate. He would trade an eye for leverage, for a firmer alliance, for favors, for power.
Corlys bowed slightly to the King, turned, and walked steadily toward the exit.
As he left, King Viserys finally succumbed to the grief and pressure, collapsing into the arms of his Kingsguard.
"Your Grace!"
Eventually, the Dragonpit emptied, leaving only Alicent, her handmaidens, and Aemond.
The Queen held her son tightly, trembling. She felt as though she were falling into an abyss.
Aemond allowed his mother to hold him, his mind racing. In the original history, he lost an eye, his mother drew a knife, and the lines were drawn.
The Blacks walked away with their pride, and he walked away with Vhagar.
But now? Now, Jacaerys had lost an eye.
The hatred of Rhaenyra was now blood-deep and irreconcilable. House Velaryon had a perfect casus belli.
And he, Aemond Targaryen, was branded a kinslayer at twelve years old.
Alicent turned and cupped his face, her fingers ice-cold.
"Does it hurt, my child... what have they done to you..."
Her voice broke, tears pooling in her eyes.
Aemond did not answer. He looked at his mother's fearful face and sighed internally.
Viserys, in his desperate bid to please everyone, had sown dragon's teeth across the realm. He gave dragons to the Velaryons, feeding their ambition.
He married his daughter's best friend, turning love into rivalry.
He broke the precedent of the Great Council to name a female heir, yet did nothing to secure her succession against the traditions of the realm.
Every act of kindness by the King was a step toward the abyss.
And tonight, the King had made his choice.
He had chosen Rhaenyra. He had chosen the lie.
Aemond wiped the blood from his lip. The time for childhood was over.
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A/N:
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