Bonus 150 stones/250 stones
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Maegor's Holdfast, The Queen's Chambers
Inside the Queen's chambers, the air was warm and thick with the scent of milk and lavender.
Two noble ladies sat on soft chairs, their bodices open, each cradling an infant to nurse.
Currently, the Queen was at the King's bedchamber tending to the unconscious Viserys, so she had arranged for them to look after the twins for the time being.
The door was pushed open.
Aemond Targaryen walked in carrying two dragon eggs. He scanned the room, his gaze cold.
"Leave us."
The two ladies hurriedly set the infants down, pulled their bodices shut, bowed their heads in salute, and beat a hasty retreat.
They softly closed the door behind them.
Aemond walked over to the cradle.
Baelon and Dorea were placed in a specially made cradle by the Queen's bed, wrapped in exquisite white silk.
Both infants had already grown fine, pale silver hair, the very essence of a Targaryen.
Baelon stared at his older brother with wide, unblinking blue eyes.
Dorea, meanwhile, fixed her purple eyes on him, making soft babbling sounds.
Aemond leaned over and gently placed the dragon eggs into the cradle; the gray one by Baelon's hand and the white one next to Dorea.
Baelon's tiny hand instinctively rested upon the gray egg.
Dorea, however, opened her toothless little mouth and nibbled at the bright white shell before her.
He watched silently for a long time.
Then, he drew the dagger from his waist.
Shing.
The blade flashed in the candlelight.
He drew the blade across his left palm.
Blood welled from the lines of his palm and dripped down.
Aemond gazed at these unhatched dragon eggs, wondering if, once they hatched, the dragons would obey him or his younger siblings.
He allowed the blood to drip onto the warm shells, an ancient binding ritual.
"Aemond."
The voice was soft, tinged with hesitation.
Helaena stood at the door, having entered at some unknown moment.
She closed the door, walked to her brother's side, and looked down at his bleeding hand, her brow furrowing slightly.
"Are you hatching them?" she asked in a low voice.
Aemond finally looked up at his sister, his face expressionless.
"Mm," he answered briefly.
Helaena sighed.
She took a handkerchief with exquisite patterns from her sleeve, took Aemond's hand, and carefully bandaged it for him.
Her movements were very light and slow, for fear of hurting him.
"Does it hurt?" she asked, her head bowed.
Aemond remained silent; once she finished bandaging, he reached out and grasped her wrist.
Helaena looked up at him, the candlelight dancing in her purple eyes, which were filled with worry, fear, and a sense of powerlessness.
"I am so useless," she murmured to herself.
"I can never help you..."
Aemond's hand pressed against her lips, silencing her.
"I can handle these things myself."
With that, he gazed at Helaena with a smile. Then, he turned and left.
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The King's Bedchamber
In the King's bedchamber, the awakened Viserys I lay amidst layers of soft pillows and embroidery, feeling only an increasing sense of exhaustion and grogginess.
Queen Alicent sat by the bedside, using a soft cloth soaked in mint water to wipe the cold sweat from the King's forehead.
The door hinges creaked softly.
Aemond stood in the shadows behind the door, observing. He waited for a moment before stepping slowly inside.
"Mother," he spoke first.
"Is His Grace awake?"
Alicent turned her head, looking at her son with a complex expression. She nodded, then shook her head.
"He was awake for a moment, but... he is still very weak."
Aemond walked slowly toward the bed and bowed to the King.
"Father, seeing you awake is the most comforting thing in the Seven Kingdoms tonight."
Viserys's gaze slowly focused on him.
"You..."
"I am here, Father." Aemond took two steps forward.
"Regarding today's events, I apologize to you on behalf of the Hand. I have already ordered him to return to Oldtown immediately tomorrow."
Alicent looked up sharply.
"Otto..."
"This is the most appropriate course of action for now, Mother."
Aemond's tone brooked no argument.
Viserys's withered hand rose slightly, then fell back weakly.
His lips quivered as he struggled to squeeze out a few words.
"Rhaenyra..."
"The Heir Apparent and our uncle have returned safely to Dragonstone," Aemond replied immediately, lying smoothly.
"I personally escorted her out of the Crownlands."
"As for Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey... according to your command, their dragons remain in the Dragonpit, but they themselves have left safely."
Viserys's eyes widened for a moment; a flash of confusion crossed his clouded pupils, followed by realization.
'He understood.'
"Father," Aemond continued, "while you were unconscious, the Red Keep was on the verge of spiraling out of control."
"Commander Luthor Largent took it upon himself to impose martial law, disturbing the nobles. I suggest his removal."
"But now that you are bedridden and unable to govern..."
He paused.
"Until you recover, I implore you to appoint Mother as Regent."
Alicent stared at her son with wide eyes, her lips trembling slightly.
Viserys gazed at Aemond.
"No..." he squeezed out the words with difficulty.
"It cannot be..."
"Why not?" Aemond asked, his voice hardening.
"Is it because you don't trust us? Or have you never considered us your family?"
Hearing Aemond's accusation, Viserys felt a surge of anger and shakily pointed a finger at him.
Aemond stepped forward and caught Viserys's hand.
"And what about Mother? Father, speak from your heart. Since you fell unconscious, who has been keeping watch by this sickbed? Who has been washing you and giving you medicine?"
"Was it Rhaenyra? Where is she? She mounted her dragon and flew away without a backward glance!"
"Aemond!" Queen Alicent snapped.
"You must not speak to your father that way!"
But Aemond did not stop. He let go of the King's hand and stared at him.
"We children, Aegon, Helaena, myself, Daeron, as well as the infants Baelon and Dorea, six of us in total."
"Father, in your heart, do the six of us combined truly not equal Rhaenyra alone?"
Viserys trembled all over but could not speak.
Aemond took a deep breath, suppressing his surging fury.
"What has your years of favoritism brought you?"
He looked down at the King on the sickbed.
"Look at what she has done now. To secure her position as Heir Apparent, she took it upon herself to hand those three children, along with three dragons, over to the Velaryons."
"And that 'Sea Snake,' Corlys Velaryon..." Aemond's voice suddenly turned cold.
"He covets our bloodline, wanting the Velaryons to become a second dragon-riding family."
"This is more than just treason. We must strike hard."
"Rhaenyra is not just confused. She has betrayed the Targaryens, betrayed our oath of blood and fire."
He turned to his father and said with a sigh.
"Father, you always want to look after both sides, always want to please everyone. But everything today has proven that it is impossible."
"If you insist on letting Rhaenyra sit on the Iron Throne... Then prepare yourself to abandon us."
Lying on his sickbed, Viserys I felt a profound sense of helplessness; it seemed that today, both sides had completely dropped their facades.
The only reason they hadn't started fighting was that he wasn't dead yet.
Aemond paused, his voice deepening.
"But if you choose us, Mother can still stay by your side. And your six children will live..."
Viserys closed his eyes.
He made no sound, but his gaunt body trembled slightly.
Alicent wept. She leaned against the bed, clutching her husband's hand, sobbing uncontrollably. Only the Queen's muffled sobs remained in the room.
Before long.
Viserys finally opened his eyes again.
He looked at his wife with a complex gaze, guilt, dependence, affection, and a certain sorrow from finally facing reality.
He tremblingly raised his hand, his withered fingertips lightly stroking his wife's cheek to wipe away the tear stains.
Then, he looked at Aemond.
Father and son's eyes met.
Viserys's lips moved.
"Alicent... Regent..."
Alicent looked up, gazing at her husband through tear-blurred eyes.
Aemond bowed deeply.
"Father is wise."
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