Inside the queen's chamber, two noble ladies sat upon cushioned chairs, their bodices loosened, each holding an infant to her breast.
The queen was presently in the king's bedchamber tending to the unconscious Viserys, and had arranged for them to look after the twins for the time being.
The door was pushed open.
Aemond entered, bearing two dragon eggs. He cast a glance about the room.
"Leave."
The two ladies hastily set the children down, straightened their garments, bowed their heads in courtesy, and withdrew in haste.
They drew the door softly shut behind them.
Aemond stepped to the cradle.
Jaehaerys and Ysera had been placed in a specially made cradle beside the queen's bed, wrapped in fine white silk.
Both infants had already grown soft pale-silver down upon their heads—the very mark of Targaryen blood.
Jaehaerys stared with bright blue eyes, unblinking, at his brother.
Ysera fixed him with violet eyes, babbling softly.
Aemond bent down and gently set the dragon eggs into the cradle—the grey one beside Jaehaerys' hand, the white one close to Ysera.
Jaehaerys' small hand came to rest upon the grey egg without thought.
Ysera opened her mouth and gummed at the smooth white shell before her, toothless gums pressing against it.
He watched in silence for a long while.
Then he drew the dagger from his belt.
Its edge flashed once in the candlelight.
He drew the blade across the palm of his left hand. Blood welled along the lines of his palm and dripped down.
Aemond gazed upon the unhatched dragon eggs. He did not know whether, when they hatched, the dragons would heed him—or his younger brother and sister.
"Aemond."
The voice was soft, hesitant.
Helaena stood by the door, though he did not know when she had entered.
She closed it behind her and came to stand at her brother's side. Her gaze fell to his bleeding hand, and her brows knit faintly.
"Are you trying to hatch them?" she asked in a low voice.
At last Aemond lifted his head to look at his sister. His face showed little.
"Yes," he answered shortly.
Helaena let out a quiet sigh.
From within her sleeve she drew a handkerchief, embroidered with delicate patterns. She took Aemond's hand and carefully bound it.
Her movements were light, unhurried, fearful of causing him pain.
"Does it hurt?" she asked, her head lowered.
Aemond remained silent. When she had finished binding it, he turned his hand and caught her wrist.
Helaena raised her eyes to meet his. Candlelight flickered in her violet gaze—filled with worry, with fear, and with a kind of helplessness.
"It is I who am useless," she murmured to herself. "I can never be of any help to you…"
Aemond's hand rose to her lips, stilling her words.
"Such matters, I can settle on my own."
Having said this, he smiled and looked at Helaena.
Then he turned and left.
...
Within the king's bedchamber, Viserys, now awake, lay sunken among layers of soft cushions and brocade. He felt only that he was growing ever more weary, more heavy-headed.
Alicent sat at the bedside, a soft cloth soaked in mint water in her hand, gently wiping the cold sweat from the king's brow.
The door hinge gave a faint sound.
Aemond stood in the shadow behind the door, observing. After waiting a moment, he stepped forward slowly.
"Mother," he spoke first. "Has Father awakened?"
Alicent turned her face, her gaze upon her son was complex.
She nodded, then shook her head. "He woke for a short while, but… he is still very weak."
Aemond walked lightly to the bedside and bowed to the king.
"Father, to see you awake is the most heartening matter in all the Seven Kingdoms this night."
Viserys' gaze slowly focused upon him.
"You…"
"I am here, Father." Aemond stepped forward two paces. "As for what happened today, I beg your pardon on the Hand's behalf. I have ordered him to return to Oldtown at once tomorrow."
Alicent suddenly lifted her head. "Otto—"
"This is the most proper disposition at present, Mother." Aemond's words allowed no dispute.
Viserys' withered hand lifted slightly, then fell back without strength.
His lips moved, forcing out a few words with difficulty: "Rhaenyra…"
"The Princess and her uncle have safely returned to Dragonstone," Aemond answered at once. "I personally escorted her beyond the lands of the Crown."
"As for Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey… in accordance with your command, their dragons remain in the Dragonpit, yet they themselves have departed unharmed."
Viserys' eyes widened for a brief instant. Within his clouded pupils flashed a trace of confusion, followed by understanding.
He understood.
"Father," Aemond continued, "during your unconsciousness, the Red Keep nearly fell into disorder."
"Ser Lyes, Commander of the Kingsguard, declared martial law without leave and disturbed the nobles. I propose his removal."
"But now you lie ill in bed and cannot govern…"
He paused.
"Until you recover, I beseech you to appoint Mother as Regent."
Alicent stared at her son with wide eyes, her lips trembling faintly.
Viserys looked at Aemond.
"No…" he forced the words out with difficulty. "It cannot be…"
"Why cannot it?" Aemond asked. "Because you do not trust us? Or because you have never taken us for kin?"
Hearing Aemond's reproach, Viserys grew somewhat angered and raised a trembling finger toward him.
Aemond stepped forward and seized Viserys' hand.
"And what of Mother? Father, search your own heart."
"Since you fell unconscious, who has kept vigil at this sickbed?"
"Who has bathed you and given you your draughts?"
"Is it Rhaenyra? Where is she? She mounted her dragon and flew off without once looking back!"
"Aemond!" Alicent rebuked sharply. "You will not speak to your father in such a manner!"
But Aemond did not stop. He released the king's hand and fixed his gaze upon him.
"We children—Aegon, Helaena, myself, Daeron, and the swaddled Jaehaerys and Ysera—six in all."
"Father, in your heart, do the six of us together truly not outweigh Rhaenyra alone?"
Viserys trembled all over, yet no words came.
Aemond drew a deep breath, holding down the anger surging within him.
"What has your favoritism these many years brought you?"
He looked down upon the king upon the sickbed.
"Look at what she has done now."
"To secure her place as heir, she acted of her own accord and handed those three children, together with three dragons, over to the Velaryons."
"And that 'Sea Snake,' Corlys Velaryon…" Aemond's voice turned suddenly cold.
"He covets our bloodline and would make House Velaryon a second dragonriding house."
"This is more than treason. We must strike hard."
"Rhaenyra is not merely foolish."
"She has betrayed House Targaryen—betrayed the oath of blood and fire we share."
He turned back to his father and sighed.
"Father, you would ever have both sides—ever seek to satisfy all."
"But all that has happened today proves this cannot be."
"If you insist upon seating Rhaenyra upon the Iron Throne…"
"Then be prepared to forsake us."
Viserys lay upon the sickbed, helpless to the utmost. It seemed that this day the two sides had utterly torn their faces from one another.
That they had not yet come to blows was only because he still lived…
He paused, and his voice sank lower: "But if you choose us, Mother may yet remain at your side."
"And your six children will live…"
Viserys closed his eyes.
He made no sound, yet his gaunt body trembled faintly.
Alicent wept. She bent over the bedside, clasping her husband's hand, sobbing beyond restraint.
Within the chamber there remained only the queen's stifled sobs.
After a time.
Viserys at last opened his eyes again.
He looked to his wife. In his gaze were mingled guilt, reliance, tenderness—and a sorrow born of finally facing the truth.
His trembling hand rose; his withered fingertips brushed his wife's cheek and wiped away her tears.
Then he looked to Aemond.
Father and son met each other's eyes.
Viserys' lips moved: "Alicent… Regent…"
Alicent lifted her head, her tear-blurred eyes fixed upon her husband.
Aemond bowed deeply.
"Father is wise."
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