In the afternoon, within the Red Keep's godswood, the royal family gathered—an occurrence rare of late.
Viserys sat in a wheelchair. In recent days, his health had improved somewhat. Though illness had led him to withdraw from much of the realm's governance, leaving Alicent to rule as regent, in matters of great import he could still decide with a single word.
Alicent stood at his side, their youngest daughter, Ysera, in her arms.
The queen softly hummed a lullaby, gently rocking Ysera to soothe the lively and restless little girl to sleep.
"He has come," Alicent said, looking at the king beside her, who rested with his eyes half closed.
Footsteps broke the stillness of the grove.
"Father. Mother." Aemond offered a simple bow.
Nearby, Helaena, who had been reading a book of poems, lifted her head from the bench and looked at Aemond with a smile.
Aegon shifted into a more comfortable posture upon his stone seat and raised his cup toward Aemond in greeting. Beside him, Alyn gave a slight nod, one hand resting protectively over her abdomen.
"Sit, my son," Viserys said.
"Just now, we were speaking of you."
Aemond took a seat beside Helaena.
"And what were you saying of me, Father?" Aemond asked calmly, a faint smile upon his lips.
"Of what you have been doing in King's Landing of late," Viserys said, looking at him.
"The cleansing of Flea Bottom, the curfew, the citywide manhunts…"
"Someone told me that now King's Landing is a royal capital by day, and a military camp by night."
Aemond's eyes narrowed slightly. "Who told you that, Father? The Hand? The Master of Laws? The Master of Coin?"
"Does it matter?" Viserys fixed his gaze upon his son.
"What matters is that in the version I heard, you were like a conqueror suppressing a hostile city, not a prince governing the capital."
A brief silence followed. The wind passed through the withered branches of the heart tree, carrying a sound like a low lament.
"Father," Aemond said, "You have ruled the Seven Kingdoms for nearly thirty years."
"Tell me—what is governance?"
Viserys was taken aback.
"Is it balance?" Aemond continued.
"Or putting the nobles at ease? Ensuring the smallfolk are fed and clothed? Keeping the laws of the realm in motion?"
"But what is the foundation of all this?"
Aemond answered his own question: "It is order. Without order, law is empty words, and bread is a distant luxury."
"And where does order come from?"
Aemond spoke with solemn conviction: "It comes from fear, Father."
"Not cruel fear—predictable fear."
"I want these people to know…"
"Commit evil, and you will be punished."
"Keep the rules, and you will remain safe."
"This kind of fear is not tyranny; it is the cornerstone of order."
"Your grandfather, Jaehaerys I," Viserys began slowly, "he ruled for fifty years of peace, and it was not fear he relied upon."
"He relied on dragons," Aemond said without yielding.
"It was Maegor, with the Black Dread, who slaughtered those mobs and the Faith Militant, and made the world afraid."
"From then on, the realm feared the Targaryens upon the Iron Throne—they feared that we might go mad!"
"So after Maegor died, so long as the Targaryen king upon the Iron Throne was not a madman—"
"—the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms and the Faith would rest at ease."
"It was Targaryen dragonfire that taught them to obey."
Viserys looked at his son and, for a time, could not speak.
"Aemond speaks with reason," Helaena suddenly said.
All eyes turned to her.
"And why is it with reason?" Alicent asked curiously. This daughter of hers was usually timid and took no part in matters of governance.
Helaena spoke softly.
"I do not know…"
"But I will always believe him."
For a moment, no one spoke, as they looked at the girl so wholly lost in her devotion.
Aemond smiled as he looked at Helaena, who believed in him. Even if she could be foolish at times, Helaena would always stand at his side.
"The methods are still too harsh," the king said at last.
"Those denunciations… encouraging brother to accuse brother, son to accuse father…"
"I have already been merciful," Aemond replied calmly. "Those guilty of lesser crimes, I have sent them to labor for reform."
Viserys let out a long sigh and leaned back into his wheelchair. Weariness once more took hold of his body.
"Enough… since King's Landing now has order, I shall say no more."
He reached out to Alicent. "Give Ysera to me."
Alicent carefully handed the child over.
Viserys held his youngest daughter. His gaunt fingers stroked the soft cheek of the child who tugged at his beard, and his gaze grew gentle.
"Youth is a fine thing…" he murmured.
"No burdens, no choices—only to be fed and kept warm."
He looked toward Alyn. "Where is Jaehaerys? Let me hold my son."
Alyn rose and placed the Jaehaerys she had been tending upon the king's knee.
The babe woke, opening bewildered violet eyes and staring at his father's golden mask.
Viserys smiled.
"You…" His gaze swept across the children at his side.
"I am old…"
He looked toward Aegon. The eldest son was idly tapping his cup with a fork. Nearly eighteen, yet his mind was still that of a child.
"Aegon."
Aegon lifted his head, wine still staining the corner of his mouth. "Father?"
"Come here."
Aegon set down his cup and walked slowly to the wheelchair.
Viserys studied his eldest son—handsome, fair, and possessed of a swelling belly that made the maidservants about him blush.
Aegon had long kept company with those maidservants; Viserys had always known.
Before, his mother, Alicent, had covered for him. That too he knew.
Yet from the beginning, he had placed no expectations upon Aegon.
He had never stopped this eldest son from living as he pleased.
But now it was different.
"You are my eldest son," Viserys said.
"The Targaryen family's… rightful first heir."
Hearing this, Aegon froze.
Alyn's fingers tightened. She was suddenly tense. Could it be? Today?
Alicent held her breath.
Aemond did not move. He watched calmly.
"I am ill. I have but a few years left," Viserys continued, speaking each word slowly, as though weighing them.
"The matter of the realm's heir cannot remain unsettled."
"The Greens, the Blacks… such division must end."
He paused, letting the words settle.
"Therefore, I have decided…"
All within the godswood listened in silence.
"After this tourney is concluded—"
"I shall formally announce a change to the order of succession."
"You, Aegon Targaryen, shall be the sole lawful heir to the Iron Throne."
At the very instant the words fell, Alyn nearly rose to her feet. She forced herself still, but the joy that surged across her face betrayed her excitement.
Alicent closed her eyes and let out a long breath—a breath that carried more than a decade of grievance, struggle, and unwilling endurance.
At last she had won. She had defeated that woman, Rhaenyra.
Aegon stood with his mouth open, utterly stunned.
"I… Father…" he stammered. "I do not… I mean, the Iron Throne… Rhaenyra, she…"
"Rhaenyra shall be properly settled," Viserys cut him off.
"Dragonstone shall forever be hers."
"But Rhaenyra is not fit to rule the Seven Kingdoms."
"On that point, all now see clearly."
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