The king staggered forward, supported by the Kingsguard. His face was sallow, like yellowed parchment, and his breathing was labored.
His wife, Queen Alicent, was dressed in a neat green gown.
Viserys looked at the scene before him, his body trembling.
"This… this…"
"Your Majesty!"
Rhaenyra, holding her unconscious eldest son in her arms, turned her head. Tears streamed down her face.
"Look! Look at what your good son has done!"
"He tried to kill my eldest son! He stabbed his eye with a dagger!"
"No, that's not true!"
Alicent rushed forward, placing herself between Aemond and the accusations.
"Look at Aemond's face!"
"He was injured as well! This must have been an accident!"
"When children fight, anything can happen!"
Alicent's voice grew sharp.
"They must have started it first!"
"It was Lucerys who pulled out the dagger, and he was the one who accidentally wounded his brother."
Aemond repeated calmly, there was no emotion in his violet eyes.
"I also saw Aemond strike Jacaerys."
The other children echoed the accusation.
Chaos flooded the Dragonpit like a rising tide.
"Enough!"
Viserys' roar tore through the noise.
The king's gaze moved painfully between his bleeding second son and his dying eldest grandson.
His kingdom, the peace he had struggled to maintain, and his family—long as fragile as thin ice—were completely shattered at this moment.
"First… first save the child."
At last he spoke weakly.
"Maesters! Where are the maesters!"
They wrapped the dagger in cloth and carefully lifted Jacaerys.
After Jacaerys was carried away, only a pool of dark red—almost black—blood remained on the stone floor, along with a few drops of clearer, viscous fluid.
The Dragonpit fell into dead silence.
All eyes turned toward Aemond.
Alicent tried to shield her son more tightly, but Aemond gently pushed his mother's hand aside and stepped forward.
He stared at the bloodstain, met Rhaenyra's hollow, hatred-filled gaze, Daemon's playful look, and finally stopped on his father Viserys' face—filled with grief, anger, and helplessness.
"Father, it wasn't me."
Aemond's voice was clear and firm.
"It was Lucerys…"
"All five children accuse you, and you still argue?!"
Viserys could no longer hold back and struck him.
"Would all five children join together to falsely accuse you?!"
"You are the oldest here!"
Smack.
Aemond did not dodge. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.
"Your Majesty! You would rather trust these relatives than your own blood?"
Queen Alicent saw him strike her son, her face burning with fury.
"Queen, mind your words."
Rhaenyra replied coldly.
"I am the king's eldest daughter."
"My sons, who also carry Targaryen blood, have the right to inherit the Iron Throne."
"I am the king's younger brother, and are my daughters outsiders in the queen's eyes as well?"
Prince Daemon spoke calmly.
"Moreover, five children accuse Aemond, Your Majesty."
Aemond knew well that on Viserys' emotional scale, he had never even reached one-tenth of Rhaenyra's weight.
He turned his head and swept his hateful violet gaze past Lucerys.
The boy lowered his head, not daring to meet his eyes.
Another slap fell.
What angered Viserys was the unrestrained hatred in Aemond's eyes.
"Even now, you still dare to threaten them!"
"Aemond! Don't be like this—"
Alicent fell to her knees and held her son tightly.
"Your Majesty, if you want to strike someone, strike me!"
The queen lifted her tear-streaked face.
"You… you…"
Viserys looked at the pleading queen. His raised hand froze in midair.
Already frail, the king could not withstand the repeated shocks. His body weakened, and he nearly collapsed.
"Your Majesty!"
The Kingsguard hurried forward.
Rhaenyra cast one last venomous glance at Aemond. There was no time to deal with him now—the life and death of Jacaerys were uncertain, and she had to hurry.
Daemon looked at Aemond, who still stood straight in his mother's embrace.
He raised his hand and lightly patted Aemond's cheek, a clear provocation.
He admired the boy's resilience—but alas.
He had always stood on Rhaenyra's side.
And this time, the Greens would have to pay the price.
At this moment, from the other end of the corridor came heavy, steady footsteps.
Leather boots and metal scepters struck the stone floor in turn, like blows to the heart.
Lord Corlys Velaryon had arrived.
He was unhurried, fully dressed in a dark blue velvet coat embroidered with the silver sigil of the tide, his white hair meticulously groomed.
Every wrinkle on his face seemed carved by the sea wind, his expression cold as a reef.
Corlys did not immediately look at his departing grandsons, nor at the carried-away Jacaerys.
His gaze met Daemon's for a brief moment as Daemon was about to leave.
Between these two men was a tacit understanding that needed no words.
The playfulness at the corners of Daemon's mouth deepened, while Corlys' face became like the sea before a storm—unfathomable.
As the Kingsguard supported the barely conscious king, Queen Alicent still wept, and the scene was chaotic.
Corlys' calm voice cut through it sharply.
"Your Majesty."
"I see irreparable harm done to the heir of House Velaryon."
His voice was low, yet it instantly silenced the Dragonpit.
"I also see that the culprit is still standing here."
Alicent suddenly raised her head.
"Lord Corlys! This was an accident! They were children who lost control in a fight… It was Lucerys who accidentally wounded his brother Jacaerys!"
"Your Majesty,"
Corlys inclined his head slightly, polite yet unmistakably firm.
"When a weapon is driven into a prince's eye, it is no longer a child's game."
He took a slow step forward, his scepter tapping against the ground.
"Princess Rhaenyra is my daughter-by-law, and Jacaerys Velaryon is my eldest grandson."
"In his veins flows the blood of both Targaryen and Velaryon, and he bears the name of the Sea Snake."
"The honor of House Velaryon—and even the stability of the realm—are bound to this."
He did not openly say that Aemond must pay with his life or be punished, but his meaning was unmistakable.
Queen Alicent's face turned paper-white.
As a lawful daughter of House Hightower, she understood perfectly that this tragedy had completely escalated from a family dispute into a political storm between the two most powerful houses beneath the Iron Throne.
Even if what her son Aemond said was true, all the other children claimed Aemond had done it.
As for evidence, her side had already lost…
She calmly looked at the old man known as the Sea Snake.
He had not come to mourn.
He had come to harvest.
Then he stopped looking at Aemond and Alicent, turned around, and walked steadily toward the direction Rhaenyra had left.
After his departure, King Viserys finally lost consciousness under the weight of grief, anger, and overwhelming political pressure.
"Your Majesty!"
The cry rang out once more.
In the Dragonpit, only Alicent, her maid, and Aemond remained.
Aemond stood beside his mother, memories surging in his mind.
In the original history, it had been he who lost an eye—exchanged for his mother's madness with a dagger and firmer support for the Green faction.
The Blacks accepted it as compensation and no longer pursued responsibility over his claiming of Vhagar.
Among these factors, his father Viserys' preference for Rhaenyra had played a decisive role.
But now, it was Jacaerys who had lost an eye.
In exchange—for endless hatred from his elder sister Rhaenyra.
This would give House Velaryon the perfect excuse to strike.
Alicent turned and cupped his face. Her fingers were cold, trembling slightly.
How many curses had his father Viserys—who always wanted to reconcile everything—laid upon House Targaryen?
Granting dragons to House Velaryon had fed their ambitions.
Alicent, greedy for youth, married her former best friend's father and parted from her closest companion.
Every act of goodwill and compromise from Viserys had pushed House Targaryen deeper into the abyss.
And this time, his father's bias had still not changed.