At that moment, every gaze in the hall fixed upon the wine cup Aemond raised.
That faint, elusive smile lingered on his lips as he spoke slowly:
"Come, my dear nephews."
He turned toward the three boys and named them one by one:
"Jacaerys. Lucerys. Joffrey."
Those violet eyes glided over their faces, flushed with fury.
"I drink to you."
He lifted his cup and turned fully toward Jacaerys.
"May the Seven bless my nephews. May each of you grow clever and fair…"
"…Strong."
He spoke the final word slowly, with deliberate clarity.
"Aemond!"
"What exactly are you trying to do?"
King Viserys had already risen to his feet.
"As an uncle, should you not wish for your nephews—"
He glanced toward Queen Alicent beside him, gesturing for her to intervene.
Alicent looked at her son and called softly,
"Aemond…"
She knew this son too well—how he could drive the sharpest blade home while speaking with perfect courtesy.
Every word was aimed precisely at Rhaenyra's most vulnerable wound.
Rhaenyra stared darkly at Aemond, her hand trembling faintly beneath the table.
This is exactly what he wants.
"Aemond," Queen Alicent said sharply, authority ringing in her voice,
"That is enough. Sit down."
Aemond seemed not to hear her.
He continued to raise his cup.
He drained the wine in a single swallow.
"If you have the courage," Jacaerys shouted,
"say it again!"
Across the table, Jacaerys sprang to his feet, his chair screeching violently against the stone floor. His one remaining eye burned as though fire were about to spill from it.
"This is a family banquet," Aemond said coolly, looking at him with icy disdain.
Jacaerys struck again—this time aiming for Aemond's abdomen.
But Aemond was faster.
He seized the boy's wrist, five fingers clamping down like iron tongs.
Jacaerys grunted as pain shot through his arm, but he clenched his teeth and refused to cry out.
"Enough, Lucerys," Aegon snapped, grabbing his younger brother.
"Don't."
"Let go of me!" Lucerys struggled, his eyes red with anger.
"He insulted us! You all heard it!"
Lucerys stumbled forward, crashing heavily to the floor.
The charge of a seven-year-old was clumsy and uncontrolled—but Aemond did not even look his way.
With his free left hand, he casually shoved outward, pressing flat against Joffrey's chest.
The force was measured—precise enough to knock the child off balance, sending him tumbling backward without injury.
Servants rushed forward in panic to aid the king, but Viserys waved them away.
Ser Criston Cole and Ser Rickard Thorne had already moved.
Rickard restrained the furious Jacaerys, while Cole placed himself squarely before Aemond.
Queen Alicent hurried to her son, gripping his arm tightly, whispering in a low voice.
"I am merely expressing my… affection," Aemond replied.
He lifted his gaze past Ser Criston's shoulder, fixing on Jacaerys—still held firmly by Rickard, still glaring with undisguised hatred.
"But it seems my nephews struggle rather poorly with family bonds."
"Is that not something to be ashamed of?"
"Aemond Targaryen!"
Rhaenyra had risen, one hand braced against the table to steady herself, the other instinctively guarding her belly.
Daemon stood beside her, resting a hand at her waist to support her.
"Your Highness, Princess of Dragonstone," Alicent said, turning to shield Aemond behind her,
"my son was only offering sincere blessings to your children."
Her emerald-green eyes met Rhaenyra's directly.
"Was there anything wrong with his words?"
"Clever. Handsome. Strong."
"Which of those is not a blessing?"
Her gaze swept over Lucerys and Joffrey as the guards helped them to their feet.
"Moreover, Jacaerys struck first. Everyone here saw it."
"Blessings?" Rhaenyra laughed harshly.
"Words like that? With that look?"
She took a step forward, and Daemon's hand instantly slid from her waist to her arm.
"Do not pretend you do not know what he meant!"
"My dear nephew," Daemon said lightly,
"your eloquence… was truly impressive."
"You know, in Dorne there is a serpent called the Black Whistler. Venomous fangs. Agonizing bites."
"But they always die the fastest."
"Because they are so conspicuous—everyone seeks to strike them down before they can—"
"…and cut off their heads."
Aemond met Daemon's gaze without the slightest hint of fear.
He even gently pushed past his mother and stepped forward.
Only three steps remained between them.
The same silver hair. The same violet eyes. The same straight-backed bearing.
For a moment, it was as if a mirror stood face to face with itself.
"Thank you for the reminder, Uncle," Aemond replied calmly, courteously.
"But I have heard another tale—this one from the Vale."
"A hawk lived too long and believed it could still hunt as it once did."
"When it leapt from a great height, it discovered its talons were blunt, its wings weakened."
He paused, looking directly at Daemon.
"In the end, it fell to the ground… and was eaten by wild dogs."
Daemon's eyes narrowed slightly.
The hand pressing against Dark Sister's hilt tightened, restrained.
His gaze traced the young man's face.
"You're right," Aemond continued evenly.
"But the sword will be in my hand."
"And how it is used…"
He met Daemon's eyes squarely, speaking each word with care.
Then, suddenly, he laughed softly.
Gradually, he relaxed, smiling with polite gratitude.
"Very well," Daemon said at last, nodding as he stepped back several paces.
He broke his gaze from Aemond and turned back to Rhaenyra.
Aemond remained standing, watching as the others withdrew.
King Viserys had seen it all.
"Seven save us…" he murmured.
"Look at yourselves."
He had hoped this family banquet might heal old wounds.
There was hope. There was anger. There was disappointment.
And beneath it all, a trace of jealousy he refused even to acknowledge.
This son—this son he had always tried to understand, yet never truly control.
Each time he wished to place great hopes upon Aemond, the boy did something that enraged him.
Again and again. Back and forth.
Were he not his own flesh and blood, Viserys thought bitterly,
I would have torn out his heart.
At last, Viserys sighed.
"That is enough for tonight."
"You both—"
"Return to your chambers."