Seeing this, the situation finally slipped beyond control.
At the sound of the king's roar, guards of the Red Keep poured out from the corridors on both sides of the hall.
But the thirteen Velaryons beside Vaemond moved faster, surging forward and colliding violently with the guards.
Vaemond wanted to finish speaking.
"What I said is the truth!"
His wild laughter rang through the chaos, shrill and vicious as a night owl's cry.
"You all know it!"
"You simply don't dare say it!"
"You fear offending the future queen!"
"Silence!" Viserys rose from the Iron Throne, pointing down with a trembling finger.
"Silence, Vaemond!"
A guard tried to seize Vaemond and cover his mouth, but a young Velaryon shoved him aside.
The old man stumbled two steps, his white hair disheveled, and pointed at the silent representatives of every corner of the realm.
"The Riverlands, the Westerlands, the Vale, the North—all of you know it in your hearts!"
"But I, Vaemond Velaryon, will finish my words today!"
Aemond, seeing Rhaenyra to the left, gave Daemon a slight nod as the latter moved quietly toward the chaos.
Aemond also stepped out from the Green faction.
Helaena noticed. She reached for him, her fingers brushing only the edge of his leather vambrace.
She was shaking.
"Aemond… don't go," she whispered.
But Aemond did not look back.
"What are you doing?!" Alicent cried through tears.
"Hold her, Aegon," Aemond said coldly, without turning.
Though confused, Aegon obeyed, gripping their mother's shoulders as instructed.
Alicent struggled, desperate.
"Aemond!"
Vaemond's voice rose again, breaking through everything.
"Shut your mouth, you old dog!"
"You were indulged too long!"
"Indulged until you believed the Seven Kingdoms must revolve around you!"
"And those three little bastards behind you!"
He pointed, trembling with fury, at Jacaerys and his brothers.
"Strong blood! Bastard stock!"
"You dare bear the name Velaryon?!"
"You dare stand in Driftmark, the Tide's Seat?!"
"You dare dream of the Iron Throne?!"
The three boys went deathly pale.
"I want you to remember this—so long as even one Velaryon lives—"
Viserys finally erupted.
"Take his tongue!" the king roared.
"Now! At once!"
A blade flashed.
Fast as lightning. Savage and clean.
The scream of steel cutting through air drowned out the chaos itself.
But another blade intercepted it.
CLANG!
The shriek of metal tearing against metal exploded through the hall, sparks scattering.
A steel sword blocked the downward arc of Dark Sister.
Daemon's strike was far more vicious than expected. Pain tore through the impact, ripping up the defender's arms and shoulders.
Yet he clenched his teeth, muscles locking, and held.
"Daemon!" Viserys staggered forward from the throne and was caught by the Kingsguard.
"Lower your sword! Aemond—put yours down as well!"
Neither heard him.
Neither moved.
The blades remained locked.
Rhaenyra clutched her belly, her face tight with fear.
"Cole!" Alicent screamed.
"Cole!!"
The blades hummed, slicing the air as they broke apart and surged again.
Aemond drew a deep breath and shifted his stance.
In swordcraft. In strength. In experience—
"You," Daemon said slowly, voice thick with contempt,
"are begging for death."
"The king only ordered his tongue taken, uncle," Aemond replied evenly.
"Not his life."
"I've changed my mind."
Daemon licked his lips, his eyes burning with murderous delight.
"I want the old thing dead. And you—"
His gaze slid to Aemond.
Daemon's eyes narrowed, then he smiled, crooked and mocking.
"Boys who don't obey my will tend to die."
"A coincidence," Aemond said coldly, violet eyes flashing.
"I was thinking the same."
Daemon's pupils tightened.
Dark Sister swept sideways.
"CLANG!"
Metal struck metal again, sparks bursting—
—but Aemond did not relent.
He twisted with the force of the counterblow, steel crashing into Daemon's flank, abandoning all defense.
Daemon was forced back half a step, Dark Sister dipping.
For a heartbeat, he could not attack.
Rage surged.
He saw it—the overcommitment.
Dark Sister struck.
The steel sword in Aemond's hand snapped with a sharp crack.
The broken blade spun into the air, tracing an arc in the morning light, and hit the floor with a hard clang.
Aemond staggered, left holding only a shattered hilt.
He did not retreat.
His left hand clenched into a fist.
"THUD!"
An elbow smashed into the side of his head, another blow into his jaw.
Aemond's vision darkened. His ears rang like a swarm of bees.
He bit down and stayed upright.
Daemon tasted rust as his own jaw numbed. He spat blood and grinned.
"Care to try again?"
His smile was wild, exhilarated.
"Then try!"
He lunged forward once more, Dark Sister striking like black lightning—
"I can try," Criston Cole said calmly.
His greatsword had not moved.
"After all, we've crossed blades twice."
"And I won both times, didn't I?"
"Prince, if you insist on continuing here," Cole said evenly,
"then I will simply perform my duty."
The three men locked into a tense standoff.
No one in the hall dared breathe.
The nobles exchanged terrified glances, witnessing a royal blood feud erupt before the Iron Throne.
At its foot, Otto Hightower knew it could not continue.
Yet part of him agreed with Aemond.
On the Green side, Alicent and Helaena finally dared to breathe.
"Stop them!" Viserys screamed at last.
"Kingsguard of the Red Keep—stop these two madmen!"
He pointed at the frozen guards.
"And you! What are you standing there for?!"
Six white cloaks moved as one.
They swarmed Daemon—one locking his sword arm, another his shoulder.
Two more seized Aemond, hands wrenching at his grip.
"Get off me!" Daemon roared, struggling.
But the Kingsguard were veterans. They crushed the princes between them.
A sword fell to the floor with a clear, ringing sound.
Daemon stared at Aemond, laughter bubbling from his throat—strange, exhilarated, unhinged—
and the hall held its breath.