"I will not fight you. I came as a messenger, not a warrior."
"The fight would be little challenge. No, I want you to put out your eye, as payment for mine. One will serve, i would not blind you. I plan to make a gift of it to my mother."
The imposing figure ordered, a fiery hatred bristling on his face.
Uncle Aemond threw his dagger at me then, grimacing as it clattered along the hard floor.
"No."
I almost squeaked the syllable, backing away as the guards closed around me.
"Then you are craven as well as a traitor. Give me your eye! or I will take it bastard!'
The great reception hall of storms end shook with the echo of uncle Aemond's roar as he strode furiously towards me.
"Not here, not in my hall!" Baratheon bellowed. "The prince came as but an envoy, I will not have blood shed beneath my roof. Guards, have prince Lucerys escorted back to his dragon."
"Wait lord Boros." I shot, not certain where my courage came from. A glimmer of surprise ran through my uncles face as I handed my sword to the guards and paced for the dagger he had thrown before me.
"Will this put us right then uncle? Will you truly be satisfied if I give you my eye?"
I looked first into uncle Aemond's glistening sapphire, then straight down at the dagger, afraid that i might never make it back if I didn't do something now.
Another thought ran through my head. A chance to turn mothers greatest threat to our side. Not warriors, but messengers.
It wouldn't all be a ruse either… I had meant to make things right for a long time now.
"Maybe not craven after all bastard. If you're feeling so brave why not fight me instead? My lord strong."
"First, uncle, regardless of what doubts you hold about my fathers identity, there is only one truth. The truth that I came from your sisters womb. I am Targaryen and your nephew. We are family, of that, there is no doubt. I have the blood of the dragon or else Arrax would not have bonded with me." I paused then, thinking carefully on my next words.
"Secondly then, Nephew?" Aemond smiled.
"As you've said, a fight between us would be little challenge. You are the best swordsman in our family. One of the best in the seven kingdoms if truths be told. I'd wager ten more years of training would scarcely make me, or any present for that matter, your equal."
My uncle's working eye blinked in surprise. A moment of shock at my praise running through him.
"Jo-ydra ji, Tresy hen issa mandia (go on then, son of my sister)
"We were at odds in our youth… But not a week ago did grandfather ask us to put things right between us. To remember that we are family." I uttered back in old Valyrian.
I knelt on the floor and unclasped my cloak, tossing it to the side in a clear motion. I removed my gloves next, one at a time, before finally retrieving the dagger yet again.
"My Lord Baratheon, I would humbly ask the use of your Maester for what I am about to do."
Whispers erupted into the hall as all those gathered began to gossip and cluck at my show. I ignored them to focus on the white garbed maester, drawing near with a large box cradled in his embrace.
"I said I would not have blood spilled in my halls boy. Get back here you ponderous fool. You are my maester, not the Prince's."
I saw that Aemond was about to speak but I managed to cut him to the quick.
"This is a matter between princes, Stormlord, blood of old Valyria, besides, blood will not be shed, it will be freely given. You have witnesses aplenty to report this to my mother… should the matter arise. Will you really deny me this small curtesy?"
"Iksos bisa mirri mitty pirtiapos? (Is this some mummer's farce nephew)? Have you taken leave of your senses?" Uncle shouted, kneeling at my side to yell into my face. I caught his sapphire eye glistening and a red tinge almost dusted my cheeks then.
Thunder exploded from outside as the blistering winds and rain battered angrily against the castle walls. All the while the court marveled at the excitement of the two princes and their royal drama.
"Forget what you think you know Uncle. Forget this damnable succession for a moment. Know that I do actually love you. Know that you are ten times the man your brother is, whatever may come. You ride Vhagar, greatest dragon alive. Your grace with the sword is unmatched. You excel at history and statecraft. You are a great asset to the realm. Know beyond all this that I think of you… that I am truly sorry I took your eye. So If you would have one of mine as recompense for my actions. If that would truly make us whole again. Then take it. However…"
"Who knew you were this clever. Go on Nephew. Tell us the rub. What price do you demand for my vengeance?"
"However" I continued. "Once the Maester has stopped the bleeding and I have recovered enough to stand, we will dine together tonight, as family. If Lord Boros would be so kind as to provide food and a room for us that is? I would sit with you uncle, and share all the stories that our old enmity kept us from sharing before. I would have us be at peace, be as family, if but once before this coming storm. As Viserys wanted."
Several moments of silence elapsed before the room erupted into cheers as many knights and ladies clapped for my bravery and grace.
"You think me a fool boy?" Aemond spat, still a hairs breath from my face. "I will not back down just because you make this false offer, feigning piety and grace merely for the benefit of the mighty at Storms End to see—"
—The blow to my eye interrupted my Uncle even as blood splattered against his cheek. A blinding pain accompanied the blackness in my left orb as shouts and alarm rang out through the Baratheon court. There were thuds as half the ladies fainted and screeches as the other half shrieked. More loud voices then as the maester ran towards me.
Aemond's arms came immediately to steady me as I wobbled dizzily from the impact of the blade. Even on my knees I felt the unsteady spin of bloodloss. I listed over, forced to lean against the green silk tunic. He smells of sandalwood and agar… i thought absently…
"Are you mad? Mittys iksā! (you fool!) What have you done! How could you be so reckless?" He scolded.
Was that a hint of concern I detected in his tone?
I merely reached out to his cheek to wipe the blood from it, my vision fading fast. The Maester was trying to get at me but there was one more thing i needed to say.
"Grandfather wanted us to get along. Not to fight. I at least won't fight you uncle Aemond. Kostilus… shijetra issa… Kepus… shijetra issa (Please… forgive me… uncle…forgive me" I faltered in old Valyrian as the last rays of consciousness faded from me.