ALICENT

"What do we do if the smallfolk only stare in stunned silence?" Aemond asks.

Alicent takes the carriage seat opposite him. "You say… you accept this in her name."

"Mhmm. Needs work."

"It will be a few awkward moments, and then it is over."

The door reopens to reveal Aegon. "Oh. I assumed you were talking to Rhaenyra." He laughs and takes a seat next to Aemond.

"Why are you still here?" Aemond demands.

"I fell asleep. Whatever I drank last night, those aftereffects are killing me. Ask your wife; she'll understand."

"Ride with Helaena," Aemond says — but does not order. "We have matters to discuss."

"I am no longer drunk enough for that."

They sigh. The carriage starts moving.

Alicent decides to ignore him and turns back to Aemond. "Regarding the meeting… you must not rule with cruelty and callousness. For all her faults she is your sister, your father's daughter… your wife."

"I hate this family," Aegon mumbles.

"Do you think Father would have acceded to this?"

"He would want the realm to be at peace. He would want her to live. He never wanted her with Daemon. He knew he was no good for her; he objected to it time and time again. Without his influence, she might come to see reason."

"The Strongs?" That bit of eagerness is still there, but his victory seems to have awoken some nostalgia. Even Aegon has the grace to look pensive.

Alicent had been contemplating the matter. "Do not tell the council. But I hope one day we can reunite them; grant her more freedom after she has borne your heirs. Mayhaps that promise will give her hope."

Aemond understands the part she leaves unsaid. "But that cannot happen whilst Daemon lives and influences them."

"No."

"Hopefully he finds a way to get himself killed."

"Hopefully," is all she can say. "Aemond, I know you have the largest dragon, but I want to keep you out of this as much as possible. The less of a role you play in the darker, necessary aspects… Mayhaps the more receptive she will be. You do not know her as I do. I do care for her, but she's dangerous. Especially if you make yourself a personal enemy to her. You can act as a show of force, interfere if necessary, but I do not want you to take any action she will see as a slight."

Aegon is not one for subtly. "What she means is, try not to personally kill anyone close to her, Orys."

"Precisely. Someone else can deal with Daemon."

"Absolutely not!" Aegon declares. "I am not going near that man; he is insane. And his dragon is larger than mine."

"I know, I know. We will have to get creative. But once he is dealt with, I hope everyone might see reason."

"So you think we should accede to the Velaryon's ultimatum?" Aemond asks.

"I… I do. If we can keep them on our side, they might be persuaded to deal with Daemon. He did kill their son after all; I do not believe that is a crime to be forgiven."

Aemond nods. "And their granddaughters would still stand to inherit Driftmark. Their own blood would inherit. And the boys would still be safe."

Aegon actually contributes. "I've heard they keep contact with one of Saera's bastards in Volantis. They have somewhere to go aside from Pentos."

Alicent does try to mask her surprise. "Since when do you take interest in family affairs?"

"It's Saera. Of course I would take interest."

Aemond rolls his eye. "Of course."

It is Alicent who places the crown on his head.

She has no idea how they convinced Ser Harrold to do the proclamation, and she suspects she does not wish to. He does have the best voice, I suppose.

"King Aemond Targaryen, Protector of the Realm!"

The uncomfortable silence does come, but Aemond decides to embrace it. "Please, join me in a silent prayer — for the recovery of my wife."

Even her father is impressed.

Aegon assumes his role as Prince of the City immediately following the ceremony. The rest of the Council gathers in a back chamber to make a hasty final decision.

Ser Tyland has some ideas. "I do think you only need one of Daemon's daughters," he says too casually. "I have heard stories of the elder one and she is no one you want married to a Prince. Perhaps have the younger one inherit the Velaryon name; the elder might stay a Targaryen. But regardless of inheritance, wed Daeron to the younger one."

"And what of the elder?" Alicent asks suspiciously.

Ser Tyland pretends to consider. "She might be used to extend a connection to another powerful house. Someone who would manage the Velaryon fleet well, someone with experience regarding ships."

"That is enough," Alicent hisses. "This is highly inappropriate. Those girls are both far too young for you."

"But they're Daemon's daughters; it's not the same. They probably come pre-trained," he actually says.

Alicent is aghast, but no one objects.

"I want one," he mumbles.

Despite his behaviour, it is then Ser Tyland that sways the Council to a decision. He sighs. "I change my mind. This is giving me a headache and I despise deadlines. I see more reward than risk. Meleys is not a risk so long as we hold thePrincess. The Velaryons know that means we'll have to hold her until we are absolutely certain. If they are alright with that, I see no reason for us to account for it. That is their choice. And this is likely our only chance at an alliance."

Alicent is almost impressed with his pragmatism, but of course he must continue. "One daughter to start with, though."

She hates that he makes such reasonable points before and after… that. But she has to admit she agrees. So does the rest of the Council, likely just wanting to get it over with.

Aemond dispatches a team of dragon keepers to attend to Meleys, but they quickly return with an urgency in their steps. The senior keeper strides to Aemond and her father in Valyian, and her father's expression suggests the nature of the news.

Nothing good.

"What is it?" she asks.

Her father ignores her and turns to Ser Criston. "Gather our forces. I want a full sweep of the caverns immediately. Use lethal force if necessary."

"At once."

Her father still ignores her, so she tries a more promising avenue. "Aemond," she demands. "What is it?"

"They found men hiding by Meleys. They had already undone some of her chains."

"Was that not the order we just gave?"

"They were already there."

Ser Criston rejoins them after an initial sweep. "Men laid in wait with another dragon as well," he says. He pauses for emphasis. "With Syrax."

"How many?" her father asks.

"A dozen for each dragon. They hid within their caverns."

"Why would the dragons allow them to do so?" Aemond wonders.

Ser Criston holds up various pieces of textile. "The dragon keepers think they used their riders' scents to communicate good intentions."

They all realize at once: this would not be possible without the Blacks' involvement.

Her father springs to action. "Check on the Princesses! They would not attempt this without attempting to free them as well!"

He leaves immediately with his men, and the rest of the council scatter.

Alicent is left with Aemond. "It does not make sense," Alicent says. "Why would they risk drawing attention to Meleys if they were planning this?"

Alicent lingers in the corridor with Aemond, pondering over the recent events. "This is perplexing," she says. "Why would they risk drawing attention to Meleys if they were planning to rescue Rhaenyra and Syrax?"

"Mayhaps they have some infighting within their ranks," Aemond offers.

"The Sea Snake has only just awoken. Daemon's daughters reside with him and the Strongs. Who else would have the standing to act against Daemon?"

"But it was the Sea Snake," Aemond says. "The raven came from Driftmark; the letter was written in his hand."

But there remains a more important question. "Why would the Sea Snake risk drawing attention to a plan that would rescue his wife and her dragon, for a chance of only rescuing her dragon?" she ponders.

"Perhaps he was unaware?"

"How would he be unaware? The men had Rhaenys's possessions as well — how did they come by them? All his grandchildren are with Daemon. Their dragons can easily reach Driftmark. They would be the first people he spoke to when he woke, especially with his wife gone."

Especially with his wife gone. A troubling thought tugs at her. She lets it go, but not for long.

Aemond unknowingly tugs more on that thought. "It does seem strange, if he knew of both plans. Why would he not favour the one that saves his wife?"

She could understand the Sea Snake prioritizing Meleys over Rhaenyra and Syrax. But over a plan that also rescued his wife? "Either… he did not know about the other plan, which… why would he not know? How would he not know? It's likely that when Rhaenys never returned to Driftmark, one of his own grandchildren would have attended him."

"And all of his grandchildren are with Daemon…" Aemond repeats.

It does not make sense. It is too… incompetent.

"He must have known," she decides. "Yet disregarded it or disagreed with it."

"To a rescue of his wife…" Aemond ponders.

"Why would he not wait then? Wait to see if… I am assuming Daemon's plan, worked? Why such a rush?"

"He must have been worried we would discover something else beforehand. Or he is simply worried for his wife's health. How did she look, when you saw her?"

"What?"

"How did she look? How sick was she?"

"I didn't…" she thinks. "I didn't… When was… the last time anyone saw her?" Alicent asks herself aloud.

"You did. You said you saw her."

Did she?

But she doesn't know, does she? It makes little sense either. She does not know enough about the situation to understand anything. She does not know the Sea Snake. She does not understand him.

But she knows Rhaenyra. She understands Rhaenyra. And Rhaenyra is a liar; she has always been a liar.

I saved her honour

I saved her life

I saved her children's lives

And this is what she does?

Or did she? "Aemond…" she cannot say it. She looks her son in the eye.

In his one eye.

It is my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves. Vile insults…

She catches sight of Ser Harrold from the corner of her own eye. He has little role to play aside from decorative, so he simply stands there. Then he glares at her.

That fucking cactus.

Rhaenyra is not just a good liar, she is a weird liar.

She might have let the betrayal and rage fester and boil. She might have stayed angry all the way back to the Red Keep. But then she thought of her father.

Her father would be angrier.

They had been prepared for years to murder Rhaenyra and her family. They viewed her as a dead woman walking. No matter how preferable Aemond emerged to be in comparison to Aegon, in their eyes, they had done her a great service by sparing her life.

And this is how she repays them.

Ser Harrold had been left behind. Her protector had been left behind. But her father and Ser Criston are long gone. They had already pushed to punish Prince Daemon through her. They would punish her for making it difficult. And Rhaenyra was the most difficult woman she'd ever met. She'd make it difficult for the sake of pride. For the sake of spite. Either way, it did not matter. Her father would be angry. Her father would want to move her.

Rhaenyra would refuse to budge.

She turns to Aemond. "We need to reach Rhaenyra first. We need to… make certain she goes quietly."

He saw Rhaenyra's face last night, so he knows enough to nod. But they will not beat the men back through the city. "Can you make it to the Red Keep before them?"

He shakes his head. "Through all of this," he gestures to the crowd, then the garrison that blockade and search the caverns. "By the time I reach Vhagar, and lead her out, they'll be there."

"Alright…" she considers the once unthinkable. "With me now."

She tells him the new plan, then orders Ser Harrold to return to Rhaenyra immediately; she knows that will still be too late. She leads Aemond outside, and they look up. She begs herself not to lose her nerve.

Aemond senses her apprehension. "Come," he says and offers his hand. They pass the guards and climb the outer steps of the dragonpit.

They reach the highest platform of adequate size. Alicent waves, her green dress hopefully quite visible. Aemond puts two fingers to his mouth and whistles.

The Prince of the City is still sober enough to see them. Aemond greets him as he lands. "I did say that trouble would find you, did I not?"

She had never ridden a dragon before. She closes her eyes before Aemond even helps her on. She keeps them closed the whole way.

"You can open your eyes, Mother," Aemond finally tells her. Aegon has landed them in the gardens near the royal apartments. Aemond helps her dismount. "I saw them approaching the gate. We will not make it to the Grandmaester's chambers and back."

"Wait," Aegon asks. "What do you need from the Grandmaester?"

"They're going to want to move her," Alicent tells him, "We—"

"Wait, who?"

"Rhaenyra, you imbecile. We have to… put her down before they reach us. At least they will not have an excuse to hurt her — because she won't be able to give them one."

Aegon follows as they make their way inside. "Essence of nightshade would work," Aemond suggests. "Or milk of the poppy?"

"Something on the way there," Alicent reminds him. She scours her memory for any substance they might pass.

"Wait," Aegon says. "I might have something."

"We are not getting her drunk again," Aemond says. "Last night was very confusing."

"No, I have… something else. Actually, I have several things. In my rooms." He leads them in that direction and such is her desperation that she actually follows.

They do not knock.

Rhaenyra shoots up from her lounge position on the sofa. She wonders if she's even used her bed.

"Where is she?" Alicent demands. "Rhaenyra!"

"What?"

"The Princess Rhaenys?"

She hears the bedchamber door try to lock just as Aemond reaches it. But he's faster.

"Wait!" Rhaenyra calls. She sits up even further.

He forces the door open and Alicent follows. "Stay with your sister," she orders Aegon. He shrugs and remains where he is.

Aemond pulls a small, struggling man from Rhaenys's room. Alicent inspects the chamber — it is otherwise empty.

But there is a mop head amongst the tangled linens.

"What have you done?" she demands as she returns to a wide-eyed Rhaenyra.

Aemond throws the man back into the bedchamber. "We'll deal with you later."

Rhaenyra takes a moment, and makes one last play. "That bitch abandoned me? Unbelievable. Never mind 'the dragon has three heads,' that dragon has three faces." It does not land, and she sees it. Her last effort falls away.

Alicent looks at her anew.

Surprisingly, she had taken care of herself. Washed, brushed her hair, oiled her lips even. It would have been odd for someone in such a state to go through all that effort, despite the pain, despite knowing they would be going nowhere and seeing no one.

This morning had not been an attempt at reconciliation, nor an extension of goodwill. It had been a goodbye.

It was never composure; it had been a game. And for all her claims to strength, she had really thought she was a princess from the stories: locked in a tower, surrounded by monsters, about to be rescued by her Prince.

She is only as strong as the men around her hold her up to be.

Oh, the fun she must have had last night. The fun she always had, knowing there was always someone in her corner to protect her: her dragon, her father, her lover, her lover's father, her husband, the Sea Snake even. And she realizes at the same time Rhaenyra does — none of them are here now.

Rhaenyra finally drops her mask. Not the nonchalant, half-mad one she'd worn since they imprisoned her, the one that oscillated between an impression of Daemon and an impression of Rhaenys — she now sees. She drops the regal one she'd worn since her disastrous first wedding.

The Realm's Delight returns.

"Alicent," she says, more carefully than she has ever spoken. "Think about what you are doing."

"When, Rhaenyra? When did she escape?" She expects no true answer and runs through the possibilities herself, trying to remember the last time she truly saw Rhaenys.

"I—" she trails off.

"How?" she demands.

"Ser Erryk," she says too quickly. "Ser Erryk took her. I couldn't follow, but it was her only chance."

"Through the guarded door?"

Rhaenyra makes no answer.

"How did that man get in? How did he know to get in?"

"There must be a secret entrance in this room," Aegon says. "Ser Erryk knows them well."

"How?"

"Because I know them."

"And you never thought to share that information?"

Aegon thinks — for once. "Oh."

But Alicent still is not satisfied. Rhaenyra is holding something back. "Ser Erryk was saved by a dragon," Alicent says. Rhaenyra's eyes widen again, first in surprise and then understanding. Then they squeeze closed in self-flagellation.

It must be difficult, keeping track of all the threads, sifting through all the webs she's woven.

It is Aemond who does the math. "She escaped the very night Rhaenyra arrived. On dragonback. The Blacks have always known."

Alicent voices the more important point. "The Blacks have always had Rhaenys."

Aegon has yet to do the math. "Then why would they make that offer?" he asks.

"It was no offer," Alicent tells him. "It was a trap."

"Wait, what?" Rhaenyra asks in genuine confusion.

Alicent turns to her. "The Sea Snake demanded Meleys in exchange for the chance at your step— your young cousin's hand."

"Why would th—" Rhaenyra sighs. She says nothing aloud, but Alicent imagines she bites back the urge to curse both her husband and cousin.

"It appears the Blacks have some organizational deficiencies," Aemond says.

Rhaenrya glares at him. "Yes well, not everyone spends years planning a coup."

They're running out of time.

"Rhaenyra," Alicent urges. "My father and his men are coming for you. They're going to want to move you, but the castle is busy again."

"So?"

"Rhaenyra, you have to be unconscious. They're going to be angry; they're going to want to move you and they're going to want to do it quietly!"

"Why would I want to do it quietly?"

"Because they will make you choose to be quiet! And if you are unconscious, they will be less likely to want to take their anger out on you!"

"I have little desire to protect myself by being unconscious, Alicent."

"Rhaenyra!" she snaps. "You are very good at giving people excuses to be angry with you, and are right now lacking any of your usual protection from the consequences!"

Rhaenyra only stares at her.

"Aegon," she nods. He prepares the drink.

This does earn Rhaenyra's reaction. "Absolutely not! My husband has eyes and ears in the city. I'm not drinking anything you hand me."

"That's fair."

"Aegon!"

"Oh, right. Worry not, Dear Sister. You are too old for me." But then he appraises her.

"Rhaenyra," Alicent tries. "This is for your own good."

She crosses her arms. "If you knew you wanted to poison me from the beginning, you should have hidden it in the honey."

"We're not trying to poison you," Aegon helps. "We're trying to… addle you. It is perfectly safe. Watch."

He empties the cup he'd just mixed. "See?"

"Aegon!"

"What? These aftereffects are killing me, I need another nap."

"You might have led Sunfyre out of the gardens first," Aemond points out.

"Worry not, brother," he slurs. "I have a fantastic tolerance for… oh… fuck." He stumbles and barely makes it to the other sofa.

Aemond shakes him. He groans.

"Well, I'm certainly persuaded now," Rhaenyra remarks.

Aegon tries to wave. "I am alright."

She takes the dropper from the table and adds a single drop to a cup of cold tea. "He took far too much, just take the one drop," she begs as she offers it.

"Absolutely not," Rhaenyra yells. But she is no longer defiant.

She is scared.

The sounds of footsteps reach them. Many of them.

Alicent puts down the cup and looks to Aemond. He nods. Alicent walks around to the back of the sofa and holds Rhaenyra back. Rhaenyra was stronger than her, that much they all knew. But she is fatigued, and weakened, and can barely raise her dominant arm.

She still struggles.

"Now," Alicent says, before she can break free.

Aemond grabs the cup with one hand and Rhaenyra's face with the other. Rhaenyra is not receptive. "Eww, get this child off of me!"

Someone screams, and the cup lands on the floor. Alicent lets go.

"Ah!" Aemond yells. He's clutching his bleeding right hand. "She bit me."

Apparently not all her defiance is gone.

Aegon lies flat but still manages to laugh. "You might want to rethink my suggestion from the altar," he slurs.

The door breaks open. Men flood in with Ser Criston and her father at the helm. "Where is she!" her father demands. It is unclear which Princess he refers to.

Queen, she realizes. One of them is officially a queen.

The soldiers pull the man from Rhaenys's room. She briefs her father on the information they've acquired. He is ever more enraged.

The Grandmaester enters.

"By all means, enter freely. It's a party."

"Rhaenyra."

"Sorry, habit."

"Do not bother with more attempts to make her drink," her father says. "She's not cooperating. Ser Criston."

"That is not necessary!" Alicent objects to… whatever was about to happen. "Clear the way, and we can move her then."

"We have only just resumed work in this wing, Alicent. If we clear the staff yet again, it is too obvious." He turns to Rhaenyra. "unless you intend to walk nicely and cooperatively."

Rhaenyra does not even answer. She simply looks to him as if he's an imbecile.

"We need to get her out now," Ser Criston says. "We do not know when, or how many men will come. Or through where, even."

Alicent looks desperately to the Grandmaester. He nods and sorts through his case.

Alicent has known Rhaenyra longer and better than anyone. She had known her as a girl, before she became an heir. Scared she may be, but she is also difficult. She prides herself on being difficult. And now with her hope of escape gone, her next best hope is to make as big a spectacle as possible.

And oh, she would.

Unless someone stops her. And she sees now, there are several eager faces up to the task. Rhaenyra sees it too.

She's counting on it. Rhaenyra is no Argella.

Mayhaps Rhaenyra is fine with a life lived in struggle. A constant battle testing how much violence her captors were willing to use, versus how much they wanted to save face. Mayhaps she is truly the blood of the dragon.

But Alicent is not.

Before Ser Criston can approach and do… whatever her father is about to allow him to do, Alicent fills yet another cup with tea and drops. She makes straight for Rhaenyra. "Hold her," she orders the men around her. Three men accede.

She grabs Rhaenyra's head. "Gods be damned, Rhaenyra. They're going to hurt you. Take my help."

Rhaenyra thrashes. "I would rather take the beating, thank you very much. Mayhaps Ser Crispin will finally relax after getting what he wants."

Still, Alicent forces the drink through her lips. She holds her mouth closed until she sees Rhaenyra swallow, then lets go.

Rhaenyra spits the drink back in her face. Alicent scolds herself for being surprised.

Every time. Every single time.

"Alright," Aegon says. "That was impressive. Well done, sister."

"How are you still conscious?" Aemond demands as he wraps his hand with the Grandmaester's bandages.

"I think this might just be an immobilizing sedative. I've never personally taken it myself before. Fuck."

Rhaenrya still struggles against the men. "Well, Alicent. Looks like you gave me to the wrong brother."

"I agree," Aegon says.

No one engages with that.

The Grandmaester approaches Rhaenyra. Finally. "Step aside."

"Ah, I see you favour poetry too," Ser Criston says.

Alicent is resigned. "You're not going to have any—" but she stops.

Orwyle holds a severed viper's fang between tweezers; he stabs Rhaenyra, who does not appreciate the poetry. "Oh, fuck you."

She's unconscious in a matter of moments.

"Can I have one of those?" Aegon mumbles.

Ser Harrold finally enters a few moments later. She breathes a sigh of relief. The Lord Commander takes in the room: Alicent's wet clothes, Ser Criston, her father, the Grandmaester, the score of soldiers, a bleeding Aemond, the paralyzed Aegon, and most importantly, the unconscious Rhaenyra.

Quite the effort needed to render one woman unconscious. It was almost impressive.

"What is this?" he demands.

"Just see she's handled well," she orders.

Alicent escapes.

The Grandmaester had managed to find an antidote for whatever Aegon had addled himself with. And much to Aegon's disappointment, did not provide him with anything to render him unconscious.

"We are certain she is secure?" Lord Wylde asks once they've reconvened.

Ser Criston grins. "Certainly."

Alicent says nothing.

Lord Wylde is still concerned. "Where?"

"The King had already been… attended to," her father says. "So Rhaenyra now has the royal suite. It is the only apartment we can be sure has no secret exits — Maegor decreed he wanted none for his own rooms."

"I have made arrangements for Rhaenyra to be attended to," Lord Larys says.

"You are certain of their loyalties?" her father asks.

"I am certain of their… silence," he replies.

"Are they from the dungeons?" Alicent asks.

Lord Tyland shrugs it off. "At this point, half the staff have been in the dungeons."

Lord Larys reaches into his satchel. "More importantly, we have some answers. The maids found this hidden in the Pri— Queen's stays."

He tosses her wedding ring — her wedding ring for her marriage with Daemon — onto the table.

Her father inspects it. "She did not come with this. She lost it on the ship; her sons wrote to say they found it."

"That means a direct line of communication," Lord Wylde concludes.

"That is not all," Lord Larys says. "They also found this." He tosses a scroll on the table.

The Grandmaester picks it up and unrolls it. The contents seem to be in High Valyrian. There is writing on the outside in Common. He reads the first part with ease, then he almost chokes on his breath for the last part. "Oh," is all he says.

"What?" her father demands.

He recovers. "Confirming what we suspected, mostly. Their goal was to free Rhaenyra and the dragons simultaneously. And it appears that Lady Baela was the mysterious dragonrider the other night."

"Oh?" Ser Tyland says with interest.

"And?" her father prompts.

"It appears Lord Beesbury and a mystery person — the Princess Rhaenys I would guess — have settled into the council."

"Clearly not very well," her father points out. "And? That is quite a long message."

The Grandmaester appears deeply uncomfortable. "The rest is… not fit for the company of ladies."

Her father rolls his eyes. "Let me see." The scroll comes close enough for Alicent to read the back.

What D says! — L

Wait no not the last part I didn't read the whole message first!

Not the last part!

But don't worry I'm quicker than J I stopped reading after the first line I promise!

I don't even understand that type of talk in High Valyrian very well because I never looked in those books except for one time by accident!

It appears Aemond had been reading the back as well. He asks the question Alicent both did and did not want the answer to. "What is the last part?"

Her father finishes reading. "I'm unclear. There are many unfamiliar words to me here, especially in the last part."

He turns back to the Grandmaester, but he returns with an expression that says, please do not make me. He turns his attention back to the message. "But apparently Prince Jacaerys fainted after your encounter."

Aemond and Aegon laugh in glee.

Once they've finished, Aemond turns back to the Hand. "Let me try." Her father passes him the scroll.

Aemond shakes his head. "Some of these words are vaguely familiar, but they are used in strange ways. Almost like those older Valyrian volumes. The language of violence and… other matters. But I am not well versed enough to deduce the meaning here."

Aegon raises his hand. "Give it here!"

Everyone turns to him. No one says anything.

"What?" he says. "The only matters I am well-versed in are the other matters. I only read in Valyrian for the other matters. The rest I leave to my brother."

This day is full of surprises.

Aemond slides it to his brother, looking skeptical. Aegon lips circle into an "O" as he reads. "Ohoohoohoohoo! Our relatives are into some other matters alright. Now this is poetry." He is beaming when he turns to Aemond. "You have some pretty big shoes to fill, baby brother. You have a lot of things to fill."

Alicent pushes past her fear. "What does it say, Aegon?"

Aegon does not share Orwyle's reticence. "Our dear uncle is going to castrate you, baby brother. And then he's going to feed your parts to our Grandsire. Then he's going to cut off Grandsire's head whilst he chokes on your cock, and present it to Rhaenyra."

No one is surprised, but everyone is still horrified.

Except for Aegon. "But first he's going to cut out all of our— hey! How did I get mixed up in this? Anyways, he's going to chop us all up slowly piece by piece, for the duration of a fortnight. And he's going to decorate the throne with the pieces. But the screams will not be a problem because he's going to fuck Rhaenyra so good that her screams will drown out our — our? Hey! Our screams."

Aegon lets the words settle. Then he sighs. "That is the most beautiful thing I ever read." He rethinks. "Aside from the part that involves my parts, that is."

No one speaks.

Until Ser Criston does — even he seems uncomfortable. "I suppose we know why she's been in such good spirits. I imagine that changes now."

"I suppose so," her father agrees. "And this gives us a concise response." He fortunately picks up the ring, rather than the… message they all seem inclined to ignore — except for Aegon. "This is small enough for our sturdiest Dragonstone raven to accommodate. No words necessary."

"Is that wise?" Ser Criston asks. "Should we not try to lay a trap?"

He shakes his head. "The men are already found out. They are likely to know soon enough if they do not know already. I would rather them think us several steps ahead."

"Very well," the Grandmaester replies. "I will send it at once."

Her father turns to another problem. "The Velaryons have spurned our generosity — now we extend it elsewhere."

"And the fleet?" Lord Tyland inquires.

"They sabotaged their chance at a Prince, but we will acquire the Velaryon fleet nonetheless. Either girl will do, both would be preferable. We have many eligible allies."

Ser Tyland straightens with interest, and Alicent intercedes before he might suggest himself. "My dear cousin will not inherit the Hightower for quite some time, if the gods are kind." She eyes Ser Tyland. "And he is of a compatible age."

Aemond follows her eye. "A str— a good match," he agrees.

"Very good," her father says. "As for Daeron," he turns to Aemond. "I have a mission for you. Today. You will win the hand of one of Lord Baratheon's daughters, any of the four will do. Succeed, and Lord Borros will deliver the stormlands. Fail—"

"I will not fail," Aemond promises. "I will have Storm's End, and Daeron will have this girl."