ALICENT

"Aegon!"

Rhaenyra is still asleep when she returns to unlock Aegon. Much to her dismay, though it should not have been to her surprise, so is Aegon. Poor Ser Criston stands behind her, utterly confused about why Aegon sleeps in Rhaenyra's room wearing chains.

Aegon jumps up from his sprawl. "What?"

"You were supposed to watch your sister."

"I tried… I fell asleep. She is alive, is she not?" He squints and nods when he sees the rise and fall of the blankets she had burrowed into. Alicent had of course already made certain it was not another rat catcher ruse. "Do you know how boring it is to watch a person sleep, especially when they know that you're there?"

What?

She sighs and unlocks his anklet. "At the least you will be functional today, I suppose. We have a long day ahead of us." She was to move to the Tower of the Hand today to give Aemond her consort suite and… contain activity, as her father describes it. Aegon could oversee Aemond's move so that his rooms would be ready upon his return. And she had yet to fill Ser Criston in on his… what had Rhaenyra called it? Ineptitude.

They break their fast in one of the Holdfast's private dining rooms. Her father joins them with Lord Tyland on his tail, who still not-so-subtly tries to advocate for himself as a suitor. "Lord Tyland," her father says. "As I am guessing that the girls are already wed, perhaps we might save ourselves the effort until an opportunity arises. After all, we have many other issues to focus on at the moment."

"Yes," Aegon agrees. "Like the fact that none of you have any idea what you're doing."

"I beg your pardon?" her father demands. Lord Tyland, having been absent from Aegon's instructional last night, is lost for words.

"You heard me. You have no idea what you are doing with Rhaenyra, because you do not wish to know. And you're going to either end up harming her or letting her escape so Prince Daemon can kill us all. It is sad, truthfully. But I am tired of seeing my favourite sister treated with such ineptitude. I think I should be put in charge of her care."

They all exchange absolutely stunned looks. It is up to Alicent. "Aegon, we cannot even leave you in the same room without chaining you like a dog."

"What?" blurts Lord Tyland. Her father and Ser Criston look confused for a few moments, then seem to work it out.

"Oh please, I am not an animal."

"Aegon, it's not only you that I do not trust."

"What do you mean?"

She cannot bring herself to say it. Fortunately, Ser Criston can. "Your sister… is both manipulative and opportunistic. In the future, she is going to get desperate. She's going to be looking for a way to… prevent a problem, mayhaps even eliminate a problem. Leading you, or rather, letting you think you're leading her, down a certain path would force us to assist her in preventing that problem. Do you understand?"

"No. I told you all. I only read real poetry."

Lord Tyland sighs. "What he means is, you're stupid and depraved, and Rhaenyra knows it."

"If she thought I was so stupid, why did she specifically ask for my help last night? Mayhaps you should not discount me simply because my expertise differs from your own."

Does he have a point? Alicent asks the others with her eyes.

Mayhaps, they seem to answer.

They continue their meal in silence, no one but Aegon wanting to dwell on the issues raised. More importantly, no one wanted to engage with the possibility that he might have a point.

Aegon. Making good points. Providing expertise. What is happening?

She is not forced to ponder this development for long. A frazzled servant interrupts the end of their meal. "Your Grace, My Prince, My Lords," she nods to each one. "His Grace has returned to the Keep, but we know not how we should bring him in."

Her father drops his utensils. "Already?"

Lord Tyland looks to him. "Is that a good sign or a bad sign?"

"Bring him in how?" Alicent wonders. "What do you mean?"

The girl looks uncomfortably between all of them, but will not look upon any of them for too long. "I… do not know if he should be led through the common areas at this time."

"Why does he not wish to be seen?" her father asks.

"I do not believe he is in a disposition to decide such a matter."

She stands. "What is wrong?" she asks "What happened?"

"I cannot… I do not know, Your Grace. All I know is that I believe you should find a more discrete way to lead him through the Keep."

"Where is he?" her father asks.

"Still in the carriage, My Lord. I do not think he will make his way here of his own accord."

"Is he hurt?" Alicent asks.

"I… I do not think that his physical state is of the higher concern at the moment."

Alicent shakes her head. "What do we… I need to see him."

"Wait," Aegon says before she can reach the door. "I can do it. I know another way to bring him here. Or wherever you want to bring him."

Alicent catches the look between her father and Lord Tyland and she cannot help but share in it. Aegon. Of all people.

She considers their options. "Very well. The top floors of the Holdfast are secured by only those loyal to us. Bring him to my rooms, soon to be his rooms."

Ser Criston accompanies Aegon, and the servant is dispatched to summon the Grandmaester. Lord Tyland follows them to her rooms, likely more out of curiosity than concern.

The King's escort arrives a few moments after the Grandmaester. Ser Criston leads a shaking cloaked figure into the room, removes the cloak, and sits him down on the sofa.

And then Alicent finally sees her son.

His hand is misshapen. His face is bruised and bloody all the more visible without his eyepatch. His forehead is almost completely black. But most horrifying is his expression. There is no reason in his expression, only fear. And it is clear right away that he'd been crying for so long that he's run out of tears.

Aegon offers a cup. "Wine?" Aemond ignores him. Aegon shrugs and upends it.

"Aemond," she tries again. "What happened."

"I didn't mean it," he pants. "I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it. She said to make her stop. I couldn't make her stop. And she wouldn't stop. I didn't mean it. She went crazy. She's crazy."

"Aemond."

"I only wanted to show them. I wanted them to know. I wanted them to make the right choice."

He breathes so fast. He won't stop shaking. She kneels and looks him directly in the eye. But nothing looks back at her. "I couldn't make her stop. She went crazy. I tried to make her stop! She's fucking insane. Who fucking does that?"

The Grandmaester joins her on the floor to assess Aemond's hand, but something else catches his attention. "M— Your Grace," he asks. "What happened to your head? To your neck?"

He continues rocking. "I told you she's crazy!"

Her father, Ser Criston, and Lord Tyland had been standing to Aemond's side. Ser Criston approaches to assess the neck injury. He approaches from Aemond's blind side.

"No!" Aemond screams. He thrashes against Ser Criston before he's even touched him.

"Woah there brother! You certain you don't want a cup?"

Aemond does not appear to want anything. Despite his poor state, he continues to struggle. He tries to jump from his seat but Ser Criston pushes him back down. Her father and Ser Tyland join in and try to hold him still.

"Umm," Aegon says, "I don't think you want to do that."

She tries to stroke his hair reassuringly like when he was a child, but that only seems to further incense him. "Get off!" he thrashes his injured neck. "She's a fucking hair-puller!"

"Aemond," she tries to reason. "You're hurting yourself." But he is clearly beyond reason.

Aegon and Orwyle had backed away. She can barely make out pieces of their conversation.

"Grandmaester," Aegon says. "I think you know what you need to do."

"They're very rare, Aegon."

"So is the chance for poetry of this degree. Please. If not for me, then for him. You need to look at that neck. And his head! These imbeciles cannot handle it. Have we learned nothing from yesterday?"

Orwyle sighs. "Very well. But I'll need you to use your… connections to procure something else in exchange."

"He's manic. Or shocked," her father declares.

"Worth it. On one condition. Well, two conditions."

"What could have happened to cause this?" she asks no one.

Aegon returns to the sofa. "Worry not, baby brother. I know exactly what you need."

She sees it just a moment too late. "Aegon!"

But Aemond is already falling limp. Aegon drops the empty fang into the dish Orwyle holds. "I would say that's justice for Rhaenyra. But the truth is, I would have enjoyed it anyway."

The men who were previously holding Aemond down offer no objection. Her father even seems relieved. "How long will it last without… the additional steps we took last time?" he asks.

Ser Tyland seems disappointed. "What exactly did I miss yesterday?"

"Rhaenyra channelling Syrax," Aegon answers. He feigns a bite on his own hand. "I don't know why he even bothered to bring a sword with that hand. Well, not that hand. It is strange that it's the same hand. Hey, where's his sword?"

The Grandmaester ignores them. "An hour at the least. It depends how fatigued he was beforehand. He'll also likely feel tired for the rest of the day. But considering his state… that might not be the worst outcome.

Aegon returns to his lecture mindset from last night. "I would like to point out that there was no need for the situation to escalate this far. I've seen my fair share of crazed outbursts, though not so many sober ones, and I must say that was probably the worst way to handle one."

They ignore him and the men move Aemond to the bed so the Grandmaester can examine him. Now that he's still, she can see that his neck is indeed covered in deep purple bruises. She had assumed the rasp in his voice came from being out of breath, but now she could not be certain.

Aegon has a different concern. "I have to tell Rhaenyra! She's going to love this." And then he runs from the room. Alicent does not try to stop him; the maids would be there by now to prevent any antics, and she'd already left instructions with the guards not to let him in unsupervised.

Thinking of guards, she makes a note to visit Ser Harrold later, remembering that he's on his last chance.

The Grandmaester determines that Aemond's hand is definitely broken in several different spots. He's covered in deep cuts and bruises as well.

"It looks like he was sliced with a sword across his collarbone. And his neck."

Alicent gasps.

"Worry not, they are not deep," he assures her.

"What of the other injuries?" her father asks.

"It looks like… he was beaten bloody, to be blunt. And strangled. Someone was holding his neck at multiple angles it looks like. For a long period of time."

"His head?" Ser Criston asks.

"A strong, blunt force."

"Was he perhaps ambushed at Storm's End?" Ser Criston asks.

Her father considers. "I do not know what else it could be…"

Aegon returns with a slightly split lip. "She said, I don't care, how did you even get over here? Get the fuck away from me and let me sleep."

Alicent has to admit, this whole experience has definitely brought out the adolescent Rhaenyra of old.

"Aegon," Ser Criston says. "What happened to your face?"

"Oh, well, she didn't realize the guards were there, so she hit me with a goblet first. Not a bad instinct, I must admit."

Even Ser Criston nods.

Alicent divides her morning between checking on Rhaenyra and checking on Aemond. Both seem constantly on the verge of waking, yet fighting to stay asleep. Aegon, unaccustomed to being conscious at such an early hour, seems to find novelty in shadowing her. That is, until he finds other matters to entertain himself with.

Unfortunately, part of his deal with the Grandmaester gave him another matter to entertain himself with. "These have so much chaos potential!" he says as he admires the case of fangs. "Who knows who will be next! It could be anyone!"

"Aegon."

"Worry not, Mother. Some of them are for me." He follows her yet again on her way back to her rooms.

"Shouldn't you be patrolling the city?"

"Today? Why would I leave when everything fun is happening here? Hey, do you think I could use these in a blow dart?"

"Aegon, stop being absurd."

"You're right. They're too curved. Still, I need a better method of delivery than tweezers."

Alicent ignores him.

This time, they do find a conscious Aemond awaiting them. But he expresses little interest in talking about his experience. Alicent decides not to press him until he's recovered, and orders that their midday meal be brought to her rooms. Aegon laughs when she asks that one of the meals arrive precut. "You're turning into Father already."

Aemond sits silent and upright at the table with his one good hand supporting his head. "So," Aegon starts. "Where… is your sword?"

Aemond tries to shake his head, she thinks. But he does not have the neck mobility.

Her father does not knock, and Ser Criston does not stop him. In fact, he follows him in along with Ser Tyland.

"You only lost the one eye!" the Hand shouts. "How could you be so blind?"

Aemond flinches, but makes no other response.

"What is it?" Alicent asks.

Her father displays a raven's scroll. "Lord Borros wrote, to warn us that his Septon issued a condemnation for both of your actions last night. And he wants to know what he should do with the remains that washed ashore this morning."

Aemond still makes no response.

"R-remains?" Alicent treads carefully, not certain if she wants to know, "Wh—"

"One of Arrax's wings! They are waiting to see if there's more."

Mother have mercy on us all.

"Aemond." She says yet again. But this is not a gentle coax. This is a demand.

"I didn't mean it!"

Her father glares. "You didn't mean it?" he mimics.

"I… I… it wasn't supposed to happen that way!"

"Aemond, what happened?" she demands.

Aegon waves his hand in front of Aemond's face. Aemond slaps him away and takes a breath. "Baela and L… Lucerys, they came to Storm's End last night. They… tried to start a sword fight in the hall."

"Oh…" Aegon says. "Is that what happened to Blackfyre?"

"What?" her father demands.

"He came back without Blackfyre. Where is it?"

Aemond mumbles without making eye contact. "I imagine Jacaerys will have it soon, if not already,"

"How?" her father spits.

He doesn't want to say it, but it does come out. "Baela… took it."

Ser Criston had move to stan over him. "Baela. Baela Targaryen. Daemon's daughter Baela?"

Aemond tries to nod. Lord Tyland still looks enragingly intrigued.

Her father is not even enraged yet, simply incredulous. "The girl of five-and-ten, disarmed you?"

"It… it was at sword point. And dragon point!"

"Wait," Ser Criston says. "Was this before or after you broke your hand?"

"After."

"So you took down Arrax in revenge?" Alicent asks in horror.

"No! I… I didn't mean it I told her to stop."

Her father searches for sense in the story. "So you did fight before you took to the air?"

"No… she had Dark Sister, I think Prince Daemon trained her. And my sword hand was already injured from the other crazy Targaryen woman. But… they kept insulting me. I am the King. I cannot let that stand. I only wanted to show them that we are in power."

"But when did she take your sword?" Lord Tyland asks. "Do not feel bad, Your Grace. It's Daemon's daughter, it does not count. He probably put a dagger in her crib in place of a rattle."

No one disagrees.

"Alright," her father says. "Let us try this again. What happened on the ground before you took to the air?"

"We argued. We drew our swords. We put them back. We left."

"The Septon is claiming you tried to abduct her."

"What?" Alicent exclaims.

"She was baiting me! It was all in High Valyrian! I think she… I think she wanted to settle it on the ground before we ended up settling it in the skies. But I was… too smart for that. I saw through it," he says unconvincingly.

Her father crosses his arms and looms over his king. "So who tried to settle it in the skies?"

Aemond makes no answer.

"Aemond!" he shouts.

Aemond flinches. "I… I only intended for a display of power. But… they took it so far. She's insane. I think Vhagar didn't understand."

"Understand what?" her father grits.

Aegon raises both hands in a stop signal. "Wait wait. Let us go back. When did she take your sword? When did you break your hand? Most importantly, who pummeled you into a bloody bruised mess?"

Alicent tests her theory. "They didn't ambush you on the ground?" .

For one moment, Aemond looks like he's about to answer with a yes. But then he loses his resolve. "No."

"I don't understand," she admits. "If not before then how?"

Aegon purses his lips into his ooooo face and points at Aemond. Aemond sees, and fear flashes across his face. Aegon's jaw drops, and he covers his mouth, still pointing at Aemond. Aemond gives him a warning look, and Aegon puts his hands down. But he does not stay silent. "So… baby brother. This big fight. Who broke your hand?"

Aemond answers reluctantly, "Baela."

Aegon nods. "Right. And… who pummeled you?"

"I was defending myself! I imagine she's just as bad off."

"You were pummeled by a girl of five-and-ten?" her father exclaims.

Ser Criston seeks a better answer. "So… the two of them together overpowered you because your hand was injured?"

Aegon shakes his head, staring Aemond down. "I don't think so… I think it was just the girl. Wasn't it, baby brother?"

"Stop calling me that. I am your King."

"Tell that to the Queen-in-Chains down the corridor. No. Tell me. Was it both, or just the girl who laid hands on you."

Aemond's nonanswer is an answer.

"Are you serious?" her father yells.

"His hand was injured," Ser Criston defends.

Aegon smiles. ."I don't think it's as simple as that. Is it? No, I think our King was distracted with another task." He's barely containing himself from hopping up and down, as far as Alicent can tell.

Aemond tries to turn his face to stone.

"What were you doing?" Ser Criston asks.

Aegon rubs his hands together. "Yes, Your Grace. What were you doing when Daemon's daughter attacked you? Based on that panic attack, from behind, I presume?"

Aemond takes a few moments to let the word out. "Riding Vhagar."

Ser Criston, thankfully, voices the conclusion Alicent had drawn. "So you took her captive, and she escaped?"

"Bold move," Lord Tyland actually compliments him.

"Oh Aemond," she laments. "That's not the way I wanted this done."

"But you let her escape?" her father demands.

Aegon has another idea. "I don't think he knew she was on there… did you, Your Grace?"

Aemond simply looks down. Alicent does not think she's ever seen Aegon so joyful.

"So she stowed away to ambush you?" Ser Criston asks.

Aegon vibrates. He looks like he's about to explode. But he's waiting for something. "Tell us about this dragonfight, Your Grace. Who started it?"

"I did," Aemond admits. "But I only wanted to scare them!"

"I'm so confused," Lord Tyland admits. Alicent understands.

"I'll be right back," Aegon says. "No one make any progress without me, alright?" And then he sprints out of the room.

They do indeed, make absolutely no progress. Aemond is not helpful, and offers no information without it being directly asked for.

Aegon slides back into the room holding a Valyrian book, his thumb marking a page. He assesses the room, and, satisfied, stands in front of the table. He looks like Prince Daemon when he knows he's about to be given permission to murder. "Back to the dragon battle, Your Grace. Just give us a summary. Who was fighting whom? Who chased whom in what order?"

Aemond can see he's walking into some kind of trap, but clearly sees nowhere else to go. "I chased Arrax. Arrax fired on Vhagar, and Vhagar was enraged and chased him. Then Moondancer fired, and Vhagar was enraged and chased her."

"Vhagar, not y—" her father is cut off.

"Shh, that's not the best part," Aegon says.

Aemond gives up on whatever silent fight passed between them. "Vhagar… fired on Moondancer. Large flames. They engulfed the whole dragon."

"Gods be good," Alicent says. "Is sh—"

"So, is that when, babybrother?"

Aemond says nothing.

"When what?" her father asks.

"When Daemon's daughter pummeled him."

"With her dragon?" Lord Tyland asks.

Aegon tenses for something. "No… not with her dragon… Tell them, baby brother. Tell them plainly before I lose it."

Aemond sighs and slumps in defeat. "She jumped onto Vhagar," he mumbles.

Aegon raises his arms and jumps higher than the table; his laugh pierces every organ in her body. "Oh fuck! No! No! Seven Hells no!" he both runs and jumps between every corner of the room "No way! Oh the gods are good! Oh thank you! Oh fuck!"

They sit and watch him frolic for a time, until he turns and points at Aemond. "You! You got vaulted!" he shouts some unfamiliar Valyrian word.

"What?" she asks.

He makes his way back to the table and slams the book he'd still managed to hold marked open upon it. "You! Vaulted! I thought it was a myth! I cannot believe it's real! I cannot believe it happened to you! This is the best day of my life!" He trades jumping for running around directionless. "Who do I tell first?" he wonders.

The writing was in Valyrian, but there is a small, simple sketch that makes the subject clear. Two dragons, with one rider leaping onto the other dragon, sword drawn and ready.

Her father understands the moment she does. And he does not find it funny. His voice turns to ice. "You, who rides a dragon that can swallow a horse whole, chased that little girl who rides a dragon the size of a horse. So she jumped onto your dragon, pummeled you, and took your sword. Is that correct?"

"Yes!" Aegon screeches, almost falling to his knees.

Lord Tyland laughs. "Was this before or after she took his manhood?" A glare from her father silences him.

Ser Criston does not find it funny either. "I hate how much her father is going to enjoy this," he mutters. "Oh, no, and she did it using his sword too? At the least he could have done it himself, but sending a little girl? It's so much worse! And he knows it!"

"Oh, Cole is right," Lord Tyland says. "The Blacks are probably throwing a party right now."

Aegon comes to a stop. "Wait, oh no… Lucerys is dead!" His face falls. "Oh, this is serious. Rhaenyra is not going to be happy with you."

Rhaenyra.

I promised that her children would come to no harm.

The men of the room have a different concern. "How did Lucerys die?" Her father asks.

When no answer comes, Alicent demands it. "Aemond?"

"He came back for Baela. He landed Arrax on Vhagar."

Aegon laughs. "You got dragon jumped by a dragon too?" His face falls again.

"And then what?" her father prompts.

"Baela took Blackfyre to guarantee their safety."

"So why didn't it?" her father asks.

"Vhagar didn't like having Arrax on her back."

"You ride Vhagar. You control Vhagar."

Aegon jumps at the chance to lecture again. "That is not always how it works, Grandsire. Riders can lose control of their dragons in situations of extreme emotion. Or… inexperience." He turns to Aemond and adopts a sickly sweet tone. "Did Vhagar sense that someone got scared of a baby dragon? Was someone a little too scared too pull Vhagar back?"

Aemond says nothing.

"So…" her father begins. "A little girl jumps onto the largest dragon in the world, a boy lands his baby dragon on the largest dragon in the world to pick her up, and somehow the person that loses control is the person riding the largest dragon in the world?"

"I think Lucerys lost control as well! His dragon fled before it should have."

"But you're the one that killed him, Aemond! You drew first blood! You'd already drawn first blood when you fired on the girl, and those two children saved you from that fate by saving themselves. So then you do it again?" her father is furious.

"I didn't me—"

Ser Criston cuts him off. "That's worse. That makes us look worse. We cannot have word spread that our King cannot control his dragon!"

Her father clutches his head. "What have I done to deserve this?" "You!" he points to Alicent. "Fooled by a mop!" That hits her hard.

"You!" he points to Aemond. "Losing control of a war dragon, being pummeled by a girl, and drawing first blood!"

"And you," he points to Aegon. "You may not have done much today. But the fact that I find that surprising is a condemnation of its own."

"Wait," Alicent interrupts. "How is Baela alive?"

"She… she was going to kill me. She was about to. She strangled me the whole time I was fighting to control Vhagar. Then she drew her sword. But then she seemed to just change her mind. She damaged my saddle though, that needs repaired before I do any hard turns. But anyway… she just disappeared. Not before muttering about how she would chop off my hand if she weren't worried about what we'd do to Rhaenyra, though. Then I saw her flying away on Moondancer. I don't even know how she…" he shakes his head.

"Interesting," Aegon muses. "That man is so insane, it extends to his women."

"I changed my mind," says Lord Tyland. "I'll take the younger one. And she's widowed!"

Aemond looks up. "She's insane. She kept rambling like a mad woman. She even went for the same hand Rhaenyra did! She's fucking insane. All the women in this family are insane."

Rather than scold him once again, her father looks intrigued. "Indeed… indeed they are… Very good, Aemond. That approach might work for our other problem as well."

She knows her father, but she still asks. "What do you mean, father?"

"You know Rhaenyra, daughter. Once she's recovered, she's going to fight. She's going to make spectacles in the hopes that word spreads. Our biggest vulnerability is the Blacks convincing the realm beyond doubt that we hold Rhaenyra against her wishes. But if she were incapable… insane… not able to decide for herself anymore…"

Ser Criston smiles. "It wouldn't matter how many spectacles she tried to make. It might actually make her case worse."

"Precisely." Her father mulls it over. "Dragonstone likely does not have the ravens needed to spread word at the moment, not so shortly after their announcement. That gives us time. Our first goal should be to deal with that rogue Septon."

"Father, what do we tell Rhaenyra?" What do I tell her? How do I tell her?

"Nothing yet. Not until we've settled both stories." He turns to Alicent and his grandchildren. "I'll summon Lord Wylde. We need to decide how we spin this by day's end."

He turns to Ser Criston and Lord Tyland. "As for you two, consult with the Grandmaester. See what we can for our beloved Queen as her Targaryen madness overtakes her. Settle on a story quickly. Because as soon as word of Lucerys reaches Rhaenyra… we're going to need it."