Godswood, Red Keep.
In the afternoon, within the Godswood of the Red Keep, the members of the Royal Family gathered for a rare reunion.
Viserys I sat in his wheelchair. Recently, his health has improved significantly.
Although he had largely withdrawn from daily governance, leaving Alicent to act as Regent, he still held the final word on matters of great importance.
Queen Alicent stood by his side, cradling their youngest daughter, Daena, in her arms.
The Queen hummed a soft nursery rhyme, gently rocking the lively toddler to sleep.
"He is here," Alicent said, glancing at the King, who was resting with his eyes half-closed.
The sound of footsteps broke the tranquility of the grove.
"Father. Mother."
Aemond offered a simple bow.
Nearby, Helaena, who had been reading a book of poetry on a stone bench, looked up and greeted Aemond with a bright smile.
Aegon shifted into a more comfortable position on his seat and raised a wine cup in a casual salute. At the same time, Aelyn Rogar offered a small nod, her hand instinctively resting over her pregnant abdomen.
"Sit, my son," Viserys said.
"We were just speaking of you."
Aemond sat down beside Helaena.
"And what were you saying, Father?" Aemond asked calmly, a small smile playing on his lips.
"About your recent actions in King's Landing," Viserys looked at his son.
"The purge of Flea Bottom, the curfews, the city-wide manhunts... I am told that by day, King's Landing is a royal capital, but by night, it is a military camp."
Aemond's eyes narrowed slightly.
"And who told you this, Father? The Hand? The Master of Laws? The Master of Coin?"
"Does it matter?" Viserys stared at his son.
"What matters is that in the version I heard, you are suppressing a conquered enemy city like a conqueror, rather than governing a capital like a Prince."
A brief silence followed. The wind whistled through the red leaves of the Heart Tree, sounding like a low wail.
"Father," Aemond began.
"You have ruled the Seven Kingdoms for nearly thirty years. Tell me: what is governance?"
Viserys blinked, momentarily stunned.
"Is it 'balance'?" Aemond continued.
"Is it keeping the nobles content? Ensuring the smallfolk are fed? Letting the laws of the realm run their course? But what is the prerequisite for all of that?"
Aemond answered his own question.
"It is Order. Without order, laws are empty words, and prosperity is a luxury. And where does order come from?"
Aemond spoke with cold conviction.
"It comes from fear, Father. Not the fear of cruelty, but a predictable fear. I want these people to know that to do evil is to be punished, and to follow the rules is to be safe. This fear is not tyranny; it is the cornerstone of order."
"Your grandfather, Jaehaerys I," Viserys said slowly, "ruled over fifty years of peace. He did not rely on fear."
"He relied on dragons," Aemond countered without flinching.
"It was Maegor and Balerion who slaughtered the rebels and the Faith Militant, carving fear into the hearts of the world. Since then, the world has feared the Targaryens on the Iron Throne. They fear our madness! Because of that fear, as long as the Targaryen King after Maegor wasn't a madman, the Lords and the Faith were content to obey. It was Targaryen dragonfire that taught them how to be submissive."
Viserys stared at his son, silenced by the cold logic.
"Aemond has a point," Helaena suddenly spoke up.
Everyone turned to her. Helaena was usually quiet and avoided politics entirely.
"Why does he have a point?" Alicent asked curiously.
Helaena replied softly, "I don't really know... but I will always believe in him."
The group fell silent, looking at the young woman who seemed completely blinded by her devotion.
Aemond smiled; he knew that even if she were simple at times, Helaena would always stand by his side.
"Your methods are still too extreme," the King finally said.
"Encouraging brothers to report brothers, and sons to report fathers..."
"I have been merciful," Aemond replied flatly.
"Those who committed petty crimes were sent to hard labor, not the gallows."
Viserys sighed deeply and leaned back in his wheelchair, exhaustion reclaiming his body.
"Fine... since order has been restored to the city, I shall say no more."
He reached toward Alicent.
"Give Daena to me."
He took the young girl, his withered fingers stroking her soft cheek as she tugged at his beard. His gaze softened.
"To be young is a blessing," he murmured.
"No responsibilities, no choices. Only the need to be fed and kept warm."
He looked toward Aelyn.
"And Baleon? Let me hold him too."
Aelyn rose and placed the infant on the King's lap.
The baby woke, scanning his grandfather's gold mask with curious purple eyes.
Viserys smiled.
"You children..."
His gaze swept over them.
"I am old."
He looked at Aegon. His eldest son was bored, tapping a fork against his wine cup.
He was nearly eighteen, yet his heart was still that of a child.
"Aegon."
Aegon looked up, wine staining the corner of his mouth.
"Father?"
"Come here."
Aegon put down his cup and shuffled over to the wheelchair.
Viserys studied him, handsome, charming to the maidservants, yet aimless.
Viserys knew of Aegon's dalliances, and he knew Alicent had been covering for him. Until now, he had never expected much of Aegon; he had let the boy live the life he wanted.
But things were different now.
"You are my eldest son," Viserys began.
"The legally recognized first heir of House Targaryen."
Aegon froze.
Aelyn's fingers tightened on her dress. Could it be? Today?
Queen Alicent held her breath. Aemond remained motionless, watching with a calm, calculating eye.
"I am ill, and I do not have many years left," Viserys continued, weighing every word.
"The matter of the succession cannot remain in limbo. The Greens, the Blacks... this division must end."
He paused for effect.
"Therefore, I have decided..."
The Godswood went silent.
"After the conclusion of this tourney, I will formally announce a change to the line of succession. You, Aegon Targaryen, shall be the sole legal heir to the Iron Throne."
The moment the words fell, Aelyn nearly stood up in shock. She forced herself to remain seated, but the joy on her face betrayed her.
Alicent closed her eyes and let out a long, shuddering breath, a breath that carried ten years of grievances, struggles, and resentment.
She had finally won. She had beaten Rhaenyra.
Aegon stood with his mouth open, completely stunned.
"Father... I... I mean, the Iron Throne... what about Rhaenyra?"
"Rhaenyra will be properly provided for," Viserys interrupted.
"Dragonstone will always be hers. But Rhaenyra is not fit to rule the Seven Kingdoms. That much has become clear to everyone now."
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