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The Queen's Chambers, Morning.
She had slept poorly the previous night; news from King's Landing stuck in her heart like a thorn, leaving her tossing and turning.
But now, hearing the cries of the infants, all her anxieties were replaced by maternal instinct.
"Coming, I'm coming..." Alicent murmured, throwing back the silk duvet.
The two wet nurses had already arrived and were waiting outside the door.
They opened it gently, but the Queen waved them off, signaling she would handle it herself.
Since becoming Regent, her days were consumed by administration and council meetings; it was only in these rare moments that she could truly rest.
She picked up Daena first. The girl was likely hungry.
Alicent cooed softly, walking to the small table to pour warm milk from a pitcher.
Nearby, Baelon saw his sister being fed and began to raise his own protest.
"Patience, my little prince." Alicent set Daena down and gathered Baelon.
She sighed; raising twins was exhausting, yet it was a labor she cherished.
Suddenly, Daena began to cough. It wasn't a minor choke, but a violent, racking spasm.
Alicent's heart tightened; she immediately placed Baelon back in his cradle, ignoring his loud cries of protest, and turned to her daughter.
"Daena? Darling?"
The infant's face turned bright red, tears welled in her purple eyes, and her tiny hands flailed in the air.
Alicent held her upright, resting the small head against her shoulder. She supported her firmly with one hand while gently patting the child's thin back with the other.
One, two, three. The motions were light but rhythmic, the hard-won experience of a mother of four.
Helaena had been prone to choking as a babe; Aemond never had; and Aegon... she could hardly remember Aegon's infancy.
She had been so young then, and most of the care had been left to wet nurses.
"Cough... ugh..."
A small bit of milk escaped Daena's mouth, dampening the shoulder of Alicent's nightgown. But the coughing stopped.
The girl gasped for air, then let out a wronged sob, her tiny hand clutching a lock of her mother's chestnut hair.
Alicent exhaled in relief. She paced the room slowly, humming a lullaby.
Baelon continued to wail in his cradle, the sound growing louder.
Alicent looked down at Daena, who had calmed and was staring at her with overly clear eyes.
She reached the cradle and used her free hand to rock the boy. His cries softened.
Alicent smiled. It was a bother, but a sweet one.
She savored these moments where she wasn't a Queen or a Regent, but simply a mother needed by her children.
Aegon was grown, an eldest son she had to worry about constantly.
Aemond... Aemond felt burdened. Daeron was a squire in Oldtown.
Helaena was sweet, but she was betrothed to Aemond and lived in her own world.
Only these two little ones still belonged entirely to her.
The door pushed open quietly.
The Queen looked up to see Viserys standing in the doorway.
The King looked at his wife and children and nodded with a faint sense of comfort.
He looked... utterly drained.
"Your Grace." Alicent moved to rise and curtsy, but the baby in her arms and the one in the cradle kept her pinned.
Viserys waved her off, gesturing for her to stay. He limped into the room, steadying himself against a chair.
"What is it? Did Daemon make you angry? Or...?" she asked softly.
Viserys shook his head and sat on the edge of the bed, near the cradle.
Baelon blinked curiously at his father for a moment before remembering his hunger and resuming his protest.
"Daemon," Viserys began.
"He is willing to give up."
Alicent froze. In her arms, Daena babbled, her tiny hand patting her mother's chest.
"Give up?" she repeated.
"Give up what?"
"The throne," Viserys said.
"He will convince Rhaenyra. They will no longer press their claim."
Silence fell, save for Baelon's weakening cries.
Alicent felt her heart thud. Joy? Relief? Disbelief?
"...Why?" the Queen asked.
"How could Daemon, "
She knew her brother-in-law. That man was made of pride and ambition. Why would he surrender now?
"There is no 'why'," Viserys said, his gaze fixed on Baelon. He reached out with a trembling finger to stroke the boy's hand.
The infant caught his finger and began to suckle it.
Alicent stared at her husband. He wasn't looking at her; he was staring at the child.
"What are his conditions?" she asked, instinctively knowing it wasn't that simple.
Viserys was silent for so long she thought he wouldn't answer.
Finally, he whispered, "Alicent, that is not your concern. You only need to know that tomorrow, I will announce Aegon as the heir to the Iron Throne."
Alicent felt her eyes grow hot. She set the now-sleeping Daena down.
"That is wonderful," she choked out.
"Truly, Viserys, it is wonderful. I was so worried... worried that you and Daemon would..."
She didn't finish, but Viserys understood. He squeezed her hand, hard enough that it was painful.
"There will be no more disputes over the succession. I promise."
As the morning sun shifted, illuminating the bed, Alicent looked at her husband.
On the right, he was a tired but whole man; on the left, a mass of rotting, terrifying wounds.
She remembered when they first married, he had been a handsome man who would lift her and spin her around, who would read her poetry at night.
What had time done to him?
"Your Grace," she said, stroking his good cheek, "you need rest. Your complexion..."
"The armies in the capital," Viserys interrupted her.
"Who controls them?"
Alicent blinked, hesitating.
"The armies... the City Watch has been reorganized into the Royal Army, led by, "
"Aemond," Viserys finished for her.
"They are all Aemond's men, aren't they?"
The air in the room seemed to solidify. Outside, the sounds of the Red Keep waking up, servants moving, horses neighing, filtered in.
Alicent felt a wave of unease. She spoke carefully.
"Aemond... he is very capable. The purge of Flea Bottom, the restoration of order, he did all those things well. The reorganization was his idea; he said the old Watch was incompetent and needed rebuilding."
"I know he is capable," Viserys said.
"I just want to know... how many soldiers are in King's Landing now? What is their composition?"
He asked calmly, but Alicent heard the weight behind it.
This was a King asking about the military disposition of his capital. She took a breath, recalling the numbers Aemond had reported.
"Aemond's own guard is about six hundred," she said.
"All elites. Then... the Auxiliaries."
"Auxiliaries?" Viserys frowned.
"To assist in maintaining order," Alicent explained.
"Not regular army, Aemond called them 'support'... they help with patrols and fires. About three thousand men."
"Six hundred elites. Three thousand auxiliaries," Viserys repeated.
He asked again, "And the Royal Army? The former Watch?"
"They have established new barracks outside the city," Alicent said, her voice growing smaller.
"They are recruiting from across the Crownlands, plus the men provided by vassals and the reorganized Watch... It's about five thousand."
"Five thousand?" Viserys said. He was silent for a long time.
"And all of them report to Aemond?"
Alicent nodded, then added quickly, "But it's to defend the city, to prepare for a possible, "
She stopped. Prepare for what? An attack by the Blacks?
By Daemon and Rhaenyra? But if Daemon had agreed to stand down, why were these armies still necessary?
Viserys looked at her. There was no anger, no suspicion, only a profound disappointment.
"You have all been preparing," he said slowly.
"Behind my back?"
"He was only, " Alicent tried to defend him, but Viserys raised a hand.
"Six hundred elite guards. Three thousand auxiliaries. Five thousand royal soldiers. Nearly nine thousand men," Viserys counted.
"And still expanding."
He stood and walked to the window, staggering slightly.
"He has been preparing for war. Not for defense, but to launch an offensive."
Alicent felt a chill. She had never viewed it from that angle. When Aemond reported to her, he spoke of strengthening defenses and preparing for threats.
She thought her son was doing his duty, protecting his family.
"And there is another army," Viserys suddenly remembered.
"The Royal Guard, the one currently being formed."
He turned back to his wife. "The Royal Guard?"
"The one made of the sons of the Seven Kingdoms' nobility," Alicent said.
"Aemond proposed it. He said we needed an elite unit of noble scions loyal to the Crown as a symbol of the throne and a final line of defense. They are gathering men now; it should be formed in six months."
Viserys's expression shifted from weariness to alarm.
"From which Houses?"
"Most of the Crownlands' Lords sent their heirs," Alicent said.
"Some from the Westerlands, the Stormlands, and the Reach..."
Viserys sat back down.
"This army," he said, "should theoretically report directly to the King."
Alicent nodded. "Yes. Nominally, it is led by Ser Criston Cole. But the actual formation and arrangement are being handled by Aemond."
Silence returned.
"Alicent," Viserys finally spoke, sounding exhausted.
"How much has Aemond been involved in the Small Council lately?"
"He asks about most administrative matters," she replied.
"He handles military affairs entirely. He checks the treasury ledgers, gives advice on diplomacy... save for justice and religion, he has his hand in everything."
"From today," the King said with a sudden, unquestionable finality, "Aemond is to be excluded from Council business. Only Aegon is to attend."
Alicent was stunned.
"But Aegon... he has no interest in governance, and he, "
"He must learn," Viserys snapped.
"He is the Crown Prince. He must shoulder the responsibility."
"But Aemond is more capable!" Alicent blurted out, then immediately regretted it.
Viserys looked at her with a complex gaze.
"Precisely because he is too capable. An incompetent King, and a hyper-capable brother with an army at his back... do you know what that means?"
The ghosts of Aenys and Maegor seemed to flicker in the room once more.
Alicent felt a surge of fear. She had never scrutinized Aemond's actions because she trusted him, not over Aegon, but as a protector.
If the brothers turned on each other...
"Aemond wouldn't," she tried to convince herself.
"He loves this family. He's been protecting us."
Viserys felt only a profound sorrow.
"He is my son. But he... he frightens me." He reached out and took Alicent's hand gently.
"I do not doubt his loyalty to the family. I only worry..."
He didn't finish, but she understood.
"Then what do we do?" she asked, trembling.
"We move slowly," Viserys said.
"Remove him from the administration first. As for Aegon, since he doesn't care for it, we find someone to watch over him, to attend the meetings with him. Aelyn. She is clever, has a head for business, and is Aegon's biggest supporter. Let her assist him. Let her teach him what to do."
Alicent nodded. Aelyn was a good choice; the woman was shrewder than she appeared and held great influence over Aegon.
"And that Royal Guard," Viserys continued.
"Once formed, I will take command of it personally. I will not give it to Aegon, for I fear it would create a rift between the brothers. It will be the King's army, loyal only to the Iron Throne."
Viserys could see the potential influence of this unit. It was made of noble sons; their combat prowess was secondary to the political leverage of their families.
If Aemond controlled them, he controlled the support of half the realm's nobility.
"I will arrange it," Alicent said, squeezing his hand.
"From today, Aemond will no longer attend the Council. Aegon will attend with Aelyn. As for the Royal Guard... I will have my brother Gwayne Hightower report more directly to me to reduce Aemond's interference."
Viserys nodded. He looked spent, his eyes half-closed.
"I am tired," he whispered.
"Let me rest. There is much to be done tomorrow at the Iron Throne."
Alicent helped him lie back. She mixed a few drops of Milk of the Poppy into a cup of water.
"Drink," she said softly, lifting his head.
Viserys obeyed, and as the medicine took hold, he drifted toward a dreamless sleep
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