The Great Hall of Dragonstone.
At that moment, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed outside the doors of the Great Hall. A messenger practically stumbled into the room.
"Your Grace! My Lord! A ship! A ship has arrived in the harbor!"
Rhaenyra turned.
"Whose ship?"
"It flies a white flag, the banner of a royal messenger. An envoy from King's Landing."
The hall erupted into a commotion like boiling oil splashed with water.
Rhaenyra's expression darkened instantly.
"The Greens? They dare send an envoy now? Nail them to their mast and send them back to Blackwater Bay!"
"No, Princess," Corlys intervened.
"Let us hear what they have to say."
Rhaenyra suppressed her murderous intent.
"Fine. Let them in."
When the envoy entered the hall, the first thing he saw was the three hundred corpses lining the floor.
He faltered for a second; it seemed these Velaryon defectors had served their purpose well.
Following behind him were two attendants carrying black iron chests; both kept their heads low, not daring to look at the dead.
Rhaenyra sat regally upon the high seat. The envoy marched to the center of the hall and stopped.
"Princess Rhaenyra," he said, pointedly omitting her royal title.
Corlys's voice came from the side, low and dangerous.
"Rhaenyra is Queen, not Princess."
The envoy looked up.
"Before His Majesty Viserys I passed, he designated Aegon as the Prince of Dragonstone and heir. Prince Aegon was crowned three days ago at the Hill of Visenya, anointed with sacred oils by Septon Ewen and blessed by the Seven. This is a fact recognized by the nobility of the Seven Kingdoms and the Faith."
A faint, mocking smile played at the corners of his mouth.
"If I were to call Princess Rhaenyra 'Queen,' where would that leave King Aegon? Where would it leave the Faith? Where would it leave the Seven Kingdoms, which have already acknowledged King Aegon's rule?"
The sound of swords clearing scabbards rang out around the room. Rhaenyra raised a hand to stop them.
She looked down at the young envoy. His eyes were calm, his breathing steady; despite being glared at by hundreds of hostile knights, he showed not a shred of fear.
"What is your name?"
"Kermit."
"No House name?"
"Princess, I am but a commoner."
"You have courage."
"I am honored by Prince Aemond's high regard."
At the mention of that name, Rhaenyra's pupils contracted.
"Aemond sent you here to die?"
"Prince Aemond sent me to deliver a message and convey terms," Kermit said, chin held high.
"Whether I die or not depends on Princess Rhaenyra. You can kill me now, but King's Landing will never send another envoy."
Rhaenyra wanted nothing more than to butcher the boy. Princess Rhaenys stepped forward.
"Since you are an envoy, we shall respect the Laws of Hospitality." She signaled a servant.
The servant took a piece of coarse rye bread and a small dish of salt from a pack and handed them to Kermit.
It was soldiers' black bread, the salt grains large and rough, the oldest ritual in Westeros.
Kermit tore off a piece of bread, dipped it in the salt, and placed it in his mouth. His two attendants followed suit.
They chewed. They swallowed.
"I have eaten your bread and salt," Kermit said.
"Will you kill me now in front of all these people? Or will the Princess spare my life and hear me out?"
He raised his head. "Which do you choose, Lady Rhaenyra?"
The hall grew so quiet that only the sound of breathing remained.
Rhaenyra stood up. She walked over to Kermit, looking down at the insolent youth. Then, she laughed out of sheer fury.
"Is this what Aemond taught you? To break into someone's home, slaughter their kin, and then eat bread and salt amidst a mountain of corpses while lecturing me on Guest Right?"
Kermit did not flinch from her gaze.
"Prince Aemond taught me more than that. He taught me that history is written by the victors. A hundred years from now, how will posterity record today? Will it be Queen Rhaenyra's heroic resistance? Or Princess Rhaenyra's defiance of the late King's will, her collusion with foreign enemies, and her regicidal betrayal of her own father, for which she suffered divine retribution?"
Rhaenyra's nails dug into her palms as she glared at him with pure hatred.
"You wretch!"
"Your Grace," Rhaenys said, placing a hand on hers.
"Let him finish."
Rhaenyra took a deep breath. She personally tore a piece of bread, dipped it in salt, and ate it.
"You are now protected by the Laws of Hospitality. Speak your piece and be quick."
Kermit bowed slightly.
"His Majesty Aegon II demands that Princess Rhaenyra travel to King's Landing to face questioning before the Iron Throne regarding the poisoning of the late King. Furthermore, all acts of war must cease immediately."
"Impossible," Rhaenyra said, enunciating every word.
"You commit regicide and parricide, and then throw the filth upon my head?"
She felt a crushing sense of injustice. Viserys was dead.
The Greens had framed her. And the Faith, the Citadel, and the Southern Lords believed it? Only the North still stood with her.
Kermit did not argue.
"The Faith and the Citadel do not share your view," he said.
"The world believes you did it. The Iron Throne requires your explanation."
"You fool the world," Rhaenyra hissed, "but the North still believes in me."
Rhaenys stepped forward, ending the futile debate.
"Envoy, are you accusing Princess Rhaenyra of poisoning her father, murdering the Maester, and forging the King's will?"
"I am merely stating the public conclusion of the Iron Throne," Kermit replied.
"And King Aegon's invitation for Lady Rhaenyra to defend herself before the Iron Throne." He paused for a moment.
"This is your last chance, Princess."
'Last chance?' Rhaenyra repeated the words.
"Did Aegon say this was my last chance, or Aemond? You killed my sons, burned my allies, and poisoned my father... and now you tell me that kneeling in King's Landing is my last chance?"
Rhaenyra laughed bitterly. "Go back and tell Aegon. Tell Aemond."
She spoke one word at a time. "There will be no peace until one of us is dead."
Kermit's expression remained unchanged, as if he had anticipated this answer.
"I shall deliver the message."
He signaled his attendants. The two men stepped forward and placed the black iron chests on the floor.
"What is this?" Princess Rhaenys frowned.
Kermit leaned down and opened the lids.
A smell of salt and lime wafted through the air. Inside the chests lay two human skulls.
Rhaenyra didn't react at first.
"What are these?"
Kermit took a breath.
"By order of Prince Aemond, I return to Rhaenyra Targaryen... the skulls of those two boys. The Prince says the punishment is over. Let them return to their mother for a proper burial."
Rhaenyra did not scream. She did not cry. She fell to her knees.
Her knees hit the stone, and she reached out with both hands, lifting the two skulls from the chests with agonizing slowness.
Jacaerys. Joffrey.
She pressed them against her face. Then she began to shake.
The trembling started at her fingertips and spread to her wrists, her arms, her shoulders, and finally her entire body. Her back heaved violently.
"The Prince says," Kermit continued, pressing the needle, "that anyone, even those with Targaryen blood, who threatens the House or stands in its path will be eradicated like this, without mercy."
In an instant, consumed by a volcanic rage, Rhaenyra drew the sword of a knight standing beside her.
But Princess Rhaenys, still vigorous in her age, lunged forward and grabbed Rhaenyra's wrist, forcefully pushing the half-drawn blade back into its scabbard.
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