The first light of dawn passed through the glass window, casting pale patterns across the tiled floor of Queen Alicent's bedchamber.
Ysera woke first.
The half-year-old infant twisted in her cradle, letting out soft, hungry grumbles of protest that quickly rose into crying.
Almost at the same time, Jaehaerys beside her opened his eyes.
On the bed, Alicent stirred from shallow sleep.
She had not slept well the night before. The news of Daemon's sudden return to King's Landing had lodged in her heart like a thorn, turning her rest uneasy.
But at the sound of her children's cries, every worry was swept aside by a mother's instinct.
"I'm here, I'm here…" she murmured softly, lifting the embroidered quilt and rising.
The two wet nurses had already arrived and were waiting outside the door. They pushed it open quietly, but the Queen raised a hand, signaling that she would manage herself.
Since becoming regent, her days were filled with governance and council meetings.
Only rarely did she find a moment to rest.
She picked up Ysera first.
Hungry, most likely.
She soothed her in a low voice and walked toward the small table nearby, where a warmed milk jug sat. She fed her.
Beside them, Jaehaerys watched as Alicent gave Ysera her milk, and soon he began to fuss as well.
"Do not fret, my little prince," Alicent said, setting Ysera down and lifting Jaehaerys.
She let out a quiet sigh. Raising this pair of twins left her truly weary, yet she took joy in it all the same.
Just then, Ysera suddenly began to cough.
Not a slight choke, but a violent one.
Alicent's heart clenched at once. She immediately placed Jaehaerys back in the cradle—the boy cried out in protest—and turned to lift her daughter.
"Ysera? Sweetling?"
The infant's small face flushed red. Tears welled in her violet eyes, her tiny hands flailing in the air.
Alicent held her upright, letting the small head rest against her shoulder. One hand supported her firmly, the other gently patted her slender back.
Once. Twice. Thrice.
The motion was light, but steady and rhythmic.
It was knowledge earned from bearing four children.
Helaena had often choked on milk when she was small. Aemond never had. Aegon… she no longer clearly remembered his infancy. She had been too young then; most of his care had been left to the wet nurses.
"Kh—…ah…"
A small mouthful of milk spilled from Ysera's lips, dampening the shoulder of Alicent's sleeping gown.
But the coughing ceased.
The infant drew in great breaths, then let out a small, aggrieved sob, her tiny hand clutching tightly at a strand of her mother's auburn hair.
Alicent exhaled in relief.
She carried her daughter and paced slowly through the chamber, humming a lullaby.
In the cradle, Jaehaerys still cried, his voice growing louder.
Alicent glanced down at the child in her arms—Ysera had already calmed, gazing at her with eyes too clear for one so young.
She stepped to the cradle and, with her free hand, gently rocked the boy.
Jaehaerys's cries softened.
Alicent smiled. Troublesome, yes—but sweet troubles.
She cherished such moments, when she was not Queen, nor Regent, but merely a mother needed by two children.
Aegon had already grown, becoming a firstborn son who required her constant worry.
Aemond… Aemond had grown somewhat strange to her.
Daeron was in Oldtown, serving as a squire.
Although Helaena was considerate, she was already betrothed to Aemond and had a world of her own.
Only these two little ones still belonged wholly to her.
When the bedchamber door was gently pushed open, the Queen lifted her head and saw Viserys standing in the doorway.
The King looked at his wife, looked at the children, and nodded with quiet satisfaction.
He looked… very weary.
"Your Grace." Alicent wanted to rise and salute, but Ysera in her arms and Jaehaerys in the cradle left her unable to move.
Viserys waved a hand, signaling for her to take her time.
He walked in, his steps a little unsteady; only after bracing himself on the chair by the table did he steady his body.
"What is it? Has Daemon angered you? Or…?" she asked softly.
Viserys shook his head. He sat down by the bed, close to the cradle.
When Jaehaerys saw his father, his crying stopped for a moment, and he blinked curiously.
But soon he remembered he still had not had any milk, and so he continued to protest.
"Daemon…" Viserys began.
"He is willing to give it up."
Alicent froze.
In her arms, Ysera was making babbling sounds, her little hands patting at her mother's chest.
"Give it up?" she repeated. "Give up what?"
"The throne," Viserys said.
"He will persuade Rhaenyra… they will no longer insist on the Iron Throne."
The room fell silent for a few seconds. Only Jaehaerys's weakening cries remained; the boy seemed to have cried himself tired.
Alicent felt her heart pound hard within her chest.
Joy? Relief? Or disbelief?
"Wh—why?" the Queen asked. "How could Daemon…?"
She knew her goodbrother, Daemon Targaryen.
That man had ambition and pride in his bones.
And now he was giving it up?
"There is no why," Viserys said, his gaze dropping to the crying Jaehaerys.
He reached out and, with trembling fingers, gently teased at his son's small hand.
The infant caught his father's finger and sucked at it.
Alicent stared at her husband.
Viserys did not look at her. He watched the child.
"Does he have some condition?" she asked, instinctively aware that it would not be so simple.
Viserys fell silent.
The pause stretched long enough that Alicent thought he would not answer.
But at last, he said in a low voice, "Alicent, this is not for you to concern yourself with."
"You only need to know that tomorrow I will announce that Aegon shall be the heir to the Iron Throne."
Alicent felt her eyes grow hot.
She set down Ysera, who had already fallen asleep.
"That is wonderful," she said, her voice catching.
"Truly, Viserys—wonderful."
"I have always feared… feared that you and Daemon would…"
She did not finish.
But Viserys understood.
He clasped his wife's hand in return, gripping it tight—so tight that Alicent felt pain.
"There will be no more dispute over the succession."
"I promise."
The sunlight shifted again, now fully illuminating the bed.
Alicent looked at her husband.
His right half was a weary man, yet still mostly whole; his left half was a festering, dreadful wound.
She remembered so many years ago, when they had just married.
Then Viserys had still been a handsome middle-aged man—he would laugh and lift her, spinning her in a circle; he would hold her hand throughout the dances; he would read her poetry at night. He had been as gentle as a spring wind.
What had time turned him into?
"Your Grace," she said, stroking Viserys's intact right cheek, "you need rest—your color…"
"The forces in King's Landing now," Viserys cut her off, "who holds command of them?"
Alicent froze, answering with some hesitation.
"The forces…"
"The City Watch has been reorganized into royal troops, led by—"
"Aemond," Viserys finished for her. "They are all Aemond's men, are they not?"
The air in the chamber seemed to congeal.
In the cradle, Jaehaerys made a soft sound again, though this time it was not crying, only the aimless murmur of an infant.
From beyond the window came the sounds of the courtyard in the distance as servants began their day's labors—the whinnying of horses from the stables, the clatter of pots and bowls from the kitchens.
Alicent felt a stir of unease.
Carefully, she said, "Aemond… he is capable. The cleansing of Flea Bottom, the restoring of order—he did those things well."
"The reorganization of the forces was his idea as well. He said the former City Watch was incompetent and needed rebuilding."
"I know he is capable," Viserys said.
"I only wish to know…"
"How many troops are there in King's Landing now? And of what composition?"
His tone was calm, but Alicent heard the weight within it.
This was no casual inquiry; this was the King asking after the military disposition of the capital.
She drew a breath and began recalling the figures Aemond had once reported.
"Aemond's own guard numbers a little over six hundred," she said. "All elite. And… the militia."
"The militia?" Viserys frowned.
"To assist in maintaining order," Alicent explained quickly. "Not regular troops. Aemond calls them auxiliaries…"
"They help with patrols, with putting out fires—around three thousand in number."
"Six hundred elite. Three thousand militia," Viserys repeated.
Then he asked again.
"And the royal forces? The former City Watch?"
"A new camp has been established outside King's Landing," Alicent said, her voice growing softer.
"They are now recruiting throughout the Crownlands. With the levies provided by the bannermen, and those of the former Watch reorganized into the ranks… there are now roughly five thousand."
"Five thousand?" Viserys said.
He fell silent for a long while.
"All these men answer to Aemond?" he finally asked.
Alicent nodded, then hastened to add, "But he acts to defend King's Landing—to prepare for possible…"
She did not finish.
To prepare for what?
For an attack from the blacks?
For Daemon and Rhaenyra?
But now that Daemon had agreed to yield, were these forces still necessary?
Viserys looked at her.
Looked at his wife.
There was disappointment.
Not anger. Not suspicion. Disappointment.
"You have been preparing as well…" Viserys said slowly.
"Without my knowledge?"
"He was—" Alicent began to explain, but Viserys raised a hand to silence her.
"Six hundred elite guards. Three thousand militia. Five thousand royal troops," Viserys counted each in turn. "Nearly nine thousand in total."
"And still expanding."
He rose and walked to the window. The simple motion made him stagger; Alicent moved to steady him, but he waved her away.
Outside, King's Landing was waking beneath the morning light.
Movement had already begun below the Red Keep.
"He has been preparing for war all along," Viserys said, his back to her.
"Not for defense."
"But to strike first."
Alicent felt a chill.
She had never considered it from that angle.
When Aemond reported to her, he had spoken only of strengthening defenses and reorganizing the forces to answer threats.
She had always believed her son was fulfilling his duty—protecting his family and the realm.
"There is another force," Alicent suddenly recalled. "The Guard—the one being formed."
He turned to look at his wife. "The Guard?"
"Composed of the sons of noble houses from the Seven Kingdoms," Alicent said, striving to remember the details Aemond and his brother Gwayne had reported.
"Aemond proposed it. He said there was need of an elite force made entirely of nobles loyal to the Crown, to serve as a symbol of the royal house and its final line of defense."
"They are gathering men now. It is expected to be formed within half a year."
Viserys's expression changed—not satisfaction, but wariness.
"From which houses?" he asked.
"Most of the noble houses of the Crownlands have sent their direct heirs," Alicent said. "Some from the Westerlands, part from the Stormlands, and from the Reach as well…"
Viserys walked back to the bed and sat down once more.
"This force," he said, "should in theory answer directly to the King."
Alicent nodded. "Yes. In name, it is commanded by Ser Criston Cole, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard."
"But the actual organization and arrangements are all handled by Aemond."
The chamber fell silent again.
"Alicent," Viserys finally spoke, his voice weary to the bone, "of late, the small council… how much has Aemond taken part?"
Alicent thought for a moment. "He involves himself in most matters of governance."
"Military affairs are entirely in his hands. He also reviews the accounts of the treasury. In diplomacy… he offers counsel as well. Aside from judicial and religious matters, which he seldom touches, the rest…"
She did not finish, for Viserys's face had grown increasingly grim.
"From this day forth," the King said, his voice soft yet edged with unquestionable resolve, "Aemond is not to attend the council. Only Aegon."
Alicent was taken aback. "But Aegon—he has no interest in governance, and he—"
"He must learn," Viserys cut her off, firm now. "He is the heir. He must begin to shoulder responsibility."
"But Aemond is more capable," Alicent blurted, and regretted it at once.
Viserys looked at her, his gaze complex.
"It is precisely because he is too capable."
"A weak king, and a brother of great ability, with men behind him…"
"You know what that means."
Aenys and Maegor.
Their ghosts seemed once more to stand within the chamber.
Alicent felt fear rise within her.
She had never probed deeply into Aemond's actions, for she trusted her son.
Not for Aemond's sake—but for Aegon's.
If Aemond truly harbored ambition… if the brothers were ever to turn against one another…
"Aemond would not," she tried to convince herself, and her husband as well.
"And he loves this house. He has always been protecting us."
Viserys I felt only a wave of sorrow.
"He is my son."
"But he… makes me afraid."
He reached out and took Alicent's hand. This time, his grip was light, gentle.
"I do not doubt his loyalty to the house," Viserys said, looking into his wife's eyes.
"I only fear…"
He did not finish, yet Alicent understood.
"What are we to do, then?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"Slowly," Viserys said. "First, have him withdraw from affairs of governance."
"And Aegon?" she asked. "He has never cared for such matters."
Viserys's face darkened.
"Then find someone to watch him at all times, and attend council with him."
"Alyn Rogare. She is clever, clear-minded, and Aegon's staunchest supporter."
"Have her assist him. Teach him what he must do."
Alicent nodded. Alyn was indeed a fitting choice.
The woman was more astute than she had first imagined, and she held great influence over Aegon.
"And that Guard," Viserys continued.
"When it is formed, I will command it myself."
"I will not give it to Aegon. I fear it would drive a wedge between the brothers."
"It is the King's army. It shall answer only to the Iron Throne."
Viserys could see clearly how great the influence of that Guard would be.
All composed of noble sons; their fighting strength mattered less than the houses behind them.
If Aemond held the Guard in his grasp, it would be as though half the realm's noble houses stood behind him.
In the future, even should Aegon sit the throne, he would be, to Aemond, dispensable.
He could shape the balance of the realm itself.
Viserys spoke with firmness, yet Alicent heard the frailty beneath it.
How long could Viserys's body endure?
After he passed, into whose hands would that force fall?
"I will see to it," Alicent said, tightening her hold on her husband's hand. "From this day, Aemond shall no longer attend the small council. I will have Aegon present, and Alyn beside him."
"As for the formation of the Guard… I will have my brother Gwayne report more directly to me, and lessen Aemond's interference."
Viserys nodded. He looked utterly spent, his eyes half-closed, his head drooping slightly.
"I am tired," he said in a low voice.
"Let me rest awhile. Tomorrow I must convene the assembly upon the Iron Throne."
Alicent helped him lie back slowly upon the bed.
From the bedside cabinet she took a small porcelain vial and poured a few drops of flower milk into water.
"Drink a little," she said softly, lifting her husband's head.
Viserys obeyed and drank.
---
I will post some extra Chapters in Patreon, you can check it out. >> patreon.com/TitoVillar
---