King's Landing.
The Red Keep.
It was deep into the night.
Only the torches still burned along the corridors of the Red Keep.
When Aemond walked in, he was already soaked through. His long silver hair clung to his face, and his mithril armor was covered in scorch marks and dragon blood.
Aemond walked slowly.
Every step felt heavy.
Vhagar was wounded. Lothorne was wounded as well. But they could still fly.
While riding on dragonback, only one thought had filled his mind:
Rhaenyra was still alive.
He had destroyed Dragonstone, killed hundreds of people, killed Rhaenys—yet that source of all this chaos was still alive.
She was alive.
She was riding Syrax.
He could have chased after her.
But Daemon had arrived. Silverwing had arrived. Vermithor had arrived.
So he could only leave.
Alicent was pacing back and forth inside Maegor's Holdfast.
She had waited the entire night.
From yesterday until now.
She did not even know what exactly she was waiting for, but she simply could not sleep, could not sit still. She had to keep walking back and forth here.
Alyn was there as well.
The queen sat in a chair, her face pale, one hand covering her stomach.
She said nothing, but her eyes never left the doorway.
Helaena was absent.
She was pregnant, and Alicent had told her to rest first.
Footsteps echoed out.
Alicent looked up toward the newcomer.
"Aemond!"
The Dowager Queen hurried over and looked him over from head to toe. She saw the dragon blood on him, saw his drenched hair, saw the exhaustion on his face.
Her heart tightened.
"You're hurt? How are you?"
"Rhaenys is dead."
Aemond answered calmly.
Alicent froze.
"What?"
"Rhaenys," Aemond repeated. "My aunt."
"She's dead. I killed her."
Alicent's hands slowly lowered.
She looked at her son, her eyes as deep and complicated as dark waters.
"Rhaenys..." she murmured. "She was your own aunt..."
Aemond said nothing.
He merely stood there.
Alyn rose from her chair and walked over.
Her face was even paler than Alicent's. Fear, hope, and too many other emotions filled her eyes.
"Aemond," she said, her voice trembling slightly, "where is Aegon? Did Aegon come back with you?"
Aemond glanced at the queen.
"Aegon?" Aemond frowned. "Wasn't he in King's Landing?"
Alicent and Alyn both froze.
In that instant, time itself seemed to solidify.
"He... he also went to Rook's Rest," Alicent said, her voice drifting weakly.
"He wanted to personally lead the campaign. He said he would fight beside you."
Aemond's expression changed drastically.
Silence.
A dead silence.
"What did you say?"
His voice was very low. Low enough to send chills through the room.
"He went to Rook's Rest..." Alicent repeated with a trembling voice.
"He left yesterday morning, riding Sunfyre. He said he would fight beside you..."
Aemond drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes.
Several seconds later, he opened them and looked out the window.
Outside lay King's Landing under curfew. The night was so dark that he could see nothing.
"I never went to Rook's Rest," he said.
Alicent did not understand.
"I went to Dragonstone," Aemond said indifferently.
"I had Lothorne circle above Rook's Rest to draw their attention."
"I took Vhagar and launched a surprise attack on Dragonstone."
He paused.
"Aegon was never part of my plan."
The color completely drained from Alicent's face.
"Then... then where is Aegon?" Alyn's voice suddenly sharpened, piercing the silence. "Where is Aegon?!"
Aemond fell silent for a moment.
In that instant, countless images flashed through his mind.
The skies above Rook's Rest. Daemon and Rhaenys' dragons. Poor Sunfyre, the golden dragon, struggling helplessly beneath the assault of two dragons.
"If he truly joined the battle at Rook's Rest," Aemond answered calmly, "then he would have faced Daemon and Rhaenys."
Alyn covered her mouth.
"Two dragons," Aemond continued. "Sunfyre could not defeat Meleys. Much less Caraxes."
He paused.
"He may already be dead. Perhaps."
"No!"
Queen Alyn let out a heart-rending scream.
Clutching her stomach, she staggered backward and collapsed against the wall. Tears burst from her eyes like a breached flood, impossible to stop.
"No... impossible... impossible... He can't be dead..."
She slid down onto the floor, covering her face with both hands as her whole body trembled.
Alicent stood there trembling as well.
She remembered the moment before her eldest son, Aegon, departed.
She had asked him, "Why must you go?"
Aegon had answered, "This is my own decision. It has nothing to do with Aemond."
Her eldest son's eyes had been so bright. So resolute.
It was the first time Alicent had truly felt that her wastrel eldest son—who spent all day drinking and indulging himself—had finally begun to resemble a king.
She should have been happy for him.
She should have supported him.
She should have stopped him.
She should have done everything in her power to stop him.
But she had not stopped him.
"It's my fault..." Dowager Queen Alicent murmured as tears finally began streaming down her face as well.
"It's my fault... I should have stopped him... I should have..."
Aemond looked at Alicent with a complicated expression.
"Mother."
Alicent raised her head, looking at him through tear-blurred eyes.
"I didn't know he would go," Aemond said, his voice still calm.
"I ordered him to stay properly in King's Landing."
Alicent stared at him.
An instinctive anger rose within her—along with blame, the desperate need to find someone to bear this pain.
"Why didn't you explain it clearly to him?" Her voice sharpened like a blade.
"Why didn't you tell him you were going to Dragonstone?"
"If you had told him, he never would have gone to Rook's Rest!"
"This is all your fault."
Aemond fell silent for a second before calmly saying, "Now he's paid the price for his own choice."
"He's your brother!"
"He's a fool."
Dowager Queen Alicent froze.
"What did you say?"
"I said," Aemond replied word by word, "He's a fool."
Alicent trembled with fury. She rushed forward and raised her hand, intending to slap him.
Aemond caught his mother's wrist.
And quietly looked at her.
That hand froze in midair.
Alicent looked into his eyes, looked at that drenched and wounded face, and said with a trembling voice, "This is how you speak of your brother?"
"He may be dead, and this is what you say?"
Aemond looked at her calmly.
"I have never wronged him."
"Did I not tell him to stay in King's Landing?"
"Did I not order him not to join the battle?"
The Dowager Queen could not speak.
"He chose to go himself," Aemond continued calmly.
"He chose to personally lead the campaign. He chose to throw his own life away."
He paused.
"And now you blame me?"
The Dowager Queen opened her mouth, but no words came out.
She could not blame Aemond. This whole thing had unfolded through a cruel twist of fate...
Tears streamed down her face.
In the corner, Alyn was still crying, her sobs coming in broken waves.
Footsteps sounded from the doorway.
Helaena walked in.
She wore a sleeping robe, her pregnant belly swollen beneath it, her face pale. She had clearly been awakened by the noise—or perhaps she had never slept at all. Everything that had just happened, she had heard while standing behind the door.
Step by step, she walked over until she stood before Aemond.
Then she reached out and gently embraced him.
Her hands were trembling.
Aemond paused slightly.
He could feel her heartbeat. Through her swollen belly, through his soaked clothes, it beat rapidly again and again.
He raised a hand and gently patted her back.
"I'm fine," he said softly.
Helaena buried her face against his chest, her tears soaking into his clothes.
She did not cry aloud. She only trembled, only held him tightly—so tightly.
She was afraid of losing him.
"If they want to hate me, let them hate me," Aemond said. "I've never cared."
Helaena said nothing. She only held him even tighter.
Alicent watched the two of them, and suddenly a strange feeling rose within her heart.
She had two sons.
One might already be dead.
The other stood here covered in blood, exhausted to the bone.
Who should she blame?
Who could she blame?
They were both her sons.
Both born from her.
Both raised by her own hands.
A moment later, Aemond gently released Helaena and turned toward the door.
"Aemond," Alicent called out, her voice hoarse, "where are you going?"
"To find out whether that fool is actually dead or not."
Alicent hurried after him by a step.
"Wait."
Aemond stopped, but did not turn around.
Alicent looked at him, hesitant to speak.
"Rhaenys..." she finally said softly. "She was your own aunt. Maybe you think killing bastards doesn't count as kinslaying, but now the Seven Kingdoms will see you as a kinslayer. The nobles will despise you..."
Aemond turned and looked at her.
He knew this mother of his was a devout follower of the Seven.
He smiled.
Not a cold smile. Not a bitter smile. There was exhaustion in it, helplessness, and also a kind of pride difficult to describe.
"Mother," he said, "I am a Targaryen."
Alicent froze.
"A Targaryen," Aemond repeated.
"If my hands remain unstained by blood, then how am I supposed to secure the Iron Throne for Aegon?"
Alicent opened her mouth, unable to say anything.
Aemond turned around and continued toward the door.
"Aemond!"
It was Helaena.
She hurried after him and grabbed his hand.
Aemond turned back.
Helaena looked at him through tear-filled eyes, shaking her head desperately.
"Don't go..." Her trembling voice sounded like leaves shivering in the wind. "Don't go... please... I'm afraid..."
Aemond looked at her.
Looked at her swollen belly, carrying their child.
Looked at the tears on her face, glimmering beneath the candlelight in the hall.
He remained silent for a moment.
Then he reached out and gently wiped away the tears on her face.
"I'm sorry," he said.
Helaena stared at him.
"There's no turning back for me anymore," Aemond said.
"I'll do everything I can to win this war."
"Even if I die... I still will."
He paused.
"I promise you."
Gently, he released her hand and walked out of the hall.
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