The Throne Room, The Red Keep.
At dawn, King's Landing was shrouded in a grey-white mist, the towers of the Red Keep flickering in and out of view.
Inside the Throne Room, torches had been lit early to stave off the damp, chilly air seeping through the high rafters.
Aemond Targaryen stood beside the Iron Throne.
Seated upon it was Queen Regent Alicent.
The chair was famously uncomfortable, forged from a thousand swords of the defeated, melted by dragonfire, with jagged blades protruding from the back, armrests, and even the seat.
Alicent sat rigidly upright, her deep blue velvet gown spread around her, her hair immaculate beneath a silver net.
Below the dais stood the Small Council.
To the left was Gwayne Hightower, Captain of the City Watch; beside him, Ser Criston Cole, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.
To the right was the Hand, Tyland Lannister, followed by Larys "Clubfoot" Strong, who leaned on his cane with an air of studied indifference.
Finally, there was Grand Maester Orwyle, standing in silent grey robes.
In the center of the hall, the representatives of the Four Realms stood in a row.
They had arrived two days prior and had been kept in the city manse until this morning.
Leading them was the Northern representative, Medrick Manderly, heir to White Harbor.
A tall man of twenty with the signature round face of his House, he wore a silver-grey fur cloak over chainmail.
Next was the Vale representative, Ser Will Royce, brother to the Lord of Runestone.
A renowned knight, he carried the ancestral Valyrian steel blade, Lamentation. He wore ancient bronze-plated armor etched with runes said to ward off sorcery.
The Royces were traditionally close to Rhaenyra, but Will's expression was as deep and still as a mountain lake.
While they favored the Princess, they held no love for Daemon, who was rumored to have murdered his first wife, Will's aunt, Rhea Royce.
The third was the Riverlands representative, Benjicot Blackwood, heir to Raventree Hall. Barely eighteen, thin and dark-eyed, he wore a charcoal surcoat adorned with raven feathers.
His stance was subtle; his family's century-old blood feud with the Brackens, who were staunch Greens, made his presence here particularly pointed.
Finally, the Stormlands representative, Sebaston Estermont. In his forties and balding, he appeared nervous, his eyes darting toward the floor.
Behind them stood a dozen knights and squires. All were armored, but per protocol, their weapons had been left at the racks outside.
Queen Alicent took a deep breath, her voice echoing through the hall, clear but strained.
"My Lords, representatives of the Realms."
The men bowed in unison. "Greetings, Queen Regent," Will Royce replied.
"May the Seven grant the King a swift recovery."
Medrick Manderly hesitated, then added, "And may the Old Gods watch over His Majesty as well."
Though the Manderlys followed the Seven, they spoke for their liege, the Stark.
Alicent nodded. "Welcome to King's Landing. However, as you know, the King is gravely ill. The Maesters have ordered absolute rest. Today, I hear your business in his name. Any documents or messages may be presented to me."
Will Royce stepped forward, his bronze greaves clanking on the stone.
He produced four scrolls sealed with wax: the Wolf of Stark, the Falcon of Arryn, the Trout of Tully, and the Crowned Stag of Baratheon.
"Queen Regent," Will said firmly.
"We are commanded by the Wardens of our respective realms. These documents must be delivered into the King's hands personally, and our concerns must be stated to him face-to-face. This is a century-old tradition and the respect due to our sovereign from his vassals."
On the Throne, Alicent leaned forward slightly.
"Lord Royce, I understand tradition. But the King's condition... Grand Maester Orwyle?"
Orwyle stepped out.
"Yes, Your Grace. His Majesty's fever is intermittent. He requires total quiet. Any disturbance could... worsen his state."
Aemond, standing beside the Throne, spoke up.
"You may leave the documents with the Regent. As for an audience, you shall have your chance when the King recovers."
Medrick Manderly let out a short, sharp huff. The sound was small, but in the silence, it was unmistakable. He stepped forward to join Will Royce.
"Prince Aemond, we did not come merely to deliver parchment. We are here to see the King with our own eyes, to confirm his well-being, and to hear his personal stance on the recent series of major events."
Aemond cut him a side-glance. "Major events? Which ones? Speak."
Medrick did not flinch. "First, the King named Prince Aegon heir a year ago, but has issued no formal decree since. Second, Princess Rhaenyra's exile to Tyrosh happened without a word from him. Third, the fall of Driftmark, the ancestral home of the Velaryons, once the pillar of the navy, was taken by the Throne without a public statement from the King."
He continued, his voice rising slightly.
"Fourth, the bloodbath at Dragonstone. War has reached the Targaryen ancestral seat, yet the King remains silent."
He took a breath. "These are matters that shake the foundation of the Realm. The Wardens need to know: are these the King's will, or..." he paused, his voice turning heavy, "...the unauthorized actions of others?"
Aemond laughed. "Lord Manderly, are you twenty? Twenty-one? So young, yet so expert on the 'foundations of the Realm'?"
"My father taught me that loyalty is not blind obedience," Medrick replied.
"True loyalty is staying the correct path even when the sovereign might be blinded."
"A beautiful sentiment," Aemond said, stepping down the stairs.
"Then tell me, what is your 'correct path'? Is it storming the bedchamber of a dying old man? Do you not care for the King's health at all?"
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