Maegor's Holdfast, The King's Chambers.
"Jacaerys training bastards to ride dragons... it shakes the very foundations of House Targaryen."
Viserys paused, watching the silhouette of his son as Aemond turned away.
"But, Aemond... promise me one thing."
"Speak, Father."
"No more kinsblood. Do not stain your hands with the blood of your family again."
Viserys's tears flowed freely now, tracking through the deep wrinkles of his face and soaking into the brocade bedding.
Aemond returned to the bedside, reaching out to wipe a tear from his father's cheek.
"I promise you, Father," Aemond said softly, "as long as they do not strike first."
Viserys gripped Aemond's hand with surprising strength, his fading violet eyes locked onto his son's.
"Aemond... my son... I do not know what the future holds for our House. I do not know if you will truly become a second Maegor... but I know I can no longer stop you."
A violent fit of coughing seized him. Alicent brought a cup of water, but he pushed it aside, clawing at Aemond's collar to pull him close.
Their faces were inches apart, youth and age, fire and ash.
"The Realm... is yours... give it to Aegon," Viserys rasped.
"Support him... do not let him become another Aenys."
Aenys I, the weak King who left a legacy of chaos.
"I promise," Aemond said.
"And..." Viserys's nails dug into Aemond's skin.
"Promise me... if it truly comes to the end... give Rhaenyra a path to live. She is your sister... Daemon is your uncle... Fire and Blood come from the same source..."
Aemond remained silent for a long moment. Then, he nodded.
"Where possible, I will."
It wasn't a true oath, and they both knew it. But the dying King needed the comfort of the lie. Viserys slumped back into the pillows, his strength spent.
His breathing leveled out, and his eyes half-closed.
Alicent touched her eyes and whispered, "Rest now, Majesty..."
"Alicent."
Viserys's eyes snapped open with a sudden, final clarity. The Queen leaned in, her face inches from his. "I am here."
"All these years..." Viserys's voice was a mere sigh.
"You have worked so hard. I am sorry."
Alicent's tears broke anew. "No... Majesty... it was I... if not for me, if not for Otto..."
"You did well." Viserys reached out, his trembling fingers brushing her cheek.
"You gave me good children... Aegon, Aemond, Daeron, Helaena... and Deana, Baelon. Good children... born in the wrong time."
He paused, a look of profound pain crossing his face.
"If... if I had never married you... Perhaps today would not be like this."
"Majesty, do not say it," Alicent sobbed.
"It was fate... the Seven's will. We are only mortals, and mortals err."
Viserys gave a bitter, tearful smile.
"The Seven? I only wanted us to be a family. To be united. Like it was when I was young, with Daemon and Rhaenyra's mother... but I was a failure. Indecisive. Pushed by the Lords, by the Hand, by my family..."
He gave Aemond one last look, a mixture of pride, fear, and a strange relief.
"I will handle the Lords," Viserys whispered.
"I will make them silent. I will restore order..."
"Majesty..." Alicent exhaled, seeing this as his final acceptance of their cause.
Aemond knelt by the bed, bowing his head.
"Thank you, Father."
Viserys seemed satisfied. He closed his eyes.
But as Alicent moved to tuck the blanket around him, the King's body suddenly went into a violent convulsion!
He clawed at his throat as if strangled by invisible hands. His face turned a deep, bruised purple.
Then, he lurched forward and sprayed a mouthful of black blood, not red, but ink-black, directly onto Aemond's face.
The room exploded into chaos.
Aemond stood frozen, the warm, metallic-tasting black blood dripping down his cheek.
Viserys continued to twitch, more black bile seeping from his lips.
"Guards!" Aemond roared.
"Guards!"
Criston Cole burst in, followed by Tyra and her handmaidens.
They found a gruesome scene: the King dead or dying in a pool of black filth, the Queen collapsed in a fit of wailing, and the Prince masked in blood.
"Find the Grand Maester!" Aemond commanded.
Tyra, her silver basin clattering to the floor, stammered, "Your Grace... Grand Maester Orwyle... he left the Holdfast this afternoon. He said he was going to the city to collect books. He hasn't returned."
Aemond wiped the blood from his eye.
Chronic poisoning? No, this was an acute strike. Someone doubled the dose or changed the toxin.
"Cole, find Orwyle. Now!" Aemond ordered. He turned back to Tyra.
"Lock down the Red Keep. Tell Ser William Darklyn to seal the city gates. No one leaves. No one enters. Pay special attention to the quarters of the Four Realms. If they try to flee, detain them, but do not harm them. I will interrogate them myself."
The room cleared until only Aemond remained with his dead father and his shattered mother.
He reached out and closed Viserys's eyes. He touched the blood on his own face, tacky, thick, and foul-smelling.
Gwayne Hightower arrived, his face ashen.
"Your Grace... the King?"
"The King is dead," Aemond said.
"The City Watch is to be replaced by my personal guard immediately. Summon the Small Council to the chambers in one hour."
"And the Queen?" Gwayne looked at the sobbing Alicent.
"Let the New Guard assist my men in a total city-wide curfew," Aemond said, ignoring the question.
"Anyone on the streets, noble or common, is to be detained. Anyone who resists is to be killed."
Aemond walked to a basin of water and submerged his face. When he emerged, the water was red.
His face in the mirror was a mask of non-human calm. No grief. No rage. Only the cold clarity of a dragon.
He knelt one last time, pressing his forehead to his father's cold hand.
"Search the city," Aemond whispered.
"Find me Orwyle."
He stood and walked to his mother. She was staring blankly at the body.
"He's gone..." she whispered.
"This is only the beginning, Mother," Aemond said.
"Tonight, you will preside over the Small Council as Queen Mother. You will tell them we have found the assassins. And we will make them pay."
If it was Orwyle... someone was pushing this war faster than even he intended.
The Citadel? The Faith? Or were the Hightowers playing a deeper game than even he knew?
-----
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