Maegor's Holdfast, The King's Chambers.
Another knock sounded at the door. A Kingsguard entered.
"Queen Mother, Prince Aegon, Prince Aemond... the High Septon has arrived."
"Let him enter," Aemond commanded.
Septon Ewen entered the room, his face composed in a mask of solemn grief. He bowed first to the King's body, then to the family.
"May the Father judge His Majesty's soul with justice, and the Mother grant you comfort. May the Stranger lead him to peace."
Aemond studied the Septon.
"High Septon, thank you for coming at this dark hour. The King has passed, and while tradition demands a grand mourning, our circumstances are... exceptional."
"I understand," Ewen nodded.
"The city is under lockdown. I heard rumors of a foul deed. Was the King... murdered?"
"He was," Aemond said, his voice hard as iron.
"Grand Maester Orwyle, in collusion with Princess Rhaenyra, poisoned the King. The change in succession disgruntled them. Orwyle has fled with the crown and forged documents to incite rebellion. It is a crime beyond measure."
Aemond spoke with such absolute certainty that the room felt its weight. Septon Ewen's eyes widened.
"By the Seven... such depravity? From a Maester of the Citadel?"
"We have the evidence," Aemond lied smoothly, glancing at Tyra, who gave a nearly imperceptible nod.
"The poison was acute. Traces were found in the Maester's chambers. He fled tonight alongside the envoys of the Four Realms. Their intent is to slander the Throne and ignite a war."
Aemond locked eyes with the Septon.
"What is the stance of the Faith?"
The High Septon did not hesitate.
"The Faith stands with the legitimate succession. Prince Aegon was named heir before the Realm. Any attempt to subvert that is a challenge to the gods and the stability of the Kingdom."
Aelyn felt a surge of triumph. Keep talking, Septon, she thought.
Aegon remained silent, staring at his father's corpse.
"I am glad to hear it," Aemond said.
"In gratitude for the Faith's support during these trials, the Crown intends to grant the Great Hall on Visenya's Hill to the Church, to be rebuilt into a Grand Sept worthy of the Seven. What say you?"
Ewen's eyes gleamed at the massive concession.
"A righteous gesture, Prince. The Faith shall recognize Aegon Targaryen as the one true King."
"Then the coronation is the day after tomorrow," Aemond declared.
"We cannot wait."
"So soon?" Alicent gasped.
"The King is not even."
"Mother, we have no time for grief. Every day we delay is a day for Rhaenyra to spread her lies. Aegon must sit on the Iron Throne immediately."
Once the Septon and the Silent Sisters had taken charge of the body, the Council gathered around the war map in the King's chambers.
"The strategy is clear," Aemond said, pointing to the map.
"We hold King's Landing, the Crownlands, the Reach, and the West. The Blacks hold Tyrosh and a scorched Dragonstone. The North, the Vale, and the Riverlands are the battlegrounds."
"Lord Borros has promised neutrality for the Stormlands," Aemond added, causing a visible ripple of relief.
"If the South is secure, we can focus our fire northward."
"We strike the Riverlands by land," Aemond continued, his finger landing on Harrenhal.
"This is the throat of the continent. We garrison it heavily to ensure the North and the Vale cannot march south. Lord Larys, I expect your cooperation."
"Naturally, Prince," Larys bowed.
Aemond turned to Tyland Lannister.
"Ravens to every Lord. Those who swear fealty now keep everything. Those who follow the Black rebels lose everything. And the North... if Stark follows Rhaenyra, we cut off their grain. Let them see if loyalty to a 'Queen' can fill their bellies during a Long Winter. Secretly, we reach out to the Boltons."
"As for the navy," Aemond looked at Lord Redwyne.
"No head-on battles yet. Fortify the Blackwater. Chains across the harbor, sunken hulks. I want the bay so tight a fish couldn't swim through without a permit."
Aemond looked at his brother.
"Aegon, the day after tomorrow, you become Aegon II. But for the sake of your recovery, the Small Council and I shall handle the burdens of state. You must rest."
Aegon's mouth twitched, but Aelyn pinched his arm.
"I understand," Aegon muttered.
"Thank you... brother."
The room cleared until only Aemond and Helaena remained with the King.
"I see crows at a feast," Helaena whispered, her violet eyes wet.
"Perched on the ribs of dead dragons."
"I won't let that happen," Aemond pulled her close.
"Trust me."
"I do," she sobbed.
"But promise me... as little blood as possible."
"I promise," Aemond lied, kissing her brow.
When she left, Aemond sat by the bed and touched his father's cold hand one last time.
"You called it a curse, Father. You said the Throne swallows those who sit upon it."
His eyes burned with a dark, draconic fire.
"I am not afraid of the dark. If someone must carry the sin of this House... let it be me."
-----
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