At this moment, hurried footsteps came from outside the doors of the great hall of the Dragonmont.
The messenger nearly stumbled as he ran in.
"Your Grace! My lord!"
"The harbor! A ship has arrived beyond the port!"
Rhaenyra turned.
"Whose ship?"
"Flying… flying the white flag of a royal courier."
"It is an envoy from King's Landing."
The hall erupted like hot oil splashed with water.
Rhaenyra's face darkened at once.
"The Greens?"
"They send an envoy now?"
"Have them nailed to the mast and sent back to Blackwater Bay."
Corlys stopped her.
"No, Princess."
"Let us hear what they have to say."
Rhaenyra suppressed her killing intent.
"Then… let them in."
———
When the envoy entered the hall, the first thing he saw was three hundred corpses on the ground.
He paused for a moment. It seemed these surrendered Velaryon troops had served their purpose.
Two attendants followed behind him, carrying black iron boxes. Both kept their heads lowered, not daring to look at the dead.
Rhaenyra sat upon the dais.
The envoy walked to the center of the hall and stopped.
"Princess Rhaenyra."
He did not call her queen.
From the side, Corlys' voice came, low and dangerous: "Rhaenyra is Queen, not Princess."
The envoy raised his head.
"Before his death, His Grace Viserys named Aegon his heir."
"Prince Aegon was crowned three days ago in the hall upon Visenya's Hill, anointed with holy oils by the High Septon, blessed by the Seven."
"This is a fact acknowledged jointly by the lords of the Seven Kingdoms and the Faith."
A faint smile touched the corner of his lips.
"If I call Princess Rhaenyra a queen, where does that place King Aegon?"
"Where does that place the Faith?"
"Where does that place the Seven Kingdoms that have already acknowledged His Grace Aegon's rule?"
Around him, the knights drew their swords, steel ringing out in succession.
Rhaenyra raised a hand to stop them.
She looked down at the young envoy.
His gaze was calm, his breathing steady. Surrounded by hundreds of hostile knights, he showed not the slightest fear.
"What is your name?"
"Krytt."
"No surname?"
"Princess, I am but a commoner."
"You have courage."
"I am honored by Prince Aemond's regard."
At the mention of that name, Rhaenyra's pupils shrank.
"Aemond sent you to die?"
"Prince Aemond sent me to deliver a message and present terms."
Krytt lifted his chin.
"Whether I live or die depends on Princess Rhaenyra."
"You may kill me now."
"King's Landing will not send another envoy."
Rhaenyra wanted nothing more than to kill the boy.
Princess Rhaenys stepped forward.
"Since you are an envoy, we will honor guest right."
She signaled to a servant.
The servant took out a coarse loaf of barley bread and a small dish of salt from a satchel, handing them to Krytt.
Black bread for the march, the salt coarse.
The oldest rite in Westeros.
Krytt tore off a piece of bread, dipped it in salt, and placed it in his mouth.
The two attendants behind him did the same.
They chewed. Swallowed.
"I have eaten your bread and salt."
"Will you kill me before all these witnesses?"
"Or will the Princess spare my life and hear me out?"
He lifted his head.
"Which does Lady Rhaenyra choose?"
The hall fell silent, save for breathing.
Rhaenyra rose.
She walked to stand before Krytt, looking down at the insolent young man.
Then, in anger, she laughed.
"Did Aemond teach you this?"
"To break into another's home, slaughter their kin, then eat bread and salt amidst corpses and speak to me of guest right?"
Krytt did not avert his gaze.
"Prince Aemond taught me more than that."
"He also taught me that history is written by the victors."
"A hundred years from now, how will this day be recorded?"
"As Queen Rhaenyra's valiant struggle to reclaim the Iron Throne?"
"Or as Princess Rhaenyra defying the late king's will, colluding with foreign powers, committing kinslaying and regicide, and meeting divine punishment?"
Rhaenyra's nails dug into her palm as she glared at him in fury.
"You—!"
"Your Grace," Rhaenys pressed her hand, "let him finish."
Rhaenyra drew a deep breath.
She tore off a piece of bread herself, dipped it in salt, and put it into her mouth.
She chewed, swallowed.
"Now you are under guest right."
"Speak. Quickly."
Krytt bowed slightly.
"His Grace King Aegon the Second requires Princess Rhaenyra to come to King's Landing and answer before the Iron Throne regarding the poisoning of the late king."
"And to cease all acts of war at once."
"Impossible," Rhaenyra said, each word deliberate. "You commit regicide and kinslaying, and yet would lay that filth at my feet?"
She felt nothing but grievance.
Viserys was dead.
The Greens had placed the blame upon her.
The Faith, the Citadel, the southern lords—they all believed it?
Only the North still stood with her.
Krytt did not argue.
"The Faith and the Citadel do not see it so," he said.
"The realm believes it was your doing. The Iron Throne demands your explanation."
"You deceive the realm," Rhaenyra said through clenched teeth. "But the North believes me."
Rhaenys stepped forward, cutting off the futile exchange.
"Envoy, are you accusing Princess Rhaenyra of poisoning her father, murdering the maester, and forging the late king's will?"
"I merely state the public conclusion of the Iron Throne," Krytt replied.
"And convey His Grace Aegon's invitation for Lady Rhaenyra to come to King's Landing and defend herself before the Iron Throne."
He paused briefly.
"This is your last chance, Princess."
Last chance?
Rhaenyra repeated those words.
"Is it Aegon who calls this my last chance—or Aemond?"
"You killed my son, burned my allies, poisoned my father."
"And now you tell me that going to King's Landing to kneel and confess is my last chance?"
Rhaenyra laughed in fury.
"Go tell Aegon."
"Tell Aemond."
Word by word.
"There will be no peace while either of us lives."
Krytt's expression did not change.
As if he had expected this answer.
"I will deliver your words."
He turned his head, signaling to his attendants.
The two attendants stepped forward and set the black iron boxes on the ground.
"What is this?" Princess Rhaenys frowned.
Krytt bent down and opened the lid himself.
A smell mixed with salt and lime spread into the air.
Inside lay two human skulls.
Rhaenyra did not react at first.
"What is this?"
Krytt drew a breath.
"These were sent by Prince Aemond, to be returned to Rhaenyra Targaryen…"
"The skulls of those two boys."
"The prince said the punishment is done."
"Let them return to their mother, to be properly buried."
Rhaenyra did not scream.
She did not weep.
She dropped to her knees.
Both knees struck the ground.
She reached out, very slowly, very gently, lifting the two skulls from the box.
Jacaerys.
Joffrey.
She pressed them to her face.
Then she began to tremble.
From her fingertips, spreading to her wrists, her arms, her shoulders, her whole body.
Her back heaved violently.
"The prince said…" Krytt continued coldly at her side,
"Anyone—no matter if they bear Targaryen blood—who threatens the Targaryens, who stands in the Targaryens' path…"
"He will remove them like this. Without mercy."
In that instant, consumed by fury, Rhaenyra seized the sword of a nearby knight.
Princess Rhaenys, still strong despite her years, moved swiftly forward and caught her wrist.
She forced the raised blade back down.
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