Seeing that the situation had completely spiraled out of control—
"Guards!"
Viserys roared in fury at such open defiance.
"Drag this raving madman away!"
At the king's bellow, the guards of the Red Keep surged out from the corridors on both sides.
But the thirteen Velaryons at Vaemond's side moved faster, pressing back to back in a tight formation.
They meant to let Vaemond finish speaking.
"Every word I've said is the truth!" Amid the chaos, Vaemond's wild laughter rang out, shrill as a night owl.
"You all know it!"
"You simply dare not speak!"
"You dare not offend the future queen!"
"Silence!" Viserys rose from the Iron Throne, his finger trembling as he pointed down at Vaemond below.
A guard tried to clamp a hand over Vaemond's mouth, but was shoved aside by a young Velaryon at his flank.
The old man staggered two steps, white hair disheveled, and pointed at the silent representatives of the realms: "The Reach, the Westerlands, the Vale, the North… you all know it in your hearts!"
"You've been feigning deafness and blindness all along!"
"But I, Vaemond Velaryon, will speak it to the end today!"
Aemond saw Rhaenyra, seated to the left, give a slight nod to Daemon. Daemon had already begun moving quietly toward the heart of the turmoil.
Aemond stepped away from the green faction's seats as well. At his side, Helaena sensed it and reached out to pull him back, her fingertips brushing only the edge of his leather armor.
Unease filled her as she tried to hold him. "Aemond, don't go."
He pulled his hand free and did not look back.
"What are you doing?" Alicent cried out.
"Watch over Mother, Aegon," Aemond said coldly, his back to them.
Though puzzled, Aegon did as he was told and pressed a hand to his mother's shoulder.
Alicent could not help but call out, "Aemond!"
"I will do as I please."
He continued toward the center of the chaos.
Amid the turmoil, Vaemond turned toward Rhaenyra, spittle flying:
"You whore!"
"If your mother, Queen Aemma, could see you now in such shameless disgrace, she would burn with shame and fury!"
The composure Rhaenyra had maintained throughout the hearing finally shattered at those words.
"Silence, you old cur!"
"Has your father spoiled you so?" Vaemond laughed wildly at Rhaenyra's loss of control.
"No! He ruined you!"
"Your father indulged you!"
"Indulged you until you knew no bounds!"
"Indulged you until you believed all Seven Kingdoms should revolve around you!"
"And those three little bastards behind you!"
He pointed in grief and fury toward Jacaerys and his brothers.
"Strong's baseborn whelps!"
"You are worthy of bearing the name Velaryon?"
"Worthy of standing in High Tide on Driftmark?"
"Worthy of coveting the Iron Throne?!"
The three boys' faces turned ashen.
"Remember this—so long as a single Velaryon yet lives, you will never—"
Viserys finally erupted in fury. "Tear out his tongue! Now! At once!"
The prince's figure had already swept through the chaos—
Daemon, who had slipped into the crowd unnoticed, moved.
In the instant "Dark Sister" left its sheath at his waist, the Valyrian steel flowed with dark ripples beneath the morning light.
On his face was pure, icy killing intent.
Daemon circled behind Vaemond, raised the blade, and aimed at the old man's nape—not to cut out his tongue, but to hew him in two with a single stroke.
The strike was swift as lightning, vicious; the shrill whistle of steel cutting air nearly drowned out the clamor in the hall.
But another flash of steel intercepted it.
Clang!!!
The sharp crash of metal against metal tore through the air, sparks bursting outward.
As he swept past a guard, Aemond had drawn the man's longsword in a backhand motion.
Now that steel blade was braced firmly against the descending arc of Dark Sister.
At the point where the swords met, Aemond's arm sank abruptly.
The force of Daemon's blow far exceeded expectation; pain exploded from the web between thumb and forefinger and shot up along his arm to his shoulder.
But he clenched his teeth, muscles straining, and withstood the lethal strike by sheer force.
At that very moment, the entire throne room seemed to freeze.
All stood rigid, eyes wide in shock—the prince and the prince facing blades before the Iron Throne.
Daemon saw who it was, and his pupils contracted sharply.
He looked at Aemond, who stood within arm's reach, sword raised to bar his strike.
"Daemon!" Viserys rose from the throne, staggering weakly, steadied by a Kingsguard at his side.
"Lower your sword! Aemond—you as well!"
But neither heard. Neither moved. Their blades remained locked.
Rhaenyra pressed a hand to her belly, her face tight with tension.
Alicent cried out hoarsely, "Criston! Criston!!!"
The king roared to the white cloaks at his side, "Stop them! At once!"
The white-cloaked knights sprang into motion; they could not stand by while members of the royal house turned their blades upon one another before the king.
Daemon shifted to a two-handed grip; Dark Sister trembled faintly in his hands.
The edge gave a low hum as it cut through the air and he surged forward.
Aemond drew a slow breath and adjusted his grip.
He knew he was not yet Daemon's match.
No matter in swordsmanship, strength, or experience—
"You," Daemon said slowly, "are seeking death…"
Aemond flicked his wrist, shedding the force from the blade, and slid half a step back. The tip of his sword remained steadily pointed at Daemon, a faint smile on his face.
"His Grace only ordered his tongue removed, Uncle."
"Not his life."
"I've changed my mind." Daemon licked his lips, the killing intent in his eyes deepening. "That old wretch's life—I'll take it. As for you…"
His gaze traveled over Aemond.
"One eye, perhaps? Or… one hand? So you'll remember the price."
Aemond's smile did not waver. "Uncle, speak of it once you can manage it."
Daemon narrowed his eyes, then suddenly laughed, mocking him. "Ha? Boy, those who displease me deserve death."
"What a coincidence." A cold glint flashed in Aemond's violet eyes. "I think the same."
Before the words had fully fallen, Aemond moved.
Not in defense—but in attack.
He lunged forward, longsword thrusting straight for Daemon's throat.
Daemon's pupils contracted slightly; Dark Sister came across to bar the strike.
Clang!
Steel met steel, sparks bursting.
But Aemond's assault did not cease.
Using the recoil, he spun, the blade cutting toward Daemon's flank, abandoning defense entirely.
Daemon was forced half a step back; Dark Sister chopped downward to parry.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The clash of blades fell in a torrent like driving rain.
The nobles looked on, dumbfounded.
As the exchange dragged on, Daemon's fury began to rise.
He seized upon Aemond's overextended thrust; Dark Sister came down in a savage arc.
Crack!
The steel sword in Aemond's hand snapped in answer.
The broken blade spun upward, tracing an arc in the morning light before falling with a ringing clang upon the floor.
Aemond staggered back, left holding only half a shattered sword.
Before he could regain his footing, Daemon's left elbow came like a hammer, smashing toward his brow.
Aemond neither dodged nor retreated. His left hand clenched into a fist and struck in kind.
Thud!
The elbow struck the side of Aemond's head; his fist slammed into Daemon's jaw.
Both men grunted and staggered apart.
Aemond's vision darkened; a buzzing roared in his ears like a swarm of bees. Yet he gritted his teeth and held his ground.
Daemon's jaw went numb from the blow; he ran his tongue along his teeth and tasted the metallic tang of blood.
"You won't last much longer, will you?" Daemon sneered, Dark Sister rising once more.
Aemond tightened his grip on the jagged half-blade, its broken edge pointed toward him.
"Shall we test it?"
Daemon smiled, that smile wild and eager. "Then let us test it!"
He surged forward again, Dark Sister cleaving down like a black bolt of lightning.
Clang!
A figure in white stepped between them.
Criston Cole gripped his greatsword in both hands, the broad blade set firmly against Dark Sister.
"Prince, before the Iron Throne, I ask that you lay down your weapon."
Daemon laughed, mockery thick in his smile. "Cole, do you think you can stop me?"
"I can try," Cole answered calmly, his greatsword unmoving. "After all, we have crossed blades twice, and both times I prevailed. Have I not?"
Daemon threw back his head and laughed wildly, pointing his sword at him. "Cole, you do not truly believe you are someone of consequence, do you?"
Cole stepped forward. "My duty is to protect members of the royal house and maintain order in the throne room."
"Prince, if you insist on striking here, then I shall have no choice but to fulfill my duty."
The three men stood locked in confrontation, blades drawn, tension at its peak.
All the nobles in the hall held their breath in terror.
Within the chaotic crowd, the guards and the Velaryons ceased their struggle.
They stared at one another, stunned by the sudden clash within the royal family.
Beneath the Iron Throne, Otto knew the fight would go no further.
Yet in his heart, he approved of what Aemond had done.
On the green faction's side, Alicent and Helaena let out long breaths of relief.
Aegon could not help but admire his younger brother's courage—crossing blades with the prince in open court.
"Seize them!" Viserys finally exploded.
"Kingsguard! Restrain these two madmen! And you!" He pointed at the guards standing frozen. "What are you staring at?!"
Six white-cloaked knights moved at once.
Two rushed Daemon—one seizing the arm that held his sword, another locking his shoulder.
Two more Kingsguard grasped Aemond, reaching to wrest the sword from his hand.
On Daemon's side, a third Kingsguard knocked his blade away, while a fourth clamped down from behind, restraining his shoulders and chest.
"Off me!" Daemon roared, struggling to break free.
But the four Kingsguard were knights chosen from a hundred; they held the prince fast.
A mass of guards surged between the two men, forcing them apart.
Aemond did not resist. When the Kingsguard's hand touched the hilt—he loosened his grip. What he had meant to do was already done.
Clang.
The longsword fell to the floor with a clear ring.
Cole sheathed his blade and stepped back, though his eyes remained fixed upon Daemon.
Daemon struggled for a moment longer, then stilled.
He stared at Aemond, laughter in his voice, wild with a certain fevered excitement: "Good. Very good… Aemond Targaryen…"
"You would cross blades with me? Do you possess the strength for it?"
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