The first rays of morning light filtered through the glass windows, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across the tiled floor of Queen Alicent's bedchamber.
Jaehaera awoke first.
The half-year-old girl writhed in her cradle, snuffling in discomfort, hunger quickly turning into a thin, rising cry. Almost at the same time, Alicent stirred as well, waking from a shallow, restless sleep.
She had slept poorly the night before. News of Daemon's sudden return to King's Landing had pierced her heart like a thorn, leaving her tossing long into the dark hours. But now, at the sound of her children crying, all such worries were swept aside by instinct.
"I'm coming, I'm coming…" she murmured softly, throwing back the covers and rising.
Two wet nurses were already waiting at the door. They opened it quietly, but Alicent waved them back, signaling that she would manage herself.
Since becoming regent, her days were consumed by councils and affairs of state, with only rare moments of rest. These early hours were among the few that truly belonged to her.
She lifted Jaehaera first.
Hungry, of course.
Alicent soothed her gently and moved to the small table where the milk flask stood, feeding her with practiced care. Beside them, Jaehaerys watched as Alicent tended to his sister—and promptly began to fuss as well.
"Easy now, my little prince," Alicent said softly, laying Jaehaera back down and gathering Jaehaerys into her arms.
She sighed. Raising twins was exhausting—but it was an exhaustion she cherished.
Then, suddenly, Jaehaera began to cough.
Not a mild choke, but a sharp, frightening fit.
Alicent's heart clenched. She immediately set Jaehaerys back into the cradle—he cried in protest—and turned at once to lift her daughter.
"Jaehaera? Sweetling?"
The child's face had flushed red, tears welling in her violet eyes, tiny hands flailing helplessly in the air.
Alicent lifted her high, resting the small head against her shoulder, holding her firmly with one arm while patting her narrow back with the other.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The movements were gentle but steady—experience hard-earned after four children.
Helaena had been prone to choking as an infant. Aemond never had. As for Aegon… Alicent remembered little of his infancy; she had been so young then, and he had spent most of his time with wet nurses.
"Kh—ugh…"
A small mouthful of milk spilled from Jaehaera's lips, soaking Alicent's sleeve. The coughing stopped.
The girl gasped, then burst into loud, miserable sobs, her tiny fingers clutching a lock of her mother's auburn hair.
Alicent let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
She paced slowly across the chamber, rocking her daughter and humming a low lullaby. Jaehaerys still cried in his cradle, his voice growing stronger by the moment.
Alicent glanced down at Jaehaera, now calmer, gazing up at her with eyes far too clear and thoughtful for one so young.
She moved back to the cradle and gently rocked it with her free hand. Jaehaerys' cries softened.
Alicent smiled—tired, but fondly so.
These moments, when she was neither queen nor regent but simply a mother, were precious to her.
Aegon was grown now, her firstborn, and a constant source of worry.
Aemond… Aemond made her uneasy in ways she rarely admitted, even to herself.
Daeron was in Oldtown.
Helaena, though gentle and close to her, was already betrothed to Aemond, living in a world increasingly her own.
Only these two still truly belonged to her.
The door opened softly.
Alicent looked up and saw King Viserys standing in the doorway.
He looked at her, at the children, and nodded with faint relief. He seemed… terribly weary.
"Your Grace," Alicent said, attempting to rise, but Jaehaera in her arms and Jaehaerys in the cradle made it impossible.
Viserys waved a hand, motioning her to remain seated, and stepped inside. His movements were unsteady; he steadied himself on a chair before sitting on the edge of the bed, close to the cradle.
When Jaehaerys saw his father, his crying stopped for a moment, curiosity flashing in his eyes. Then hunger reasserted itself, and he resumed his protest.
"Daemon," Viserys said quietly.
"He is willing to yield."
Alicent froze.
In her arms, Jaehaera made a soft, gurgling sound, her small hands patting at her mother's chest.
"Yield?" Alicent repeated. "Yield what?"
"The throne," Viserys said.
"He will persuade Rhaenyra. They will no longer press their claim to the Iron Throne."
Silence filled the chamber, broken only by Jaehaerys' fading cries. Alicent felt her heart pound.
Relief? Joy? Or disbelief?
"Why…?" she asked. "How could Daemon possibly—"
She knew Daemon Targaryen well enough. Ambition and pride were etched into his bones.
"He gave no reason," Viserys replied, his gaze settling on Jaehaerys. He reached out, trembling fingers brushing the boy's tiny hand.
Jaehaerys grasped his father's finger and sucked on it solemnly.
Alicent watched her husband closely.
Viserys did not look at her. He watched the child.
"What are his terms?" she asked quietly.
Viserys was silent for a long moment.
At last, he whispered, "Alicent, you need not concern yourself with that."
She knew better.
"All you need know," he continued, "is that tomorrow I will announce Aegon as my lawful heir."
Alicent's eyes burned.
She laid the now-sleeping Jaehaera down gently.
"That is wonderful," she said hoarsely.
"Truly, Viserys… wonderful."
She had always feared—feared what might happen between him and Daemon.
Viserys understood. He reached for her hand, gripping it tightly—so tightly it hurt.
"There will be no more disputes over succession," he said.
"I swear it."
Sunlight had shifted, now fully illuminating the bed.
Alicent studied her husband.
On his right side, he was still a man—exhausted, but whole. On his left, corruption and decay marred him terribly.
She remembered their early years: Viserys strong and handsome, lifting her and spinning her with laughter, holding her hand at feasts, reading poetry to her at night.
What had time done to him?
"Your Grace," she said softly, touching his unblemished cheek, "you need rest. Your face—"
"The army of King's Landing," Viserys interrupted. "Who commands it?"
Alicent stiffened.
"The army…?"
"The garrison was reorganized," she said carefully.
"It is now—"
"Aemond," Viserys finished for her. "All of it answers to Aemond, does it not?"
The air seemed to freeze.
Jaehaerys murmured softly in his cradle. Outside, servants began their morning tasks; horses whinnied in the stables, pots clattered in distant kitchens.
Alicent felt unease creep into her chest.
"Aemond is capable," she said cautiously.
"He handled the city unrest well. Restored order."
"The restructuring of the forces was his idea—the old garrison was ineffective."
"I know he is capable," Viserys replied.
"I wish to know how capable."
He asked calmly, but there was weight behind the words.
"How many men does King's Landing now hold?"
Alicent drew a slow breath.
"Aemond's personal guard numbers about six hundred," she said. "All elite."
"And the militia—"
"Militia?" Viserys frowned.
"For patrols and fire control," Alicent explained quickly.
"About three thousand."
"Six hundred elite. Three thousand militia," Viserys repeated.
"And the royal army? The old garrison?"
"New barracks were built outside the city," Alicent said, her voice softening.
"With levies from the Crownlands, troops supplied by vassals, and the reorganized garrison… roughly five thousand."
"Five thousand," Viserys echoed.
He was silent for a long time.
"All under Aemond's command?" he asked at last.
Alicent nodded, then hurried to add, "They are meant to protect the city, to prepare for any possibility—"
Any possibility of what?
Daemon? Rhaenyra?
Viserys turned to her.
Disappointment filled his eyes—not anger, not suspicion, but disappointment.
"You were preparing," he said slowly.
"Without telling me."
She tried to speak, but he raised a hand.
"Six hundred elite guards. Three thousand militia. Five thousand soldiers," he counted.
"Nearly nine thousand men. And still growing."
He rose and walked to the window, stumbling slightly. Alicent moved to help, but he waved her away.
King's Landing lay awakening below.
"He was preparing for war," Viserys said, his back to her.
"Not defense."
"Offense."
A chill ran through Alicent.
She had never thought of it that way.
"And the Praetorian Guard," Viserys added suddenly.
"That force being formed."
He turned. "The Praetorian Guard?"
"It is composed of noble sons from across the Seven Kingdoms," Alicent said, struggling to recall the details.
"Aemond proposed it as an elite royal force, loyal to the crown alone."
Viserys' expression sharpened.
"Which houses?" he asked.
"Many from the Crownlands," Alicent said.
"And from the Westerlands, the Stormlands, the Riverlands…"
Viserys sat again.
"That army," he said quietly, "should answer directly to the king."
Alicent nodded. "Nominally it answers to Ser Criston Cole."
"But in truth?" Viserys asked.
"In truth," she admitted, "Aemond oversees its formation."
Silence fell once more.
"Alicent," Viserys said at last, utterly weary, "from this day forward—do not involve Aemond in matters of court. Only Aegon."
She stared at him.
"But Aegon—he has no interest in governance—"
"He must learn," Viserys snapped.
"He is the heir."
"But Aemond is more capable," she blurted out—and instantly regretted it.
Viserys looked at her gravely.
"Precisely because he is."
An incapable king.
A younger brother too capable.
Support from others.
She knew what that meant.
Maegor.
Aenys.
Fear washed over her.
"Aemond would never," she said, more to herself than to him.
"He loves this family."
"He is my son," Viserys said softly.
"But he frightens me."
He took her hand gently.
"I do not doubt his loyalty," he said.
"I fear his ambition."
"What shall we do?" Alicent asked, voice trembling.
"Be patient," Viserys replied.
"Remove him from governance."
"And Aegon?"
Viserys' face darkened.
"Then place someone beside him," he said.
"Irene Rogare. She is clever—and loyal to Aegon."
Alicent nodded.
"And the Praetorian Guard," Viserys continued.
"Once formed, I will take command myself."
He looked at her steadily.
"That army must belong to the king. To the Iron Throne alone."
Alicent understood at once.
"I will arrange it," she said firmly.
"Aemond will no longer sit the council."
Viserys nodded, eyes half-closed.
"I am tired," he whispered.
"Let me rest."
She helped him lie back, mixing a few drops of milk of the poppy into water.
"Drink," she said gently.
Viserys obeyed.