"Son of a bitch!"
Lucerys Velaryon's instincts screamed danger the second the dagger came out. He jerked backward on pure reflex.
He wasn't a young man anymore. Like Tywin, he saw himself as a commander who stayed behind the lines. He wasn't even wearing armor.
"Protect the lord!"
"They're assassins—!"
In an instant the deck exploded into violence. Velaryon sailors and sellswords crashed into each other.
Steel scraped across Lucerys's back as he twisted away from the killing blow. Blood soaked through his tunic.
Vargo Hoat's eyes flashed with vicious glee. He licked his lips, sheathed the dagger, and drew his longsword instead.
"Who sent you?" Lucerys snarled, clutching his wounded shoulder.
"Working for Lannister, obviously."
Vargo Hoat grinned and swung for Lucerys's head.
This time there was nowhere to go.
Clang!
A longsword flashed out of nowhere and caught Vargo's blade inches from Lucerys's skull.
"Who the fuck are you?" Vargo growled, pressing down with both hands. The sword didn't budge.
"Attempted murder of a Small Council minister," the black-cloaked man said calmly. "I'm well within my rights to kill you."
He pushed back his hood. Handsome face. Golden curls. A few days of stubble.
"Ser Oswell Whent?!"
Lucerys recognized him instantly. One of the Kingsguard who hadn't been seen around court in ages.
Rumor said the king had sent him away on some mission because he was out of favor.
"Stay behind me, my lord."
Oswell's eyes were sharp. He shifted to a two-handed grip and started walking Vargo down.
"Godsdamned white cloak wearing a black one," Vargo muttered. He looked for an opening, then suddenly flung a dagger and bolted the second Oswell moved to dodge.
Fuck that.
Everyone knew what the current Kingsguard were capable of. One man could take on twenty. The pay wasn't worth dying for.
"Boss is running!"
"We're out!"
The rest of the sellswords broke and ran the moment their captain hit the water. They moved fast—faster than the Velaryon sailors could react.
"Don't let them escape!" Lucerys shouted from the railing, ignoring the pain in his back. "Archers! Shoot them down!"
He wanted prisoners. He wanted to drag this straight to the king and bury Tywin with it.
"My lord, you should see to your wound first," Oswell said, sheathing his sword.
"Thank you for the save, Ser Oswell." Lucerys's voice was tight. "Now tell me why you're on my ship wearing a black cloak."
"Long story," Oswell said dryly. "Short version: the king sent me. Said my last assignment was finished and told me to find you and bring you home."
Lucerys went still. He understood exactly what that meant.
Daeron wanted him back in King's Landing. No choice in the matter.
A sailor ran up. "My lord, we killed a few of them, but the rest got away on the longship. They used their own people as shields. We can't catch them."
Lucerys's jaw clenched. "Fine. At least we know the bastard's name. Vargo Hoat. Leader of the Brave Companions."
He turned to Oswell, eyes burning. "I need you to tell the king exactly what you saw. This was an assassination attempt ordered by Tywin Lannister."
"I'll report what I witnessed," Oswell said. "Nothing more, nothing less."
King's Landing.
The Sea Dragon docked at the Mud Gate half a month early. Word that Lucerys Velaryon had returned spread through the city like wildfire.
Everyone was waiting to see what would happen next.
Red Keep. Queen's chambers.
Daeron lay on the floor with his son using his head as a pillow. Little Inar's silver-gold fuzz had come in thick. Purple eyes wide, the baby grunted and strained, trying with all his might to crawl forward.
He wasn't getting anywhere.
Knock knock knock.
Ser Barristan's voice came through the door. "Your Grace. Ser Oswell Whent has returned. He came back with Lord Lucerys."
Daeron sat up, letting the baby slide off. "Call the Small Council. Everyone."
He paused. "Including Tywin."
Barristan hesitated. "Even Lord Tywin?"
"Even him."
Daeron had suspended Tywin the moment he got back from Myr. The official reason was simple: the Hand had tried to convict a Small Council minister without a proper investigation.
A week had passed.
Now Lucerys was home. Tywin needed to be here too.
"He spit up again," Shaena said from the other side of the room. She was reading a translated copy of Riding Secrets, completely unbothered.
Daeron looked down. Inar had indeed thrown up on the floor.
Shaena's eyes lit up with sudden inspiration. "I'll go get Rhaenys. Let her handle her little brother."
"Good idea."
Shaena set the book down and slipped out to the next room.
It had been Daeron's idea. Shaena was exhausted from the baby, so he'd started sending Rhaenys and Daenerys over whenever things got messy. The two girls had become full-time "nanny" duty.
"Come on, stop knocking already!"
Rhaenys appeared in the doorway with dark circles under her eyes and a look of pure suffering.
Holding the baby. Wiping his mouth. Burping him.
She had the whole routine down cold. A natural.
Daeron clapped her on the shoulder with a grin. "Keep it up. If you do a good job I'll give you another little brother or sister to look after by the end of the year."
Rhaenys just stared at him, then grabbed a fistful of her own dark hair like she was checking for new gray strands.
.
Council chamber.
Daeron walked in to find every minister already waiting.
Tywin stood at the Hand's chair, one hand resting on the back like he was weighing how much it still meant to him.
A week of suspension had clearly gotten under his skin.
Tyrion sat in his usual seat, short legs swinging, occasionally glancing at the empty chair beside him.
Lucerys Velaryon looked like he wanted to murder someone. His eyes had been locked on Tywin since the moment he entered the room.
The rest of the council kept their heads down and their mouths shut.
Daeron's arrival silenced the room.
"Your Grace."
"My lord."
He took his seat at the head of the table. "Sit."
The ministers obeyed without argument. The air was thick with tension.
Daeron had barely settled when Lucerys shot to his feet.
"Your Grace, I accuse Lord Tywin Lannister of hiring assassins to murder me!"
"Really?" Daeron's brow lifted.
Tywin didn't even flinch. "Baseless slander. I know nothing about it."
"You're lying through your teeth!"
Lucerys looked ready to climb over the table.
Tywin's voice stayed ice-cold. "Insulting the Hand of the King is a serious crime, Lord Lucerys."
Lucerys didn't care anymore. "You hired the Brave Companions. They boarded my ship pretending to bring a message from you and tried to kill me the second they got close."
"Pure fantasy."
"Enough."
Daeron's voice cut through both of them.
Tywin stood anyway. "Your Grace, I formally accuse House Velaryon of treason. The evidence is—"
"Lord Tywin."
Daeron cut him off again.
Tywin stopped. He looked at the young king with genuine confusion.
"Whatever House Velaryon has done can wait," Daeron said. He stood and walked around the table until he was standing directly in front of Tywin.
"Tywin Lannister. Hand of the King during my father's reign. My respected teacher."
He reached out and carefully unpinned the gleaming Hand of the King badge from Tywin's chest. The same badge the man had worn for over a decade.
"Thank you for your years of service to the realm," Daeron said quietly. "But after what happened with Tyrion, I can no longer trust that you will remain impartial."
"I'm sorry."
Tywin stared at the badge in Daeron's hand like it was something he'd never seen before.
"You're removing me?"
Daeron nodded once. "You may remain in King's Landing if you wish. I would still value your counsel as a private advisor."
"You're removing me," Tywin repeated, voice low and dangerous. "Because of that twisted little monster? That curse on our family?"
Daeron met his eyes without flinching.
"You crossed a line."
Tyrion was his minister. Daeron had put him on the Small Council himself. He had publicly backed him more than once.
Tywin hadn't just gone after Tyrion.
He had gone after someone the king had claimed as his own.
That was something Daeron could not let stand.
Not if he wanted anyone to believe his word still meant something.