By day, in the Godswood of the Red Keep, a rare gathering of the royal family was convened.
King Viserys I sat in a wheeled chair. His health had been failing for some time, and though illness had drawn him away from the daily burdens of rule and left Queen Alicent to serve as regent, he still retained the authority to decide matters of consequence.
Queen Alicent stood beside him, cradling their youngest daughter, Princess Jaehaera, in her arms.
She hummed softly, gently rocking the child until the lively little girl finally drifted into sleep.
"He's coming," Alicent said quietly, glancing at the king, who rested with eyes half-closed.
Footsteps broke the stillness of the grove.
"Father. Mother," Prince Aemond said, with restrained courtesy.
Nearby, Princess Helaena, who had been reading a book of verse, lifted her head from the stone bench and smiled at him.
Prince Aegon shifted his position on another bench and raised his wine cup toward Aemond, while Aerin gave a small nod, one hand instinctively resting over her lower belly.
"Sit, my son," Viserys said.
"We were just speaking of you."
Aemond took a seat beside Helaena.
"And what were you saying of me, Father?" he asked calmly, a faint smile on his lips.
"Tell me," Viserys said, studying him,
"what you have been doing of late in King's Landing."
"Cleansing Flea Bottom. Curfews. Citywide searches."
"I am told that King's Landing is now a royal city by day—and a barracks by night."
Aemond's eye narrowed slightly.
"Who told you that, Father? The Hand? The Master of Laws? The Master of Coin?"
"Does it matter?" Viserys replied, fixing his son with a weary stare.
"What matters is that, by the account I heard, you rule like a conqueror subduing an enemy city, not a prince governing his capital."
A brief silence followed.
Wind sighed through the bare branches of the heart tree.
"Father," Aemond said at last.
"You have ruled the Seven Kingdoms for nearly thirty years."
"Tell me—what is rule?"
Viserys hesitated.
"Balance?" Aemond continued.
"Keeping the nobles at ease. Ensuring the smallfolk eat and drink. Upholding the law."
"But what lies beneath all of that?"
Aemond answered himself.
"Order. Without order, law is empty words, and bread and cloth become luxuries."
"And where does order come from?"
He met his father's gaze.
"From fear."
"Not cruel fear—predictable fear."
"I want the people to know this:
Commit evil, and you will be punished.
Keep the rules, and you will be safe."
"That fear is not tyranny," Aemond said evenly.
"It is the cornerstone of order."
"Your grandsire, Jaehaerys I," Viserys said slowly,
"ruled fifty years of peace without fear."
"With dragons," Aemond replied without yielding.
"It was Maegor who wielded Blackfyre to butcher mobs and the Faith Militant, and taught them terror.
Fear the Targaryens upon the Iron Throne, lest we descend into madness."
"And after Maegor's death," Aemond went on,
"so long as the king was not mad, the lords of the Seven Kingdoms and the Faith were content."
Viserys looked at his son for a long moment, silent.
"Aemond is right," Helaena said suddenly.
All eyes turned to her.
"Why do you think so?" Alicent asked gently; her daughter rarely spoke on matters of rule.
Helaena's voice was soft.
"I don't know…"
"But I will always believe in him."
For a moment, no one spoke.
They looked at the young woman with something like wonder.
Aemond smiled at her. Helaena might seem strange at times, but she had always stood at his side.
"At last," Viserys said, breaking the silence,
"your methods are still… severe."
"These reports—brothers betraying brothers, sons informing on fathers…"
"I have already shown mercy," Aemond replied calmly.
"Those guilty only of lesser crimes are sent to labor instead."
Viserys exhaled heavily and leaned back in his chair, exhaustion reclaiming him.
"So be it. Since King's Landing is now in order, I will say no more."
He reached toward Alicent.
"Let me hold Jaehaera."
Alicent carefully passed the child to him. Viserys's thin fingers brushed the baby's soft cheeks, his expression gentling.
"It is good to be young," he murmured.
"No duty. No choices. Only warmth, food, and sleep."
He turned his gaze to Aerin.
"Where is Jaehaerys? Let me hold my grandson as well."
Aerin rose and placed the swaddled child in the king's lap.
The infant stirred, violet eyes unfocused as he stared at the golden mask of his grandfather.
Viserys smiled.
"They've all grown," he said softly, his eyes passing over the children.
"And I have grown old."
He looked to Aegon. The elder son lounged in boredom, tapping his wine cup with a fork. Nearly eighteen, yet still a boy in spirit.
"Aegon."
Aegon looked up, wine still at the corner of his mouth.
"Father?"
"Come here."
Aegon set down his cup and approached slowly.
Viserys studied him—handsome, strong, the sort to set every serving girl blushing and heavy with child.
Aegon knew it. Alicent had long helped conceal his excesses.
From the beginning, Viserys had held little hope for this son.
Aegon had always lived as he pleased, and Viserys had never truly stopped him.
But now, things were different.
"You are my eldest son," Viserys said.
"Of House Targaryen—the lawful heir, by right."
Aegon froze.
Aerin's fingers tightened. Alicent held her breath.
Aemond remained still, watching.
"I am ill," Viserys continued slowly, each word weighed.
"I will not live another year."
"The question of succession cannot linger forever."
"The Greens. The factions. This division must end."
He paused, letting the words settle.
"And so I have decided."
The Godswood was utterly silent.
"After the coming tourney,
I will formally proclaim a change in the order of succession."
"You, Aegon Targaryen, shall be the sole lawful heir to the Iron Throne."
At those words, Aerin nearly rose from her seat, restraining herself only with effort. Joy shone plainly on her face.
Queen Alicent closed her eyes and released a long breath—relief, resentment, hardship, and endurance of more than ten years all bound within it.
At last, she had won.
At last, Rhaenyra had been defeated.
Aegon stared, stunned.
"I… Father…" he stammered.
"I mean—the Iron Throne—Rhaenyra—"
"Rhaenyra will be properly provided for," Viserys interrupted.
"Dragonstone will remain hers."
"But she is not fit to rule the Seven Kingdoms."
"Now," he said quietly,
"everyone can see that."