The Great Hall of Dragonstone.
"Rhaenyra! Guest Right!" Rhaenys barked, her voice a sharp rebuke.
"He has eaten our bread and salt!"
"I don't care!" Rhaenyra's eyes were bloodshot, and tears finally burst from them.
"He brought my sons' skulls to humiliate !"
"He is waiting for exactly that strike!" Rhaenys stared directly into her eyes.
"Aemond sent this wretch here, betting that you would kill him on the spot! If you kill him, tomorrow all of Westeros will sing of how Rhaenyra Targaryen violated Guest Right! What will you do then? The North supports you now, but the mont that sword falls, they will all turn away."
Rhaenyra looked as though her spine had been removed.
The sword slipped from her hand and clattered onto the floor.
She knelt again, gathering the small skulls into her arms, her tears dripping onto the pale bone.
Kermit stood his ground. He was pale, and a fine cold sweat broke out on his forehead, but his posture remained motionless.
A faint smile even lingered on his lips, though it had beco strained.
"Lady Rhaenys," he said.
"A wise move."
Rhaenys did not look at him. She knelt beside Rhaenyra, gently took the two skulls from her embrace, and placed them back into the black iron chests.
Rhaenyra's hands remained suspended in the air, empty. Her eyes were unfocused, hollow as a dead sea.
"Take Her Grace below."
Two handmaids stepped forward to support Rhaenyra's arms.
She did not resist. Like a shell stripped of its soul, she allowed the maids to lead her, step by step, toward the back hall.
At the threshold, she stopped. She did not look back.
"Kermit."
"I am here."
"Go back and tell Aemond Targaryen," her voice was a re whisper.
"Blood for blood."
Kermit bowed slightly. "I shall deliver the ssage."
Rhaenyra disappeared behind the doors. Silence reclaid the hall.
Corlys stood still, his shoulders trembling slightly. Rhaenys stood by the iron chests, gazing down at the two sleeping skulls.
"Jacaerys," she whispered. "Joffrey."
She knelt and reached out, her touch infinitely light, like a grandmother stroking the face of a sleeping grandchild.
"Your grandmother is sorry."
She could say no more.
Among the hundreds in the hall, no one dared make a sound. Kermit stood quietly before asking cautiously, "Lady Rhaenys? May I depart?"
Rhaenys did not look at him.
"Get out. Everyone else, withdraw."
Generals and knights filed out in succession. Kermit turned to leave, his two attendants hurrying after him.
Their leather boots clicked against the black stone, the echoes growing distant and faint. Soon, the great doors of the hall groaned shut.
Rhaenys remained where she was, staring at the two chests. Corlys walked to her side.
"A letter from Rook's Rest," Rhaenys said, looking up.
Corlys took a roll of parchnt from his tunic and unfurled it.
"Lord Staunton," he said.
"The Crackclaw Point Lords support us. The Greens will move against them soon."
Rhaenys took the letter, her eyes scanning it. Her brow furrowed deeper.
"Rook's Rest is pleading for reinforcents," she said.
"House Staunton is the only vassal in the Crownlands to openly support Rhaenyra. If we do not save them..."
"If we do not save them, our supporters in the North and the Vale will think we cannot even protect our most loyal subjects near the capital," Corlys finished.
"But if we do..."
Rhaenys finished his thought.
"If we do, it is likely exactly what Aemond is waiting for. Is Rook's Rest a lure? Is he fishing for us?"
Corlys remained silent. Rhaenys looked out the window. The night clouds hung low, heavy with thunder and lightning.
A storm was brewing.
"But we cannot ignore it," Rhaenys said.
"Lord Staunton has staked his life and lands on us. He refused to bend the knee to Aegon; he refused to surrender hostages."
She paused. "If we fail him, no one in Westeros will ever believe our promises again."
Corlys looked up. "You have decided."
Rhaenys didn't answer. She watched the darkening sky. After a long while, she spoke.
"My leys is faster than Vhagar. Sunfyre's wounds are unhealed, and Aegon is too broken to ride. The only dragons Aemond can mobilize are Vhagar and Morghul."
She gave a small smile. "Vhagar fought a bloody battle against Bronze Fury at Dragonstone and was badly hurt. Dragons heal, but a wound like that requires at least a year of rest."
Corlys looked at her.
"What are you planning?"
"I plan to kill Aemond on the back of that old dragon before Vhagar recovers," Rhaenys said.
"This is our best chance."
Corlys gripped her wrist suddenly.
"No. Rhaenys, no."
Rhaenys looked down at her husband's hand. This hand had once commanded the greatest fleet in the Seven Kingdoms.
This hand had clumsily held the head of their infant son, Laenor. Now, it was covered in age spots, the knuckles swollen and veins bulging. It was shaking.
"I have already lost Laenor," Corlys said.
"I have lost Laena. I have lost Jacaerys and Joffrey. I have lost the centuries-old legacy of High Tide."
He looked at her, the woman he had loved his entire life.
"Rhaenys, I cannot lose you, too."
Rhaenys placed her hand over his, patting it to comfort him.
"Corlys, you will not lose ."
Corlys didn't answer. He only gripped her wrist tighter.
Rhaenys sighed.
"My 'Red Queen,' leys, is the swiftest dragon alive. No matter how fierce Vhagar is, she cannot catch the Red Queen. I will only harass them; I will not engage head-on. If I see the opening, leys will tear Aemond's throat out. Morghul is only three years old; even if he has grown to fifteen ters, I do not fear him."
She raised her head to et his eyes.
"Furthermore, I will join forces with Daemon in this battle. Aemond will not survive. I will return, I promise you."
Corlys searched her face, the face he had known for so many years. He had first seen her at a ball in Harrenhal when she was fifteen.
He was more than twenty years her senior then. She had worn a dress of silver and red, her black hair coiled in a Valyrian bun.
She was still the proud "Queen Who Never Was."
And he was just a Lord recently returned from the East, slling of salt and ambition.
"You have never lied to ," Corlys said.
"Every promise you have made, you have kept. This ti, please, do not lie to ."
Rhaenys squeezed his hand. "I won't."
She turned and gave orders to the Velaryon kinsn nearby.
"Send ravens to Prince Daemon; tell him to return to Dragonstone imdiately. Send word to Tyrosh, summon Sara and Silverwing."
The relatives were left to carry out the orders. Corlys was silent for a long ti.
"What of the black-haired girl?"
"Nettles? She has tad Sheepstealer," Rhaenys shook her head.
"That girl has no stomach for killing. Bringing her would only hold us back. Let her stay in Tyrosh."
Corlys did not argue. He spoke in a low voice.
"Then let it be so. The first battle shall be the final battle. One fight to decide the fate of the Realm."
---------
The Sea off Dragonstone.
The sea wind blew from the East, salty and damp, carrying the stifling heat of the coming storm. At the Dragonstone docks, a small swift-ship was casting off its lines.
Kermit stood at the railing, looking back at the receding silhouette of the black fortress.
His face was still calm, but his knuckles were white from gripping the wood.
He rembered Prince Aemond's words before he departed.
"Are you afraid of death?"
He had knelt before the Prince, his heart hamring against his ribs.
"...Yes."
Aemond had looked down at him, his violet eyes as cold and still as a corpse.
"Good. You should be."
He paused. "You are afraid, yet you can complete the mission. That is enough."
Kermit closed his eyes. He rembered the mont Prince Aemond had personally wiped those two skulls with a white silk cloth.
He had wiped them slowly, ticulously, as if cleaning a precious treasure.
Then, the Prince had placed the skull of Jacaerys into the chest.
He had whispered: "Those who bring chaos to my House... are the Strongs."
Kermit, kneeling on the floor, hadn't dared to respond. Aemond closed the lid.
"Deliver them to Rhaenyra. Tell her I returned them for burial. Tell her... this is my final rcy."
Now, Kermit stood at the bow of the ship, chewing on those words. Final rcy.
He rembered Aemond's expression when he said it. It was calm. It wasn't arrogance or boasting.
It was a look that Kermit didn't dare define.
But his instinct told him: this man was a true dragon trapped in human flesh. Violent, mad, and synonymous with death.
The wind howled, and the ship rocked violently. Kermit held tight to the railing.
Behind him, the outline of Dragonstone grew blurry. Ahead, the direction of King's Landing was still out of sight.
Prince Aemond had plucked him from the mud of the slums, given him a na, and made him a soldier and a sworn man.
Only this Prince would give such opportunities to common-born n. Now, he had completed this high-risk mission. Soon, he would rise in the world.
For now, he only wanted to get back alive.
----------
Kermit's Corner
"Is this thing live? Perfect."
"To the thousands of you sitting probably on a 'couch,' probably eating snacks that cost more than my entire village. Welco to the ss. You're watching the Dance of the Dragons, right? Or as I like to call it: The Most Expensive Family Therapy Session in History.
"Look at them. You've got high-born blondes having mid-life crises on lizard-back, arguing over a chair made of literal garbage. And then there's ."
"I'm Kermit the Great. The one they call the Greatest Rage Baiter."
"My only job? To make Rhaenyra's eye twitch so hard she forgets she has a dragon. And brother, I'm currently at a high score."
-----
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