Justice, Complete

Seeing that the Queen had already left, Otto Hightower knew he could only rely on himself.

He stepped forward, his voice regaining the composure and authority of the Hand. "Your Majesty! Princess Helaena agreed to the marriage."

"But this second condition—that Prince Aegon remain on Tidepool Island as a page—"

"Forgive my frankness, but it is far too harsh, tantamount to house arrest! It is unacceptable!"

Rhaenys seemed to have expected this.

She slowly raised her right hand, fingers together, her posture solemn and grave, as though swearing an oath in a sept.

"I, Rhaenys Targaryen, swear by the Blood of the Dragon flowing through my veins, and by the honor my husband Corlys Velaryon and his family have kept untainted for hundreds of years."

Her voice echoed through the hall.

"While he is on Tidepool Island, we will treat Prince Aegon Targaryen as one of our own."

"He will receive the finest instruction, learning seamanship, statecraft, and the ways of knighthood. He will be shown the same respect and care as Jacaerys and Lucerys."

"House Velaryon will never harm him in any way, nor would we stoop to it. We will not allow him to suffer any undeserved hardship or injury."

She lowered her hand, her gaze burning. "If I break this oath, may the Seven cast me aside and abhor me. May my soul sink into the Seven Hells after death and burn forever in their fires!"

Even the Greens, who had doubted her, were moved by so solemn an oath.

Rhaenys softened her tone slightly and continued, "Besides, it is only for two years."

"When the term is up, we will return Prince Aegon to King's Landing safe and sound, without a scratch, and place him back at Your Majesty and the Queen's side."

"By then, he will be a more mature, wiser, and more reasonable prince."

She paused, her gaze sweeping over Otto's livid face and Viserys, who looked ready to collapse. Then she delivered her final blow.

"Your Majesty, a divided court and a kingdom at war with itself... You know better than anyone what the consequences will be."

"Will the peace the late king spent his whole life preserving really be shattered by our generation?"

A long silence followed, so profound it seemed to make hearts stop.

Every eye focused on the king.

At last, Viserys closed his eyes and swallowed the bitter pill.

A single, weightless word slipped from his cracked lips.

"...Granted."

Seeing that her father still favored her, Rhaenyra breathed a sigh of relief.

She knew they had won.

Even if they had not achieved their original goal.

They had forced the Greens to marry off a princess, strengthening Jae's legitimacy. That was something she had always worried about when it came to her three children.

And then there was Aegon, the Greens' heir...

Though Aemond had claimed Vhagar, the Greens had paid a terrible price.

She had used her father's guilt toward her and her dead mother, Emma.

But the spoils of victory were soaked in the blood and tears of those closest to her. They tasted only bitter and briny, with not a hint of joy.

"You... All of you..."

Viserys suddenly opened his eyes again, his gaze unfocused as it swept over the mass of people below.

His trembling finger weakly pointed from one familiar or unfamiliar face to the next: his children, his kin, his trusted lords...

"My children... My own flesh and blood... The trusted men I relied upon..."

His voice was hoarse, like an old bellows.

"You've turned my home into a fighting pit..."

"You've turned children's blood into bargaining chips..."

He began to breathe violently, his chest heaving as a sickly flush rose across his face. "I don't want to choose... I love all of you..."

"Just like before, even if it's only a show of harmony..."

"Stop... Please... Stop..."

This belated, feeble lament from a failed father laid bare his struggle, his compromise, and his helplessness.

No one in the hall answered, but even the most hard-hearted among them felt a certain sadness.

Viserys's gaze finally, almost involuntarily, passed over his second son, Aemond, who was no longer being restrained and sat alone on the floor, looking somewhat dazed.

This son... His fierce resolve today, his quick-witted arguments, the way he had defended his mother, and finally his madness, willing to destroy himself...

Suddenly, a wildly absurd and utterly impossible thought flashed with startling clarity through Viserys's confused mind.

Alicent... and Daemon...?

No! Impossible! Viserys shook his head, dispelling the fantasy.

But Aemond's sudden change in temperament today, his coldness and decisiveness far beyond his years...

He was nothing like the gloomy, solitary son Viserys remembered. Nor was he like Viserys himself.

The king stopped looking at anyone. He pushed away the Kingsguard who tried to help him and staggered down from the dais like a sleepwalker.

"Your Majesty..." The nobles bowed, their voices filled with complicated emotions: respect, sympathy, and perhaps even contempt.

"Go... All of you, go..." His faint voice, like a ghost's sigh, finally vanished beyond the door.

Princess Rhaenyra was the first to turn and leave. The rest of the Blacks followed her, the air heavy with tension.

They had traded an eye for a marriage alliance and an important hostage.

Lord Hand Otto Hightower cast a complicated glance at his eldest grandson, Aegon, who was still recovering from the shock and muttering complaints under his breath.

Foolish, weak, and utterly useless... he judged coldly in his heart.

Then he turned his gaze toward Aemond, sitting nearby on the floor now that the restraints had been removed, a fearsome glint gathering once more in his eyes.

After tonight, the scales in Otto's mind had finally tipped.

Aegon would have to remain on the Blacks' Tidepool Island.

Otto was certain that, with Corlys the Sea Snake's shrewdness and Rhaenys the Uncrowned Queen's pride, they would never be foolish enough to harm Aegon.

But, on the contrary, what Otto feared most was that they might lavish Aegon with excessive indulgence: the finest delicacies, the richest wines, the most alluring women, and the most flattering praise...

They would use every pleasure to gently, completely corrupt his eldest grandson, whose will was weak to begin with.

Two years later, when a man softened by wine, women, and wealth, his ambition blunted, and with no talents beyond indulgence and empty boasts returned to King's Landing...

How could such an Aegon possibly compete with his sister Rhaenyra for the Iron Throne?

And Aemond...

As Lord Hand Otto turned to leave, a sharp glint flashed in his eyes.

This second grandson, whom he had never paid much attention to and had even neglected somewhat because of his gloomy, solitary nature...

The boy was so much like Prince Daemon in his youth.

Perhaps... House Hightower and the Greens should no longer place their hopes for the future in the eldest son.

Perhaps, from now on, it would be better for House Hightower's long-term interests to devote resources to Aemond's education and guidance, then have him support Aegon after his time on the island had ruined him, and contend for the Iron Throne...

The crowd in the hall had gradually dispersed.

Just then, a slender, pale hand, its fingertips trembling slightly from tension and cold, reached out toward Aemond, who still sat on the floor, lost in thought.

Aemond slowly raised his head. His silver hair was disheveled, and there was a wound on his pale left cheek, but in the depths of his purple eyes, a flame seemed to burn quietly.

It was Helaena. She had returned at some point and now stood alone before him. She tried to force a comforting smile, but it was more heartbreaking than tears.

"Helaena," Aemond said hoarsely. "You didn't have to... go that far for me."

"We're family," Helaena said softly, but with unusual clarity and conviction. "I... I didn't want to see you lose an eye..."

She paused, as though gathering her courage, then continued, "If it can settle this dispute..."

"I'm willing."

To protect this younger brother, whose nature had changed so suddenly overnight, who felt like a stranger and yet made her heart ache.

Even if she had to marry against her will, she was willing to give up her future.

Aemond fell silent.

His gaze settled, complicated, on the hand she held out, trembling slightly.

After a long while, he slowly reached out and took her cool little hand.

His palm was scorching, still holding the warmth and barely quelled fury of the moment.

But just as Helaena thought he was about to stand, his wrist suddenly dipped and he gave a gentle tug!

"Ah!" Caught off guard, Helaena let out a brief cry. She instantly lost her balance and fell forward, landing squarely in Aemond's arms. He was still slight, but his body was taut with tension.

For an instant, they pressed together.

Time seemed to freeze. Through their thin clothes, they could clearly feel each other's racing heartbeats and the starkly different warmth of their bodies.

Their eyes met, close enough to touch.

"Helaena, I won't accept it..." Aemond confessed.

A stunning blush spread across Helaena's pale cheeks, visible to the naked eye, all the way to her ears and slender neck.

Her mind went blank. Confusion, panic, and disbelief filled her purple eyes.

Then came a soft slap.

It was no hard blow, more an instinctive reaction to being startled.

She raised her hand and lightly struck Aemond's right cheek, where there was no wound, so it would not hurt him too much.

As if burned, Helaena tore herself free and stumbled back two or three steps before regaining her balance.

She covered the hand she had just used to slap Aemond, her fingertips trembling slightly.

Her beautiful purple eyes shimmered with tears, filled with panic, embarrassment, and helplessness, along with a flicker of emotion she herself had yet to notice.

"You... You're being... a little... unfair, Aemond..." Her words stumbled out, her voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz.

Aemond was a stranger now—dangerous, aggressive, and more than a little overwhelming.

She didn't dare linger another moment. Gathering her skirts in a panic, she fled the vast, icy hall like a startled fawn, her silver hair trailing behind her in disarray.

Aemond remained sitting on the floor, slowly raising his hand to cover the right cheek she had struck.

The brief daze and fleeting confusion in his eyes were swept away by the cold draft in the hall.

They were quickly replaced by a deeper, more intense, and utterly unwavering flame.

"I haven't lost yet..." he murmured hoarsely.

Aegon had served his purpose. In exchange, he would remain here, while Aemond would return to King's Landing.

Without Aegon, more of House Hightower's resources would be directed toward him, and he would be the only prince at his father Viserys's side.

But he would never accept Helaena marrying that Jacaerys.

He staggered to his feet. His body was weak, but his back was ramrod straight.

He had Vhagar.

That ancient, immense dragon, with the power to destroy.

Another Blood Dragon Dance...

Wasn't out of the question.