Justice 2

"Flowery words!" A voice rang out, interrupting the thoughts of King Viserys I, who sat upon the high throne.

The Sea Snake, Corlys, tapped his scepter lightly against the stone ground, producing a dull thud. "Prince Aemond, you are attempting to confuse the facts with sophistry."

His gray-blue eyes, like a snake locking onto its prey, reconstructed the events with cold, crystalline clarity as he spoke:

"The fact is, you tamed Vhagar without any authorization."

"This undoubtedly stole the right of Rhaena and Baela, your uncle's daughters, to be the first to attempt to tame their mother's dragon."

"The fact is, Rhaena and Baela brought Jacaerys and the others to question you. Was that not reasonable and fair?"

"And you were the one who first spoke ill, provoking and insulting them."

"The fact is, when the conflict had once eased, it was you, Prince Aemond, who struck again because of an insult directed at your Mother."

Each "fact" was like a cold nail, attempting to pin Aemond firmly to the pillar of shame as the primary culprit.

Corlys did not bother to entangle himself in the question of who had taken the dagger.

He intended to pin the cause and primary responsibility for this tragedy on Aemond from the very root.

Aemond felt his throat tighten. This old man...

He could not deny the first two points; they were the mess left behind by his predecessor.

This stifling sensation of being unable to defend himself burned at his reason.

"He insulted my Mother!" Aemond turned his head sharply, the suppressed fire in his violet eyes nearly erupting as he stared fixedly at Lucerys.

"As a son, can one remain calm upon hearing someone slander their own Mother so?"

Lucerys flinched, pierced by that gaze, but he still retorted shrilly: "It... it was you who first called us Strong bastards!"

He shouted the forbidden surname.

The word "Strong" pierced the stagnant air of the hall like a poisonous needle.

The gazes of many nobles instantly turned subtle and complex, and whispers rose once more.

This touched upon the most sensitive and taboo rumor in the kingdom.

Corlys was not led astray by Aemond and spoke calmly:

"Jealousy, resentment, long-standing grievances... Prince Aemond."

"We have sufficient reason to suspect that you were not acting on a momentary impulse, but rather possessed a motive—and perhaps, even acted with intent."

He leaned forward slightly and spoke coldly:

"For instance, in the chaos of the fray, you waited for the perfect moment to shove Lucerys, who held a dagger, and then skillfully tripped Jacaerys."

"Making it all look like an unfortunate tragedy?"

His words made Aemond feel as if he were sitting on pins and needles.

"Motive?" Aemond suddenly let out a low chuckle and shook his head. His violet eyes swept over Corlys, then flicked past Rhaenyra and Daemon, saying:

"Lord Corlys, if I truly harbored ill intent and aimed to harm Jacaerys, would I choose to do it on Driftmark?"

"Would I strike on territory that you Velaryons have locked down like an iron fortress?"

"In plain sight of everyone?"

He stepped forward, his voice suddenly rising as he said:

"If I were truly as calculating as you claim."

"I would choose a more discreet time and a place where no one would know, ensuring I could escape cleanly!"

"Instead of standing here like this, being accused, being judged!"

His gaze finally settled on Rhaenyra, and he said calmly:

"Furthermore, what good would harming Jacaerys do for me, or for any of us?"

"To let the Seven Kingdoms watch the Targaryens tear each other apart for a laugh?"

"To leave our father, His Majesty the King, heartbroken?"

"Or to let the Hightowers and the Velaryons tear each other apart completely, pushing the kingdom to the brink of division?"

He took a deep breath, his chest heaving, and the unhealed wound on his left cheek oozed tiny beads of blood from his agitation:

"If I truly wanted to strive for something, my Lord, what I should be doing is winning support, forming alliances, and demonstrating my value."

"Not carrying the stigma of a failed kinslayer, becoming a target for everyone."

"Bringing ruin upon myself, my Mother, and my entire house!"

His voice was resolute, echoing through the hall:

"I am only twelve, Lord Corlys. But I am not a fool."

"At least, not foolish enough to orchestrate an accident as stupid, hole-ridden, and self-destructive as this!"

Queen Alicent's fists were clenched so tightly that her nails had long since dug deep into her palms, drawing blood without her even noticing.

The Queen looked toward her father, Lord Hand Otto, with a gaze full of desperate entreaty.

Otto, however, merely stood there in silence, weighing his options.

Prince Aegon's mouth hung agape as he stared at his younger brother as if he were a stranger.

Since when had this brother, usually so sullen and withdrawn—the very one he had led others in mocking—possessed such sharp, eloquent rhetoric?

Princess Helaena's violet eyes were fixed on Aemond, who was being hunted by so many. Her gaze held worry and fear. Seven Gods, please, protect my brother...

"Someone who can tame Vhagar at twelve is, of course, no fool." Prince Daemon suddenly let out a scoff, breaking the brief silence.

He folded his arms, tilted his head, and scrutinized Aemond with a measuring look. "You are ambitious, little one."

"You want to prove yourself, to make everyone see that you are more worthy of Vhagar than Rhaenyra's children..."

He deliberately drew out his tone, a cold, mocking smirk curling his lips:

"Or, perhaps, more worthy of... something else?"

The unfinished words hung heavy in everyone's hearts.

Princess Rhaenyra's eyes turned sharp, and for the first time, she examined her half-brother with genuine seriousness.

A strong sense of wariness rose within her. He was far more difficult to deal with than she had anticipated.

"Enough!" King Viserys slammed his hand against the armrest of his throne, causing the crown that already sat precariously on his head to tilt.

"I did not come here to listen to you accuse one another and scheme against each other!"

His voice was hoarse and trembling as he spoke, "One of my grandsons... lies there, having lost an eye! His life hangs in the balance!"

"Another of my children... is being accused by you of plotting to maim his own kin!"

He scanned the crowd:

"This is my family! This is the blood of my Targaryen line! You... you..."

He bent over, coughing until he nearly lost his breath, and the Kingsguard rushed forward in a panic.

Once his breathing steadied, he looked up, staring fixedly at Aemond with an incredibly complex expression. "Aemond... you mounted Vhagar."

"Without permission. Is this a fact?"

Aemond was silent for a moment, meeting his father's gaze, and replied calmly, "It is."

"Why?" Viserys's voice was filled with exhaustion and confusion. "Why now of all times? And in such a manner?"

Aemond lifted his head, his eyes bright and resolute. "Because the dragon chose me, Father."

His voice was not loud, yet it carried clearly throughout the hall as he spoke:

"In the storm, I walked toward her."

"She did not breathe Dragonflame, nor did she let out a warning roar."

"She lowered her head to me."

"That was the oldest, proudest dragon still in existence."

"I climbed onto her back, and she did not shake me off."

He continued, his tone growing near-fanatical:

"Dragons only acknowledge the blood of the Targaryen."

"Vhagar once belonged to Lady Laena Velaryon, but Lady Laena has already returned to the embrace of the Seven Gods."

"And now, it is Vhagar who has chosen me! This is her will!"

"That is my mother's dragon!" Behind Prince Daemon, Baela could no longer hold back, crying out with a sob, "His Majesty clearly promised that my sister and I would be the first to try!"

"You stole her without permission!"

"Baela." Daemon pressed down on his daughter's trembling shoulders, but his gaze never left Aemond, his voice cold as frost: "So, you admit that you stole the opportunity from my daughters?"

"I stole nothing!" Aemond's voice rose sharply, his expression turning somewhat ferocious:

"Dragons are not chairs! They are not necklaces! They are not toys for you to sit upon or wear around your necks to show off!"

"They are the source of the Targaryen family's power!"

"They are living Blood and Fire!"

He raised his hand, pointing at Lucerys:

"And you! Your anger is not because some damn opportunity was stolen!"

"It is because of jealousy! Because of fear!"

"Because you cannot accept that the lonely, useless uncle you bullied since childhood, the one you said was only fit to ride a pig, has actually gained the recognition of Vhagar!"

"While you, you didn't even have the courage to approach her!"

Aemond looked at the hesitant Lucerys.

"Lucerys, tell me, when you drew that blade capable of killing..."

"Did you ever think that I am your uncle! That I am your kin?!"

Lord Corlys closed his eyes, sighing inwardly; the boy had managed to circle back to that point again...

As long as Aemond clung tightly to the fact that Lucerys had drawn his dagger first, grasping that key point, he could shift a portion of the responsibility back onto Lucerys.

Aemond's chest heaved violently, the bloodstain on his face appearing all the more vivid, yet his eyes burned with a frightening intensity:

"I did say the word bastard! I admit it!"

"But I already apologized!"

"I apologized for calling them bastards!"

He looked toward the children of the Blacks, questioning them sharply as he called them out one by one: "Lucerys Velaryon! Joffrey Velaryon! Rhaena Targaryen! Baela Targaryen!"

"Before the Seven Gods and the King, swear on your conscience: did I not apologize for those words on the spot?! Do you dare swear that I am lying?!"

All the children of the Blacks fell silent, eventually nodding weakly.

Aemond pressed his advantage, his voice raspy with agitation: "I wanted to stop this foolish fight!"

"I wanted the adults to decide the ownership of Vhagar!"

"But what about you? Lucerys! It was you!"

"After I apologized and tried to de-escalate, you insulted my Mother with the most vicious language!"

"You were the one who let the conflict spiral out of control!"

"And I, from beginning to end, even in my greatest rage, never once thought of truly harming any of my kin!"

"I never thought of taking anyone's eye, or their life!"

Lucerys's face turned pale as paper. He stumbled back a step, his mouth agape, but he could no longer make a sound.

The guilt and fear of having harmed his brother overwhelmed him.

The hall was deathly silent. There was only the crackling of burning torches and the sound of people's suppressed breathing.

"Enough..." Princess Rhaenyra closed her eyes and murmured to herself.

She could no longer bear to see this tragedy, which had already befallen Jacaerys, used for such a bloody, agonizing tug-of-war...

A moment later, she opened her eyes again and looked at her father on the throne, tears sliding silently down her cheeks.

"Father, at this point, I no longer care... who it was."

These words left everyone stunned.

She walked slowly toward the center of the hall, stopping just three paces away from Aemond.

Both of them possessed the Targaryen family's signature silver hair and purple eyes.

At this moment, however, they stood in confrontation, as if separated by an impassable glacier and a bottomless abyss.

"Aemond," Rhaenyra spoke softly, a coldness beyond words hidden beneath her calm tone.

"You hate me. You hate my children as well."

"You believe I have stolen the respect your mother was owed."

"You believe my existence has hindered you and Aegon from receiving the inheritance you were meant to have..."

"These things, perhaps, I could understand."

She paused, more tears rolling down, but she did not wipe them away, letting them slide down her pale cheeks:

"Perhaps it is fate, perhaps it is all truly a series of unfortunate coincidences, accidents caused by the stupidity and impulsiveness of you and the children."

Her voice turned sharp suddenly, her gaze like a blade as she looked at Aemond:

"But! When the accident occurred, the cause lay with you!"

"You were there on the scene!"

"You participated in the entire affair! This chain of events, from the moment you claimed a dragon in secret, to the argument, to the brawl, and finally to the tragedy..."

"It resulted in my eldest son, Jacaerys, losing an eye forever!"

"No matter how you try to justify it, you cannot change this outcome!"

She took a deep breath, as if exhausting all her strength:

"Lucerys has his responsibility, and he shall bear it!"

"But you are the same, Aemond Targaryen. You, too, can absolutely not escape this responsibility!"

As her voice fell, amidst the shocked gazes of everyone present.

Rhaenyra Targaryen, the proclaimed heir to the Iron Throne, slowly and resolutely knelt on both knees before her father, the King.

"Father," she raised her head, her eyes blurred with tears, yet her gaze was so scorching it felt as if it could ignite the air.

"I do not ask for an eye for an eye."

"I do not ask you to punish Aemond."

"I only ask for one thing."

"Justice."

King Viserys watched his daughter kneeling, and it was as if he had aged many years in an instant.

He struggled to stand, leaning forward and reaching out a hand. "Rhaenyra... rise... my daughter, rise first..."

"What kind of justice do you seek?"

Rhaenyra straightened her back, letting her tears flow, her voice clear and firm as it carried across the silent hall:

"I want you, in the name of the King, to publicly acknowledge and declare Jacaerys Velaryon as your eldest grandson and my firstborn son."

"He shall be the undisputed first heir to the Iron Throne!"

"His place in the line of succession must be clearly established before Aegon and Aemond!"

"I want you to swear before the Seven Gods and the realm that, no matter what happens in the future, regardless of any accusations or rumors that may arise, Jacaerys's right of inheritance shall not be shaken in the slightest by this injury!"

"I want you to issue a decree, notifying the Seven Kingdoms, to cement this matter."

She paused, offering her "terms of exchange," speaking with cold clarity:

"As long as you agree to these, I, Rhaenyra Targaryen, will accept that tonight was merely a tragic accident."

"Aemond shall face no punishment for this matter, and the ownership of Vhagar shall remain with Aemond, in accordance with the will of the dragon."

"Let tonight's events end here."

"Boom!"

The hall erupted into total chaos.

Gasps, sharp intakes of breath, and murmurs broke out everywhere.

The color drained completely from Queen Alicent's face; she staggered, nearly fainting, and was only kept upright by the handmaidens supporting her from behind.

Lord Hand Otto's pupils contracted to pinpricks, his usually mountain-like composure finally showing a crack.

The faction of Green nobles beside him broke into uncontrollable agitation.

The corners of Lord Corlys's mouth twitched upward ever so slightly before returning to their usual stoic line.

Prince Daemon watched Rhaenyra kneeling on the floor, a flash of admiration in his eyes.

She had finally understood: at a time like this, tears and pain could be the softest of weapons, or the hardest of bargaining chips.

Jae had already lost his eye; nothing could be undone.

It was better to secure his claim to the succession.

Now, the focus of the struggle had shifted completely from who had blinded whom to that cold, iron chair.

Aemond stood alone in the eye of the storm at the center of the hall, watching his father on the throne, caught in hesitation and struggle.

Watching his sister, who knelt on the ground, using retreat as a means of advancement while pressing forward step by step.

An indescribable sense of absurdity surged in his heart.

This kind of calculation, born of being favored and emboldened, was so naked, so cruel, yet so taken for granted.

He would not gamble that Rhaenyra or Jacaerys, should they become King in the future, would spare him...