Whatever Joffrey said next, Aegon never learned. But he saw the moment it broke something inside Criston Cole.
The knight roared, his voice cutting through the music, and struck Joffrey across the face. The cup clattered to the ground, wine splashing like blood on marble. Joffrey stumbled, shocked, and before anyone could move, Criston was upon him, fists raining down in a blur of white and crimson.
Screams erupted. Dancers scattered, skirts and cloaks flaring as chaos tore through the hall. Aegon stood from his seat, half amused, half alarmed, as the music died and horror took its place.
On the high dais, King Viserys jerked upright, his face twisting in panic. His eyes darted over the crowd, searching desperately for Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon. His heart thundered at the thought of Daemon slipping away with her amid the confusion. That rogue would love nothing more than to turn a feast into a scandal.
But as the shouting grew louder, Viserys realized the danger lay elsewhere. Daemon and Rhaenyra stood together, frowning, watching the commotion. Criston was still on the ground, striking again and again until Joffrey's face was nothing but blood and ruin.
Corlys Velaryon was already on his feet, shouting for guards. His face was pale beneath his beard, his eyes locked on Joffrey's broken body. He had known the man, had even tolerated him for Laenor's sake. Never had he imagined his son's beloved would die on the dance floor.
Guards rushed forward, but by the time they reached him, Criston Cole had frozen. His knuckles dripped red. His breath came in gasps. Then, without a word, he stood, cast one look at the body, and ran.
Laenor fell to his knees beside Joffrey, clutching the lifeless body with trembling hands. Viserys tried to restore order, barking weak commands, his smile strained and hollow as he waved for music that no one dared play. Corlys said nothing, his rage cold and silent.
In a quiet corner, unobserved by most, Queen Alicent's green eyes glinted. She rose gracefully, her gown whispering against the floor, and slipped after Criston.
Aegon noticed. Of course he noticed. His mother always moved with purpose. He smirked, wiped his mouth, and followed. Behind him, Hugh Hammer, the hulking bastard of the smithy, followed in turn, his violet eyes unreadable in the dim light.
The night air in the gardens was cold. Criston knelt beneath a tree, sword before him, hands trembling. The blade gleamed faintly in the moonlight.
He was murmuring a prayer to the Seven, or perhaps to no one at all. His voice cracked as he whispered the final words, his decision made. He would die by his own hand, not by the King's justice.
"Ser Criston," came a calm, familiar voice.
He froze, turning to see the Queen standing behind him. Her expression was soft, almost pitying. "Your Grace?" he managed, shame choking his words.
"I believe you had a reason for what you did," Alicent said gently. "Perhaps you acted in defense of honor, or of truth. Either way, I do not think your story should end here. Would you serve me, Ser Criston? As my sworn shield?"
The offer struck him like a blow. His eyes widened, the sword slipping from his grasp. "You would have me serve you?"
"I would have a man of conviction beside me," she said. "Do not waste your life, Ser Criston. You are not beyond redemption."
Criston bowed his head. "Then my life is yours."
Before another word could pass between them, armored footsteps broke the stillness. A dozen gold cloaks appeared from the shadows, led by Ser Erryk Cargyll. His expression was grim.
"Your Grace," he said, bowing to Alicent. "We have come under the King's command to arrest Ser Criston Cole."
Alicent's eyes narrowed. She drew herself to her full height. "Under whose command?" she asked coolly, though she already knew the answer.
"His Majesty's," Erryk replied. "We are to bring him to the dungeons at once."
Criston stiffened.
Alicent opened her mouth to protest, but another voice rose from the shadows, smooth and young, yet carrying a tone of command.
"What crime has Ser Criston committed, Ser Erryk," said Aegon, stepping into the moonlight, "that my father would order his arrest?"
Hugh loomed just behind him, half in shadow, his large hands resting on the pommel of his greatsword.
Erryk blinked. "Your Highness, Ser Criston struck Ser Joffrey Lonmouth before all the court. The man is near death. It is the King's will that he face justice."
"Justice?" Aegon's smile was faint, almost mocking. "Do I know this justice of which you speak, Ser Erryk?"
The knight frowned, uncertain. "I… I beg your pardon, Your Highness?"
"Ser Joffrey insulted me," Aegon said casually, as though discussing the weather. "Ser Criston merely defended my honor with a light rebuke. You know this, don't you?"
Erryk's face went blank. "I… did not hear such words."
"Then perhaps your ears are failing," Aegon said, his tone turning colder. "Or perhaps you question your prince's word?"
Erryk's jaw tightened. "I mean no disrespect, Your Highness. But His Majesty gave a direct order-"
"And my father," Aegon cut him off, "is the King of the Seven Kingdoms. Must he report every command to his guards before he relieves himself?"
The guards shifted uneasily. Erryk's lips thinned. "You twist my words, my prince."
"I improve them," Aegon said lightly, then turned to Criston. "Ser Criston, you have served my family well. I will see you protected."
Erryk's patience frayed. "Your Highness, step aside. My duty is clear."
Hugh's sword scraped free of its sheath with a hiss. He lifted it easily, the moonlight glinting along the edge. "Without His Highness's command," he said in a low, dangerous tone, "whoever touches Ser Criston will die."
The guards hesitated, glancing from the massive blacksmith to Aegon. The tension crackled like a drawn bowstring.
Aegon raised a brow. "Hugh, lower your blade. We are among friends, are we not?"
Criston's pulse thundered in his throat. Alicent's gaze flicked between the men, sharp as a hawk's.
Erryk exhaled in relief, thinking the confrontation over. "As you say, Your Highness. Now-"
"Ser Erryk," Aegon interrupted softly, stepping closer until they were face to face. "You must also remember your place."
The garden went still. Even the crickets seemed to fall silent.
"You are a guard," Aegon continued, his voice cold as steel. "And I am the heir of the realm. You will leave Ser Criston to me. I will speak to my father myself."
Erryk hesitated, eyes flicking to the Queen, to the guards, to the dark silhouette of the dragon flying overhead, Sunfyre, faint and golden against the stars.
At last he sighed, shoulders sinking. "As you command, my prince. I will report that Ser Criston is… in your custody."
Aegon smiled faintly. "A wise choice."
As the guards withdrew, Aegon turned to Hugh. "Take Ser Criston to rest. He has had a long night."
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A/N: Enjoying the story so far? Want more? There are already 18 advance chapters waiting on my Patreon, and the first two are completely free! ⚓
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