The sharp crack of splintering wood echoed through the hall.
Viserys turned, startled and furious, to see his eldest son standing by the shattered table.
Aegon.
For a heartbeat, the room froze.
Every lord, lady, and knight present stared in stunned disbelief.
Even Queen Alicent had gone pale. She had known her son's temper, but not this, not open defiance before the Iron Throne itself.
"Aegon," Viserys rasped, his face tightening.
But Aegon spoke first. His voice was cold as steel.
"Helaena is not a tool," he said. "She will marry whomever she chooses. And if anyone dares force her otherwise, they can try."
A hush fell.
His gaze burned like frost, his words slicing through the smoky air. Outside the window, a deep, guttural rumble answered him, a dragon's growl rolling like distant thunder.
Sunfyre.
Through the torchlight, the great beast's golden eyes glimmered from beyond the glass, slitted pupils unblinking, shimmering with killing intent. It was a warning, open and undisguised.
Aegon had bared his fangs at last.
Since Aemond's claiming of Vhagar, the Greens had grown powerful beyond measure. No longer did Aegon bother to play the docile son. Wear the mask of a beast too long, and it becomes your face.
Behind him, Ser Hugh of the Kingsguard moved silently into place. Ser Criston Cole stepped subtly to the Queen's side. Across the hall, Ser Rickard and Ser Steffon, the two sworn to guard the King, tensed, hands brushing their sword hilts.
They knew what Hugh was capable of.
Years ago, his son had been born too soon, frail and gasping for air.
It was Prince Aegon who had ridden to Oldtown himself, seeking the finest maesters in the realm. For months he'd spent his coin and sleepless nights until the child's life was saved.
Since then, Hugh's loyalty had been absolute, and his obedience, frightening. It was said that if Aegon ordered him to strike down Viserys himself, Hugh would not hesitate.
Even together, Rickard and Steffon doubted they could best him.
Viserys's face flushed red as he fought to maintain his composure. "Do you hear yourself?" he thundered. "Do you mean to threaten your own father? Your sister?"
He could scarcely believe it. His own son, once obedient, once gentle, now defying him before the court.
But Aegon did not care for appearances, not anymore.
He knew well enough that the crying child gets the milk, but he had never stooped to crying before his father. Whenever he had, it was over quarrels with Rhaenyra, and Viserys had always chosen her.
This time, Aegon would not yield.
Rhaenyra's children had lost two dragonriders in quick succession; their power waned. Yet Viserys, blind as ever, imagined that Aegon's loyalty was boundless, that he would sacrifice all for his father and his half-sister.
How foolish.
Even if Helaena wished to wed Jacaerys, Aegon would not permit it. Dreamfyre was one of their greatest strengths, and Helaena a Dreamer besides. To hand both to the Blacks would be madness.
When Viserys proposed the match, whatever respect Aegon had once held for his father died that instant.
He would not bend... not today, not ever.
Rhaenyra rose smoothly from her seat, feigning grace. "Do not be angry, Father," she said, her voice syrup-sweet. "Aegon is no longer a child. He should understand the duties of our blood. Affection can be nurtured, can it not?"
Across the table, Lord Corlys Velaryon's eyes flicked toward her, his expression unreadable. Displeasure flashed there, brief but sharp. He said nothing. He wanted to see how far Aegon would go.
"Your Grace wrongs me," Aegon said evenly. "I threaten no one. I merely state my stance. There are lines that shall not be crossed."
His tone was calm, but his hand twitched, ready to overturn the table again.
Viserys's lips parted, the title Your Grace ringing hollow in his ears. For a moment, he could not speak.
Rhaenyra moved to smooth things over, but her eyes gleamed. "Father, please, sit. Ser Erryk, bring a chair beside Princess Helaena, so the young ones may get better acquainted."
Ser Erryk, ever obedient to Rhaenyra's commands, stepped forward.
"Take one more step," Aegon said quietly, "and I'll make you Sunfyre's next meal."
The knight froze mid-stride.
Even Rhaenyra blanched. Aegon's threat was no idle boast. With the Greens' strength as it was, no one could protect Erryk if Aegon willed it otherwise.
"Aegon, enough," Rhaenyra chided. "Threatening a Kingsguard is treason. Stop this tantrum."
Her words were honeyed, but her eyes gleamed with triumph. She wanted Viserys to see his son's rebellion.
Aegon ignored her. "Ser Erryk," he said, voice low and venomous, "bring that chair to my sister, and I'll have Sunfyre tear Syrax apart."
"Syrax is of our blood," Daemon drawled from his seat, lazy but dangerous. "Strike at her, and you commit high treason. Caraxes and I will see you burned before you draw another breath."
Aegon's lips parted, ready with a cutting retort, but Aemond spoke first, a thin smile curling on his face.
"Then try it, dear uncle," he said softly. "Only, see if Caraxes can still protect himself before you boast of protecting others."
The tension thickened like a storm.
Rhaenys, who had watched in silence, finally rose. "Enough," she said. "Daemon is right, dragons should not war against their own."
Her voice was steady, though her eyes betrayed disdain.
To her, this was farce... and the king who presided over it, pitiful. Viserys still fancied himself master of the board, when in truth, the pieces had already begun to move beyond him.
He drew himself up, trembling with rage, about to speak, when Helaena lifted her head.
"If Sunfyre wishes it," she said dreamily, "he can tear Syrax apart. I promise you that."
Her soft words struck harder than any shout.
The hall fell silent.
Even Rhaenyra's smile faltered.
Daemon and Rhaenys exchanged glances, grim and quiet. For all their power, they knew the truth, if Sunfyre, Vhagar, and Dreamfyre flew together, not even Caraxes and Meleys could stand against them.
Aegon said nothing more. He rose, his chair scraping back across the floor.
"I'm tired," he said simply. "Enjoy your feast. Father, drink less. It will do you good."
Then he turned and walked out.
Alicent followed, pale but resolute. Helaena trailed after her brother. The rest of the Greens, even half the guardsmen from the Hightower host, stood and went with them.
Only when the great doors shut behind them did Viserys realize how much he had lost. The Greens were no longer under his command.
Outside, Aegon walked through the torchlit corridor, untroubled.
He feared no reprisal. Viserys loved his family too dearly, and the Greens' influence now stretched through half the court. At most, the King would make a public show of anger, then quietly let the matter drop.
But should he choose instead to side with Rhaenyra, Aegon would not hesitate. He would gather the loyal banners, the dragons of his faction, and cleanse the realm, purge the wicked from the King's side and restore the peace of the realm.
Still, he doubted it would come to that.
There were few dragons left in Westeros that could fight, fewer still with riders. Rhaenyra had Syrax, Caraxes, and Meleys. But behind Aegon stood Sunfyre, Vhagar, Dreamfyre, and Tessarion. Four dragons, and even the smallest, Tessarion, was near as large as Seasmoke.
Neither side could truly destroy the other without being destroyed in turn.
And if war came before Viserys's death, the realm would name Aegon the rebel.
No, he thought. Not yet.
But soon.
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A/N: Want to know what happens? You might not want to wait.
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