Those escorted by the guards were trembling.
The woman clutched her two children tightly, as if her thin body could shield them from the horror of blood and death.
Her face was pale as paper, her eyes unfocused, distant.
The moment Cheese's gaze fell upon them, he froze.
The confusion on his face vanished instantly.
He understood.
He understood everything.
This was not punishment.
Not silencing.
It was a carefully orchestrated execution — a battle meant to crush everything he held dear, right before his eyes.
"No… no… please, Your Highness! Please!"
Cheese broke into bitter, broken sobs.
He tried to crawl toward Aemond, but Cole stopped him.
His forehead slammed hard against the cold, damp stone floor with a dull thud.
"It's me! It's all my fault!"
"I don't even know how I offended you! Kill me! Cut me into a thousand pieces! Just—please—spare them!"
"Your life," Aemond said, pausing as his gaze slid across the three trembling figures,
"is not worth the same as theirs."
"A choice," Aemond continued, his voice utterly flat.
Behind him, the Hightower guards silently rested their hands on their sword hilts.
The woman sobbed and struggled desperately, but was firmly restrained.
The two children stood isolated in the open space, confused and terrified.
The guards' swords slid slowly from their scabbards — half an inch.
Cheese collapsed to the ground, his entire body shaking.
This was cruelty beyond killing his father with his own hands.
"A-ah…"
A strange sound escaped his throat. His eyes were unfocused; his mind clearly on the verge of collapse.
Under Aemond's increasingly impatient gaze, beneath his wife's desperate screams, under the cold gleam of drawn steel—
His trembling, bloodstained fingers finally moved.
Painfully slow, as if carrying a thousand burdens, they pointed toward the smaller child — the little girl, still shaking.
The instant his finger settled on her, it was as if every bone in Cheese's body shattered.
He went completely limp, only a broken whimper left in his throat.
Aemond looked at the finger pointing at the girl.
No surprise crossed his face.
He even gave a faint nod, as though approving the choice.
Then he stepped into the clearing toward the girl.
She lifted her tear-soaked face, staring in terror at the silver-haired, violet-eyed prince before her.
Aemond bent slightly and leaned close to her ear.
"Did you hear that?" he whispered softly—
Then turned his head and looked back at the paralyzed Cheese.
"I want you to die."
Before the words had fully faded, he turned to the guard standing beside the boy on the other side and smiled.
The smile was release.
Whff.
It was not the heavy sound of chopping —
but the clean, sharp sound of a blade slicing swiftly through flesh and bone.
The boy never even had time to cry out.
In eyes so like his father's, before terror could fully become pain, his head separated from his neck, traced a short arc through the air, and rolled across the stone floor.
The headless body stiffened for a heartbeat — then blood erupted, and it collapsed forward.
The woman's scream died in her throat, turning into a soundless, convulsive gasp.
The girl — the one her father had chosen to die — stared blankly at her brother's fallen body, her small mouth open, completely shattered.
And Cheese—
It was as if lightning struck him.
His entire body convulsed violently. His once-empty, despairing eyes bulged impossibly wide as blood rushed back into them.
His mouth gaped open, but no sound came out. Thick blue veins stood out grotesquely on his neck.
After several seconds of deathly silence, a scream finally tore itself from the deepest part of his soul:
"Aaaaah!!"
It was no longer human — filled with unbearable pain, unimaginable terror, and the madness of being utterly toyed with.
With trembling fingers, he pointed at Aemond and stammered:
"You… you… you said… you promised… you promised—"
Aemond straightened slowly.
"I told you to choose," he replied calmly.
"That does not mean I chose."
The cold tension in his expression eased quietly.
He no longer looked at the collapsing Cheese, nor at the sobbing mother and daughter.
His gaze met Ser Criston Cole's for a brief moment.
Cole gave a slight nod and stepped forward, expressionless.
Cheese was still howling, using the last strength of his life to curse and question Aemond.
Steel flashed once more.
Clean. Precise. Final.
At last, the dungeon held only the woman's suppressed sobbing and the little girl's shrill cries.
Aemond turned away, not looking back even once.
After the fire burned out deep within his heart, what remained was not emptiness, but a cold, dust-settled calm.
The hidden threats were dealt with.
He walked toward the dungeon exit.
"Your Highness?" Terra followed carefully, asking in a low voice,
"The others… how should we deal with them?"
At that moment, Galvin Hightower stepped forward, having observed everything in silence.
This revenge was cruel — even crueler than necessary.
But it had to end.
"No one will know who they were," Galvin said evenly.
"And no one will care."
His proposal addressed not only the remaining dangers, but also avoided further unnecessary bloodshed in the Red Keep.
More importantly, he glanced at Aemond's expression without objection — and the tight strings in his heart eased slightly.
At least his nephew's madness was deliberate and controlled, not blind, chaotic bloodlust.
Aemond did not turn back.
He merely nodded — silent approval.
He had only returned to the world some of the nightmares that should have befallen Helaena.