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The Throne Room, Red Keep.
Seeing that the situation had spiraled completely out of control.
"Guards!"
Viserys roared in fury at such open defiance.
"Drag that raving lunatic away!"
At the King's roar, Red Keep guards poured in from the side corridors.
But the thirteen Velaryon clansmen at Vaemond's side moved faster, backs pressing together in a ring of steel.
They meant to let Vaemond finish.
"Every word I speak is truth!" Vaemond's crazed laugh cut through the tumult like a night owl's screech.
"All of you know it! You're just too craven to say it! Too craven to offend the future Queen!"
"Silence him!" Viserys rose from the Iron Throne, a trembling finger stabbing down at Vaemond.
A guard tried to clap a hand over Vaemond's mouth; a Velaryon youth shouldered him aside.
The old man staggered, white hair flying, and pointed at the mute lords from every region.
"The Reach, the Westerlands, the Vale, the North… you all know in your hearts! You've played deaf and blind the whole time! But I, Vaemond Velaryon, will have my say this day!"
On the left, Aemond saw Rhaenyra give Daemon the slightest nod.
Daemon was already slipping toward the melee, hand on his hilt.
Aemond stepped out from the Greens' benches.
Beside him, Helaena sensed it and reached to catch him, fingertips brushing only the edge of his leather tunic.
"Aemond, don't," she whispered anxiously.
He shrugged off her grasp without looking back.
"What are you doing?" Alicent cried.
"Watch over Mother, Aegon," Aemond said coldly over his shoulder.
Bewildered, Aegon still did as asked, pressing a hand to their mother's shoulder.
"Aemond!" Alicent called.
"I do as I please."
He kept walking into the heart of the chaos.
In the uproar, Vaemond spun toward Rhaenyra, spittle flying.
"You whore! Had your mother, Queen Aemma, seen you shameless today, she would have died of grief!"
Rhaenyra's composure, held all morning, shattered at those words.
"Hold your tongue, you mangy cur!"
"Your father spoiled you rotten?" Vaemond laughed as she broke.
"No, he ruined you! Your father coddled you until you believed the Seven Kingdoms should orbit you! And those three bastards behind you!"
He jabbed a trembling finger at Jacaerys and his brothers.
"Strong bastards! And you dare call yourselves Velaryon? Dare stand in High Tide on Driftmark? Dare reach for the Iron Throne?"
The three boys' faces were ashen.
"Know this: while a single Velaryon yet draws breath, you shall never, "
Viserys exploded. "I will have his tongue for that!"
Daemon moved.
As Dark Sister cleared his hip, Valyrian steel rippled with dark waves in the morning light. Pure, icy murder shone on his face.
Daemon circled behind Vaemond, blade rising to the old man's nape, not to take his tongue, but to cut him in half.
The stroke was lightning-fast, vicious; the steel's shriek split the din.
Another blade flashed to meet it.
CLANG!!!
Steel screamed, sparks blooming.
Aemond had ripped a longsword from a guard's belt as he passed.
Now that common steel is locked beneath Dark Sister's downward arc.
At the crossing of the blades, Aemond's arm buckled. The force of Daemon's blow blasted pain from his palm to his shoulder.
Yet he clenched his teeth, muscles knotting, and held the killing edge at bay.
For an instant, the whole Throne Room seemed frozen.
Every eye stared, wide with shock, Prince and Uncle with naked steel before the Iron Throne!
Daemon's pupils narrowed. He stared at Aemond, inches away, sword lifted to stop him.
"Daemon!" Viserys rose, swaying, caught by a Kingsguard at his side.
"Put up your steel! Aemond, yield!"
Neither heard; neither moved.
Rhaenyra pressed a hand to her belly, face taut. Queen Alicent screamed, "Cole! Cole!!!" The King roared at his white knights, "Part them, at once!"
The white swords moved; they could not let kin slaughter kin beneath the crown's own roof.
Daemon shifted to a two-hand grip; Dark Sister quivered.
Steel hummed as he started forward.
Aemond drew a steadying breath and reset his stance.
He knew he was not Daemon's equal, not in skill, not in strength, not in experience.
"You," Daemon said slowly, "are courting death..."
Aemond flicked his wrist, redirecting the force of the blow, sliding half a step back, sword point still leveled at Daemon, a smile on his face.
"His Grace only wants his tongue, Uncle. Not his life."
"I've changed my mind." Daemon licked his lips, murder rising in his eyes.
"The old fool's life, I'll take it. As for you..."
His gaze raked over Aemond.
"One eye, perhaps? Or... a hand? Something to make you remember the price?"
Aemond's smile never wavered.
"Uncle, try it first."
Daemon narrowed his eyes, then laughed, mocking.
"Hah? Boy, whoever displeases me deserves to die."
"What a coincidence." Aemond's violet eyes flashed coldly.
"I think the same."
Before the words faded, Aemond moved.
Not to defend, but to attack.
He lunged, longsword thrusting straight for Daemon's throat.
Daemon's pupils shrank; Dark Sister swept up to bar the way.
Clang!
Steel met steel, sparks flying.
But Aemond's assault did not stop. He spun with the recoil, blade slicing toward Daemon's flank, abandoning all defense.
Daemon was forced back half a step, Dark Sister slashing down to parry.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The ring of blades came like driving rain. Nobles watched, dumbstruck.
Daemon, unable to finish him instantly, grew furious.
He saw Aemond overextend; Dark Sister chopped down with the full weight of Valyrian steel.
CRACK!
Aemond's common steel sword snapped.
The broken blade spun into the air, arced in the dawn light, and clattered to the floor. Aemond stumbled back, only a jagged half-sword left in his grip.
Before he could steady himself, Daemon's left elbow hammered toward his brow.
Aemond didn't flinch; his left fist swung out in answer.
Thud!
The elbow caught Aemond's temple; the fist smashed into Daemon's jaw.
Both grunted, reeling apart.
Aemond's vision blurred, bees buzzing in his ears, but he set his jaw and stood. Daemon's chin throbbed; he tasted iron blood.
"Can't last much longer, can you?" Daemon sneered, Dark Sister lifting again.
Aemond tightened his grip on the jagged half-blade, its broken edge pointing at him.
"Care to test it?"
Daemon grinned, wild and eager.
"Let's test it!"
He charged; Dark Sister fell like black lightning.
CLANG!
A white-cloaked figure stepped between them.
Ser Criston Cole's greatsword met Dark Sister, broad steel holding firm against the Valyrian blade.
"My Prince, before the Iron Throne, lay down your weapon."
Daemon laughed, scornful.
"Cole, you think you can stop me?"
"I can try." Cole's voice was calm, blade unmoving.
"After all, we've fought twice, both times I won, didn't I?"
Daemon's mad laughter rang out, sword leveled.
"Cole, don't flatter yourself."
Cole stepped forward. "My duty is to protect the royal family and keep order in the Throne Room. If you insist on fighting here, I'll do my duty."
The three stood locked, blades ready.
Every noble in the hall held their breath. In the chaos, guards and Velaryon clansmen froze.
They stared at the sudden royal brawl.
Below the Iron Throne, Hand Otto knew the fight was done.
Yet in his heart, he approved of what Aemond had done.
"Restrain them!" Viserys finally roared.
"Kingsguard, seize those madmen! And you!" He pointed at the stunned guards.
"Stand gaping like fools?"
Six white cloaks moved as one.
Two lunged for Daemon, one locking his sword arm, another seizing his shoulder.
Two more seized Aemond, reaching for his blade.
A third knight knocked Daemon's sword away; a fourth pinned him from behind.
"Get off me!" Daemon roared, struggling.
But four Kingsguard, chosen from the best, held the Prince fast. Guards poured in, forcing the combatants apart.
Aemond offered no resistance.
When a white cloak touched his hilt, he opened his hand. He had done what he came to do.
Clatter.
The broken sword hit the floor, ringing clear.
Cole sheathed his greatsword and stepped back, eyes still on Daemon.
Daemon thrashed a moment longer, then stilled.
He stared at Aemond, laughter rising, fierce and exultant.
"Good... very good... Aemond Targaryen..."
"You want to match me? Do you have what it takes?"