King Viserys' gaze darted again and again between his eldest daughter and his second son, who had dropped to his knees, begging.
His lips twitched, and the words that spilled were weak and disjointed. "Rhaenyra… I established you… Why do you ask me to do this myself…"
"One eye now belongs to Jacaerys. These hyenas will only howl more shamelessly. One eye! How can they rule the Seven Kingdoms in the future?"
She moved forward on her knees, eyes blazing. "Father, I demand it now!"
"The line of succession must come before Aegon and Aemond!"
"Your Grace!" Prime Minister Otto could no longer sit idle. He stepped forward urgently, attempting to steady a situation that was on the brink of chaos.
"We feel the same grief for Prince Jacaerys' injury," he began, "but the kingdom inherits order. How can the matters of the Seven Kingdoms be decided in haste, driven by sorrow and anger?"
"Moreover, Prince Aemond's guilt is yet unproven!"
He sought to restore some measure of control.
"Resolution? A thorough investigation?" Daemon smirked with derision, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "My dear Prime Minister, how do you propose to be fair?"
"Would you punish our children?"
"Or drag this matter out for months, turning it into a spectacle?"
"Your eldest daughter, the heir to your own throne, kneels here, with her son's blood and tears staining the floor, begging you to secure his future."
"And yet… you hesitate?"
"I… no…" Viserys' words were choked by a harrowing cough. He hunched forward.
Aemond simply watched, cold and unflinching.
His gaze swept slowly across every face in the hall—greed, fear, hypocrisy, anger, indifference, none of it his concern.
Finally, he let out a quiet, mirthless laugh.
"Is this the price you want?"
Suddenly, Aemond turned to Lucerys, who had long since gone pale, and snapped, "And you! Lucerys Velaryon! You spineless little thief!"
"Do not even dare straighten your back and admit what you've done!"
"You dare shirk responsibility like a coward?"
Lucerys felt as if he'd been struck. His body, already trembling with guilt, shook violently. He staggered back, nearly paralyzed, unable to meet the burning violet eyes of his brother.
"Mercy? Sister?"
Aemond stepped forward. "I am guilty."
He pointed to the trembling Lucerys.
"But he bears no responsibility, does he?"
The hall fell silent.
Aemond's aggressive posture softened briefly as he lowered his head. "One eye… Can the future of the entire kingdom's rule be altered?"
"This is a cost I am willing to pay."
Before the words had fully left him, Aemond lunged like a cheetah!
Cold light flashed. The dagger of the Iron Guard was clenched tightly in his hand.
It all happened in a single breath; no one had time to cry out—they could only widen their eyes and watch the madness unfold.
"You mean to say… you want me to take responsibility?!"
Aemond roared, his voice twisted with extreme fury. Without hesitation, he pressed the cold, sharp blade beneath his left eye.
"I will take it!"
"An eye for an eye! Blood for blood!"
Rhaenyra, Daemon, Corlys, and every noble in the hall froze, their faces pale, stunned into disbelief.
They had expected the boy's stubborn defiance, his arguments, even his tears. But never this tragic, reckless self-destruction.
King Viserys shook violently, as if struck by an invisible hammer. He rose from the throne and reeled backward, utterly stunned by his son's actions. He could only gasp, "Ho… Ho…"—unable to speak.
The dagger tip hovered over the eye, threatening a catastrophe that could not be undone.
"Stop! Aemond! I beg you… Please…"
Queen Alyssa fell to her knees on the cold stone floor. Her cry pierced the hall, a nearly blood-chilling wail that struck Aemond's heart.
He froze, wrist pressed to his face for a moment.
Instantly, several Imperial Ironwood Guards surged forward like tigers, attacking from every direction. They gripped his arms and shoulders, wrenching the dangerous dagger from his hands and hurling it to the floor with a clatter.
Aemond's body was pinned to the ground.
The Iron Guard who had seized the dagger was drenched in sweat, heart hammering with fear. The thought of the prince harming himself—or dying—was unbearable.
"Hmph!" Aemond was held fast by several guards. His face pressed to the cold floor, his mouth gagged by the folds of a white cloak.
Yet his violet eyes still glowed, staring toward his place, toward his eccentric father. The fire of his outrage had not dimmed in the slightest.
Viserys looked down at his second son, still struggling despite exhaustion, and felt the weight of shock and calamity heavier than that brought by his troublesome elder, Daemon.
Queen Alyssa collapsed, her heart aching as she watched her son treated so roughly. Relief surged faintly—at least the worst had been avoided.
The hall was thick with an awkward, stifling silence.
Every problem, every grievance, twisted into an entangled mess that could not easily be unraveled.
It seemed that today would end with heavy hearts.