"The blood of Lucerys will be repaid tenfold. A brother for a brother."
In which Daenys Velaryon, the oldest child of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon, must come to terms with the fact that the man she loves has committed an unforgivable crime...
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"Make sure you kiss your knuckles before you punch me in the face."
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"You called, my Lord Hand?"
The air within Lord Otto Hightower's chambers hung thick with tension, a palpable weight that seemed to press down on every surface. Aemond Targaryen, entered cautiously, his steps hesitant as he surveyed the room. His grandsire sat at his desk, his piercing gaze fixed upon a small scrap of parchment clenched tightly in his hand, while Aemond's mother stood by the window, her expression troubled, her eyes distant as if lost in thought.
The prince cleared his throat softly, seeking to break the heavy silence that enveloped the room. Otto's head snapped up, his eyes ablaze with fury as they landed upon his grandson. Without a word, he rose from his seat, the parchment falling forgotten to the floor as he strode purposefully towards Aemond. The young Targaryen felt a surge of apprehension rising within him as Otto's hands closed around his shoulders, his grip like iron.
"This is all your doing," he seethed, his voice low and menacing. "If you had just kept control of your wife as I instructed, none of this would have come to pass."
Aemond frowned in bewilderment, his mind racing to comprehend the accusation laid at his feet. Behind them, Alicent moved forward, her voice a soothing counterpoint to her father's rage.
"Father, please," she implored, her tone beseeching. "Aemond meant no harm. You mustn't blame him for this."
But Otto's anger was unrelenting, his gaze fixed unwaveringly upon his grandson.
"No harm?" he spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "Look at what your incompetence has wrought!"
"I'm not sure I understand..."
"One thing! I only asked for one thing: keep that mutt of a girl on a leash, but you couldn't even do that! And now the consequences of your weakness are plain for all to see."
"If you would just tell me what is going on..."
"Lord Borros is dead," Otto hissed, his words heavy with accusation. "And Storm's End has retracted their support for the king."
Aemond's breath caught in his throat, his mind reeling at the implications of his words.
"How... how did he die?"
His grandsire's scowl deepened, his grip tightening on the prince's shoulders as if to punctuate his words with physical force.
"It is said he was set ablaze. And your wife was witnessed at the scene."
Aemond's mind raced, struggling to reconcile the image of his Daenys with the accusations being hurled against her. Just days ago, she had departed in a state of disarray, bruised and broken almost beyond recognition, and now, she stood accused of committing crimes of war. The realization hit Aemond like a thunderbolt, leaving him reeling with a mixture of shock and the slightest bit of awe.
