Robert’s Second Chance: Dance of Dragons Rewritten

The crown didn't fit properly.

Unsurprising, he supposed. It had been made for a different man. A conqueror. The wielder of the mighty Blackfyre. A taller man…or perhaps a more muscular, imposing man, like King Maegor. But on him, he just looked like a little boy playing dress-up in the king's closet, not like a king himself.

I am a king. They cheered for me. They kneel to me…

The crown shifted forward, nearly touching his brow.

"I want my own crown," Aegon said aloud, eyes fixed on the mirror rather than where Aemond was dozing in his bed, wrapped up in the fur blanket with a happy, sated smile on his face.

"Your own crown?" Aemond mumbled sleepily.

"Yes, my own crown." He studied his reflection, the shape of his face, and wondered which style would suit him best. An intricate filigree perhaps. Gold studded with a few emeralds. A proper crown for the Green King with the golden dragon.

Maybe it would help him to feel like less of an imposter.

They cheered for me. They kneel to me…

Awake now, Aemond sat up in bed, fur still draped around his hips. "Brother, the crown you wear is the crown of Aegon the Conqueror. Valyrian steel. The ultimate symbol of legitimacy."

Atop the head of a fraud.

"It doesn't fit," he said tersely instead.

Unfortunately, his younger brother, ever the more perceptive of the two of them, knew the matter was not so simple. Not bothering to dress, Aemond got out of bed and slipped in behind him as he stared into the mirror, wrapping his arms around his waist.

"This crown means so much to our family," Aemond said. "So much to all of Westeros. Far more than its monetary value."

Yeah, yeah, I don't need a history lesson.

Nuzzling him sweetly, Aemond continued. "The Conqueror was not born to be a king, brother, did you know that? He was born to be Lord of Dragonstone. Just another unremarkable name in our family line."

Everyone knows that.

"Nor was he the eldest," Aemond said. "His sister, Visenya, was the oldest of the dragon trio. But it mattered not that he was the second born, and it mattered not that he was not born to be a king. He knew in his blood and in his bones that he was meant to be the king. He fought for the seven kingdoms. He won the seven kingdoms. And that crown is a symbol of his victory. His determination."

Aegon said nothing, blinking at himself in the mirror, letting Aemond's words sink in. A crown is not a sentient thing, brother. It doesn't know whether or not I've earned it…

Technically committing treason, Aemond gently lifted the crown and re-positioned it on Aegon's head, a little higher and further back, showing more of his face. It wouldn't stay in this position for long, but Aegon couldn't deny it looked much better this way.

"You'll need to wear it while the war is ongoing," Aemond said gently. "But once the war is won, once you are undisputed King of the Seven Kingdoms and all the lords kneel to you, then you can make your own crown if you wish. But I hope you'll keep it, Aeg. It looks glorious on you."

Gently reaching down, Aemond grabbed first Aegon's right hand, then his left, slowly flipping them over to reveal smooth, unmarred skin.

"There's a legend about the throne, you know," Aemond said. "That it cuts unworthy leaders. The Conqueror himself was cut one time when he lost his nerve about Dorne. Aenys, the useless halfwit, was cut regularly. Maegor was fine for a while, but he was killed by the throne after his ruthlessness devolved into pure evil. Heaven knows our worthless father was sliced to ribbons. But Jaehaerys? He was never cut once in the decades upon decades he sat on the throne. Nor was Alysanne on the handful of occasions she sat it for him. Nor was Aemon, their original heir, nor our grandsire Baelon, the few times he sat the throne as Hand. Nor has our mother or grandfather ever been cut when they sat the throne on our father's behalf."

Kissing Aegon's cheek again, Aemond added, "And it's never once cut you, Aeg. If you didn't belong there, if you weren't worthy of it, it would have."

Aegon hated to admit his brother's fairytales of sentient thrones and crowns was affecting him…but damned if his chest didn't feel just the faintest bit lighter.

"Father didn't believe I was worthy…"

Aemond snorted. "And what did Father know about worthiness?" he challenged.

Nothing, Aegon silently agreed. And we don't owe him a damn thing. A terrible thing to think about his own father, but Viserys had been a terrible father.

Long before Driftmark, Aegon knew his father didn't love him. He'd chased his affections for years, but Viserys wanted little to do with him…never gave him one fraction of the love that he lavished on Jace and Luke so willingly. Aegon wasn't even certain his father knew the names of the grandchildren he and Helaena had given him. They weren't descended from Rhaenyra, his golden child, and so they didn't matter. 

Turning slightly in Aemond's arms, he gazed upon his brother's face, trailing his finger along the exposed scar. That night may as well have been seared into his mind with a branding iron, so fearful and distressed that he'd been fighting back tears of his own. He liked to tease Aemond back then, but that was still his little brother. Face sliced open. Crippled for life. Viserys made it readily apparent that he didn't give a shit. Rhaenyra's sons being called a cruel name was the greater offense to him than his own son being mutilated.

Fuck Viserys. He's lucky I didn't piss on his fucking corpse.

"I told you once that I trained myself not to care…" Aegon admitted. "About Mother's disappointment…or about Father's apathy. But if I'm being honest, little brother…"

Aemond stroked the side of his face. "You always wanted your birthright?"

"Not even that…I always wanted Father to tell me that he believed I deserved it. That he had faith that I would be a good king…" He balled his fists, drawing a deep breath. "This isn't Dorne, Aemond. Father broke over eight-thousand years of Westerosi tradition to name her heir over me, and he never explained why."

"No, he never said why," Aemond agreed. "And it doesn't make a damn bit of difference. He was a shitty father, he was a shitty king, and he was a weak man. Fuck him, and fuck what he believed."

"Fuck him, and fuck what he believed…" Aegon repeated quietly. Then he squared his shoulders and said more confidently, "Fuck him, and fuck what he believed!"

I will be a good king. I will be a great king. I will settle this damn crisis with Rhaenyra, and I will enjoy a long and happy reign.

And I'm going to be a better father than Viserys ever was…

Aegon turned to study his own reflection one last time, then stuck out his jaw stubbornly.

"No two people have the same head shape," he reasoned. "I'll add some hidden fur to the interior, or perhaps a removable spacer. Then it will fit me perfectly."

And perhaps once I earn it, like the Conqueror did, I will never fret about it not fitting properly again.

"An excellent idea," Aemond agreed, stepping back to admire him with a smile…a smile that triggered one of Aegon's own.

"Before I add anything…" he said, removing the crown from his head and stepping in closer to Aemond. "Let's see how it looks on you."

Aemond blinked at him, jaw slightly agape, but he gave no protest as Aegon stood on his tiptoes and placed the crown atop his head.

Of course it looks perfect, Aegon thought a bit grumpily.

For a moment, Aemond stood, staring at himself in the mirror, and Aegon knew that Aemond saw it too. The crown looked like it had been crafted for his little brother. Like it belonged on his head rather than Aegon's.

You should have been the elder. You would have made an amazing king.

Perhaps…perhaps Aegon would name Aemond as his Hand after Otto eventually passed on or needed to retire. Then they could rule together.

Shaking his head, Aemond seemed to snap out of his little fantasy, and now he looked affronted. "Aegon, this is sacrilege. I'm naked. The crown is your symbol of authority and power, not some prop to use in a round of dress up!" But before Aemond could reach up to remove it, Aegon stopped him, giving him a sultry smirk.

"You know, brother…" he said, sinking to his knees and trailing his hands along Aemond's muscular stomach, making his brother's breath hitch. Playfully, he planted a kiss along Aemond's pubic bone, a scant few inches away from his already-hardening cock. "I don't think you've had a chance to practice being a courteous recipient while standing. An inexcusable oversight in your lessons. One I surely must correct…"

Aegon ran his tongue along the underside of Aemond's cock, a long, slow lick that ended in him lapping at the sensitive head. Aemond's gasp, followed by one of his adorable whimpers, had Aegon's own cock twitching in his trousers. 

"After all," he reasoned, "Tomorrow you fly for Riverrun. Perhaps to meet your future bride. It may be some time before we get another chance to…train."

Aegon muffled his chuckle. 'Lessons.' He's adorable.

His self-righteous little brother had a strong appetite for sex, and he loved nothing more than having Aegon suck his cock. He loved getting fucked by Aegon, and he loved fucking Aegon in return. He loved being tied up in silken cords, his pleasure drawn out for hours with the help of some illicit toys Aegon had purchased years back. He loved to cuddle afterwards, and he smiled so beautifully when Aegon told him that he loved him. But the only way he could get his uptight little brother to relax and enjoy it was to refer to their lovemaking sessions as 'lessons'.

Whatever Aegon needed to call them, he was happy to do it. Ever since he and Aemond began their 'lessons', Aegon had been going to the Street of Silk less and less…and now it had been a long time since he'd gone at all. The way Aemond looked at him, eye shining with love and affection, had slowly chased away the need to go hunting for temporary love from some stranger in a filthy brothel.

"A w-wise idea indeed, y-AH! Your grace…" Aemond panted as Aegon licked his cock again.

Good. Now let me hear your pretty voice while you enjoy it. And don't you dare take off that crown.

What a sight they must be, a king on his knees, sucking his brother's cock. Aegon massaged his balls, occasionally lapping at them with his tongue, stroking Aemond with his hand. Aemond, his eager student, panted and cried out for him beautifully, hand grabbing a fistful of Aegon's silken hair, holding tight but not yanking.

For the next ten minutes, you're the king, Aegon thought, swallowing Aemond's cock deeply and humming, enjoying the way it made his brother gasp and shiver. So take advantage while I'm offering.

He relaxed his throat, grabbed Aemond by the hips, and tugged him forward, looking up at him and wordlessly giving permission.

Aemond's brow furrowed, and almost timidly, he gave an experimental thrust forward, moaning as he fucked into Aegon's throat.

That's it, Aegon silently encouraged, holding his hips and encouraging him to do it again. You'll love it.

Aegon sometimes allowed Aemond to thrust into his mouth while he sucked him off, but now he encouraged him to be rough. Encouraged him to grip his hair too hard, almost painfully. It took him a minute to find his nerve, but with a few reassuring taps to his thigh, Aemond began to move in earnest. Snapping his hips forward, he gripped Aegon's hair to hold him steady while he fucked his throat. And all the while, Aegon scratched his nails down Aemond's thighs, a painful edge that made his brother's moans just a bit more feral.

"Aeg…ah! Fuck…soon…" he gasped in warning, just like Aegon had taught him.

Aemond's balls grew tight, and this thighs began to tremble, and so Aegon pulled back ever so slightly, sucking and swallowing until Aemond let out a strangled cry, cumming forcefully with his hands tangled in Aegon's hair.

Thank god I learned how to get it down my throat quickly, Aegon thought, trying not to gag as he grabbed his cup of wine to wash it down. He misliked the bitter, salty taste, and it was only a strong affection for his brother that made him swallow, knowing that it gave him a sexy little thrill.

Though not half as sexy as when Aemond joined him on the ground, pulling him in close and kissing him while he unfastened Aegon's trousers in turn, taking him in hand and stroking him.

Such a good student. That was one of our first lessons. Always reciprocate…But Aegon put it out of his mind when Aemond kissed him, swallowing his moans while he stroked. Long after it was done, Aemond kissed him. Even when they eventually decided it was time to get up off the floor and get back into Aegon's bed, snuggling once again beneath the warm, soft fur.

"New lesson," Aegon mumbled into Aemond's shoulder, kissing his warm flesh. "Being a good bedmate. Your future bride will expect you to stay the night with her in her bed, keeping her warm. And so you will practice here, with me, tonight."

Aemond didn't argue, merely wrapped his arms around Aegon more tightly. There were no secret passageways in Maegor's Holdfast, so Aemond would not be able to slip out before the maids arrived, but Aegon's royal apartments did have a spare bedroom. Aemond would simply pretend he spent the night there instead.

Aegon smiled as he drifted off into a happy, sated sleep, Aemond warmth lulling him. The crown may look far better on you for now, little brother, but I swear I will prove myself worthy, both of it and the throne. There is nothing that matters more to me than our family, and I will do anything to protect all of you.

Neither one of them realized at that very moment, their family was minutes away from horror. For in one hour, frantic Kingsguards would pound on Aegon's door, terrifying him with the news that the castle had been invaded and the Queen had been attacked.

Rhaenyra

He looks so much like Harwin, Rhaenyra thought sadly as Jace loomed over the desk in his room, frantically making notes on a sheet of paper and trying to commit them to memory before he, inevitably, had to throw them in the fire to keep them from being discovered.

Jace was so brave. Fearless, just like Harwin was. Or perhaps his relentless determination was a way for him to distract himself from his grief over Luke's death. Mother and son had mourned him together, Rhaenyra sharing her guilt while Jace shared his regret.

"I was trying to toughen him up," Jace had confessed, weeping in her arms. "He was so afraid of Aemond after they overpowered us at dinner. I wanted to help him be a better warrior so he didn't have to be afraid ever again. But I was mean to him when we were sparring. The last time we ever spoke alone, just the two of us, I was shouting at him…"

It wasn't your fault, son. It was mine. That shouldn't have been the last time you saw your brother, because I never should have sent him to Storm's End in the first place. She gripped her heart. I was trying to do for him what my father never did for me. Make him feel included. Make him feel like an adult. I never should have let him go…

And now he was gone.

But she forced herself to take a deep breath and square her shoulders. I am a Queen, and I may be at the cusp of a war. I do not have the luxury of laying in bed all day grieving. There will be time for that later. For now, I must ensure the safety of the rest of my family. 

A week had passed since Daemon left for Harrenhal, leaving Jace and Rhaenyra to coordinate with their Council on Dragonstone, but it was proving difficult. Daemon's accusation that Borros Baratheon had spies in their midst had been weighing heavily on Rhaenyra's mind, and she was fearful of coordinating any war efforts when she was not certain she could trust the people with whom she was coordinating.

But treading water is no longer an option either…

"Jace," she called to him, snapping his attention away from his writings. "Son, I know you've been working tirelessly to try to find the spy, but it's time for us to push forward."

Jace winced, his beautiful brown eyes pinched with pain. "Mother, we can't," he said, his voice cracking. "This spy…they might be the reason that Luke is dead! What if we make more plans and they fall right into the Green's hands too? What if…"

"What if we do nothing at all and the Greens gain the upper hand while we are sitting on ours?" Rhaenyra countered, stepping further into his room and running her hand through his hair. "Daemon has taken Harrenhal, and he is trying to gather swords for us in the Riverlands, but we both know that won't be enough. If we want any chance of resolving this conflict before it evolves into all-out war, we need to secure the loyalty of the Vale and the North. And the only way we're going to do that is if you return to the Vale to continue your negotiations with Lady Jeyne, then head North, as we originally planned."

Jace shook his head. "We have time for me to spend a few more days investigating!" he insisted. "Corlys and Rhaenys have sealed the Gullet…"

"Which will inconvenience the Greens, absolutely," she agreed. "But it will not cripple them. They are still able to receive shipments of supplies from the Reach and from the Crownlands Houses they've managed to sway. Remaining stagnant is not an option, not anymore."

Jace gripped the edge of his desk. "If I go, I leave you and the rest of my siblings alone here with a potential traitor…"

"And tomorrow, I may have my throat slit in my bed by an assassin," she reasoned. "We are well protected by our sworn guards, Jace. You will return to the Vale tomorrow morning. That is an order from your Queen."

Jace hesitated only a moment before sighing, his shoulders slumping. "Yes mother." 

And as for this traitor? Rhaenyra decided. I will find him myself. And until I do, I must be careful to only share information with those I know for certain I can trust.

Robert

So, the fucking sack of shit Daemon has taken Harrenhal, just like in the original timeline, Robert gruffed, setting down the message he received from Larys Strong. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

On one hand, Daemon taking Harrenhal made it easier to plan for what was coming next. Civil war was about to break out in the Riverlands. But that civil war would take time, and Daemon had only just taken the castle. Robert still had plenty of time to keep the Blacks from securing the kingdom. Grover Tully had, fortunately, been amenable to receiving Aemond to discuss the possibility of a marriage pact, and Aemond would leave for Riverrun on the morrow.

But Robert had counseled Aemond that Grover was not the one he actually needed to impress:

"Grover Tully is a very old man, and from what I've heard, he's getting sickly," Robert had warned Aemond when he spoke to him earlier that day. "He is still Lord of Riverrun, but it is his son, Elmo, is the one you will need to impress. He is effectively leading their forces now."

In the original timeline, Elmo had disobeyed his father and stayed out of the war until Grover died, after which he declared for Rhaenyra. But if Aemond could sway Elmo, then it would change the entire course of the war. Many of the subsequent battles could be won or avoided entirely.

And that's even if I don't manage to convince Winterfell to side with us…Robert mused. He was still trying to find a balance on that one. Cregan Stark could not remain neutral. If he stayed in the North, he would never meet Alysanne Blackwood, and he needed to marry her in order for the Stark bloodline to be unaffected. But if Cregan sided with Rhaenyra, he might die before the war ended, which would be equally disastrous.

The only solution is to get him on our side and make sure the Northern forces stay out of combat as much as possible…

A tapping on his door snapped him out of his musings, and a guard stuck his head in the door.

"Pardon my interruption, Lord Borros, but the most curious of things has just happened, and you told me to report any irregularities," he said.

Robert waved his hand. "Get on with it," he said gruffly, irritated as he took a swig of his water.

"Well, my Lord, you requested that your household guard coordinate with the castle guard to keep watch on the sealed passageways. Ben, the man we had overseeing the tower of the Hand, was supposed to report for changing of the guard ten minutes ago, but he's vanished…"

FUCK! Robert roared, leaping up from his desk. Blood and Cheese! Blood and Cheese! I didn't prevent it! It's happening tonight!

He had to stop it! He had to stop it! Aegon and Helaena couldn't lose their son! Helaena could not be forced to endure that hell! It would destroy everything, sending Aegon into a black rage and Helaena into a dark spiral. Dreamfyre would be taken out of the war. Otto Hightower would be sacked as Hand. And…

No! This can't happen!

Without hesitation, Robert rushed to the wall, where he had mounted a Warhammer, grabbed it, pushed past his guard, and sprinted for the Tower of the Hand.

Borros Baratheon did not have the body Robert once had, back when he had the strength and raw power of a young god. Nor was he half so well-conditioned as Robert had been. But he was still a Baratheon, well-muscled and twice as strong as the average man. His body was unspoiled by gluttony and not yet weakened by age. A powerful warrior. A lethal warrior.

And once Robert held the Warhammer in his hand, he knew Borros's body would more than suffice.

"FOLLOW ME!" he commanded, bellowing out the command with the same gusto he had during the Rebellion, charging towards the Tower of the Hand as fast as his legs would carry him.

Let me get there in time! he prayed to whatever gods could hear him. You sent me back for a reason! You wanted me to change what was for a reason! Please let me get there in time, or all may be lost…

Perhaps it was the gods themselves that gave swiftness to Robert's feet. Perhaps it was just his own raw determination. Whatever it was, he reached the tower of the hand faster than he ever dreamed possible…

And found the dead bodies of Dowager Queen Alicent's household guards strewn in the hall outside of her chambers.

"NO!" he roared, drawing back his foot and kicking the door, splintering it to kindling before he charged inside and…

Oh, thank the gods!

Dowager Queen Alicent was bound hand and foot in ropes, a gag in her mouth, while two knife-wielding men screamed at a tearful Helaena. Helaena's Kingsguard lay dead on the floor, but he had not died without a fight. The larger assassin, Blood, seemed to be bleeding from a gash in his ribcage, while the smaller one, Cheese, had been stabbed through the shoulder.

He delayed them long enough for me to get here! Robert realized. And his death shall not be in vain!

Blood and Cheese wheeled on Robert, raising their knives threateningly, and Helaena used the opportunity to lunge forward, snatching her children out of reach of the two assassins and leaping protectively in front of them.

It was all the opening Robert needed. For although Blood and Cheese both charged at him with their knives, what threat was a knife against a Warhammer?

With every ounce of strength in his body, Robert drew back the hammer, let out a fierce battle cry, and slammed the weapon into the side of Blood's head, crushing it like a fresh summer melon and painting the stone floor with his brains.

Blood pumping, the sight of his friend's death did not deter Cheese, and he continued his charge, knife raised and poised to slash at Robert's face. But Cheese was a commoner, untrained in the art of battle, and Robert evaded him easily, muscle memory from years of training kicking in and allowing him to step back in time. But just as he drew back his weapon to crush Cheese's skull, he checked himself.

We need to interrogate one of them so the Greens know it was Daemon…

And so Robert swung lower instead, slamming his Warhammer into Cheese's hip and shattering his pelvis, sending him crashing to the floor, screaming in agony.

You think that hurts? Robert scoffed, spitting on the screaming would-be assassin. Wait until you see what King Aegon is going to do to you after he gets you in the torture chamber. You just tried to kill a fucking six-year-old boy!

Helaena's screams echoed through the chamber, and Robert looked over to see her huddled on the ground, hysterically crying as she gripped all three of her children so tightly that the younger one, Maelor, yelped and tried to fidget out of her grip. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, however, clung to their mother just as fiercely as she clung to them, their faces red and strewn with snot and tears. From the trauma of what almost happened to them, or from the trauma of seeing Blood's brains knocked clean out of his head, Robert didn't know.

But they're alive, he thought, breathing a sigh of relief. They're all alive. They'll heal. I saved their lives.

He heard his guards (the useless twats finally arrived) clamoring in behind him, and he barked, "Fetch the servants to tend to the Queen and Queen Mother…" Then with a sneer, he added, "And get someone in here to get rid of…" He gestured towards the bloody mess on the floor. "This."

Aemond

Thank the gods this isn't my first time seeing blood and brains smeared on the castle floor, Aemond thought as he forced back the urge to retch. The meaty, coppery smell of blood and the foul scent of shit was turning his stomach, even after the bodies of the assassin and dead Kingsguard were whisked out of the room. But he couldn't afford to be seen as having a delicate stomach. Not when his sister needed him to be strong for her.

Walking past the sitting area, Aemond entered the bedchamber, where Helaena and Alicent were huddled together on the bed, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera clutching them tightly while they cried. Maelor, however, was wrapped in Aegon's arms as his brother paced back and forth in front of the hearth, simultaneously furious and rubbing his son's back, whispering to him soothingly.

Aemond rushed first to Helaena (shaken, but mercifully unharmed), then to Alicent, who happily accepted his embrace, shedding her tears into his shoulder. Her delicate wrists were rubbed raw from the ropes, and a red mark stretched along her cheeks from the gag, but otherwise, she was unharmed.

They're safe, Aemond let out a shuddering exhale as he hugged his mother tightly. They're all safe. No one is hurt.

Aegon, however, was not half so relieved. His brother was more furious than Aemond had ever seen him, pacing back and forth faster with a manic glint in his eye, even as he continued to whisper soothingly to his crying son.

"They went after my children!" Aegon spat, snarling like an angry dragon but stopping himself before the sound could distress Maelor. Lowering his voice, he added, "They went after my wife! My mother! They tried to kill almost my entire family!" 

Alicent choked on a sob. "I knew this would happen…" she mourned gripping Aemond tighter. "Lucerys…"

But just as Aemond's belly began to twist, Aegon shook his head.

"No, mother," he corrected. "Lucerys was a dragon rider killed during a budding war, and they don't even know that we were responsible. This is not the same thing. We did not send assassins to slaughter women and children! To rip babes out of their mother's arms! This…" He squeezed Maelor tighter, kissing him on the cheek. "This is an act of pure evil, and it will not stand!"

No, it won't, Aemond silently agreed, looking over at Helaena's tear-streaked face, her lower lip still trembling, unwilling to let go of Jaehaera. Of all the people in all the world to hurt, they went after her. They went after Helaena.

Sweet Helaena, who saw the beauty in everything, even the foulest of spiders. Who had the kindest, gentlest heart of anyone Aemond had ever met. A bit quirky and eccentric, yes, but happy and blithe.

Westeros is not worthy of someone as pure and wonderful as her, Aemond thought, balling his fists as he ground his teeth. And she was the first one they tried to destroy.

If even sweet Helaena was not safe from the Blacks' cruelty, than no one was.

None of us will ever be safe again until they are vanquished. Until I burn every last fucking one of them…

But to his surprise, Helaena reached over and gently grabbed his sleeve.

"No," she whispered to him softly. "You mustn't wander down that path, Aemond. Yes, you and Vhagar will need to fight, but you mustn't let the dragon inside consume you. It will burn you alive, body and soul, until there is nothing left…" She met his gaze, her blue-purple eyes still swimming with tears. "And I still need my brother. I still need you just the way you are now."

Her tears were like knives in his heart, and he gently brought her hand up to his lips to kiss. "I won't do anything to make you cry," he swore.

She seemed to believe him, because she relaxed, her grip on Jaehaera slackening just a bit.

Looking past Aemond, she called, "Husband?"

Aemond expected him to snap at her, and when Aegon looked up, still furious, it seemed he was about to do exactly that…but at the last second, he checked himself, speaking gently. "What do you need, Helaena? Do you want me to call for the maester to bring you essence of nightshade to help you sleep?"

She shook her head. "Perhaps later, but for right now, Lord Borros needs to speak with you."

Aegon snorted. "He can wait…"

"He saved all of our lives, Aegon," Helaena corrected. "My Kingsguard injured the assassins, but if not for Lord Borros, we would all be dead."

Her Kingsguard, Aemond thought, blinking in realization. Helaena knew she would need one. If she didn't have him, Lord Borros wouldn't have made it in time.

He long suspected his sister might be a Dreamer, but now he was almost certain it was true. She had saved them. She had saved their mother, her children, and herself.

"Aegon…" Helaena said softly. "I'm more certain now than I was before that we need to trust Lord Borros. I can't explain it, but…" She locked eyes with Aegon and said softly in High Valyrian, "I know."

Aegon hesitated for only a moment, then slowly nodded, passing Maelor back to Alicent and straightening, beckoning Aemond to join him as the left the bedchamber and made his way outside the apartment, where Lord Borros was waiting for them.

The Baratheon lord seemed eerily calm for a man who had just bludgeoned the brains right out of an assassin's head, sitting with a bucket of water and a vial of oil while he cleaned his hammer. Though of course, once he saw Aegon, he set the weapon down, stood, and bowed his head respectfully.

"Your grace," he greeted. "Are the Queens faring well? And the little princes and princess?"

"They are distressed, but they will be fine," Aegon assured him. "And you have my gratitude, Lord Borros. More than merely my gratitude. Your loyalty is a blessing that I can never repay. If not for you, I would have lost almost my entire family tonight."

Borros nodded solemnly. "I feared the Blacks might attempt something like this, your grace. That's why I ordered my guards to be extra vigilant for any anomalies. Legends of the Rogue Prince have existed long before your birth. A vile monster with no soul, they say. Even if Prince Lucerys had lived, he might have attempted something like this…" Scowling, Borros added, "Even if Princess Rhaenyra had been the one to ascend the throne, he might have attempted something like this. Less overt, of course. Making it look like an accident."

Aegon's fist balled, but he nodded. "Daemon and Caraxes are at Harrenhal. Aemond and I shall mount Sunfyre and Vhagar at once to fly for Dragonstone, and…"

Borros's eyes flashed, and Aemond caught a hint of fear.

Odd…But if he wanted to hurt us, all he had to do was let Daemon's assassins succeed. And Helaena did tell us to trust him…

"Your grace, that is probably the first thing the Rogue Prince would expect," Borros warned gravely. "For all we know, he has a trap prepared. It does not serve to avenge what happened here tonight if you risk your life to do it."

Aegon growled, rage flashing in his eyes…but then he forced himself to swallow it, taking a deep breath and asking, "So what would you have me do then? Doing nothing after my wife and children were attacked will make me look weak."

Borros shook his head. "You will not be doing nothing. You will be continuing to gather your swords. You will be preparing to march on Duskendale and force their surrender, exactly as you planned. Your brother," he nodded at Aemond, "will secure an alliance with Riverrun, and hopefully Winterfell soon after. It will make you look smart, your grace. It will make you look strategic. It will make you look patient. And after you've crushed your enemy beneath your heel, you can unleash your fury and take whatever justice you see fit. No one will dare even think of you as weak after that."

Aegon stood tense for just a moment longer, then slowly exhaled. "Crush my enemy beneath my heel," he said softly, chuffing. "I do suppose I like the sound of that. An opportunity I won't get if you are right and they have a trap waiting for us."

Borros nodded encouragingly. "Few things are more satisfying than obliterating those who have wronged the ones you love…from what I hear."

I don't doubt it, Aemond thought, folding his arms. Helaena doesn't want me to give in to my inner dragon, but surely she would not fault me for collecting Daemon's head. Not after what he tried to do to her.

Aegon nodded. "You are wiser than I was lead to believe, Lord Borros," he admitted. Then, with an almost teasing smile, he added, "Perhaps you might make for the best Hand during this time of war."

Borros smiled, but he shook his head. "Your grandsire may be one of the smartest men in all the realm, your grace. And a far better politician than I can ever be…" Almost comically, he looked down at his bloody Warhammer. "As you can likely tell, I have a bit of a temper…"

Aegon laughed, "Well, you do have Targaryen blood, after all."

After a few more pleasantries (and a few offers of rewards that Borros respectfully declined), Aegon bid Borros goodnight, saying that he wanted to check in on his wife and children again before retiring. But just as Aemond was about to follow him, Borros reached forward, gently grabbing Aemond by the arm.

"My prince…" Borros said softly. "As you are aware, your uncle is at Harrenhal."

Aemond nodded curtly, trying not to yank his arm back out of Borros's grasp. Presumptuous of him to touch me…but I suppose he did just save my sister and my mother.

"My prince…I know I am not the only one of us with a temper," Borros said softly. "Do not let yours cloud your good judgement. There will be a time to reclaim Harrenhal from your uncle, but it will not be tomorrow. Stick to our plan. Go to Riverrun, gain their loyalty, and then return home so that we might make our plans for Winterfell. Leave Harrenhal be."

Aemond stiffened. He hadn't even considered that he would be a stone's throw from Harrenhal on his venture to Riverrun. But now that he thought of it…

Vhagar is more powerful than Caraxes. I can kill Daemon before the war begins.

But…But what if Helaena truly was a Dragon Dreamer? She told me to trust Lord Borros…

"When the time comes," Aemond said, his voice low and lethal. "I will be the one to kill Daemon."

A bold statement to make without permission from his king, but he knew Aegon would not deny him.

Borros nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. "If you're patient and bide your time, my prince, you may even get to shove his own sword right through his eye."