Aemon Targaryen

-Chapter 162-

-POV Aemon Targaryen-

As I watched the masses before me stare in terror at the charred bones, I felt a weight fall from my shoulders, for I had finally managed to deliver my message properly — and those fools had a lot to do with it.

I cast a quick glance at Willem, who had returned last night with vital information to catch those fanatics in the hole where they were hiding, preparing a riot in response to Otto Hightower's execution.

'Thanks to this, the fear that had left the silent masses will return with such force that we won't have to worry about suppressing a possible uprising.'

'At least not in the Crownlands.'

I wasn't naive enough to believe that the fanatics coming from distant regions like Oldtown and its surroundings wouldn't need a reminder... more tangible than mere rumors from the North to sever ties with this rotten branch of the Faith.

I looked up at the lords, and even from afar, I could see the fear etched on their faces — and that was nearly the intended effect.

It wasn't the crowds I wanted to send this message to first, no… it was these increasingly greedy lords. Since the Great Council of 101, they had fancied themselves kingmakers, scheming constantly because Jaehaerys had asked these fools for advice on a matter for which he already knew the answer.

'An answer that suited him well,' I thought, briefly recalling that era and involuntarily remembering my grandmother's death.

I closed my eyes before reopening them, my expression firming both my heart and my face.

"Seems the dragon's wrath is… scorching," I said loudly, using the strength of my vocal cords so my voice would carry as far as possible without sounding like a shout.

'That really is a superpower.'

I gently placed a hand on Lady Forlorn's hilt, then turned around to position myself properly to cleanly behead Otto.

I planted my sword with the tip down and rested both hands on it before asking him, for formality's sake: "Any last words?"

"Yes," he said, to my great surprise.

"I want to know why you killed my son."

I furrowed my brow and then asked: "Didn't Larys tell you?"

"I was blinded by resentment and anger. To be honest, I didn't even ask."

'Then how could you not know he was feeding you lies?' I wondered, though I didn't ask out loud because, to me, it would soon no longer matter.

My mask didn't break with surprise, and I thought long and hard about whether or not to tell him — but I eventually decided, and after a few seconds, I said:

"Your daughter tried to use me as a scapegoat back then to pit me against Rhaenyra in hopes of reconciling with her, but at the time, I wasn't the man I am today, and I couldn't afford to turn the whole realm against me."

"That's why you killed my son?" he asked, frowning, looking at me with anger in his eyes.

'Even after all that, he still manages to give me that kind of look,' I thought, impressed by the resilience he had shown despite all the torture and humiliation.

'Not to mention the fact that he's about to die.'

"I didn't have him killed. I only wanted him injured to stir the flames a bit," I said, pausing briefly before continuing:

"So I had the wood of his lance replaced, but Rhaenyra's champion wanted to seriously wound your son to send a message to the queen — which led to his death."

'And probably because of the insults Larys had passed on to him under my guidance,' I thought.

He frowned for a long time before sighing, and I saw a hint of regret in his gaze.

After a few seconds of silence, I heard:

"I regret not taking the olive branch you extended back then. I had forgotten the fear of the dragon."

"It's far too late for regrets," I said, looking at him with determination, because I wasn't going to back down.

"Do it cleanly," he said, repositioning his neck properly on the block.

I didn't reply.

I laid the flat of my sword on his neck and lifted my head to look at the crowd, who watched us in utter silence, wondering whether I would go through with it or pardon him at the last second.

'Besides the fact that I already gave him a second chance,' I thought, turning my sword so the sharp edge grazed his neck.

'I had made a decision,' I told myself as I raised my sword high.

'No more mercy for traitors,' I finished internally, bringing it down with all my strength, slicing cleanly through the block.

Otto Hightower's head rolled in chilling silence before Gunthor stopped it with his foot, then grabbed it by the hair and lifted it high, prompting a wave of cheers — even if I could tell they were more terrified than anything else.

'And I have the perfect plan for that,' I thought, signaling my cousin to act.

---

-POV Hugh Hammer-

'He did it,' I whispered, gritting my teeth in excitement, watching the crowd of nobles in the stands who were surely thinking the same thing as me — but for different reasons.

'He actually dared?!'

'Tremble, you bunch of fat bastards,' I thought, delighted to see that pack of carrion, usually acting with such arrogance, finally put back in their place.

'He's got a serious pair,' I thought, silently cursing once again my humble origins, because it was obvious I too carried the blood of the dragon.

'If I had been born into the right family, I would have been recognized for what I'm truly worth, and I'd be the one flying on a dragon and beheading those bastards.'

Still overwhelmed by the feeling of power radiating from Prince Aemon Targaryen, I didn't even notice the Goldcloaks surrounding us until Ulf nudged me and gestured with his eyes, seeing the confusion on my face.

'What do they want from us?' I wondered, growing uneasy, trying to figure out what they could possibly want.

"Follow us," said the man who looked like the squad leader, speaking to Ulf as he walked right past me without even a glance.

I frowned, but deep down I was relieved they weren't here for me. We were a stain on the honor of House Targaryen, and clearly, Prince Aemon was willing to do whatever it took to keep that honor intact.

From Ulf's expression, I could tell he wanted to run, but we were surrounded and he knew he had no chance.

He gave up once two Goldcloaks placed their hands on his shoulders to pull him from the crowd.

I wanted to do something, but I was paralyzed by fear.

'I'm a coward.'

Ulf was quickly escorted out of the crowd, and Prince Aemon used that moment to continue:

"Though we are gathered today under unfortunate circumstances, this day also carries hope. It is our sacred duty to look forward to the future with optimism. That is why I make you this promise — I will not act like the Hands who came before me. You, the people of the realm, will be at the heart of every decision I make. And I believe it is only right that we mark this moment accordingly."

He extended an arm, and moments later, Ulf — who had already reached the steps of the platform — joined the Prince, looking confused and more than a little nervous.

"House Targaryen, being the House of the Dragon, holds a divine flame granted by the gods — a flame that can just as easily feed you as it can burn you. That said, House Targaryen is just, and will reward you for your good deeds, just as it will punish you if you stray from the right path," the Prince continued, placing an arm over Ulf's shoulders.

He did it with such familiarity that one might think Ulf was one of his drinking companions — which only made Ulf more uncomfortable, since we'd seen many times today how easily the Prince's smile could hide the sharpest blades.

Prince Aemon waited a few moments for his words to sink in, then continued:

"You're probably all wondering who this man beside me is. He has no great talent, no noble blood, but he possesses unwavering loyalty to the House of the Dragon. It's thanks to this man that we managed to capture the fanatics who tried to disrupt today's events. That kind of loyalty is exactly what House Targaryen — and the Crown — expects of you."

I frowned, noticing how he made a distinction between the Crown and House Targaryen, but I didn't dwell on it — Ulf was on the verge of expanding the brown stain on his trousers.

"With my appointment, a new era begins for the realm — far from the old one, plagued by corruption, dishonesty, injustice, and betrayal. This new era will be the symbol of a new order founded on bravery, loyalty, justice, and above all… MERIT."

The Prince drew his sword from its sheath, shocking Ulf, and said as he lowered its tip to the ground:

"For services rendered to the Crown…"

"Your name?" the Prince asked, looking at the stunned Ulf.

"U… Ul... Ulf," Ulf stammered clumsily, nearly absent-minded.

The Prince gestured for him to kneel, which he did without hesitation.

"Ulf, you shall be granted a domain in the Vale, a dozen heads of livestock, a dozen warhorses, and five hundred gold dragons to form your own sworn shield guard," declared the Prince before lifting his sword — not to execute him, but…

'To knight that drunkard,' I realized, stunned by how things had turned out.

'How could he of all people… how could he so easily claim what should've been mine?' I thought, feeling a sting of jealousy flare up inside me, cursing that bastard for being luckier than me.

I took a deep breath, crushed that feeling, and told myself:

'That's not the right way to think.'

'If he made it, what's stopping me from doing the same?'

'What's stopping me from becoming better than him?' I thought, feeling once again the flame I had felt when I first saw the dragons flying overhead — the flame of desire, and more importantly, ambition, burning within me with newfound intensity.

"Rise, Ser Ulf of House White," said the Prince as he lifted his sword from Ulf's shoulders.

Ulf rose, smiling, searching the crowd for me — but I was already gone.

I had armor to prepare.

'The squire's tournament is open to anyone who can pay the entrance fee,' I thought, knowing I had just enough from all the armor I'd reforged to enter and hope to make a strong impression.

'What am I saying… with my strength and a good hammer, I'll make an impression for sure,' I reassured myself, remembering the tremendous strength gifted to me by the Warrior and the Smith.

'I need to go tell Kat,' I thought, deciding to abandon caution and, for once in my life, to live with passion and follow the path lit by the dragonfire I knew burned inside me.

---

"KAT!" I shouted, thrilled to announce the good news to my wife as I pushed open the forge door.

Hearing no reply, I knew she must still be angry about the way I left the forge earlier when she arrived.

'I'll have to give her a proper apology,' I thought, seeing the state the forge was in.

Several pots and tools had been knocked over, no doubt in anger.

'It's the first time she's ever reacted like this,' I thought, putting everything back in place before pushing the side door that led into our house.

But the moment I stepped in, I froze.

Frozen at the sight of the pool of blood.

Frozen before the naked corpse.

Frozen at the expression of terror — forever frozen — on Kat's lifeless face.

I dropped to my knees and gently ran my fingers through her hair, feeling my eyes well up.

'NO… No.... no.'

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"