"No, Your Grace, Queen Regent," Medrick countered, "we merely wish to confirm His Grace's condition and hear his words."
And Aemond advanced, step by step.
"It seems you are still interrogating us. Or..." Aemond took another step forward, fixing him with his gaze. "Do you intend to rise in rebellion while His Grace lies gravely ill and insensate?"
The word hung heavy in the air—rebellion.
The hands of the guards on either side of the hall closed simultaneously upon the hilts of their swords. Criston Cole moved the Kingsguard toward the delegation.
William Royce spoke at once, attempting to defuse the tension. "Your Grace, you misunderstand. That is not what we intend. It is only that as vassals, when so many great changes occur and we cannot see the King nor hear his voice, it is inevitable that there should be... doubts."
"Doubts?" Aemond turned to him. "Lord William. When King Jaehaerys lay gravely ill, did the lords of the Four Kingdoms come flocking to King's Landing? Did they demand to force their way into the royal chambers to verify his condition?"
William's expression faltered for a moment. "The circumstances were different," he said, striving to maintain his composure. "There were no omens of civil war then."
"There is no civil war now," Aemond said, his voice suddenly cold. "Unless someone wishes to provoke one."
At that moment, Benjicot Blackwood spoke. The young man's voice was somewhat taut, but his words were clear.
"Your Grace, we do not come to cause trouble. But there are matters that must be clarified. Rumors are spreading through the Riverlands. Some say His Grace is dead, and they are keeping it secret. Some say you have placed the ailing King under house arrest and rule falsely in the Regent's name." He glanced at Alicent, then hesitated. "Some say the Queen has drugged His Grace to secure the throne for her sons."
"Insolent!" Galwyn Hightower roared, his hand going to his sword hilt as he stepped forward.
Queen Alicent's face went pale in an instant. She opened her mouth to speak, but Aemond raised a hand, stopping her.
Aemond looked at Benjicot, regarding him for a long moment. Then he spoke.
"Interesting," he said. "A man of House Blackwood. They say your house has a taste for speaking plainly."
He turned and walked slowly back toward the Iron Throne, his eye scanning the assembled delegates.
"All of you. I will not pursue today's matter. Some men are easily seduced by rumors—I understand that. But I will tell you one fact."
"My father, Viserys the First of His Name, yet lives. But he is indeed gravely ill—so ill that he cannot conduct the governance of the realm. That is why His Grace appointed my mother Regent. It is lawful, with documents to prove it, bearing the King's seal, witnessed by all the Small Council and the royal household."
The Hand of the King, Tyland Lannister, led the other councilors and Grand Maester Orwyle in a timely nod of confirmation.
"As for High Tide and Dragonstone..." Aemond paused. "The three brothers Jacaerys Velaryon, the heirs of Corlys Velaryon, committed treason and attempted to steal the dragons of House Targaryen. They were slain on the spot."
Aemond said this as though it were of no consequence.
"So take back what you have heard. Tell your lords: do not be misled into thinking certain persons can provoke discord between the kingdoms. Loyalty to the Iron Throne. Loyalty to the rightful heir, Aegon Targaryen. Let all matters proceed as they should. If anyone is moved by reckless talk..."
He did not finish, but his meaning was plain.
The faces of the four delegates darkened.
"Prince Aemond," Medrick spoke again. "What you have said, I will carry back to the North. But Lord Cregan Stark of Winterfell charged me to bring a message, and bring it I must."
He drew a deep breath, as if summoning his courage.
"Lord Cregan Stark bids me say: the North is loyal only to the true king. We acknowledge Aegon Targaryen as Crown Prince, but the King is still Viserys the First. Until the King himself confirms the matter of Dragonstone and the other events you have spoken of, the North... reserves its position."
"Reserves its position?" Aemond repeated the words. "Lord Manderly, do you mean to say the North may choose... not to be loyal?"
"I mean," Medrick met Aemond's gaze, "the North is loyal to the King upon the Iron Throne—not to those who would place themselves above the King. We will not abide chaos."
The air in the hall seemed to freeze.
Aemond was silent a moment before he spoke.
"Do you know this?" He descended the steps, and this time walked before the representatives of the Four Kingdoms before stopping. "Of law and succession. In times of emergency, when the King cannot rule and the realm faces crisis, the Regent has the right to use all necessary measures to maintain stability."
He looked at the assembly.
"I did not provoke these events. Jacaerys and his brothers chose what they did. What is a dragon? To steal a dragon of House Targaryen—that is treason. A Velaryon boy stealing what belongs to us."
The delegates were silent, making no reply.
Suddenly, Aemond turned his back to them, raising his voice. "Ser Galwyn."
"Yes, Your Grace." Galwyn Hightower, Captain of the Red Keep garrison, answered in a deep voice.
"How many guards are in the corridors on either side of the throne room?"
"Fifty on each side—a hundred men in total. All armed."
"And in the Red Keep?"
"More than four hundred men, all on duty."
"And in the city?"
"Including the newly formed City Watch, more than three thousand."
"And outside the city?"
"Five thousand soldiers."
Aemond turned and faced the Four Kingdoms' representatives.
"You have all heard this," he said. "Now answer me this: do you still insist on seeing the King today, now, this very moment?"
Medrick opened his mouth, but this time William Royce stepped forward, placing himself before Medrick.
"Your Grace," William's voice remained steady, "we... we are only obeying our lords' commands."
"A lord's commands?" Aemond inquired. "You should know the Targaryens are your lords."
Without waiting for an answer, he raised his right hand and made a simple gesture.
From the corridors on either side of the throne room came the sound of measured footsteps. Not running—a slow, heavy, rhythmic pace. From the shadows emerged two columns of guards in full plate armor, their visors down, their faces unclear. Longswords were drawn from scabbards, the points angled toward the floor but ready to rise at any moment.
The faces of the Four Kingdoms' representatives lost all color in an instant.
Only Sebastian Errol, the Stormlands' representative... he instead let out a quiet breath of relief. He even stepped half a pace back, distancing himself from the other three, making it unmistakably clear he had no part in this.
"Aemond!" Alicent on the Iron Throne suddenly rose, her voice sharp. "Stop this!"
Aemond did not turn around; he merely raised a hand to signal his mother to be silent. His hand stayed raised in the air, and the guards halted, forming two ranks beside the delegates like a wall of steel.
"Mother," Aemond said, still facing away from the throne, "please be seated again. This is the throne room, where the affairs of state are conducted. You are the Regent, but this matter... I shall handle it."
Alicent froze in place, her face white as parchment. She looked at her son's back, then at the tense scene below, and finally lowered herself slowly back onto the Iron Throne.