At that moment, hurried footsteps sounded outside the doors of the Great Hall of Dragonstone.
A herald nearly stumbled inside.
"Your Grace! My lord! The harbor! A ship has arrived from the harbor!"
Rhaenyra turned.
"Whose ship?"
"It flies... it flies the white flag of a royal envoy. It is an envoy from the king."
The hall erupted like boiling oil splashed with water. Rhaenyra's face darkened instantly.
"The Greens? Sending an envoy now? Nail them to the mast and send them back to Blackwater Bay."
Corlys stopped her.
"No, Princess. Hear what they have to say."
Rhaenyra suppressed her murderous intent.
"Then let him enter."
---
When the envoy entered the hall, the first thing he saw was the three hundred bodies lying on the floor. He paused for a moment—it seemed those surrendered Velaryon troops had served some purpose. Behind him followed two servants, each carrying black iron chests, both with heads bowed, not daring to look at the dead on the floor.
Rhaenyra sat straight upon the high platform.
The envoy stepped into the hall and stopped.
"Princess Rhaenyra."
He did not call her Your Grace.
Corlys's voice came from the side, low and dangerous. "Rhaenyra is queen, not princess."
The envoy raised his head.
"Before his death, King Viserys the First named Aegon his heir. Prince Aegon was crowned three days past in the vestibule on Visenya's Hill, anointed with holy oil by High Septon Owen himself, and blessed by the Seven. This is a fact recognized by the lords of the Seven Kingdoms and the Faith."
A faint smile played at the corner of his mouth.
"If I call Princess Rhaenyra queen, where would that leave His Grace Aegon? Where would it leave the Faith? Where would it leave the Seven Kingdoms that have acknowledged His Grace Aegon's authority?"
The knights around them drew their swords from their scabbards, one after another.
Rhaenyra raised her hand to stop them. She looked down at the young envoy. His eyes were calm, his breathing steady. Surrounded by hundreds of knights, he showed no fear.
"What is your name?"
"Kermit."
"No family name?"
"Princess, I am a commoner."
"You have courage."
"I am grateful for Prince Aemond's training."
Rhaenyra's pupils contracted slightly at the name.
"Aemond sent you to die?"
"Prince Aemond sent me to deliver terms." Kermit held his head high. "Whether I live or die depends on Princess Rhaenyra. You may kill me now. King's Landing will send no more envoys."
Rhaenyra was about to kill this boy. Princess Rhaenys stepped forward.
"Since you come as an envoy, we will honor the rights of guests."
She gestured to a servant. The servant brought out a heel of bread and a small plate of salt, and offered them to Kermit. Coarse black bread, large salt crystals. The oldest rite in Westeros.
Kermit tore off a corner of bread, dipped it in salt, and put it in his mouth. The two servants behind him did the same. Chewed. Swallowed.
"I have eaten your bread and salt. Will you kill me now before so many witnesses? The Princess may spare me and hear my words."
He raised his head.
"Which will it be, Princess Rhaenyra?"
The hall fell so quiet that only breathing could be heard.
Rhaenyra rose. She walked to Kermit and looked down at the boy who did not know the depths of the world. Then she laughed in fury.
"Did Aemond teach you this? To break into another's house, slaughter all their kin, and then, amid a sea of corpses and blood, eat bread and salt and speak to me of guest right?"
Kermit did not avoid her gaze.
"Prince Aemond taught me more than that. He also taught me that history is written by the victors. A hundred years from now, how will future generations record today's events? As Queen Rhaenyra fighting bravely to reclaim the Iron Throne? Or as Princess Rhaenyra defying the late king's will, conspiring with foreign enemies, murdering her father, and at last condemned by the gods?"
Rhaenyra's nails dug into her palms. She glared at him with hatred.
"You!"
"Your Grace." Rhaenys took her hand. "Hear him."
Rhaenyra drew a deep breath. She tore off a piece of bread with her own hands, dipped it in salt, and put it in her mouth. Chewed. Swallowed.
"Now you are protected by guest right. If you have something to say, say it quickly."
Kermit bowed slightly.
"His Grace Aegon the Second requests that Princess Rhaenyra come to King's Landing to answer before the Iron Throne regarding the poisoning of the late king. At the same time, cease all acts of war."
"Impossible." Rhaenyra spoke each word deliberately. "You killed my king, my father, and still wish to pour this filth upon my head?"
She felt only overwhelming outrage. Viserys was dead. The Greens had laid the blame on her. The Faith, the Citadel, the lords of the southern kingdoms—did all believe it? Only the North remained on her side.
Kermit did not argue.
"The Faith and the Citadel think otherwise," he said. "The realm believes you did it. The Iron Throne requires your explanation."
"You deceive the realm," Rhaenyra ground out. "But the northern kingdoms believe me."
Rhaenys stepped forward to cut short the futile exchange.
"Envoy, you accuse Princess Rhaenyra of poisoning her own father, murdering the maester, and forging a testament?"
"I only state the public conclusion of the Iron Throne," Kermit said. "And the opportunity for His Grace Aegon to invite Princess Rhaenyra to King's Landing to defend herself before the Iron Throne."
He paused a moment.
"This is your last chance, Princess."
Last chance?
Rhaenyra repeated the phrase.
"Did Aegon say this was the last chance, or did Aemond? You killed my sons, burned my allies, poisoned my father. Now you tell me that going to King's Landing to kneel and confess is my last chance?"
Rhaenyra laughed in fury.
"Go tell Aegon. Tell Aemond. Word for word: do not die."
Kermit's expression did not change. It seemed he had expected this answer.
"I will deliver the message."
He inclined his head and signaled to his attendants. The two servants stepped forward and set the black iron chests on the floor.
"What is this?" Princess Rhaenys frowned.
Kermit bent and opened the chests with his own hands.
The smell of salt and lime wafted out. Inside the chests lay two human skulls.
Rhaenyra did not react.
"What is this?"
Kermit drew a deep breath.
"Prince Aemond commanded that these be returned to Rhaenyra Targaryen... the skulls of those two boys. The prince said the punishment was finished. Let them return to their mother and be buried properly."
Rhaenyra did not scream. Did not weep.
She knelt.
Her knees touched the floor.
She reached out, and with great gentleness, slowly lifted both skulls from the chest.
Jacaerys. Joffrey.
She pressed them to her face.
Then she began to tremble. It started at her fingertips, spread to her wrists, her arms, her shoulders, her whole body. Her spine rose and fell sharply.
Seeing this, Kermit pressed on.
"Anyone who spills Targaryen blood, who threatens Targaryens, who stands in his way—he will destroy them like this. He shows no mercy."
In an instant, Rhaenyra, mad with rage, snatched a sword from a knight beside her. Princess Rhaenys, stronger and quicker than she looked, lunged forward and seized her wrist, holding the sword in place, forcing the raised blade back down.