The Flames We Bear

Prologue

(Author's note: story properly kicks off around chapter 11-12)

The Hall of Nine was shrouded in a heavy silence,
broken only by the laboured breaths of the injured children and the whispered murmurs of those gathered. Visenya Velaryon stood at the far side of the room, her chin held high, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows on her young face. Despite her age, there was an undeniable fire in her eyes—a Targaryen's fire.

Beside her stood her brothers, Jacaerys and Lucerys, their expressions twisted with pain and confusion. Her cousins, Rhaena and Baela huddled close to them, while Aemond Targaryen sat in the centre of it all, blood still trickling from the raw wound where his left eye had once been. Maester Kelvyn worked frantically, stitching up the torn flesh as the hall swelled with tension.

King Viserys' arrival had been like a storm breaking over the Hall of Nine. His furious entrance brought everyone to attention, the weight of his rage bearing down on all present. "Explain this madness!" His voice boomed, shaking the torches in their sconces.

Ser Criston Cole, still rattled by the unfolding events, took a step forward. "Your Grace, I... we could not have anticipated—"

"Anticipated what?" Viserys snapped, his eyes narrowing. "That my children would maim one another? This is an outrage!"

Alicent Hightower, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, stood frozen beside Aemond, her face a portrait of horror as she watched the maester tend to her son's face. Her hands shook as she reached out to touch him, only to draw back as if the sight of the wound was too much to bear. "His eye..." she whispered, barely containing her despair. "His eye is gone."

Aegon stood lazily against a pillar, still bleary-eyed from drink. Alicent, her shock giving way to rage, turned on him, her voice shaking. "And where were you? While your brother was being attacked?" Her hand struck him across the face before he could protest. "You should have been at his side!"

"I didn't know—" Aegon mumbled, rubbing his cheek, but Alicent had already turned her back on him, her full attention on Aemond.

Before Alicent could respond further, Corlys Velaryon and his wife, Princess Rhaenys, swept into the hall, their expressions thunderous. "What happened here?" Corlys demanded, his gaze flickering between the children. "Who dares to touch my grandchildren?"

Rhaenyra was not far behind, her breath catching in her throat when she saw Lucerys clutching his arm, blood staining his sleeve. She rushed forward, her hands immediately

cradling his face, then moving to check Jace. "What has been done to you?" she whispered, her voice laced with fury and concern. She glanced at her oldest, Visenya, hoping for some answers.

Visenya remained silent, her gaze locked on Aemond, who met her stare with cold fury. Even now, in his pain, Aemond's hatred burned bright. This wasn't just about the fight. This was about something deeper, older, festering since the moment their paths had crossed. He had called her and brothers bastards. And she had defended them.

"Who started this?" Rhaenyra demanded, her voice trembling with the anger of a mother whose children had been wronged.

At once, the children erupted into overlapping shouts, fingers pointed in all directions.

"He attacked us!" Jace cried, pointing to Aemond.

"They ganged up on me!" Aemond spat back, his face twisted in defiance. "I would have taken the lot of them if—"

"If you hadn't called us bastards!" Visenya shouted, her small frame trembling with emotion. That was not all she was angered by, Aemond's mention of Harwin Strong during their altercation was also a contributing factor to her emotions.

"Enough!" Viserys' voice boomed, bringing the room to a stifling silence. The king's hand gripped the armrest of his chair, his knuckles white with fury. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "Aemond," he said, his voice softer now, though still edged with authority. "Tell me the truth."

Before Aemond could speak, Alicent surged forward, her voice breaking. "The truth is clear, Viserys! My son has been maimed, and Rhaenyra's children are responsible! What more needs to be said?"

"That's a lie!" Visenya stepped forward, her voice ringing out with defiance. All eyes turned to her. Her chin tilted up, her stance unwavering despite the weight of the room pressing down on her. "We defended ourselves. He attacked us first!"

Aemond's lip curled. "Liar."

Visenya's eyes narrowed. "Call me that again, and I'll take the other eye."

The hall erupted into gasps and murmurs, but Visenya didn't flinch. Her words hung in the air like a challenge, one that Aemond, even in his injured state, seemed ready to meet.

Viserys looked between them, torn between his son, his granddaughter and his duty as king. "Aemond," he said again, his voice low, "where did you hear these vile accusations?"

A tense silence filled the room. Aemond's eyes flickered briefly to Alicent before he looked back at his father. "From Aegon."

Viserys turned to his eldest son. "Aegon, is this true?"

Aegon, still recovering from the slap, was frozen in fear but as his father demanded and answer her replied. "We all know, father. Everyone knows. Just look at them."

The words hung in the air like poison, infecting everyone who heard them. Rhaenyra's eyes flashed with fury as she took a step forward, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. "This is treason! You dare question the legitimacy of my children?"

Viserys' voice trembled as he spoke, a king struggling to hold his family together. "We are one family," he said, the grief in his tone unmistakable. "This infighting must stop. Apologize to one another. Now."

The command rang hollow in the tense air. Alicent's face twisted with fury. "Apologies?" she spat. "Apologies won't give my son back his eye!" Her voice rose, raw with pain. "A debt must be paid. One of her children must lose an eye."

Rhaenyra's heart seized in her chest as Alicent turned toward Lucerys. "Criston," she commanded. "Bring me his eye."

Ser Criston hesitated, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword before stopping. "My queen, I..."

Visenya stepped forward again, her gaze locked on Alicent, unafraid. "If you want an eye, take mine," she said, her voice steady. "I was the one who slashed Aemond."

Aemond's one good eye locked onto her, burning with a mixture of anger and confusion. He knew she was lying, trying to shield her brother. But still, she held his gaze, challenging him to refute her.

Alicent's fury only grew. "Then pick, Visenya. Pick which eye you'll lose. It's more than you gave my son."

Before anyone could react, Alicent lunged forward, ripping the Valyrian steel dagger from Viserys's belt and rushing toward Visenya with a scream of rage.

Rhaenyra was there in an instant, catching Alicent by the wrist and twisting it away from her daughter. "You will not touch her!" she hissed, her face inches from the queen's as the room erupted into chaos.

Daemon stepped in, blocking Criston's advance, while Ser Harrold barked orders to the Kingsguard to keep the Velaryon and Hightower men from drawing their blades. The tension in the room was like a tightly coiled spring, ready to snap at any moment.

As Rhaenyra and Alicent struggled against one another, Visenya stood unflinching, her gaze never leaving Aemond's. The wound had been struck, and though the blood was real, the deeper cut—the one to their hearts—had only just begun to bleed.