Daella ran.

All it took was one gesture from Alicent towards the still-ajar passage into her room, leading right into the walls that Daella had frequented more times than she could count. She'd never gone into this room because it was of no consequence, but had passed it often as she made for Otto's apartments on the floor above.

Her hair was a wild mess around her face as she bolted through the passage. She knew they had to head down the stairs– they would find no escape above. She could hear them, too, hurried footsteps echoing from below. She scurried down, knowing that the blade under her sleeve would find its home in someone's neck soon. They were fast, but so was she– and she was not heavy like a man, she was light like the wind.

She doubted they were anticipating pursuit. The typical castle guards did not know the tunnels well– if at all– and would not know where to be waiting for their exit. With Helaena's screams would come a flood of guards, leaving many other areas devoid of watchful eyes.

What they hadn't expected was for Daella to know the tunnels. She knew who must have sent them, for who else would have thought to use this way of getting in? Daemon had done this, and Daemon must have wanted them to hurt her or Aemond. These men never would've gotten the upper hand on Aemond, but Daella only had the advantage when she was alert and prepared to attack when others weren't. If caught off-guard by men slipping into her room, she might not have reacted fast enough. She kept less knives on her when going to bed.

At last, she felt herself drawing nearer. She could see distant shapes in the darkness as they neared the end of the passage– further up, she knew it would branch into three segments, one moving to the lower floors, one to the upper, and another staying level to follow the edge of the castle out towards the dungeons. Cracks in the bricks allowed her enough light to see their faint outlines, matching the steps she heard– one man was larger than the other, and the bigger one was carrying something in his hands.

"Can't you hear it?" said one voice. Shyer, shrill, almost with a bit of a hiss to it. "Someone's after us, they is!" He sounded afraid– the sort of thing she expected from the smaller man.

"Quiet," rasped the other one, though she heard a scuffle, a scrape, and the sudden stop of their footsteps. He must have heard her steps, for she did not stop. "Shit, move, now!" His voice was gruffer, louder, and it served as a beacon as she let the knife slide from her sleeve and fly into the darkness.

The slicing sound was heaven to her. She heard a gasp, she heard a shout and a stumble, and suddenly only the lighter footsteps sounded– running far faster than before. She could barely see ahead of her as she ran to see what she'd accomplished. She felt her legs hit something that sent her flying, spilling over the heavy man's body and rolling hard down the stone steps. She felt her elbow scrape the floor, felt her cheek smash against the wall, tasted blood in her mouth, and finally she came to a stop, her head spinning and throbbing.

She heard the man groaning, and had no idea where she had managed to hit him– only that she had. She scrambled up before he could think to try and reach into the black for her– if he managed to grab her, he could easily bash her head into the ground enough times to kill her. Her arms ached, knees weak as she felt against the wall for an opening she knew would come. At last, she felt a latch, throwing the door open and beginning to shout, "GUARDS! GUARDS, I HAVE HIM! I HAVE HIM! AENEAS! AEMOND!"

She could hear a distant roar outside, Vermithor sensing her anger and pain. She'd opened a door into the hallway that led towards the library. Perhaps Alistair would hear her and arrive sooner. The light allowed her to see that the man had fallen against the wall, too, leaning against it as he held his leg. She'd nailed him right in the inner thigh, enough to stop him from being able to run. He was grasping desperately at the wound, keeping the blade in place as if he knew it was the only thing keeping him from bleeding himself dry. Clutched tight in his hand was a sack.

The guards handled him when they arrived. Alistair had indeed been in the library, eyes wide when the guards snatched the sack, opened it, and revealed that Jaehaerys's little head lay within. Daella was sure her son might empty his stomach, but he did not.

"Mother, you're bleeding," he said, taking a handkerchief from his pocket and gently patting it against her face. Her cheek and lip stung as he cleared the blood off. Taking it from him, she spit into the handkerchief, dipping her fingers into her mouth and feeling that her teeth were still in place. She swallowed the blood pooling there, finding it almost tasted sweet. It was the taste of success, after all– she had at least caught one of the men, where both might have managed to escape otherwise.

"Thank you, my boy," she told him, putting her hand on his shoulder. "I need you to use those legs of yours, now. Get back to your rooms in Maegor's Holdfast, the other man is still loose. He cannot cross the moat now, but they will let you through. I will find you all when it is safe." He nodded obediently, scurrying off with a book still tucked beneath his arm.

The rest of the castle had erupted into chaos. Guards were shoving past every lord, lady, and servant that was trying to figure out what was going on. Many were running away from a danger they didn't understand, and others were frozen in fear. There was too much movement, far too much. She could hear the barking of dogs– they were bringing in hounds to find the other man. Each guard she saw as she made back to Alicent's room had a torch in hand— no one would sleep this night, to be sure.

Otto had reached them by then. He stood in shock over Alicent as she held Helaena in her arms, the girl muffling screams into her hands. Daella had never seen Helaena tremble so much, her eyes were so wide she thought they might pop out of her skull. A maid had arrived to hold Jaehaera, who cried and cried so much that Helaena finally clamped her hands over her ears and begged the noise to stop.

"We must leave, now," said Daella, taking the babe from the woman and motioning for Otto, Alicent, and Helaena to follow. "Guards, an escort to Maegor's Holdfast at once. We must leave this scene." She lifted her arm to shield Helaena's eyes as they walked quickly away, past the little body of Jaehaerys. They had to leave it now– the Silent Sisters would need to do their work.

Daella took them to her rooms, and used the opportunity to make sure all her children had been accounted for. Alistair's return had brought them many questions, the lot of them already gathered in Aelora's room. Aegon and Aemond were nowhere to be seen, but she knew the Kingsguard would not have left Aegon's side– he would be safe.

"What is happening?" demanded Aeneas. "Alistair says Jaehaerys is dead."

"It is true," said Daella. Aemma began to cry. "Two men took his head. Most like revenge for Lucerys. None of you should leave this room anytime soon."

"A son for a son," muttered Aeneas. "That wicked, vile, whore." He turned away as if to try and abate his anger. "I should be out there hunting for the other man, not standing here like a fool!"

"And had it been you they were after?" asked Daella. "My guess is that they were sent for me or Aemond, but perhaps my sister wanted to take a son from me because she blames me for Luke. I know you wish to help, Aeneas, but there is nothing you can do at present. Letting yourself out now could make you a larger target. The other man stands to collect payment for both, and without Jaehaerys's head, he may hope for something else to deliver as proof of the deed."

His eyes were dark as he faced her. "And where is Aemond? If he is out there hunting this man, I should be too."

She pursed her lips, unsure what to say. "I've not seen Aemond on this floor." She knew she should be concerned about that. "Very well. Take two guards with you and find him." She saw the glee in his eyes– he might find Aemond dead or alive, he did not care. It mattered that he was important.

The hours passed so slowly, she wished it would all end. Aegon had been in the throne room with his friends. When told what had happened, when allowed to see his son's mangled body, he'd stormed to his chambers and beaten savagely into the model of Old Valyria that her father once held great pride in, shattering decades of work from stonemasons eager to please him. Daella didn't blame him whatsoever– she was glad to see that stupid model destroyed after how much time her father had preferred to spend with it than his children. She did not judge Aegon for his anger. She was glad for it– he finally saw now what Rhaenyra was capable of, that monstrous bitch.

It was nearly dawn when Aemond was located, returning from the city with no explanation of where he'd been. Daella had to pull Aeneas back to his chambers when he'd started snarling at him, asking where he'd been and why he was so difficult to find in the hour his family most needed him. It was his fault these men were here, and because they had not found him, they'd hurt Jaehaerys. Had they located Aemond, they would have met their end there. Aeneas made sure to say that Aemond was mayhaps a coward who knew he would be targeted and knew he would fail to defend his life. It must have taken everything in Aemond not to cut his throat for saying it, though Daella did not disagree with her son.

The sky was still dark when they convened in the Small Council chamber to discuss what had happened. All were in shock, and none seemed to want to begin the conversation that needed to be had– what had happened and what they were going to do about it. The gates had already been shut, the search would not end until the other man was found. Already, the larger man– Blood, he said he was called– was being questioned in the dungeons. Daella demanded he be tortured until he revealed his true identity. She would kill his family in front of his eyes for what he'd done. If he had a son, she would carve his head off as they'd done to Jaehaerys.

"And where were the members of this council while the murderer threatened their king?" he demanded as he strode in, glaring at them all with the utmost loathing. Perhaps it irked him to see them gathered here without giving him a moment for his grief. The same had been done to her father when her mother died, Daella knew.

Lord Jasper Wylde didn't seem to read the moment adequately– he spoke almost sarcastically, though perhaps he was genuinely unsure. "Were you also threatened, Your Grace?"

Aegon was insulted, snarling, "I could have been!" He flipped the tray bearing the wine pitcher, letting it and the cups clatter to the floor. "My son is my legacy! My son is heir to the Iron Throne! All of you, abed, instead of safeguarding the sanctity of my family!"

"This is not the time for blind accusations, Your Grace," said Otto cautiously. "We'll know who did this soon enough."

"Who did this?" Aegon stared at him as if he were an idiot. "Who did– what?" He leaned over the table, sneering at Otto, "Is there any question who did this?!" Daella turned her head as a man entered the room– she'd never seen Larys Strong in a Small Council meeting. "Who would do this save the bitch queen of bastards, the smug cunt of Dragonstone? There she sits across the bay, on her rock, laughing at me. She's fucking laughing at me!" He flung his own cup across the room, right between where Lord Jasper and Maester Orwyle stood.

Alicent and Daella shared a look. Daella was not about to tell Aegon he was wrong or that his outburst was unwarranted. He should feel this anger, he should understand what Rhaenyra had done. Breathing heavily, Aegon pointed at his mother, "You wished her life to be spared."

Larys broke in, "If I may, Your Grace." Daella had not spoken to him recently, but perhaps he'd been busy with Aegon, for surprisingly her brother did not turn his anger at him. "The man Princess Daella apprehended is, in fact, known to us. He's a Gold Cloak. Noted for his brutal nature. Questioning will continue... sooner than late, we will know who sent him." He looked to Daella, and she knew he already had the answer– who else but Daemon?

"I trust in the mastery of your trade, Lord Larys," said Otto, as if prompting him to be gone. The man nodded, beginning to take his leave.

This did not satisfy Aegon. He wanted answers right then and there. "Oh, always studying, always protocol," he snapped. "We know our enemy!"

"A king may have more than one enemy, Your Grace," said Lord Jasper calmly. "We would do well to ascertain if this is your sister's hand... or if there is a serpent nestled closer to our bosoms."

Aegon threw up his hands. "I suppose you're right, Ironrod. Could be anyone." He slowly walked towards him, pointing around, "It could be any one of you in this room. He stopped beside Maester Orwyle, who he knew was the shyest.

Otto regained control of the situation, "Lord Jasper is correct. In one sense, we must determine what happened and... if we in the Keep are still in peril. In another sense, of course... it doesn't matter."

Daella knew what he meant. This was to their benefit regardless of who did it. "You mean to blame Rhaenyra," realized Tyland. "Tell the realm she has done this."

"I'll have the realm told nothing," spat Aegon. "We were assaulted within our own walls. Within our own beds. I will not be seen as weak!"

"This is not about weakness," said Daella. "It is about vulnerability. About garnering sympathy." She looked him in the eyes, prompting him to listen. "You and I both know the truth... it was she that did this. Perhaps it was not she who sent the men, but she let loose the leash that is around Daemon. I do not think it coincidental that this man, Blood, is a Gold Cloak. Many of them once held a great deal of respect for Daemon. If this man is known for being brutal, then who do we think he may have learned it from? I suspected immediately this was revenge for Lucerys Velaryon. Why else would they take a son from our King?"

She tapped her finger into the table, pressing her lips together. "The Lord Hand is right. We must go with this, for they have given us an opportunity. Had they done nothing, they could have incurred sympathy for what happened at Storm's End. Instead, they reacted with this violence. Intentional violence. We will tell them the truth of Rhaenyra, the lengths she is willing to go to. How vengeful she is, how she would slay a mere infant. Show them that she cannot even control Daemon, much less her own bloodthirsty impulses. Any who would want her as Queen would see then how cruel she is. Ha..."

She wanted to laugh, fighting back a devilish smirk. "It was said in this very chamber that were Daemon to become out King, he would be a second Maegor. Perhaps he has awakened that Maegor in Rhaenyra... Rhaenyra the Cruel."

She looked to Otto, begging him to like this idea. He clearly did. "Indeed. Indeed, that is precisely true, Princess. I propose this. A funeral progress– let the people see the child. Let them look upon the works of this pretender to the throne."

Aegon fell into his chair. Even Alicent seemed shocked. "Father..." She was not in agreement, but Daella knew they would have to understand. This was the best way. "No," said Aegon weakly. "I will not have my little son's body dragged through the street like a dead dog."

"Not dragged!" said Otto loudly. "Honored. Escorted to the Dragonpit to be burned as a Targaryen prince."

Lord Jasper leaned forward, "Your Grace..." But Aegon insisted, "No." He looked at Daella. "No. Please."

She shook her head, disagreeing. "Let no one say I do not grieve," said Otto. " Jaehaerys was my grandson. I loved him. I will not have him die in vain. Those who declared for Rhaenyra, will they still support her when they hear of her depravity? Or will they rather renounce her? Jaehaerys will do more for us now than a thousand knights in battle."

Aegon was on the verge of tears again, shaking and looking around for someone to agree with him. But Otto continued, "You will have your war, Your Grace. But if you wait a short time, you may yet double your strength."

"Mother," pleaded Aegon, thinking Alicent the only one who would sympathize with him. But Daella saw it in her face as she stood, going to comfort him. "The Hand sets a difficult path, my darling, but it... it might be the right one."

"Let the Silent Sisters ready the prince for his final journey," Otto decided. "And riding behind him, his mother the Queen, and with her, the Queen Dowager."

This was the one thing Alicent did not seem to agree with. "No, I do not wish to be a spectacle."

"The realm must see the sorrow of the Crown," said Otto. "A sorrow best expressed through its most gentle souls. I think you'll all agree the king himself must be spared." None would deny that.

"Let Aemma be in the progression as well," offered Daella. "She went most often to help Helaena care for the twins." Her tears will shine if Helaena and Alicent's don't. A girl of fourteen in such despair will certainly turn even the blackest of hearts green.

Word was spreading fast, which meant there could be no delay. All would know what had happened by midday. They worked fast– Daella to prepare Aemma, Alicent to prepare Helaena, and the rest of Daella's children to give comfort to Aegon. Daella did not witness the procession– she only heard from Aemma how the guards had called out to the people what Rhaenyra had done, how she had been so monstrous and cruel. Jaehaerys had been burned by Dreamfyre, given to the gods as a Targaryen should be. Helaena had shut herself in her rooms after that and would see no one.

In two days, Blood had spilled his truths. Under torture, he admitted that he meant to take the head to Harrenhal and collect payment from Prince Daemon. He said Daemon had contracted him through the help of a woman known to trade secrets for coin... one they called Lady Misery. Otto confided in her that he knew this woman– she was the same one who had made him aware of when Daemon took Rhaenyra to a brothel and almost defiled her all those years ago.

He'd told them nothing of his true identity, or that of the man who had helped him. Cheese, he knew him as, some ratcatcher employed by the castle. Daella had intended to go to Otto and ask him to line the ratcatchers up for her– she would eliminate all the tall ones, for she remembered the man being small. Then, she would ask them to speak. She remembered his voice, and she would find him that way.

Aegon had other plans. It was the first time, as King, that he decided to act without consulting anyone– not even her. She'd heard it from Aelora, who had seen Aegon boasting about it to his friends. It came from a place of grief and fury, to be sure, but Daella knew he had set them back after the funeral progression.

Many in the castle had heard the shouts in Aegon's rooms when Otto had gone to confront him about hanging all the ratcatchers who worked in the castle. From the snippets Daella heard before the doors slammed shut, Aegon seemed surprised and even confused at the negative reaction he was getting– it mattered more to him that one guilty man had died amongst the innocent.

"I don't understand," said Aegon when Daella came to find him when she was told by Gwayne that his father had been dismissed as Hand effective immediately. In Aegon's words, he wanted him to 'spill blood, not ink.' "Why is everyone so upset?"

"Do you truly not see it?" she asked, exasperated. She didn't like the idea of Otto leaving in a time like this– it was not right. "There was a reason we showed the people Jaehaerys's body, a reason we put your mother, Helaena, and Aemma on a wagon behind them to shower them with their tears. We gathered sympathy in the wake of Rhaenyra's monstrosity and you have answered with more of your own!"

He blinked at her several times. "I thought... I thought you would be proud." He looked away, lips quivering as though he might cry. "I was doing what I thought you would do."

"What I would have done, I would have told you later today," she said in frustration. "I meant to question the ratcatchers myself, as I heard the man's voice. Your grandsire is doing everything in his power to gather allies for you. Even now we are looking to acquire a fleet from the Triarchy to oppose the Velaryons– he has written to the Dornish, knowing they warred with Daemon in the past. You could have been more patient, you could have waited for us to tell you what the right course was."

"Told me?" He spluttered. He jabbed a finger at her, "I will not be seen as weak, I will not be a King that must tiptoe around my council every single step of the way. You hated that in our father, how he always made other people bring an end to the problems of the realm. How could you expect me to know what to do when you never taught me? I thought you wanted this. You always spoke so ferociously about defending the family, you always told me I would be King, that I had to be firm, that I had to make a name for myself. You've always been so quick to act, so decisive. You've been a dragon, you've drawn blood. Aemond and I learned that from you!"

She scoffed, unable to believe he was equating his and Aemond's idiocy with what she did. "What I've done is nothing like what you both–"

"Oh, is it not? Ask Ser Criston Cole, Lord Lyman Beesbury, Ser Harrold Westerling! Even my grandsire would call it all senseless violence! You might justify that Cole was harming someone innocent, but you helped turn that wedding into a bloodbath. You may call the other two traitors, but now House Beesbury is asking about their lord and you cost me my Lord Commander! You and grandsire talk often about how little control you have over us, well how could I learn any better when you've never controlled yourself, Daella!"

She wanted to strike him. "You do not speak to me that way," she seethed. "I raised you. Your mother would've gladly abandoned you all to wetnurses, Rhaenyra would've drowned you in a well, but I took care of you, I carried you around when you could not walk, I had you dine and play with my own children. I took you to get your dragon, I taught you to fly, I showed you how to be King."

Aegon snorted, shaking his head and muttering, "You didn't show me anything. What do you know about being a ruler? Our father didn't choose you. No, I think I will choose my own path now. If you learn to bite your tongue and remember you supported me in becoming King, then you may remain on my council. Otherwise, I am glad to remind you that you are meant to be living in Oldtown with your lord husband's house. Make your choice fast, Daella, for my grandsire's carriage will leave soon."

Her hands shook, regretting her choice to support him. He was just a boy, still, he did not understand anything. "And your grandsire won't be given this second opportunity?" she asked coolly.

"No," he said, though he started to smile. "Don't fret, sister. I have decided who my new Hand will be. Someone I know will be honest and true, who has been loyal to me through it all. Who is clever and will agree with the course of action I think best. In fact, we have already put our first plan into motion. It will be genius, really, paying Rhaenyra back with her own bloody coin."

She narrowed her eyes. "And how, precisely, is this being accomplished?" She had a bad feeling that he had named Aemond, who of course was going to agree with his brother now.

Aegon looked so gleeful she wanted to smack the expression off his face. "We've sent Ser Arryk to slay Rhaenyra at Dragonstone."

Her face lost its color, and he noticed. "You sent him to Dragonstone alone?"

"He's pretending to be his own twin," he said enthusiastically. "Brilliant. He knows the castle well, and not even the other Kingsguard are able to discern who amongst the pair is Erryk or Arryk. He will do what you could not, when you went to see her."

"I could have," she snapped. "Your grandsire did not let me. I could have killed Daemon and Rhaenyra in that moment."

"You should have," said Aegon, with a tone of sympathy– almost mocking her failure. "I would have made you my Hand for that. Instead, I will choose the one who will ensure the bitch queen pays her price."

Daella knew who his choice was even before he said, "You ought to be happy. Aeneas is going to be a wonderful Hand."