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At the exact moment when Dark Sister cut into Aegon’s leg, Daemon realized he was making a terrible mistake. But it was too late to change the course of his blade.

Blood spurted from the boy’s leg. Aegon screamed and collapsed to the ground. More screams filled the air as the girls erupted in horror around them. Jacaera fell to her knees beside her new husband. “Help! Oh gods, someone help!”

Ser Lorent Marbrand shoved past Daemon and knelt next to Aegon. The knight frantically tried to staunch the wound. When those efforts failed, he began to apply a tourniquet.

Daemon felt strangely lightheaded as he stared at the scene. His arms went slack at his sides, and Dark Sister clattered on the ground as it fell from his hand. His ears rang from all the screaming. He’d never realized that a handful of young girls could scream so loudly.

Suddenly, Rhaenys appeared. She took one look at Aegon before saying to Lorent, “The prince needs a maester immediately. Sharp Point is closest. I will take him on Meleys.”

Not once in Daemon’s life had he ever felt inclined to aid his nephews. But for some reason, he stepped forward and reached out to help Lorent carry Aegon to the dragon.

Daemon had scarcely taken two steps before Jacaera lurched to her feet. She stood in front of Aegon in a defensive position as if she, a wispy girl of thirteen, meant to physically stop Daemon. It was evident from her fearful expression that she knew she was at an extreme disadvantage against him. Even so, righteous fury blazed in her eyes as she spread her arms wide and snarled, “Don’t touch him!”

Daemon stopped moving. Frozen, he watched Baela, the strongest of the girls, help Lorent haul Aegon toward Meleys. Lorent spoke urgently to Aegon, trying to keep the prince awake, but Aegon was unresponsive. The makeshift bandages around Aegon’s leg were already soaked through, leaving a trail of blood behind him.

Lorent climbed into Meleys’s saddle with Rhaenys and Aegon. The girls dispersed to their other dragons, anxious to follow them to Sharp Point. Nobody looked back at Daemon. Not even Baela and Rhaena.

Daemon knew he ought to mount Caraxes and follow the others, but his feet refused to move. For a while, he just stood and stared at the pool of blood on the rocky ground. He had seen worse wounds, caused worse wounds in his lifetime. And the boy meant nothing to him. If Aegon died, then Daemon would consider it cause for celebration, not grief.

He picked up Dark Sister and sat down to carefully clean the sword. By the time he was done, the sun had gone down. He had no more excuse to delay. Sheathing his sword, he went down to the beach where Caraxes waited.

“Prince Aegon’s leg is lost,” Lord Bar Emmon solemnly announced to his guests. “Fortunately, the maester was able to amputate below the knee.”

“How is that fortunate?” Lucera asked, wide-eyed.

“It will be easier for the prince to wear a prosthetic leg. He will be able to relearn how to walk,” Lord Bar Emmon said with forced enthusiasm. “He may even ride his dragon again. There are quite a few tales of horseback riders who have managed it with only one leg. Why not a dragonrider?”

Daemon tried to relax at the news. It wasn’t so bad, was it? Aegon’s life was practically unchanged. The boy might not be as nimble with a sword henceforth, but he was rumored to be a middling swordsman anyway. Aegon could still laze about the castle, carouse in the city, and do all the other useless activities he was accustomed to doing.

And yet, as Daemon looked around the room, half its occupants refused to meet his gaze. The other half unabashedly glared at him. Rhaenys’s disapproval didn’t surprise him, but when he caught Rhaena glowering at him, he almost jumped in startlement. He couldn’t remember Rhaena ever being angry at him. Oh, she’d been exasperated and annoyed with him aplenty, but the outrage she was currently directing at him was alien.

What reason did Rhaena have to be angry? Had Rhaena ever even spoken to Aegon before the elopement? If she was angry, then she must be angry on Jacaera’s behalf. Or mayhaps Rhaena was upset that Daemon had ruined the girls’ meticulous plans for the ceremony. Rhaena was fussy about things like that.

Late that night, while the rest of the castle was asleep, Daemon restlessly wandered through the moonlit corridors. Inexplicably, he found himself approaching the room that had been given to Aegon. He looked up just in time to glimpse the gray-robed maester disappearing around the corner at the far end of the corridor.

The door to Aegon’s room had been left ajar. Daemon slowly moved forward until he could see inside. Jacaera sat beside Aegon’s bed, watching him as he slept. The boy’s face was pallid in the candlelight. His right leg rested above the blankets, revealing the white bandages covering its freshly amputated stump.

Jacaera gently combed her fingers through Aegon’s hair, her expression tender even as tears flowed down her face. Her teeth bit into her lip as she struggled to remain quiet, clearly not wanting to wake Aegon.

It was a terribly intimate moment, one that Daemon had no right to witness. He silently retreated, careful not to let his footsteps echo.

The king and his lickspittles arrived the next day. The queen immediately went to see her son, rudely ignoring Lady Bar Emmon’s greeting as she hurried down the corridor. Otto lingered in Viserys’s shadow, a leech as always.

Leaning on his cane, Viserys said gravely, “I am most perplexed by the report we received. How exactly did Aegon come to lose his leg? Lord Bar Emmon didn’t share the details of the circumstances leading to his injury.”

After returning from Aegon’s room, Daemon had spent the rest of the night concocting a mostly truthful explanation that put the least amount of blame on his own shoulders. But the tale refused to fall from his lips, even when Viserys looked expectantly at him. Daemon’s tongue felt unnaturally heavy, too heavy to tell the story that would exonerate him in his brother’s eyes.

After a moment, Viserys furrowed his brow and turned to the next person. “Rhaenys, what—?”

“It was Father’s fault,” Rhaena interrupted stonily. She was usually too polite to interrupt people, but now she interrupted the king without hesitation. “He attacked Aegon with Dark Sister. Aegon’s leg almost bled out. He could have died.”

Although Otto looked unsurprised by the revelation, Viserys was shocked and aghast. “Is this true, Daemon?” the king demanded.

Daemon just looked at his brother. He didn’t speak. He couldn’t speak.

Lucera muttered, “It’s true. We saw it.” Baela and Helaena nodded in agreement.

Viserys looked back at Rhaenys, as if hoping she might contradict the others’ account. Rhaenys disappointed him, however, when she replied, “I was just about to land with Meleys when this all occurred. I cannot speak to the details, Cousin, but I did see Daemon assault Prince Aegon. I’m sure Ser Lorent can corroborate.”

As Viserys’s shoulders slumped, Otto decided to stick his nose into the conversation. “It is a grave crime to attack the king’s son. Not even the king’s brother is above the law,” the Hand said sanctimoniously.

Viserys thumped his cane on the ground. “Daemon, why did you do it?” he cried.

At last, Daemon’s tongue resumed working. But instead of giving a clever obfuscation of the truth, Daemon simply said, “The boy eloped with Jacaera. I disapproved.” Then he shrugged, a gesture which he knew would damn him further.

Viserys’s disappointment was palpable. Daemon wasn’t sure whether Viserys was more disappointed that Daemon had attacked Aegon in the first place, or that Daemon couldn’t be bothered to defend himself.

Aegon needed to remain at Sharp Point until the maester deemed him stable enough to return by ship to King’s Landing. Jacaera and the queen refused to leave his side. The other girls refused to leave Jacaera. Daemon refused to leave the girls and risk them getting into more trouble. Otto refused to leave Daemon unmonitored at Sharp Point while Aegon was mostly unconscious. Viserys was too tired to force everyone to leave.

Therefore, the royal court temporarily moved to Sharp Point. Most of the Small Council came to join the king, as did the rest of the Kingsguard and the other two Green princelings. Fortunately, there was no further influx of courtiers, as Sharp Point didn’t have enough rooms to accommodate any more guests.

“I suppose Aemond and I are a matching set now. One-Eye and One-Leg,” Aegon was heard to say. “Just keep our uncle away from Daeron, or else we might end up with a One-Hand as well.”

A few days later, the Bar Emmons were forced to find room for several more royal visitors. As soon as Rhaenyra was adequately recovered from childbirth, she and Joff joined everyone else at Sharp Point. Rhaenyra also brought newborn Alyssa, whom she promptly introduced to Viserys.

“Alyssa isn’t supposed to travel this soon, but I brought her for your sake,” Rhaenyra icily told Daemon afterwards. “You know how my father loves infants. She helped soften him before I began convincing him to show you leniency. You will be confined at Dragonstone for the foreseeable future. He expects daily reports on yours and Caraxes’s whereabouts, so don’t expect to be able to sneak away for any excursions.”

“I suppose Otto is disappointed that I won’t also be losing a leg, to make things fair,” Daemon sneered.

“Cease your japing!” Rhaenyra snapped. “If you weren’t his brother, my father would have your head for what you did to Aegon. And I am so angry with you, I don’t want to stay at Dragonstone while you’re there. I think I’ll take Alyssa and the girls, and we shall all return to King’s Landing without you.”

Daemon jerked in surprise. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do mean it. Honestly, Daemon, I managed just fine without you for twelve years. Considering the mess you’ve made of things, I’m starting to think I could have done with another twelve years.” Rhaenyra swept imperiously out of the room.

Now that Rhaenyra was at Sharp Point to chaperone the girls, Daemon was unceremoniously sent back to Dragonstone. As he prepared to mount Caraxes, he sensed someone watching him. “What do you want?” he asked Joff.

Joff was frowning. It was her usual expression, and Daemon was glad to find something still the same, inconsequential as it was. “You tried to kill Aegon,” she said.

“But I didn’t kill him,” Daemon countered. “I only…maimed him. A little.”

Joff’s frown deepened. “I was starting to like you. But now I don’t.”

Somehow, those words from a six-year-old child hurt more than if she’d swung Dark Sister at Daemon’s own leg.

Once they arrived at Dragonstone, Daemon grumbled to Caraxes, “Finally, some damn peace and quiet.” Having five—no, six now—daughters and stepdaughters under the same roof was more than enough to drive any man mad.

But that evening, when he ate his supper alone in the empty dining room, he found that he missed the madness. Just a little.