Under Aegon’s watch, Joffrey drank a few cups of wine, then carried his goblet over to Criston.
He stopped beside Criston and started talking with a smile.
Criston’s face stayed blank.
Soon, whatever Joffrey said made Criston’s expression darken fast.
Joffrey kept talking, oblivious.
Then one last word landed like the final straw.
Criston’s face twisted.
With a roar, he drove Joffrey to the ground, mounted him, and kept swinging.
The dancers scattered.
Viserys shot up from the high table, scanning the crowd for Rhaenyra and Daemon.
He was terrified Daemon had sweet-talked her into running.
But the screams told him something else was wrong.
Daemon stood with Rhaenyra, yes.
Neither was fleeing.
Both were frowning into the crowd.
Inside that crowd, Criston’s fists kept rising and falling until Joffrey’s face was a ruin of blood and pulp.
Viserys and Corlys rose together, shouting orders to restore order.
Corlys looked murderous.
He knew Joffrey.
Hadn’t thought much of his presence.
Never imagined the man would be beaten to death right here.
Criston looked around, reason creeping back.
He stood and ran for the hall doors.
Laenor crouched beside Joffrey, grief-stricken.
Viserys and Corlys forced smiles and managed the aftermath.
In an unnoticed corner, Alicent’s eyes flickered.
She slipped out after Criston.
Aegon followed silently.
Hugh stayed at his heels.
In the rear garden, Criston knelt on the ground, longsword in hand, ready to end it.
He knew he was dead.
Suicide was the last dignity he had left.
“Ser Criston?”
Alicent’s voice cut through the dark just as he set the blade to his throat.
“Your Grace?” Criston stared, stunned.
“I’m certain you had your reasons.
Would you consider serving as my sworn shield?”
Alicent extended the offer.
She wanted him.
Criston wasn’t about to refuse.
Who chooses death when life is on the table?
And right now, she was the only one who could save him.
He’d serve her gladly.
At their head stood another Kingsguard.
Eryk Cargyll.
“Your Grace, we are under the king’s orders to arrest Criston Cole.”
Eryk had clearly overheard her.
He had no choice but to invoke Viserys.
Alicent was about to press her authority when a young voice cut in.
“Ser Eryk, what crime has Ser Criston committed that my father orders his arrest?”
Aegon stepped out of the darkness.
Hugh loomed behind him, half his body still swallowed by shadow, violet eyes locked on Eryk and his men.
“My prince, Criston Cole struck Ser Joffrey senseless in public.
He broke the law.
You know this.”
“Do I?” Aegon stopped in front of Eryk.
“Do you?”
Eryk looked lost.
“Do I…
know what?”
He wasn’t playing dumb.
He was genuinely confused.
“Joffrey insulted me in public.
Ser Criston couldn’t stomach it and taught him a small lesson.
Did you know that?”
Eryk’s face froze.
Know that?
Of course he didn’t.
Because Aegon had just made it up.
“Forgive me, my prince.
I was unaware.
His Grace did not…”
Aegon cut him off.
“My father is king of the Seven Kingdoms.
Must he report his every piss to you?”
Eryk’s eyelid twitched.
That was a heavy charge.
“You know I meant no such thing, my prince.
Arresting Criston Cole is the king’s command.
I am following orders.
Step aside.”
Aegon’s eyes narrowed.
The original Fire & Blood wasn’t a novel.
It read like a historical record.
Many events were glossed over.
If Eryk had been the one sent to arrest Criston in the original account, how had his mother gotten him out? Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
Or had she let Eryk take Criston first?
That made no sense.
If Eryk had taken him, Laenor and the blacks would never have let Criston live.
No one knew what Joffrey had said to Criston.
If word got out, both houses would suffer.
While Aegon thought, Eryk ordered his men to seize Criston.
Steel sang.
Hugh drew his greatsword in one motion, single-handed, its point leveled at the two advancing guards.
“No one touches Criston without the prince’s command.
Anyone tries, they die.” Hugh’s voice was winter-cold.
The two guards looked helplessly at Eryk.
Eryk stared down at Aegon, his face tight with frustration.
Before he could speak, Aegon spoke first.
“Hugh, put that sword away.
These men belong to Ser Eryk.
Know your place.”
Criston’s heart shot into his throat.
Alicent frowned.
Eryk exhaled in relief.
He thought Aegon was backing down.
He opened his mouth to give the order.
Then a sudden wind tore through the garden.
Under the dim moon, a golden shape flashed past, and a faint dragon’s cry hung in the air.
Aegon’s voice went cold.
“Ser Eryk, you should know your place too.”
“When it comes down to it, you’re just a guard.” Aegon pointed at him.
He wanted Eryk on his side, yes.
But Criston Cole would be a far sharper blade.
Back in his old life, after watching the Fire & Blood adaptation, he’d cursed Criston plenty.
But times had changed.
He would lead the greens now.
In the original account, Criston had proven capable enough.
“Hugh, Ser Criston is tired.
Take him somewhere to rest.”
He turned back to Eryk.
“Ser Eryk Cargyll, I will explain this to my father personally.
Your services won’t be needed.
Understood?”
Eryk looked at Aegon, then at Alicent and Hugh, then up at the black sky.
He let out a long breath and nodded.
“Understood.
I’ll report back at once.”