The music had finally returned but Jacaerys was no longer dancing with Helaena. No one was.

You sat beside Aemond at the long table, fingers wrapped tightly around your wine cup as if the silver alone could steady you. At the head of the table, smiled weakly through his exhaustion, believing, perhaps for the first time in years, that his family had finally found peace.

Then Aemond rose.

You felt it immediately — the subtle shift in the room, the way conversation thinned like a blade being drawn.

His sapphire eye caught the candlelight as he lifted his goblet.

“A final tribute,” he said smoothly. “To the health of my nephews: Jace… Luke… and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…” His mouth curled slightly. “Strong.”

Across the table, Rhanerya went rigid. Alicent stared at him warily.

Jacaerys rose up.

“Come. Let us drain our cups to these three Strong boys.” Aemond raised his cup higher.

The silence that followed felt suffocating. You glanced instinctively toward, whose expression had gone deathly still, while beside her looked almost entertained beneath the danger gathering in his eyes.

“Say it again,” Jace demanded. "I dare you to say that again."