At this moment, Alyn pressed her lips together.
"I understand," she said. "Which is exactly why we need an experienced commander."
"An experienced commander?" Aemond repeated her words. "What experience does Ser Cole have?"
"His father was nothing more than a steward to a noble house."
"Has he ever studied matters like this?"
"Or is it just because he's served the late king for so many years?"
"Or because he won a tourney?"
"Or because he's the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard?"
"That's what you call experience?"
Alyn's face flushed red.
"Aemond!" Queen Dowager Alicent's voice came from behind.
Aemond didn't turn.
He simply looked at Alyn.
Her chest rose and fell sharply.
She wanted to argue, wanted to say that Ser Cole was not as he described, wanted to say this was King Aegon's command, that he had no right—
But she didn't say it.
Because she saw the way Aemond looked at her.
There was something in those eyes that made every word lodge in her throat.
"Aemond."
Alicent stepped to his side.
Her hand gripped his arm.
It trembled slightly.
"Please," she said in a low voice, only he could hear. "Aemond, don't do this."
Aemond turned his head.
He looked at his mother.
Alicent's eyes were red.
She had aged.
Since Viserys died, she had aged a great deal.
Those once-bright green eyes now always seemed veiled with moisture, and faint lines had appeared on the face that had once been so carefully maintained.
She was begging him.
In front of everyone, she was begging him.
Aemond was silent for a long time before he finally spoke.
"Very well."
Queen Alyn and Queen Dowager Alicent were both stunned—he agreed that easily?
Aemond turned and walked back to the head of the table.
He did not sit.
He stood behind the chair, both hands gripping its back.
"Gwayne."
Gwayne Hightower stood.
"At your command."
"In this battle, I will have Ser Cole serve as the vanguard."
He hesitated for a moment, then looked at his uncle Gwayne.
"You will serve as the commander."
Gwayne's face lit with satisfaction. He nodded.
Aemond turned to Ser Willem Darklyn.
"Ser Willem, you will take the left wing."
Willem stood.
"As you command."
Aemond tilted his head slightly and glanced at Hall.
"Hall."
Behind him, Hall stepped forward.
"At your command."
"You will take the right wing."
He paused.
"And take those lads—my personal guard—with you."
Hall's eyes lit up.
"Yes!"
They had trained for years, waiting for this day.
Hall took a deep breath.
"My thanks, Prince."
Aemond nodded.
He was about to dismiss the meeting—
When Alyn's voice rang out again.
"That is not the king's command."
She stood across the long table, holding Jaehaera, her face flushed red.
"King Aegon's command was for Ser Criston Cole to serve as commander."
She looked at Aemond.
"You just agreed to it."
Aemond turned his head toward her.
"But I do not intend to accept the king's recklessness."
"I have already made Ser Cole the vanguard."
"That is the best arrangement."
He paused.
"The vanguard is the one who fights the first battle."
"If the battle goes well, he will share in the credit."
"If the battle goes poorly…"
He did not finish.
Alyn understood.
If it went well, Ser Cole would share in the glory.
If it went poorly, Ser Cole would be the one to die.
"You…" Alyn's voice trembled.
"Your Grace."
Aemond cut her off.
"Be silent."
Alyn's body froze.
Those two words were like a blade driven straight into her chest.
Her lips parted.
She wanted to protest, wanted to say she was the queen, wanted to say Aegon was the king, wanted to say—
But she saw Aemond's cold expression.
The last time, two days after Aegon had ascended the throne, he had looked at her the same way.
Back then, she had suggested that Aegon II take a more active role in governance, that the members of the Small Council report to the king regularly.
Aemond had rejected her outright.
A few days ago, she had received a letter from House Rogare.
The letter was short, only a few lines:
[Volantis has begun to surround Lys.]
[Your elder brother, Lysandro, asks that you endure.]
[Find a chance to persuade your husband, King Aegon II, to send troops to relieve Lys.]
She had endured.
And now he was telling her to endure again.
Alyn's eyes reddened. She felt only that being queen was unbearably suffocating.
Tears welled in her eyes, but she clenched her teeth, refusing to let them fall.
She would not cry in front of this hateful uncle.
She would not.
Alicent watched her, her lips moving slightly, but no words came out.
Aemond withdrew his gaze.
"Meeting adjourned."
No one dared linger.
Gwayne was the first to rise. He bowed slightly toward Aemond at the head of the table, then to his sister Alicent and Queen Alyn, and left at once.
As the maternal uncle of both King Aegon II and Prince Aemond, he naturally understood the difference between his two nephews.
He would have to be a fool to side with Aegon II.
Even if his sister Alicent had always tried to persuade him to stand with Aegon.
But sorry—after all these years, as their uncle, he knew very well what kind of person Aemond was.
Truly anger him, and he would turn ruthless without hesitation.
At that point, uncle or not, it would mean nothing.
Ser Willem Darklyn and Will Symons followed behind him, leaving quickly.
It was obvious that what came next would be a royal family dispute—best not to be involved, best not to know.
Larys Strong was the last to rise.
Leaning on his cane, he slowly walked toward the door. When he reached it, he turned back for one last look.
Aemond stood behind the head chair, both hands gripping its back, sunlight streaming in from behind him, his whole figure bathed in light.
Larys fell silent, then pushed the door open and left.
He understood that the matter with the chair today had been a deliberate warning—and humiliation.
This young prince had seized power within just a few years, confined the late king, and treated the current king as a puppet.
Arrogant. Overbearing. Cruel. And intelligent.
The nobles of the Crownlands were rallying to him. King's Landing and the Red Keep were under his control. Both governance and military authority were firmly in his hands.
The southern lords had also submitted to him. The power he now wielded surpassed even that of the late King Viserys I.
He wanted to become Hand of the King.
He wanted to become the power behind the throne.
He wanted to become like this prince.
He no longer wanted to be mocked by those nobles as "Larys the Clubfoot."
But only power could give him back his dignity…
The door closed behind him.
Only four people remained in the council chamber.
Aemond.
Alicent.
Alyn, holding the infant.
Alicent took a deep breath.
She walked toward Aemond.
"Aemond."
Aemond did not look at her.
Alicent stepped in front of him.
"Aegon is your brother."
Aemond still said nothing.
"He is the king." Alicent's voice rose slightly.
"Is the king's authority, in your eyes now, so worthless?"
At last, Aemond looked at her.
His gaze was calm.
"Mother."
"I want to win this war."
He paused.
"Not have you come here to give me blind orders."
Alicent's chest heaved.
"Blind orders?"
"I think Ser Cole—"
"I don't want what you think," Aemond cut her off.
"I want what I think."
He looked at her.
"Mother, you're tired. And you've grown much older."
Alicent froze.
Aemond continued: "From now on, stay in Maegor's Holdfast. Take proper care of Ysera and Jaehaerys."
"When you have time, go speak with Helaena."
"Stop meddling in these matters."
Alicent's face turned pale.
"Aemond."
Aemond turned toward the door and gave an order.
"Hall."
Hall stepped in from the doorway. He stood before Alicent and lowered his head.
"Your Grace, please do not make this difficult for me."
She looked at Aemond.
Aemond turned his head away, no longer looking at his mother, Alicent.
Alicent then glanced at Queen Alyn.
Alyn stood there, holding Jaehaera, her eyes red, her lips pressed tight.
"Alyn,"
"Come with me."
Alyn took a step forward to follow.
"No."
Aemond's voice rang out.
"She stays."
Alicent turned around.
"Aemond!"
"Mother, rest assured." Aemond's tone was flat. "She is my sister-in-law, and she is the queen."
"You can be certain—I won't do anything to her."
Alicent hesitated, looking at him.
Then, with a sigh, she turned and walked out.
The door closed behind her.
Only three people remained in the chamber.
Aemond.
Alyn, holding the child.
Alyn stood across the long table, holding Jaehaera, motionless.
Aemond stepped around the head of the table.
Step by step, he walked toward her.
Alyn began to retreat slowly.
Her back hit the wall.
There was nowhere left to go.
Aemond stopped in front of her.
He looked down at her.
Those violet eyes held no warmth.
"Alyn Rogare."
His voice was soft.
"I warned you."
Alyn's lips trembled.
"Once, twice, again and again…"
He moved closer.
Her eyes were red, tears streaming down.
"Aemond!"
She looked at him in fear.
"What do you want from me?"
Her voice was hoarse.
"You kept me here—what do you want?"
Aemond did not answer.
He simply looked at her.
Then—
"Waa!"
Jaehaera cried.
The infant, startled by her mother's distress, let out a loud wail.
Alyn instinctively tightened her hold, rocking her gently.
"It's alright, it's alright…"
Aemond's movement halted.
He looked at the swaddled child.
He was silent for a moment.
Then he reached out his hand.
Alyn's body stiffened.
But Aemond did not touch her.
His hand passed by her and came to rest beside her face.
He gently pinched a loose strand of her silver hair.
The strand had slipped from her coiffure and hung beside her cheek, damp with sweat and tears.
He tucked it behind her ear.
Alyn's breathing stopped.
"I told you."
"Be a proper queen."
"Fulfill your duties."
He paused.
"Do not meddle in what does not concern you."
His fingers withdrew from beside her ear.
"Aegon is my brother."
He looked into her eyes.
"I know what I'm doing."
Alyn looked back at him.
Those violet eyes were so close.
That face was too young.
Sixteen—three years younger than her.
No hesitation. No unease.
None of the awkwardness a boy might show before a woman.
Only scrutiny.
"Do you understand?"
Alyn nodded helplessly.
Then Aemond extended his hand toward her arms.
"Give her to me."
Alyn froze.
Aemond did not wait for her to respond.
He gently lifted Jaehaera from her arms.
The baby was still crying, her little face flushed red, her tiny hands waving in the air.
Aemond held her and turned toward the window.
With one hand supporting her, he pulled the curtain open with the other.
Sunlight poured in.
Golden. Warm. The midday sun.
Jaehaera's crying gradually quieted.
Aemond rocked her gently.
He hummed a tune.
She blinked, looking at the man holding her.
The sunlight fell across her face—and across his, turning his silver hair into silver-gold, lighting his violet eyes until they shone.
She reached out her little hand.
She tried to grab his nose.
Aemond did not move.
That soft little hand caught the tip of his nose and squeezed.
Aemond smiled.
Alyn stood by the window, staring blankly at his back.
She had never seen Aemond like this before.
Aemond held Jaehaera, his back to her.
"This princess," he said, "does not yet have a dragon, does she?"
Alyn froze for a moment.
Then her heart jolted.
After giving birth to Jaehaera, the first thing she had wanted to do was go to the Dragonpit and choose a hatchling for her daughter.
A Targaryen princess—how could she not have a dragon?
But the guards at the Dragonpit had told her that all dragon eggs and hatchlings required Prince Aemond's personal approval before they could be assigned.
"That newly hatched silver dragon," Aemond said, "Lumina."
He turned around.
Holding Jaehaera, he walked back to her.
He placed the infant back into her arms.
Jaehaera was still giggling, her tiny hands waving in the air.
"Give her that one."
Alyn's breath caught.
Lumina.
That small silver dragon.
Its scales were pure silver, its eyes like molten gold. Only a few months old, and already capable of breathing thin wisps of smoke.
Every dragonkeeper who had seen it said that when it grew, it would be beautiful.
She had thought those dragons would only be kept for Aemond's own children.
Princess Helaena was said to be pregnant as well.
But Aemond had given it to Jaehaera.
To her daughter.
Alyn lifted her head.
She looked at Aemond.
"Thank you, Prince," she said, gratitude in her voice.
Aemond looked at her.
"Jaehaera is a Targaryen princess."
He paused.
"A dragon is the proof of a king's blood…"
"As a Targaryen, she should not be without one."
With that, he turned and left.
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