The Red Keep, a private chamber in Maegor's Holdfast.
Monstead Hightower stood at the door, waiting for the Regent to summon him. He had been waiting nearly fifteen minutes, and his legs had begun to ache. He was Lord Hightower, nephew to Queen Alicent, a powerful lord in Oldtown. But in this Red Keep, in these corridors lined with portraits of Targaryen kings, he was merely a noble receiving instruction.
"The Regent invites you to enter." Young Alyn pushed open the door and stepped aside.
Monstead drew a deep breath, straightened his collar, and entered the room.
The private chamber was small but elegantly furnished. The hearth blazed brightly, warming the entire room. By the window stood a black ebony table, on which were laid several scrolls of parchment and a crystal wine glass, its contents gleaming red in the firelight.
But Monstead's attention was not on these things. His gaze fell on the man by the window.
Aemond Targaryen sat in a high-backed chair, his back to the door, holding something in his arms. His silver hair gleamed coldly in the sunlight streaming through the window; his shoulders were broad, his back straight, exuding an imposing aura even while seated.
Monstead stepped closer and finally saw what he held: an infant.
A tiny girl, wrapped in a silver silk blanket.
It was Visenya. She was the Regent's eldest daughter, born only recently.
Monstead had heard rumors. They said this child had been born with some... abnormalities. But no one dared say what that abnormality was. Those midwives' mouths were clamped shut like clamshells. He had only heard that the Regent had given each of them fifty gold dragons, after which they had disappeared. They and their families had been relocated to Dragonstone—in short, they had all completely vanished from King's Landing.
And now he saw the child.
The girl was calm, not crying. She simply looked at Aemond with her large violet eyes. Her face was delicate as a porcelain doll: a small nose, pink lips, and fair skin with the rosy flush of infancy.
Monstead's gaze suddenly fell on her neck.
There was a small patch of scales. Red, fine scales. It was only the size of a fingernail, hidden at the edge of her collar, nearly impossible to notice unless one looked closely. But Monstead noticed it, and his pupils contracted slightly.
A princess with scales.
The thought sent a chill down his spine. But he immediately looked away; his expression remained unchanged. He knew exactly what he should see, what he should not see, and what he should pretend not to have seen.
Aemond seemed not to notice his arrival. He lowered his head, gazing intently at his daughter in his arms; a tender smile—one Monstead had never seen before—played on his lips. He extended a finger and gently touched the girl's lips. The girl instinctively opened her mouth, took his finger into it, and began to suck. She sucked greedily, making "nya-nya" sounds, as if eating something delicious.
Aemond smiled.
Monstead stood silently, not daring to make a sound, afraid to disturb them.
After a long while, Aemond finally raised his head and looked at the newcomer. At that moment, the warm smile vanished.
"Lord Monstead Hightower," Aemond began in a low voice. "How long has the Reach army been in King's Landing?"
"Reporting to the Regent," Monstead quickly bowed. "The vanguard arrived ten days ago; the main force has been outside the city for six days. In total, over twenty thousand men... And those sent by Lord Tyrell..."
"I know how many men Tyrell sent," Aemond interrupted in a flat tone. "I want to ask what you think of their deployment in King's Landing?"
Monstead was stunned. He looked up at Aemond, carefully choosing his words.
"Regent, the Reach army..." he paused, "has been stationed in King's Landing for some time. May I ask when our soldiers can suppress the rebellion?"
He did not finish, but his meaning was perfectly clear. His Reach army did not want to remain in King's Landing. This was the Crownlands—territory directly under Targaryen control. The Reach army was like a group of guests invited into a house. Moreover, Monstead did not mention that the soldiers of the Reach also did not want to stay there. They missed the sunshine of Highgarden, the clear waters of the Mander, and the Reach, where food was never scarce. King's Landing? King's Landing was too smelly, too crowded, too cold. The stench from Flea Bottom was constantly foul.
Aemond looked at him but did not answer immediately. He lowered his head and continued to tease Visenya in his arms. The girl was still sucking his finger, making "nya-nya" sounds, waving her little hands in the air, grabbing a strand of his silver hair and pulling it tightly. Aemond let her pull.
"Do not worry," Aemond said after a long pause. "Soon I will entrust important tasks to the Reach army. I have summoned you to King's Landing to carry out a crucial mission."
Monstead's heart tightened.
Important tasks?
"May I ask, Your Grace, what matter?" he asked cautiously.
Aemond looked up at him. Those violet eyes showed not the slightest expression.
"No more questions."
Four words, light and airy, silenced everything Monstead might have said.
Monstead lowered his head.
"I ask that the Reach army fully support the Iron Throne at that time," Aemond added, his tone still calm.
Monstead was filled with doubts, but dared not ask more.
"I understand," Monstead bowed. "The Reach army is at the Regent's command at any moment."
Aemond nodded, looking again at his daughter.
Monstead knew this was a dismissal. He bowed again.
The moment the door closed, the lord drew a deep breath, then slowly exhaled.
That child.
He remembered the tiny scales on the girl's neck, and his heart tightened. What was it? Disease? Curse? Or... He was afraid even to think about it. Sometimes, the less you know, the safer you are.
He quickened his pace and walked down the corridor. Turning a corner, he nearly collided with someone.
"Uncle." Lord Monstead quickly stepped aside to make way.
Otto Hightower stood in the corridor; his aged face was as impassive as ever. His hair was completely white, his back somewhat stooped, but his eyes remained sharp as an eagle's amber gaze.
"Monstead?" Otto glanced at him. "You have seen the Regent?"
"Yes, Uncle."
"What did he say?"
Monstead hesitated for a moment. "The Regent said the Reach army is to remain in King's Landing for some important task. But he did not say what."
Otto was silent for a moment.
"Very well. Go."
Monstead bowed again and quickly left.