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In the Red Keep at dead of night, only the torches along the corridor still danced.
Aemond climbed the cold stone steps back to Maegor's Holdfast.
He had just returned from the Dragonpit; he and Vhagar had circled above the Gods Eye for a full two hours.
The high-altitude chill had already seeped into his bones, and now the cold stabbed through his skin like fine needles.
His cheeks were stiff, his fingers nearly numb; every breath condensed into white mist.
At the head of the stairs, the two night sentinels straightened the instant they saw the prince.
A short distance away, Ser Criston Cole stood before his chamber door.
Hand on sword-hilt, stance alert, the knight's grey-blue eyes met Aemond as he approached, and he gave a slight dip of his head.
No flicker crossed Aemond's face; he gave Cole a curt nod, pushed the door, and entered.
The room was far warmer than the corridor; embers still glowed in the hearth.
Just as he began to relax, Aemond froze.
His gaze fell upon the bed.
In the moonlight, beneath the brocade coverlet, a distinct human shape rose.
Aemond stepped slowly to the bedside, right hand settling on the dagger at his hip, left hand pinching the corner of the quilt to draw it back.
Moonlight poured unhindered, bathing the young body on the mattress.
Alicent Hightower the maid, fourteen, brown hair spilled across the pillow, blue eyes wide in the gloom.
She was naked, skin lustrous as milk in the moonlight, every cultivated curve on display, full breasts, slender waist, long legs lightly crossed.
A few rose petals were strewn across the pillow, their scent mingling with the girl's own.
Shyly, she met Aemond's stare, parted her lips, and spoke in a pitiful whisper, "Your Grace... I, I'm so cold, and I couldn't find my chamber..."
"Could you... Let me stay this one night?"
Aemond regarded her in silence.
The hush stretched.
Then he smiled, the curve of it spreading across his mouth.
"Cold?" he murmured.
Indeed, the nights are cold in the Red Keep, especially...
He paused, gaze calmly skimming her bare skin, "When you lie in my bed so... unprotected."
A shiver ran through Alicent's heart.
The prince's reaction was nothing she'd rehearsed for, no pounce, no scolding, not even feigned reluctance.
Only that smile that chilled her to the core.
"Your Grace, I..." She tried to sit, arms crossing over her breasts, every inch the helpless maid.
Aemond turned away, no longer looking at her.
Alicent lay rigid, unsure how to continue the act.
The prince pulled the door open.
Ser Cole was still outside; he glanced over at the sound.
"Cole," Aemond said evenly, "this gift doesn't suit my taste."
A faint twitch of Cole's brow: "Shall I deal with it, Your Grace?"
"Mm." Aemond lounged in the doorway, lazily eyeing the bed.
"Wrap her up and take her to the lower barracks."
"Tell the night watch..."
He paused, watching Alicent's face drain of color, his grin widening, "The prince sends them a present."
"Remind them not to break her; after all, she is a Hightower girl."
At the prince's order, Cole hesitated.
"No!" Alicent shrieked, rolling from the bed in a tangle of sheets, scrambling to cover herself as she crawled to Aemond's feet, tears streaming.
"Your Grace! Mercy! I know I was wrong!"
"I shouldn't have climbed into your bed, please! Don't send me to the barracks!"
She wept prettily.
Aemond looked down, voice cold:
"Now you're afraid?"
"Why didn't you think of the price before you started?"
Alicent sobbed, "I only... wanted to be your lover... I meant no harm..."
"Oh?" Aemond crouched to her level, pinching her chin to lift it, gently, yet inescapably.
"Then answer me one question, Alicent. Answer truthfully, and I may reconsider."
Alicent nodded frantically, tears wetting his hand.
"Who put you up to it?" Aemond's voice dropped to a whisper only she could hear.
"The queen?"
"...or House Hightower?"
He held her gaze: "Speak."
Alicent trembled. "N-no one! Truly!"
She gulped air. "It was my own idea! I only wanted someone to rely on, Your Grace!"
"Enough."
Aemond tilted her chin higher, forcing the scheming girl to meet his eyes; still, she would not confess.
He shook his head.
"Forget it...
Realizing she could not fool him, Alicent broke.
"It was Hand Otto who arranged it..."
"The Hand said Your Grace's moods are unpredictable; he hoped I could stay beside you and learn your mind..."
"And, and I do admire you, Your Grace..."
She sobbed, "Your Highness, I swear by the Seven, every word I speak is true."
Aemond pinched her chin, studying her in silence for a long while.
So long that Alicent felt she might faint.
At last, he released her.
"Get dressed," he said, rising.
"At sunrise, leave the Red Keep."
"Go back to wherever you came from."
"Y-yes! Thank you, Your Highness! Thank you!" Alicent wept, kowtowing as she scrambled for the clothes strewn across the floor, yanking them on without caring how bedraggled she looked.
Aemond no longer looked at her; he walked to the hearth and stretched his hands toward the fire.
Only when the soft click of the door sounded behind him did Alicent bolt like a startled rabbit.
After another moment, he called toward the door, "Ser Cole, come in."
The door opened.
Cole stepped inside; he had already guessed his pupil's foul mood.
He shut the door behind him and studied Aemond's back.
"Do you think it's a waste?" Aemond asked suddenly, turning.
"Such a gorgeous girl, so young and lively, offering herself to me… Do you believe I should have accepted the gift with a smile?"
"Many would have chosen exactly that."
Cole hesitated, then answered, "It is Your Highness's freedom."
"But you thought I would take it." Aemond stepped forward; moonlight lit half his face.
"Or rather, the one who arranged this gift expected me to accept. And you, as a Kingsguard, allowed it to happen. Without your consent, she could never have entered this room."
Cole's throat bobbed. "Your Highness, "
His words died.
Aemond had moved,
Very fast.
Instinctively, Cole reached for his sword hilt; the cold edge was already beneath his jaw.
Another half-inch and the dagger would pierce bone and burst through his chin.
Cole went rigid. He felt the chill of the blade and the steady strength in the prince's hand.
He did not move or resist; he only lowered his gaze to the boy before him.
Aemond was half a head shorter, yet his aura crushed the knight completely.
"Ser Criston Cole," Aemond said softly and clearly, "you are detestable."
A slight twist of the wrist pressed the edge tighter to the skin.
Cole stared at the murderous Aemond, afraid to speak.
Aemond spoke calmly.
"My affairs… are mine alone to decide."
"No one, no one at all, may decide for me."
Aemond lowered his voice. "Your hatred of Rhaenyra is your own affair. Your allegiance to the Greens is your choice. But if you imagine that your paltry loyalty and a sword entitle you and someone else to arrange my life and meddle in my private matters, "
The dagger dipped; a bead of Blood welled from Cole's jaw and slid along the steel.
"Then I will show you, teacher," Aemond said, meeting his eyes, "that I have the power to kill you."
A storm of emotions, shock, rage, and humiliation swept through Cole, only to be crushed by something deeper.
He saw clearly: the prince before him, barely twelve, was no pampered libertine like Aegon, nor an indecisive gentle soul like Viserys I.
"…I understand," Cole said quietly.
"Louder."
"I understand, Prince Aemond," Cole answered clearly, voice already submissive.
"Such a thing will not happen again. Your private affairs, your choices, are yours alone."
Aemond stared at him for several seconds, then withdrew the dagger.
The motion was fluid; he even raised a thumb to wipe away the drop of Blood on Cole's jaw.
"Good." Aemond stepped back.
"Tonight's business ends here."
Cole exhaled silently; he truly should not have provoked this student.
The Targaryen family was mostly mad: Rhaenyra, Daemon, Aemond…
"What of the task I set you?" Aemond asked suddenly.
"How does it stand?"
Cole answered at once, "The two have lowered their guard. Gyles has found their kin posts inside the Red Keep. They are delighted and work with vigor."
He could not fathom why Aemond cared so much for the pair nicknamed Blood and Cheese.
Hearing this, Aemond smiled.
"First give them hope," he murmured.
"Then give them despair. Tell me, what do you think will happen?"
Cole fell silent.
He did not know why Aemond bore such malice toward the two; it was clearly meant to break their spirits, yet he asked no more.
"You may go."
Cole thumped his right fist to his chest in salute, turned, and left the room.
The door closed.
Aemond stood alone before the hearth, watching the leaping flames.
Firelight flickered across his profile, bright, then dark…
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