"You know what you've done, Aemond?" Otto's voice trembled with suppressed anger.
"The Rogare family also controls the Triarchy!"
"They are the most important ally I could find for us across the Narrow Sea!"
"Their influence on the Eastern Continent… and for you, it's useless?"
Aemond leaned lazily against the high-backed chair opposite, flicking his fingers over the flickering candlelight.
"I see it clearly, grandfather," he replied calmly.
"See it clearly?" Otto nearly rose from his seat.
"I know you refuse personally! You're leaving no room for compromise!"
"Corlys Rogare is in the corridor — he is Lysandro Rogare's most trusted brother, the key to this marriage!"
"You almost made us lose this ally… maybe even pushed him to the other side!"
"Thanks?" Otto laughed bitterly.
"Thanks for humiliating their sincerity in public?"
"Thanks for your disdainful refusal to marry their rightful daughter?"
"Aemond, your arrogance ends here!"
"I want you to go immediately and apologize to Corlys Rogare."
"At least superficially — acknowledge the friendship between our houses, show you value it."
"No need, Hand," Aemond's calm voice came from behind the door.
Otto turned sharply. Corlys Rogare entered the chamber, still dressed in the formal attire he had worn for his audience.
His silver hair shone like cold moonlight, and his ice-blue eyes gleamed in the candlelight.
"Lord Corlys…" Otto froze for a moment.
Aemond rose and placed his hands on the table, fixing Corlys with a steady gaze.
"Lord Corlys, why was the Triarchy ever allied in the first place?"
Silence immediately fell over the chamber.
Otto's pupils narrowed sharply.
Corlys froze, breathing as though the world had stopped for a heartbeat.
His piercing gaze locked on Aemond, as if trying to pierce the prince himself.
He possessed Vhagar — the oldest and largest dragon in the world, capable of changing the tide of battle and the landscape of war.
The old stories of Aegon riding Balerion into the "Bloodfire Era" sprang vividly to mind.
This was an immeasurable military advantage, enough to crush the opposition of this land.
After a long pause, Corlys exhaled slowly, visibly moved.
"Your Highness… is this claim true?"
"I swear it on Targaryen blood," Aemond said with a smile.
"However, this does not represent the Seven Kingdoms. It is merely my personal decision."
Corlys shook his head, then inclined it solemnly.
"No, it is a promise, Prince Aemond.
House Rogare, and the elders of the Triarchy whom I represent, will remember this friendship."
"Very well." Aemond nodded lightly.
"For the specifics… perhaps someday in the future I shall visit Lys personally."
Corlys bowed with a smile.
"The gates of Lys are always open to Your Highness."
"I will immediately inform my brother of Your Highness's intentions."
Their eyes met, a silent understanding passing between them.
Corlys saluted once more and turned to leave.
Silence fell again in the secret chamber.
Aemond was calm, yet resolute.
"Real military aid and aligned interests — those are the strongest bonds.
And the initiative remains in our hands."
"But…" Otto rubbed his temples.
"Involvement in the Eastern Continent's affairs, even if personal, will invite endless criticism."
"He always finds a way to justify himself," Otto muttered, then looked up sharply.
"So… what is the real reason you refused the Rogare marriage?"
Aemond met his gaze.
The candlelight reflected fiercely in his violet eyes, burning with a nearly paranoid intensity.
"You… mean Helena?" Otto asked, dryly.
"Yes." Aemond admitted frankly.
"She belongs to me as well."
He paused. His voice dropped cold as ice.
"I will never allow her to marry Jacarys Velaryon, an illegitimate son with strong blood…
This marriage contract must be annulled."
"What do you intend?" Otto felt a headache coming.
"Open defiance? This will anger His Grace and force the factions to respect us even more!"
"Have you lost your mind?" Otto demanded.
Aemond turned with a cold smile.
"I can handle it."
This move could completely ruin the Rogares' plan to justify Jacarys's claim through marriage.
"You intend to take Helena…?" Otto's voice dropped.
"Aemond, you're setting the entire Green Party ablaze!"
"I am… only responding to the man His Grace made me," Aemond said steadily.
"You know him better than I do — weak, sentimental, and devoted to family above all."
Otto fell silent for a long moment.
"When do you plan to act?" he finally asked, hoarsely.
"No rush, it's too early." Aemond returned to his seat.
"Before any betrothal…" He paused, eyes again meeting Otto's.
"Why play hypocrite, grandfather?"
"The difference between boiled frogs in warm water and those who leap after my father's death…"
He turned. His violet eyes glimmered terrifyingly in the candlelight.
"Take the initiative. Strip away every disguise. Let the hatred between these houses burn hotter and brighter than ever."