Vermithor descended slowly, his massive form filling the entire plaza before the Hightower. Aemon surveyed the scene below, then stepped down from the dragon's wing as it touched the ground.
Lord Thaddeus Rowan's chubby face tensed as he gazed at the man and the dragon. This was not the first time he had met Prince Aemon, but each time, his sheer presence filled him with a profound sense of awe.
Shhhrriii!
Suddenly, a second, more melodious dragon's cry echoed from above, piercing the thick clouds. Lord Donnel and Gwayne looked up in unison, the former with surprise, the latter with pure delight.
The next moment, the magnificent Dreamfyre plummeted from the sky, her pale blue wings sweeping through the clouds as she landed gracefully atop the highest spire of the Hightower.
"Helaena!" Gwayne cheered. Without his nephews, he had felt on shaky ground negotiating with the lords of the Reach. With his dragon-riding niece now present, his confidence surged. My backers, he thought, are the strongest in the Seven Kingdoms!
"Be careful, Helaena!" Gwayne cupped his hands to his lips, shouting with a mix of fear and admiration at the silver-haired girl perched so high above.
Helaena's face was a little pale. She ordered Dreamfyre to fly down to the wooden bridge connecting the tower to a neighboring structure. Only when the dragon was on solid ground did she slowly dismount. Landing on the spire was impressive, but getting down was another matter entirely. I won't be doing that again, she thought.
The Great Hall of the Hightower.
"How fares Lord Garlen?" Aemon asked from the high seat, addressing the Highgarden lords assembled below.
Lord Thaddeus stepped forward, his expression somber. "Lord Garlen is gravely wounded, Your Highness. He is lucid for only a few moments each day and must be given milk of the poppy every two hours for the pain." The maesters had done all they could; the rest was in the hands of the gods.
"Prince," Lord Donnel Tarly, a man of action, cut straight to the point. "Have you brought a message from the king?"
"How dare you!" Gwayne leaped forward, pointing an accusing finger. "His Highness acts as he sees fit! It is not your place to question him!"
"You..." Lord Donnel began to rage. He had never encountered such a shameless sycophant. Lord Thaddeus tugged at his cloak, giving him a look that warned him to hold his tongue.
Aemon's brow furrowed slightly. This Gwayne was truly insufferable.
"My uncle does have a message," Aemon said, his tone turning formal. "Firstly, on behalf of the Crown, I offer a solemn apology to the gravely injured Lord Garlen and extend our most heartfelt condolences. We wish the young lord a speedy recovery as we look to him to govern the prosperous and open-minded Reach.
Secondly, we strongly condemn the Hightowers for leading this rebellion. The Queen and her father, Otto, far away in King's Landing, were entirely unaware of this treason. By the time they learned of it, it was too late to intervene. To ensure the legitimacy of House Tyrell is upheld, I, as Prince Regent, have been dispatched to restore order.
Finally, my two young nephews, after their fit of mischief, are willing to make amends. To mend these wounds, they are of an age to be wed. Noble houses with eligible daughters should make them known."
After Aemon finished, the hall was silent.
Lord Thaddeus: ...
Lord Donnel: ...
"Huh?" Gwayne uttered, his scalp tingling.
"That is my uncle's meaning," Aemon said with a faint smile. His uncle was a master of plausible deniability, a true Teflon king.
"Hmm?" Helaena tilted her head, clearly confused by the political doublespeak.
Aemon got back to business. "Where is Mund Hightower?"
"Imprisoned in the dungeons, Your Highness," Lord Thaddeus said with relief.
"To rebel against one's liege lord and abduct a prince is an unforgivable crime," Aemon stated casually. "Behead him."
"Yes, Your Highness!" Lord Donnel accepted the order loudly, turning with excitement to head for the dungeons. The king's decree may have been evasive, but as long as the Prince Regent upheld their victory, they could accept it.
Gwayne's face showed a flash of reluctance. He raised a hand as if to protest, then lowered it. He could not intervene here. The death of a few soldiers could be forgiven, but crippling the Lord of Highgarden was a transgression no noble house could overlook.
"With Lord Garlen unable to govern, certain matters must be settled," Aemon continued, then called out, "Lord Thaddeus!"
"Your Highness." Lord Thaddeus shuddered with anticipation.
Just then, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the stairs. "Prince! I am so glad you are here!" Lord Lyman Beesbury panted, cautiously making his way down.
"Are you well, Lord Lyman?" Aemon asked with a smile.
"Thanks to the King and yourself, I eat and drink my fill. Though I find I need a glass of brandy before bed to sleep," the old man replied, tactfully alluding to his stressful captivity.
Aemon chose not to comment on the old man's subtle plea. Following behind Lord Lyman, Larys Strong descended the stairs, leaning on his cane. The two men exchanged a look across the hall. Larys's eyes gleamed with a self-congratulatory smile, as if to say, See? I did a fine job, did I not?
Aemon's face remained placid, but in his mind, he was already sentencing the man to death. He had told Larys to sow discord, to create conflict. On that front, Larys had performed admirably. But he had gone further, secretly bewitching Aegon, luring him into the war and using his dragon to incinerate Garlen Tyrell. It was a clear power play, a scheme with ulterior motives. He had to find a way to eliminate him.
"Lord Thaddeus, show me the city and the men who fought for it," Aemon said, standing.
Lord Thaddeus put his hands together, his mind racing as he replayed the prince's words. Highgarden's reputation is damaged, and Lord Garlen is unfit to rule. Does that mean I...?
Yes!
Aemon and Helaena toured Oldtown under the guidance of Lord Thaddeus. On their way back to the Hightower, the two reached a private agreement.
House Tyrell of Highgarden had failed to govern its vassals, leading directly to the Hightower rebellion and causing irreparable damage to the Reach. In light of Lord Garlen Tyrell's heroic efforts, he would retain his dukedom. However, the title of "Warden of the South" would be stripped from Highgarden and awarded to Lord Thaddeus Rowan of Goldengrove.
"My prince," Lord Thaddeus feigned modesty, though he was beaming inwardly, "will the lords loyal to Highgarden not be... displeased?" House Rowan being named Warden of the South placed them, at least nominally, on equal footing with the Tyrells.
Aemon smiled. "There will be a shakeup on the Small Council soon. I will reserve a seat for you."
"Truly?" Lord Thaddeus was overjoyed. The Small Council was where the true power of the realm was wielded.
"Rest assured. Your ability and your loyalty are beyond question," Aemon said admiringly, patting his shoulder. The cowardly, balding middle-aged man grinned, speaking endlessly of his loyalty.
Aemon was used to it. Lord Thaddeus was a man obsessed with power, yet he was pure and easy to fool. His uncle's council was full of talented but selfish men. Grand Maester Mellos was old and feigning senility; he needed to be replaced, and such an important position could not remain in the hands of a Hightower appointee. Otto had caused enough trouble. As for Lord Lyman, he was a diligent Master of Coin in peacetime, but he panicked under pressure, as his failure to restrain Aegon had proven. It was time for the old, loyal man to enjoy his retirement.
"Thank you, Prince! The nobles of the Reach will forever remember your friendship!" Lord Thaddeus said, his face flushed as he grasped Aemon's hand. The prince's smile faltered, slightly overwhelmed by the man's enthusiasm.
The two men entered the Hightower to discuss the final verdict for House Hightower and the future of the Reach.
The Next Day.
Atop the city walls of Oldtown.
"In the name of King Viserys, the First of His Name, I sentence you to death!"
With a swish of the blade, Mund Hightower's head tumbled to the ground. His body was taken away, but his head was impaled on a spear above the gate.
Inside the Hightower, Aemon and Lord Thaddeus jointly announced the punishment for House Hightower before the assembled lords of the Reach.
"The Hightower's ancient seat, the Hightower itself, is hereby forfeit and granted to Prince Aegon Targaryen."
The hall erupted in an uproar. Seizing the castle was one thing, but granting it to Prince Aegon?
Aemon was unconcerned with their objections.
"Silence, and hear the Prince Regent!" Lord Thaddeus shouted, using his newfound authority as Warden of the South to quell the dissent.
Aemon continued calmly, "Of the Hightower vassals, House Costayne of Three Towers and House Beesbury of Honeyholt will henceforth pledge their fealty to House Tyrell of Highgarden."
"As you command, Your Highness," Lord Costayne and Lord Lyman stepped forward and bowed. These were the two most powerful of the Hightower's former vassals.
But Aemon was not finished. "House Cuy of Sunhouse and House Mullendore of Uplands will henceforth pledge their fealty to Aegon of House Targaryen of the Hightower."
These two houses were slightly weaker but still significant. Compensating the Tyrells with two powerful vassals was sufficient. The rest would be governed by Aegon. The Targaryen bloodline needed a foothold in the Reach, and the ties between Aegon and his Hightower kin needed to be severed completely. Forcing him to rule over his mother's former vassals was the perfect way to do it.
Four of the six vassals had been reassigned, leaving only House Rockton and House Bulwer. Aemon did not touch these two, and they remained loyal to the diminished House Hightower, now led by Gwayne. The captured Lord Rockton and Lord Bulwer were present, their faces a mixture of resentment at their defeat and shock at Aemon's audacious restructuring of their ancient hierarchy.
"The selection of the new Lord of Oldtown will be left vacant for now," Aemon finished, "to be discussed by the Small Council at a later date."
He glanced at the dejected Gwayne, who noticed his gaze and froze in place.
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