Late at night in the Red Keep, only the torches along the corridors were still flickering.
Aemond stepped over the cold stone stairs as he returned to Maegor's Holdfast.
He had just come back from the Dragonpit. He and Vhagar had circled above the Gods Eye for a full two hours.
The freezing wind at high altitude had long since seeped into his bones. Now the chill pierced his skin like fine needles.
His cheeks were stiff, his fingers nearly numb, and every breath he exhaled condensed into pale mist.
At the stairway entrance, two night guards straightened their backs the moment they saw the prince.
Not far ahead, Ser Criston Cole stood before Aemond's door.
One hand rested on the hilt of his sword. His posture was alert. When Aemond approached, the knight's gray-blue eyes lifted to him, and he dipped his head slightly.
Aemond's expression did not change. He returned the nod and pushed the door open.
The chamber was far warmer than the corridor. The fire in the hearth had not yet gone out.
Aemond was just about to relax when his movement stalled.
His gaze fell upon the bed.
Under the moonlight, within the silk brocade covers, a clear human shape rose beneath the blankets.
Aemond walked slowly to the bedside. His right hand pressed against the dagger at his waist as his left hand pinched the edge of the quilt and pulled it back.
Moonlight poured down unobstructed, illuminating the young body lying upon the bed.
Alice Hightower.
Her brown hair was spread loosely across the pillow. A pair of blue eyes stared wide open in the dim light.
She was completely naked. Her skin glowed with a milk-like sheen under the moonlight. The carefully tended curves of her body were laid bare—full breasts, a slender waist, long legs lightly crossed.
Several rose petals were scattered across the head of the bed, their fragrance mingling with the scent of her body.
She looked at Aemond with shy eyes as he stared down at her. Her lips parted, her voice soft and pitiful.
"Your Highness… I—I was too cold. I couldn't find my own chamber…"
"Could you… allow me to stay here for the night?"
Aemond merely looked at her in silence.
The quiet stretched through the room.
Then he smiled, the curve of his lips slowly lifting.
"Cold?" he said softly.
"It is true. Nights in the Red Keep are cold. Especially when…"
He paused, his calm gaze sweeping over her exposed body.
"…someone like you lies defenseless in my bed."
Alice's heart trembled.
The prince's reaction was nothing like what she had imagined. There was no impatient pounce, no rebuke—there was not even a token refusal.
Only that smile, which sent a chill creeping into her chest.
"Your Highness, I…" She tried to sit up, lifting her arms to cover her chest, her posture growing even more pitiful.
But Aemond had already turned away, no longer looking at her.
Alice froze on the bed, uncertain how she was supposed to continue the performance.
The prince pulled the door open.
Ser Cole was still standing guard outside. Hearing the sound, he turned his head.
"Cole," Aemond said calmly, "this gift is not to my taste."
Ser Cole's brow twitched slightly. "Does Your Highness wish for me to handle it?"
"Yes." Aemond leaned against the doorframe, casting a lazy glance toward the bed.
"Wrap her up properly and send her to the lower barracks of the Red Keep."
"Tell the soldiers on night watch…"
He paused. Watching the color drain from Alice's face, the smile on his lips deepened.
"…say it is a gift from the prince."
"And remember to remind them—don't play her to ruin. After all, she is a young lady of House Hightower."
"That…" Hearing the prince's arrangement, Ser Cole fell silent.
"No!" Alice screamed. She tumbled from the bed, scrambling as she grabbed the sheet and wrapped it around herself, crawling and rolling until she threw herself at Aemond's feet, tears spilling over.
"Your Highness! Your Highness, spare me! I know I was wrong!"
"I should never have climbed into your bed without permission. I beg you—please don't send me to the barracks!"
She cried until her face was streaked with tears.
Aemond looked down at her, his voice cold. "Now you know fear?"
"When you began this, why didn't you think of the consequences?"
Alice sobbed uncontrollably. "I only wanted to… become your lover… I had no ill intent…"
"Oh?" Aemond crouched down and met her gaze. He pinched her chin and lifted it. The pressure was not heavy, yet it allowed no resistance.
"Then let me ask you a question, Alice Hightower."
"Answer honestly, and perhaps I will reconsider."
Alice nodded frantically. Tears slid down and splashed onto the back of his hand.
"Who put you up to this?" Aemond lowered his voice until only the two of them could hear.
"The Queen?"
"…or House Hightower?"
He stared into her eyes. "Speak the truth."
Alicent trembled violently. "N-no one told me to! Truly!"
She gasped for breath. "It was me… my own idea! I only wanted someone to rely on, Your Highness!"
"Enough." Aemond lifted her chin again, forcing her to look up at him. He looked at the girl who thought herself clever, yet still refused to tell the truth.
He shook his head.
"Forget it…"
Knowing she could no longer deceive him, Alice finally broke down.
"It was arranged by Lord Otto…"
"The Hand said Your Highness was unpredictable, and hoped I could remain by your side, understand your thoughts…"
"And also—and also I admire you, Your Highness…"
She sobbed. "Your Highness, I swear by the Seven, every word I've spoken is the truth."
Aemond held her chin and examined her in silence for a long while.
So long that Alice felt she was about to faint.
At last, he released her.
"Get dressed," he said as he rose to his feet. "At daybreak, leave the Red Keep."
"Where you came from, go back there."
"Y-yes! I understand! Thank you, Your Highness! Thank you, Your Highness!" Alice wept as she kowtowed, scrambling in panic to gather the clothes scattered across the floor, pulling them onto herself without a thought for dignity.
Aemond no longer looked at her. He paced to the hearth and held his hands out to the fire.
Only when the sound of the door closing softly behind him did Alice flee like a startled rabbit.
After a while, he called toward the door, "Ser Cole, come in."
The door opened.
Cole entered the chamber. He had already expected his pupil's displeasure.
He reached back to close the door, his gaze fixed on Aemond's back.
"Do you think it's a pity?" Aemond suddenly turned and asked. "Such a beautiful girl—young, vivid, offering herself of her own accord…"
"Do you believe I should have accepted this gift?"
"Indeed, many people would make that choice."
Cole fell silent for a moment, then replied, "That is Your Highness's freedom."
"But you believed I would accept," 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, gave tacit consent to this happening."
"Without your acquiescence, she could not have entered this room."
Cole's throat bobbed. "Your Highness…"
His words cut off abruptly.
Because Aemond moved.
Very fast.
Cole instinctively reached for the hilt at his waist, but the cold edge was already pressed beneath his chin.
Another half inch, and the dagger would pierce bone and drive through his jaw.
Cole's body went rigid. He could feel the chill of the blade, and the steady force in the hand that held it.
He did not move, did not resist—he only lowered his eyes to look at the prince at such close range.
Aemond was half a head shorter than him, yet at this moment his presence completely overwhelmed Cole's.
"Criston Cole," Aemond said softly and clearly, "you are deeply unpleasant."
His wrist shifted slightly, the edge pressing tighter against skin.
Cole looked at Aemond, who now carried clear killing intent, and dared not speak.
Aemond said flatly, "My affairs…"
"Only I decide for myself."
"No one… no one at all may decide for me."
He lowered his voice. "You hate Rhaenyra—that is your matter."
"You pledge yourself to the Greens—that is your choice."
"But if you think that a pitiful scrap of loyalty and a sword are enough to let you conspire with others to arrange my life, to meddle in my private affairs…"
The dagger dipped slightly. A bead of blood seeped from beneath Cole's jaw and slid down along the edge.
"Then I will make you understand, teacher," Aemond said as he looked into his eyes, "that I am capable of killing you."
A flood of emotions swept through Cole—shock, anger, humiliation…
In the end, all of them were pressed down by something deeper.
He saw it clearly. The prince standing before him was no indulgent libertine to be ruled by wine and flesh, nor a soft-hearted ruler prone to hesitation.
"…I understand," Cole said in a low voice.
"Louder."
"I understand, Prince Aemond," Cole replied clearly, submission now entering his tone. "Such matters will not happen again."
"Your private affairs—your choices—will always be decided by you."
Aemond studied him for several seconds, then withdrew the dagger.
The movement was smooth, unforced. He even raised a hand and wiped away the drop of blood from beneath Cole's jaw with his thumb.
"Good," Aemond stepped back. "What happened tonight ends here."
Cole let out a quiet breath. He never should have provoked this pupil.
Most of House Targaryen were mad—Rhaenyra, Daemon, Aemond…
"The task I set you," Aemond asked suddenly.
"How goes it?"
Cole answered at once, "Those two have already let down their guard."
"Gyles has also arranged work for their families in the Red Keep."
"They are pleased, and they work with enthusiasm."
He did not understand why Aemond cared so much about the two men known by the nicknames "Blood" and "Cheese."
Hearing this, a smile appeared on Aemond's face.
"First give people hope," he said softly. "Then give them despair. Tell me—what do you think will happen?"
Cole fell silent.
He did not know why Aemond harbored such deep malice toward those two. This was clearly an attack on the heart itself, yet he asked no questions.
"Leave."
Cole brought his right fist to his chest in salute, then turned and left the chamber.
The door closed.
Aemond stood alone before the hearth, staring into the dancing flames.
Firelight played across his profile, flaring and fading in turn…
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