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The Tower of the Hand, Red Keep.
"Grandfather."
Aemond pushed open the heavy oak door and walked into the study.
At a glance, the room was filled with the core figures of the Green faction.
Jasper Wylde, the Master of Laws, known as "Ironrod", was twisting his beard while speaking in low tones with Otto Hightower.
Nearby stood the Master of Whisperers, Larys Strong, the "Clubfoot," leaning heavily on his cane.
He had gained Otto's trust shortly after taking office.
Several other courtiers in ornate attire were also gathered around the Hand of the King.
Aemond's appearance was like a pebble thrown into a still pond.
Everyone looked toward the Prince, whose release from house arrest had just been announced by the King.
He walked straight toward Otto's long table, which was piled high with documents.
His gaze swept across surprised faces, scrutinizing or quickly putting on practiced smiles.
Finally, his gaze landed on a silver plate of candied fruits dusted with powdered sugar.
As if no one else were there, he reached out, pinched an enticingly colored candied plum, and tossed it into his mouth.
"Hmm. Cloyingly sweet," he commented, chewing slowly.
"Just right for the bitter air in here, Grandfather."
Otto Hightower's brow furrowed. He released his grip on an exquisite quill, which left an abrupt blotch of ink on the parchment.
He looked up at his grandson. The boy's actions were becoming increasingly unpredictable.
In a public setting, even if this 'public' was limited to the inner circle of the Greens, such a casual display of familial intimacy was not his usual brand of caution.
Aemond met his gaze and flashed a smile.
"Lord Hand?"
Otto glared at him for a moment, trying to use the sheer weight of his authority to make the boy behave.
But ultimately, those tightly knit brows relaxed helplessly. He sighed softly and nodded.
The boy knew how to draw a line with the formal address, giving him a bit of face.
'Forget it; there are no true outsiders here after all.'
"Ahem."
Larys Strong cleared his throat, closed the secret letter in his hand, and stood up tactfully.
"Lord Hand, regarding Driftmark... uh, I shall go and verify the details again."
Jasper Wylde immediately followed suit.
"Yes, my Lord. I must also go and inspect the City Watch."
The other courtiers, like straw blown by a gust of wind, bowed one after another, excused themselves, and filed out.
Before leaving, none of them forgot to cast a respectful yet complex glance at Prince Aemond.
Soon, only the grandfather and grandson remained in the study.
Otto leaned back in his chair and rubbed his brow, temporarily setting aside the fatigue brought by political affairs.
He reassessed Aemond, this second son who was once gloomy and reclusive but now seemed to be sharpening his edge by the day.
He spoke slowly, pointing toward the door.
"What do you think of them?"
Aemond took another candied fruit, a dried apricot this time. He leaned against the edge of the table in a relaxed posture.
"Them?" He chewed thoughtfully.
"Nobles? There's no need to care too much about their stance; people change like the wind. As long as interests align, they are our allies. When interests diverge, they will be the first to hold the knife."
Otto's surprise turned into scrutiny. "Who taught you this?"
He didn't recall ever instilling such... realism, or even somewhat cold-blooded logic, into Aemond. Alicent?
No, she leaned more toward emotion and morality.
A brilliant smile bloomed on Aemond's face.
"If I said I was gifted with natural talent, would you believe me?"
He shrugged, his tone as relaxed as if he were telling a joke.
Otto did not press further. He shifted the topic to a more urgent direction.
"So, Aemond, how do you view the current... situation between the Greens and the Blacks?"
Aegon had been left on Driftmark as a hostage.
Helaena's betrothal to Jacaerys was an even greater problem.
Now, the only one the Greens could truly rely on in King's Landing was this Prince before him, the rider of Vhagar.
His attitude was of vital importance.
Aemond did not answer immediately. He walked to the narrow window, looking down at the winding stairs of the Red Keep and the silhouette of the city in the distance.
"They are powerful," he said coldly.
"Rhaenyra holds Dragonstone. She has the Velaryon fleet, many allies, and a host of dragons. We... have indeed suffered a great loss."
He turned around and looked at his grandfather, standing with his back to the light.
"But, we haven't lost yet, have we?"
Otto heard that clear "we."
'Good. He still views himself as part of the Greens.'
"As long as she is human, she will make mistakes," Aemond continued, walking back to the table and tapping his fingers on the oak surface.
"Furthermore, my dear sister... You perhaps understand her character better than I do. Hardheaded, conceited, and spoiled. We only need to wait patiently, and they will reveal their own flaws."
Then Otto pointed out the key issue.
"The number of dragons and dragonriders they possess far exceeds ours. Your Vhagar is certainly the strongest dragon in existence, but she is too old, Aemond. Can her speed and endurance still contend with younger dragons like Caraxes or Meleys?"
"Vhagar is old," Aemond admitted.
"But her experience is something those young dragons cannot match. Her size and strength reign supreme. No dragon would dare to clash or bite with her head-on. As long as the tactics are sound and we avoid being surrounded, Vhagar's teeth and fire can still decide the outcome in a single bite."
This analysis of dragon combat made Otto nod once more.
"Aegon remains on Driftmark," Otto said, making a decision.
"I will have his noble squires and companions turn to serve you instead. His resources will also be transferred to you."
Otto began to provide substantial support.
"In addition, I will arrange for you to meet the family's steward in King's Landing. If you need anything, gold, steel, information, you go to him."
Aemond nodded slightly, his smile a bit more sincere this time.
"Thank you for your trust, Grandfather."
Otto paused for a moment, leaning forward slightly, his tone becoming exceptionally solemn.
"Aemond, I support you in this way because I hope you can become the sturdiest shield and sword for your brother Aegon's future reign. You must remember, you are brothers bound by blood; the future of the Greens rests upon you both."
Aemond hesitated for only a fraction of a second, his face full of sincerity.
"Of course. Aegon is my beloved brother... and my King."
Otto leaned back in his chair, a rare, slightly relaxed expression appearing on his face.
Aemond's transformation and performance had exceeded his expectations.
Just then, Aemond suddenly spoke, breaking the brief silence.
"Regarding Helaena's betrothal... how do you plan to handle it?"
He asked so directly.
Otto's brow furrowed again; this was indeed a massive headache.
He sighed. "I need time. I will find a way to delay it, perhaps annul it later."
Aemond looked at his grandfather's worried profile and suddenly let out a soft laugh. He stood up straight.
"Why go to so much trouble? If you think too much, your hair will fall out faster."
He walked toward the door, his hand on the handle, and glanced back at Otto.
"It's simple: Helaena comes with me. Wouldn't that work?"
Having said that, he didn't wait for Otto's reaction before pulling the door open and walking straight out.
Otto Hightower sat frozen in his chair.
'Comes with him? What does that mean? What exactly is this boy plotting?'
Otto felt a headache coming on. The satisfaction he had just felt was instantly diluted by a massive sense of uncertainty.
This child was a sharp sword, but a sword that cuts both ways.
In the corridor, Aemond walked with steady steps.
Behind him, Ser Criston Cole of the Kingsguard, dressed in snow-white armor and a white cloak, followed closely.
After walking for a while, Aemond spoke without looking back.
"You hate Rhaenyra very much, don't you, Ser Criston?"
Cole's body stiffened. He hadn't expected the Prince to bring this up so suddenly.
He was silent for a few seconds, every word seemingly squeezed out from between his teeth.
"Yes, my Prince."
"I hate that woman. She toyed with my feelings. She exploited my loyalty. She trampled on my dignity and defiled my white cloak."
His words grew agitated, but he quickly forced them back down.
"Of course, I was too weak in the past, letting personal emotions cloud my duty. That is my shame. Now I have awakened; my life and loyalty belong only to the Queen and her children."
"Heh..." Aemond let out a soft, ambiguous laugh.
Keeping this twisted hatred might be useful, he thought.
"Teacher," Aemond used a different form of address.
"Accompany me to the yard. I need to practice."
This turn of conversation allowed Cole to recover.
He quickly replied: "Yes, my Prince."
"I feel I am not yet strong enough," Aemond continued, his pace quickening.
"I want to become stronger. Faster. Deadly."
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