Inside the study of the Hightower family manse in King's Landing, candlelight cast Otto Hightower's face in shifting light and shadow.
"Do you know what you've done, Aemond?" Otto suppressed his anger.
"The Rogare family—and the Triarchy as well!"
"This was the most important ally I could secure for us across the Narrow Sea!"
"Their influence in the eastern continent… is all of that truly so worthless in your eyes?"
Aemond lounged lazily against the high-backed chair opposite him, his fingertips idly stirring the candle flame.
"I see it very clearly, Grandfather," he replied calmly.
"Clearly?" Otto nearly slammed the table. "You saw it clearly and still refused them to their faces—leaving no room at all!"
"Drazenko Rogare was in the hall. He is Lysandro's most trusted brother, the key to this marriage alliance!"
"You rejected it openly before the court and put Lord Drazenko in an impossible position."
Aemond said, "Aegon would be more suitable than I. And as the second son, how could I step ahead of the eldest to enter a marriage alliance first?"
Aemond's explanation left Otto momentarily speechless.
"Rest assured." Aemond lifted his eyes to the silent Otto. "I will express my apologies to them—and they will thank me as well."
"Thank you?" Otto laughed in fury. "Thank you for humiliating them in public?"
"Thank you for openly refusing a marriage with their legitimate daughter?"
"Aemond, your arrogance ends here!"
"Now, I want you to go out at once and apologize to Drazenko Rogare."
"No need, Lord Hand."
The voice came from outside the door, unhurried and composed.
Otto turned sharply. Drazenko entered through the doorway, still dressed in the splendid garments he had worn at the audience.
Silver hair spilled like cold moonlight, blue eyes clear as ice in the candle glow.
The restrained anger from the meeting was gone from his face, replaced instead by scrutiny.
"Lord Drazenko…" Otto faltered for a moment.
Drazenko inclined his head slightly to Otto, then returned his gaze to Aemond. "His Highness's frankness is indeed impressive."
He paused. "I am quite curious—where does the gratitude you speak of come from, Your Highness?"
"Why should the Rogare family, or even the Triarchy, be grateful to you for refusing us in public?"
Aemond rose, bracing one hand on the table as he looked at him. "Lord Drazenko, for what reason was the Triarchy formed in the first place?"
Drazenko was briefly taken aback, then answered solemnly, "To resist our common enemy—Volantis."
"To drive its greedy grasp from the Disputed Lands and defend our Free Cities."
"Did it succeed?"
"We blunted its fiercest offensive and pinned it to a corner of the Disputed Lands," Drazenko replied with caution.
Then his tone shifted. "But what does that have to do with Your Highness's refusal of the marriage, and with the gratitude you speak of?"
"The connection lies in this," Aemond said slowly, every word clear and deliberate.
"If I were to say that I am willing to personally ride Vhagar, to act in concert with the armies of the Triarchy, and to sweep Volantis's power completely and cleanly out of the Disputed Lands… would this apology then carry sufficient weight?"
"You help us deal with the Velaryon navy."
"I will help you eliminate Volantis's land-based threat."
The chamber fell into deathly silence.
Otto sucked in a sharp breath, his pupils contracting.
Drazenko froze in place, his breathing seeming to stop altogether.
He stared fixedly at Aemond, as though trying to pierce through the prince before him.
He possessed Vhagar—the oldest and largest living dragon, a force capable of turning the tide of war and reshaping the balance of the region.
The old tale of Aegon the Conqueror's ancestor riding the Black Dread to intervene during the Century of Blood was vivid in his mind.
If Aemond Targaryen were truly to take Vhagar into the war…
Drazenko's emotions surged. This was military aid beyond all measure.
The relationship between the Targaryens (the Greens) and the Triarchy would rise beyond an ordinary alliance, elevating into a close military pact.
It would be enough to eradicate the gravest threat within the Disputed Lands.
After a long moment, Drazenko slowly exhaled a breath of heated air and said with restrained excitement, "Your Highness… are these words true?"
"I swear it by Targaryen blood," Aemond said, the smile fading from his face. "However, this does not represent the Seven Kingdoms—this is my own personal undertaking."
A sharp light flickered in Otto's eyes as he swiftly weighed the gains and losses.
If this promise could secure the Triarchy's unwavering support, its value would far exceed that of a single marriage alliance.
"This apology…" Drazenko shook his head, then nodded solemnly. "No—this promise, Prince Aemond..."
"The Rogare family, and the lords of the Triarchy whom I am able to represent, will remember this great favor."
"Very well." Aemond inclined his head slightly. "As for the specifics, perhaps one day in the future, I will personally travel to Lys to visit."
A smile crossed Drazenko's face as he bowed deeply. "The gates of Lys will always be open to you, Your Highness."
"I will also report Your Highness's intentions to my elder brother at once."
As their gazes met, a wordless understanding had already been reached.
Drazenko knew that he must carry this news back with the utmost speed.
He bowed once more, then turned and departed.
The chamber returned to silence.
After a long while, Otto slowly sat back into his chair, studying his grandson again with a complicated expression. "You know Volantis is the thorn in their throat."
Aemond neither confirmed nor denied it. "Tangible military assistance and shared interests—those form a far stronger bond."
"Besides, the initiative rests in our hands."
"But," Otto said, rubbing his temples, "becoming involved in wars on the eastern continent—even if it is only your personal action—will inevitably invite endless criticism."
"What about His Majesty…"
"My father will accept it," Aemond cut him off, his tone resolute. "Just as he ultimately compromised with Daemon."
"He always finds a reason to persuade himself."
Otto fell silent for a moment, then looked up. "Then what is the true reason you refused the Rogare marriage?"
Aemond met his gaze.
Candlelight leapt deep within his violet eyes, igniting a nearly obsessive blaze.
"I recall telling you, Grandfather," he said softly, each word driven home like a nail. "Helaena will come with me."
Otto's body stiffened. Of course he remembered that near-declarative statement—he had once taken it for youthful nonsense.
But now, meeting Aemond's eyes, he understood that it had never been a joke.
"You… care for Helaena?" Otto asked hoarsely.
"Yes," Aemond admitted without hesitation. "And her heart belongs to me as well."
He paused, his voice turning abruptly cold. "So I will never allow her to marry Jacaerys Velaryon—that bastard with Strong blood…"
"That betrothal must be annulled."
"And how do you intend to do it?" Otto felt a headache coming on. "Open defiance? That would enrage His Majesty and make the Blacks regard us with even greater hatred!"
"It is simple." Aemond rose to his feet. "We make the betrothal lose its foundation before the engagement is ever set."
Otto lifted his head to stare at him. "Have you lost your mind?!"
Aemond looked back over his shoulder, a chill smile at the corner of his mouth. "I can do it."
Otto's breathing quickened, thoughts racing. If handled properly…
This could completely shatter the Blacks' scheme to legitimize Jacaerys through marriage.
"You mean to take Helaena…?" Otto lowered his voice.
"Aemond, you would be putting the entire Green faction over a fire."
Aemond remained unmoved. "His Majesty… he will rage, he will grieve, but in the end he will yield to me."
"Because he cannot bear the pain of losing two children at once."
He said this with clear-eyed calm. "That is the kind of man His Majesty is, Grandfather."
"You know him better than I do. He is weak; he values family above all else."
Otto sank into a long silence.
"When do you intend to act?" Otto finally asked, his voice rough.
"There is no hurry. It is still early." Aemond paced back to the table. "Before the engagement…"
He paused, his gaze returning to Otto's face.
"After that happens, Grandfather, I will need you to steady my father, and I will need you to keep a close watch on every move the Blacks make."
Otto nodded heavily, then suddenly asked, "By doing this, you are tearing apart with your own hands the last possibility of peace with the Blacks."
Aemond let out a low laugh.
"Why be so hypocritical, Grandfather."
"As long as the Greens have not extinguished their desire for the Iron Throne, the path leads to war in the end."
"The only difference is whether it is a slow boil, or a sudden eruption after my father's death…"
He turned around, his violet eyes blazing in the flickering candlelight, frighteningly bright.
"Or like this—ripping away all pretenses ourselves, letting the hatred on both sides burn hotter and more completely."
"I choose the latter."
---
I will post some extra Chapters in Patreon, you can check it out. >> patreon.com/TitoVillar
---