At that moment, Aelinor's lips tightened.
"I understand," she said. "That is why we need an experienced commander."
"An experienced commander?" Aemond repeated her words. "What experience does Ser Criston Cole have? His father was a steward to some lord. What training did he receive? Only that he has been loyal to the late king for so many years? Or because he won a tourney? Or because he is Lord Commander of the Kingsguard?"
"By that measure, what experience do you have?"
Aelinor's face flushed.
"Aemond!" Queen Alicent's voice came from behind.
Aemond did not look back. He simply looked at Aelinor.
Aelinor's chest rose and fell sharply. She wanted to retort, to say that Ser Criston was not what you claim, that this was Aegon's command, that you have no authority. But she did not say it. Because she saw the cold indifference in Aemond's gaze. There was something in those eyes that made her swallow all her words.
"Aemond."
Queen Alicent came to him. Her hand grasped his arm. Her hand trembled slightly.
"Please," her voice was so low that only he could hear. "Aemond, do not do this."
Aemond turned his head slightly. He looked at his mother.
Alicent's eyes were red. She looked older. Since Viserys's death, she had aged greatly. Those once-bright green eyes were now perpetually veiled with a watery mist, and fine lines had appeared on her once-well-tended face.
She was begging him. Before them all, she was begging him.
Aemond was silent a long time, then spoke slowly.
"Very well."
Queen Aelinor and Queen Mother Alicent were both taken aback—had he agreed so readily?
Aemond turned and returned to his place. He did not sit. He stood behind the head chair, gripping its back with both hands.
"Galwyn."
Galwyn Hightower rose.
"Yes."
"In this battle, I will let Ser Criston Cole command the vanguard."
He paused, looking at his uncle Galwyn.
"You will be the commander."
A flash of joy crossed Galwyn's face, and he nodded.
Aemond turned to Ser William Darklyn.
"Ser William, you will command the left flank."
William rose. "As you command."
Aemond turned his head slightly and glanced at Hal.
"Hal."
Behind him, Hal stepped forward. "Yes."
"You will command the right flank."
He paused. "Those boys, my personal guard—bring them as well."
Hal's eyes lit up. "Yes!"
They had trained for years, waiting for this day. Hal drew a deep breath. "Thank you, my prince."
Aemond nodded. He was about to say the council was adjourned.
Aelinor's voice sounded again.
"His Grace's command was not that."
She stood opposite the long table, holding Jaehaera, her face flushed.
"His Grace Aegon's command was that Ser Criston Cole should command."
She looked at Aemond.
"You just promised me."
Aemond turned to her.
"But I will not accept His Grace's nonsense. I have placed Ser Criston Cole in the vanguard. That is the best arrangement."
He paused.
"The vanguard is the first to fight. If this battle goes well, he will share in the glory. If this battle goes poorly..."
He did not finish.
Aelinor understood. If it went well, Ser Criston would share the credit. If it went poorly, Ser Criston would die.
Aelinor's voice trembled.
"Queen Aelinor."
Aemond cut her off.
"Shut up."
Aelinor's body went rigid.
Those two words were like a knife to her chest. She opened her mouth. She wanted to retort, wanted to say that she was the queen, wanted to say that Aegon was the king, wanted to say so much.
But she saw the cold expression on Aemond's face.
The last time, two days after Aegon ascended the throne, he had looked at her like this. At that time, she had merely suggested that Aegon the Second should be more involved in state affairs, that the Small Council should report to the king regularly. Prince Aemond had rejected it outright.
A few days ago, she had received a letter from House Rogare.
The letter was short, only a few lines:
"Volantis has begun to surround Lys. Your elder brother stands firm. I hope you will be patient. Find an opportunity to persuade your husband Aegon the Second to send troops to break the siege of Lys."
She had endured it.
Now he was asking her to endure again.
Aelinor's eyes were red. She felt that she, as queen, had been too humiliated. Tears welled up, but she clenched her teeth and would not let them fall. She could not cry before this hateful uncle. No. She could not.
Queen Alicent looked at her, her lips moving, but she said nothing.
Aemond looked away.
"Dismissed."
No one dared linger.
Galwyn Hightower rose first, bowed to Prince Aemond, to his sister Alicent, and to Queen Aelinor, then turned and left. As uncle to both Aegon the Second and Prince Aemond, he knew well the rift between his two nephews. If you were a fool, you would support Aegon the Second. Even though his sister Alicent always urged him to side with Aegon the Second, he had known for years what kind of man Aemond was. It infuriated him, but he also feared that Aemond would turn on him without mercy. Then his uncle would have nothing.
Ser William Darklyn and Will Simmons followed, leaving quickly. Clearly, the next step was an internal conflict of the royal family—best not to be involved, best not to know.
Larys Strong was the last to rise.
Leaning on his crutches, he slowly made his way to the door. When he reached it, he looked back.
Aemond stood behind the head chair, gripping its back with both hands, the sunlight behind him enveloping his whole figure in light.
Larys was silent for a moment, then opened the door and left.
He knew that today's seating arrangement had been a deliberate humiliation. This young prince had seized power in just a few years, placed the late king under house arrest, and made the current king a puppet. Authoritative, arrogant, cruel, and intelligent. All the Crownlands nobles had flocked to him. All of King's Landing and the Red Keep were under his control. Government decrees and military power were in his hands. The southern nobles had also submitted to him. He now wielded more power than even the late King Viserys the First.
He wanted to be Hand. He wanted to be the power behind the throne.
Think of this prince.
He did not want those nobles mocking him as "Lame" Larys.
But only power could give him self-respect...
The door closed behind him.
Only four people remained in the council chamber.
Aemond. Alicent. Aelinor holding the child.
Alicent drew a deep breath.
She walked to Aemond.
"Aemond."
Aemond did not look at her.
Alicent stood before him.
"Aegon is your brother."
Aemond was still silent.
"He is the king." Alicent's voice rose slightly.
"In Your Grace's view, is today's matter not worth mentioning?"
Aemond finally looked at her. His gaze was calm.
"Mother. I want to win this war. It is not your place to give me blind commands."
Alicent's chest rose and fell sharply.
"Blind commands? I think Ser Criston Cole—"
"I do not care what you think," Aemond interrupted her. "I care what I think."
He looked at her.
"Mother, you are tired. You have aged greatly."
Alicent was stunned.
Aemond continued. "From now on, you will remain in Maegor's Holdfast and care well for Jaehaera and Jaehaerys. You may speak with Helaena. Do not meddle in these matters any longer."
Alicent's face went pale.
"Aemond."
Aemond looked toward the door and gave an order.
"Hal."
Hal entered and stood before Alicent, head bowed.
"Your Grace, Queen Mother, please do not make this difficult."
She looked at Aemond.
Aemond turned away and no longer looked at his mother.
Alicent looked again at Queen Aelinor.
Queen Aelinor stood holding Jaehaera, her eyes red, her lips pressed tight.
"Aelinor, come with me."
Aelinor stepped forward to follow.
"No."
Aemond's voice sounded.
"She stays."
Alicent turned. "Aemond!"
"Do not worry, Mother," Aemond's tone was even. "She is my good-sister and the queen. Do not worry. I will do nothing to her."
Alicent looked at him uncertainly. Then, with a sigh, she turned and walked out the door. The door closed behind her.
Only three remained in the council chamber.
Aemond. Aelinor holding the child.
Aelinor stood opposite the long table, holding Jaehaera motionless.
Aemond walked around the head chair.
Step by step, he approached her.
Aelinor began to back away slowly. Her back hit the wall. No escape.
Aemond stopped before her.
He looked at her. Those violet eyes held no warmth.
"Aelinor Rogare."
His voice was soft.
"I warned you."
Aelinor's lips trembled.
"Again and again. Time after time..."
He stepped closer.
Her eyes were red, tears streaming.
"Aemond!" She looked at him in fear. "What do you want? You kept me here—what do you want?"
Aemond did not speak. He simply looked at her.
Then—
"Waaah!"
Jaehaera cried out. The girl had woken at her mother's tears and was wailing loudly.
Aelinor instinctively held her tighter, rocking her gently. "Don't cry, don't cry..."
Aemond's movement stopped.
He looked at the swaddled infant.
He was silent for a moment.
Then he reached out.
Aelinor's body went rigid.
But Aemond did not touch her. His hand moved past her and came to the side of her face. He gently lifted a strand of silver hair that had fallen across her brow. The strand had slipped from her pins and lay against her cheek, damp with sweat and tears. He tucked the strand behind her ear.
Aelinor's breath caught.
"I said: be the queen obediently. Perform your duties."
He paused.
"Do not meddle in matters that do not concern you."
His fingers withdrew from her ear.
"Aegon is my brother. I know that myself."
Aelinor looked at him.
Those violet eyes were close. This face was too young. Sixteen years old, three years younger than her. No hesitation, no panic. Nothing unnatural in the young man's expression. Only scrutiny.
"Do you understand?"
Aelinor nodded helplessly.
Then Aemond reached into her arms.
"Give her to me."
Aelinor was stunned.
Aemond did not wait for her reaction. He gently lifted Jaehaera from her arms.
The baby was still crying, her small face red, her little hands flailing.
Aemond held her and turned to walk toward the window. He held her with one arm and drew back the curtain with the other.
Sunlight poured in. Golden, warm, midday sunlight.
Jaehaera's crying began to quiet.
Aemond gently rocked her. He hummed a soft melody.
She blinked and looked at the man holding her. The sunlight fell on her face and on his, turning his silver hair to silver-gold, lighting his violet eyes.
She reached out her little hand. She wanted to grab his nose.
Aemond did not flinch.
A soft little hand caught the tip of his nose and squeezed.
Aemond smiled.
Aelinor stood by the window, watching his back in a daze.
She had never seen Aemond like this.
Aemond held Jaehaera, his back to her.
"This princess," he said, "she has no dragon yet, does she?"
Aelinor was stunned for a moment. Then her heart leapt with fury. After Jaehaera's birth, the first thing she had done was go to the Dragonpit to choose a young dragon for her daughter. How could a Targaryen princess not have a dragon? But the dragonkeepers said that all dragon eggs and young dragons required Prince Aemond's personal approval before they could be assigned.
"The little silver dragon that just hatched," Aemond said, "Light."
He turned around. Holding Jaehaera, he came back to her. He returned the girl to her arms.
Jaehaera was still giggling, her little hands batting at the air.
"Give her that one."
Aelinor's breath caught.
Light.
That little silver dragon. Its scales were pure silver, its eyes like molten gold. It was only a few months old and could already emit small puffs of smoke. All the dragonkeepers who had seen it said it would be beautiful when it grew.
She had thought those dragons would be reserved only for Aemond's own children. Princess Helaena was also pregnant, she had heard. But Aemond was giving Light to Jaehaera. Giving it to his niece.
Aelinor looked up.
She looked at Aemond.
"Thank you, my prince." There was gratitude in her voice.
Aemond looked at her.
"Jaehaera is a Targaryen princess."
He paused.
"A dragon is the mark of a dragonlord. As a Targaryen, she should not be without one."
With that, he turned and left.
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