The Red Keep, Inner Courtyard.
The inner courtyard of the Red Keep felt exceptionally grim under the afternoon sun.
Usually a place for nobles to stroll and squires to train, it was now deathly silent.
Guards stood at intervals, halberds in hand, their faces like stone.
In the center of the courtyard knelt a man: Colin Rogar, a distant cousin of Princess Aelyn.
Only three days ago, he had been stationed in the Red Keep Guard as a squad leader.
Now, he was trembling, his expensive silk tunic stained with mud, his face bruised. Two guards pinned his shoulders to keep him down.
Aemond Targaryen stood upon the steps, his violet eye scanning the man.
"Theft of the Prince's private property," declared Ser Gwayne Hightower, the newly appointed Commander of the Red Keep Guard.
"In this castle, that is a capital offense."
Colin jerked his head up, tears and mucus streaking his face.
"Your Grace! I didn't! I swear! I just... I took a wrong turn! I.."
"Your hand was inside my desk drawer," Aemond interrupted.
"My men saw it with their own eyes. Tell me, Colin Rogar, what were you so interested in?"
"I... I'm new, I don't know the layout..."
"So unfamiliar with the layout that you managed to pick a locked drawer?"
Aemond descended the steps, stopping in front of Colin and looking down at the pathetic figure.
The sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the archway. Everyone turned.
Aelyn Rogar had arrived.
The Crown Princess moved quickly despite her heavy pregnancy, her deep purple skirts fluttering.
Her face was tight with tension; two handmaidens trotted behind her, wanting to tell her to slow down but not daring to speak.
"Prince Aemond!" Aelyn demanded.
"What is the meaning of this?"
Aemond didn't turn around. He kept his eyes on Colin.
"Disposing of a thief," he said flatly.
"A thief?" Aelyn reached his side, her breathing ragged from the exertion.
"Colin is my kinsman. He is a Rogar! A Rogar would never stoop to theft. This must be a misunderstanding."
"There is no misunderstanding." Aemond finally turned to face her.
"The evidence is undeniable. My men caught him in the act; the stolen letters were found on his person. By law, stealing from the Royal Family earns the axe."
Aelyn gasped. She looked around; the guards were expressionless, and the onlookers kept their heads low. Finally, she looked at Gwayne Hightower.
"Ser Gwayne," Aelyn pleaded, "this must be a mistake. Colin has only been here three days, how could he?"
"Princess," Gwayne interjected, avoiding her gaze, "the evidence is... quite substantial."
"This is merely a small disciplinary matter," Aemond said dismissively.
"For the safety of the Keep and the dignity of the Crown. As Princess, you should not be pleading for a common thief."
"He is no thief!" Aelyn retorted.
"He is a Rogar!"
"Perhaps," Aemond said coldly, "some people believe that now that the Crown Prince has been officially named, they can do as they please in the Red Keep? That they can wander in and out of rooms? That they can pry into things they shouldn't see?"
With every sentence, he took a step forward. Aelyn instinctively backed away until her spine hit a stone pillar.
Aemond stopped inches from her face.
"Your belly is quite large," Aemond noted, his gaze dropping to her womb.
"You should be resting, nursing your health, and ensuring Aegon has a healthy child. Not... meddling in affairs that do not concern you."
From the center of the yard, Colin let out a shriek.
"Princess! Save me! I'm being framed!"
Aelyn's chest heaved as she stared at Aemond.
"Rats like this," Aemond continued, "need to be cleared out. You let such a man into the Keep... are you blind? I am only taking his hands today as a courtesy to you, Aelyn Rogar."
He paused, his voice dropping an octave.
"If you think I am being unjust... Then let it be his head. I don't mind."
Aelyn opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Fear, humiliation, and fury swirled within her, finally erupting into a trembling hiss.
"I am the Crown Princess! The future Queen! You... you cannot do this! Aemond! You are too arrogant!"
At those words, Aemond's expression changed.
The carefully maintained mask of calm shattered, revealing the violent thing beneath. His eye constricted, a draconic fire flashing in the pupil.
"Arrogant? Cannot?" He repeated the words, then let out a sharp, cold laugh.
"Are you sure you want to make an enemy of me, woman?"
Aelyn had never seen him like this. His blood was boiling, the primal, terrifying essence of the dragon.
"No, " Aelyn started, but he pressed a finger to her lips, signaling for silence.
"Then shut your mouth," he whispered, leaning in.
"Listen well and remember: I am Aemond Targaryen. In this city, in this Kingdom, I can do exactly as I please."
Aelyn began to shake. She looked at him and saw a bottomless horror.
"Go and be a good future Queen."
Aemond stepped back, his face returning to its usual chill as if the outburst had never happened.
"Do not test my patience. If you, or anyone else, thinks they can 'play' with me? I am ready whenever you are."
He turned and strode away, the boots of his officers striking the stone in perfect unison.
Gwayne hesitated for a moment, offered Aelyn a brief bow, and followed.
"Proceed," a remaining officer commanded.
One guard grabbed Colin's arm. Another swung a sword.
"NO!"
Colin's scream tore through the air, followed by a dull thud and a gurgling shriek of agony.
Aelyn closed her eyes. She didn't need to look to know what had happened.
When she opened them, only a pool of dark red blood remained, and two severed hands had been left intentionally before her, still twitching.
Colin was being dragged away, leaving a crimson trail.
Aelyn felt her legs go weak. She slid down the stone pillar to the ground.
Her handmaidens rushed to help, but she waved them away. She needed to be alone.
She needed to digest what had just occurred.
Colin had been her plant, yes. After the investiture ceremony, she realized the Keep was entirely under Aemond's thumb.
She needed eyes and ears. She had chosen Colin as the first.
He lasted three days.
It was a warning. A demonstration.
A raw display of power... or rather, of violence.
-----
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