In Red Keep, within Maegor's Holdfast, the Small Council chamber—
The afternoon sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across the long table.
Aemond sat at the head of the table, leaning back against the high-backed chair. One hand rested on the armrest, while the fingers of the other tapped lightly against the tabletop in an unhurried rhythm.
Behind him stood Hall, clad in black armor, expressionless.
Seated along both sides of the long table were the powerful men of the Small Council.
The Hand, Tyland Lannister, had only just returned from the Westerlands. Though still carrying the dust of the road, he maintained the characteristic elegance of a Lannister.
Master of Laws Jasper and Master of Ships Elwyn both sat with solemn expressions, their heads lowered.
Master of Coin Will Symons, one of Aemond's trusted men, looked young and sharp, a faint smile lingering constantly at the corner of his mouth.
And at the very end of the table sat Grand Maester Norren, dressed in gray robes.
As for the Master of Whisperers, Larys Strong had already been dispatched by the Prince Regent to Dragon's Roost to receive the Hightower army marching north.
Queen Dowager Alicent Hightower was present as well.
She sat at Aemond's right hand, wearing a dark blue gown, her hair pinned into a high knot. Fatigue and weariness showed clearly on her face.
Ever since the death of Viserys, she had remained inside Maegor's Holdfast, rarely appearing in public.
This was her first time attending a Small Council meeting in many days.
Although Prince Aemond had previously rebuked her and warned her not to interfere in matters of governance—
For the sake of her eldest son, Aegon II Targaryen, the Queen Dowager still had no choice but to attend this meeting.
Aemond did not stop her. After all, Alicent was still his mother.
No matter what, on that night at Driftmark, from beginning to end, his mother Alicent had always stood at his side…
As for certain things that lingered half-spoken and half-hidden, Aemond understood them well enough himself. So long as his mother Alicent did not go too far…
"Speak," Aemond said at last.
His voice was not loud, yet the entire council chamber immediately fell silent.
"You all know about Tyrosh?"
Tyland nodded.
"Yes, Prince Regent. The news has already spread throughout King's Landing."
"The Blacks' rear has caught fire. Bastard rebellion. That Hugh now styles himself King of Tyrosh and has seized control of Lucerys and Daemon's two daughters."
Aemond spoke in an even tone, as though discussing something entirely insignificant.
"What do you all think?"
The chamber fell quiet for a moment, then low laughter began to spread.
Several ministers wore openly gloating expressions.
Elwyn could not even hold back his laughter.
"Prince Regent, this is tremendous news."
"The rebels are splitting apart and slaughtering each other. For us, this—"
He did not finish.
Aemond's violet eyes swept toward him.
The gaze was calm, almost indifferent, yet Elwyn's laughter died instantly in his throat.
Aemond ignored him and instead turned toward Grand Maester Norren at the far end of the table.
"Grand Maester," he said.
Norren raised his head, his expression carrying the proper degree of respect.
"What are your commands, Prince Regent?"
"Everyone was laughing just now," Aemond said. "I saw you laughing too."
"You seemed rather pleased."
"I'm curious."
"Tell me—what exactly is so amusing about this?"
Grand Maester Norren's smile stiffened for a moment, but he quickly adjusted his expression and answered seriously: "Prince Regent, this is good news."
"The Blacks' bastard has betrayed them, their faction is in chaos. For us—"
"Good news?" Aemond interrupted him. His tone remained as flat as ever. "You're telling me this is good news?"
Norren swallowed hard and forced himself to continue.
"Yes, Prince Regent."
"With Hugh's rebellion, the Blacks are too busy dealing with their own problems. We can take advantage of the situation and—"
"Take advantage of what?" Aemond interrupted again. "Take the chance to celebrate?"
"Or take the chance to rejoice?"
He rose to his feet, planted both hands on the table, and leaned forward slightly, his violet eyes fixed on Grand Maester Norren.
"Grand Maester, answer me this—what kind of man is Hugh?"
Norren froze for a moment.
"He is… a bastard…"
"And now, what does he hold in his hands?"
"He… he has Prince Lucerys Velaryon and the two princesses…"
"Wrong." Aemond shook his head.
Cold sweat began to bead across Norren's forehead.
"He… also…"
"He also has dragons," Aemond said for him.
"The moment he controls that bastard girl, Saera, he controls those two dragons as well."
Silverwing. Vermithor.
"Two dragons now sit in the hands of a shameless bastard."
"And you're telling me that's good news?"
The council chamber fell completely silent.
The ministers who had been laughing moments ago now lowered their heads, scarcely daring to breathe.
Grand Maester Norren's expression turned ugly.
He wanted to say something. The other ministers had laughed too, so why was he the only one being singled out? Why?
Aemond sat back down and leaned against his chair once more, his fingers resuming their slow tapping against the table.
Knock. Knock.
Knock. Knock.
Each sound felt like it was hammering directly into Norren's heart.
"Grand Maester."
Aemond lifted a finger and pointed at him.
Norren raised his head.
"You laughed just now," Aemond said, staring at him. "And you seemed quite pleased."
At the Prince Regent's questioning, Norren's face turned even paler.
"I told you to laugh," Aemond said. "Now let me see you laugh."
Norren stood there stiffly, unsure whether he should laugh or not.
"Laugh," Aemond urged.
Norren forced out a smile, but it looked uglier than crying.
"Not sincere enough," Aemond said. "Again."
Norren laughed again. This time it looked even worse.
"Still not enough." Aemond shook his head.
"Grand Maester, do you truly think it's something worth celebrating that these bastards stole House Targaryen's dragons?"
Norren finally broke.
"Prince Regent, I… I didn't mean that…"
"Then what did you mean?"
"I… I merely thought the Blacks' internal rebellion was advantageous to us…"
"Advantageous?" Aemond let out a cold laugh. "Two dragons have fallen into enemy hands, and you call that advantageous?"
Norren could no longer answer.
Aemond stared at him in silence for a while before finally speaking again.
"Slap yourself."
Norren froze.
"Prince Regent, this…"
"Do it."
Grinding his teeth, Norren raised his hand and lightly slapped himself.
"Not loud enough," Aemond said.
Norren's face flushed red.
He glanced at the ministers around him. One after another, they turned their heads away. Not a single person looked at him.
Then he looked toward Queen Dowager Alicent Hightower, hoping she might speak on his behalf.
But the Queen Dowager was staring at him coldly, her eyes filled with undisguised disgust.
Norren drew a deep breath, raised his hand, and viciously slapped himself across the face.
Smack!
The sharp crack rang especially loud inside the silent council chamber.
"Again."
Norren gritted his teeth and slapped himself a second time.
Smack!
"Again."
Smack!
Smack!
Smack!
One slap after another.
Norren's face grew redder and redder, and blood slowly began to seep from the corner of his mouth.
His hair had come loose, and he looked utterly disheveled.
Inside the council chamber, some ministers watched with schadenfreude, while others remained expressionless, but not one of them dared utter a word.
As Queen Dowager Alicent watched the scene unfold, an indescribable sense of satisfaction rose within her.
This Grand Maester Norren—and that Septon Owen as well—had been the very people who encouraged Aegon to personally lead the campaign.
They had spoken of how His Grace should take the field himself to inspire morale, how this was "a perfect opportunity to establish royal authority."
And what had come of it?
Her eldest son, Aegon, had been gravely wounded. Sunfyre was on the verge of death. Even now he remained hidden away in some cave recovering from his injuries, and she, his own mother, did not even know where he was.
At the thought of this, Alicent's eyes stung slightly.
But she quickly forced her emotions back under control.
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