The sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting the camp in hues of amber and ash. The flap of the Queen's tent lifted gently, and a small figure stepped out into the cool dusk.
"Serving people is really not easy," Aemond sighed dramatically, stretching his arms overhead with a groan.
He wiped his face with his sleeve, disguising the tears he had shed moments ago. It wouldn't do for the nobles to see him looking too soft.
"What was that?" a voice asked behind him.
Aemond turned, startled. Alicent was right behind him, stooping as she exited the tent.
He recovered instantly. "I said, 'Serving the Queen is really not difficult.'"
Alicent raised a brow, amusement flickering in her gaze. "Is that so?"
Her lips curved into a smile, and she shook her head. "Little charmer."
Aemond flashed his most innocent grin.
It amazed him how women—especially beautiful ones—could cry their hearts out one minute and compose themselves the next. A few breaths earlier, Alicent had wept on his shoulder. Now, she carried herself with royal poise once again.
"Your Majesty," Ser Arryk called from the perimeter. "The King has returned from the hunt. He seems… displeased."
Alicent's composure sharpened. "Thank you, Ser."
Aemond turned to her. "You go ahead. I'll take a walk."
He wasn't done playing his game yet. He still had one more round to complete.
"Very well," she said, her voice lighter.
But she lingered a moment longer than expected, tilting her head at him.
Her gaze was intense—calculating, searching. It made Aemond's skin prickle. Had she seen through him? Had he pushed too far?
The air thickened.
Then Alicent spoke, her voice low and serious: "Aemond, listen to me. Do not trust Rhaenyra."
Aemond blinked.
"She is selfish, foolish, and reckless," Alicent continued, her eyes narrowing. "She will drag down anyone who dares stand beside her. Don't let her ruin you."
The words hit harder than expected.
Not because they were cruel—but because they weren't entirely wrong.
Aemond nodded. "Understood."
"Good." Alicent offered a small smile but kept her face composed. "King Jaehaerys entrusted you to me. I intend to make sure you live a better life than I ever did."
"Yes, yes," Aemond chirped. "We're the best in the world."
Only after her silhouette disappeared into the shadows did he exhale.
One done. One to go.
He was walking a narrow road, straddling both sides of a war that hadn't even begun yet.
A war of glances, of whispered alliances, of silent promises.
Life is a stage, he thought. And I'm the only one who brought a script.
---
Bonfires had been lit by the time Aemond reached the central part of the camp. The feast had begun in earnest—roasted boar on spits, flagons of spiced wine passed between laughing nobles. Lords and ladies lounged beneath silk banners, voices rising with every cup.
Aemond passed the stables on his way through and paused to splash cold water onto his face, scrubbing away the remnants of Alicent's grief.
Tears would only invite questions.
"Aemond, over here!"
The call came from a familiar voice.
Rhaenyra sat perched on a wide, dry tree stump, waving at him with a warm smile. Her silver hair shimmered in the firelight.
As Aemond approached, he noticed she wasn't alone.
Sitting beside her was Laena Velaryon, dressed in a rich cerulean gown, poised and elegant as ever.
She gave him a knowing smile, one that made his instincts bristle.
"Good evening, Lady Laena," he greeted with stiff politeness.
Laena inclined her head. "And good evening to you, Prince Aemond."
He waved a hand. "No need for titles. We're family, aren't we?"
Indeed, their bloodlines were tangled. Both descended from King Jaehaerys—Aemond through Baelon, Laena through Aemon and his daughter, Rhaenys.
In truth, their relation was not so distant. But with the Targaryens' thinning bloodlines, any relative was precious.
Laena smiled warmly. "Then shall I call you cousin?"
He hesitated—too familiar, he thought—but nodded. "Only if I may do the same."
"Of course," she said, gracefully resettling herself beside Rhaenyra.
Aemond frowned inwardly. With Laena here, Rhaenyra would be harder to influence. He'd need to be careful.
But Rhaenyra, to his surprise, got straight to the point.
"Aemond, I've made up my mind."
He blinked. "You have?"
She gripped his hand tightly. "Thank you—for standing by me earlier. Everyone else wanted to see me fall, but you were there."
He hadn't expected her to be quite so... grateful.
Rhaenyra continued, her voice steady. "You reminded me that I am not alone. That I still have those who believe in me."
"I—" Aemond started, but she pressed on.
"I won't cower anymore," she said. "They all want me to step aside. But I am the named heir. I will be queen. I will fight for my place—and prove my father right."
Aemond stared at her, speechless.
Those were his words.
Or at least, they had been. The sentiments he had planned to feed her over time. To slowly coax her into ambition.
Now here she was—burning with determination—before he'd even struck the match.
"What do you think, Aemond?" she asked, eyes gleaming with fire.
He swallowed and nodded. "Yes. That's... exactly how it should be."
If she had ambition, he wouldn't need to fan the flames—only contain them. Rhaenyra's greatest flaw had always been passivity. If she finally saw herself as worthy, that changed everything.
Her sudden shift, though, unsettled him.
He glanced sidelong at Laena, who watched them with interest, chin resting lightly on her hand.
It's her, he thought.
She had whispered something. Reframed something. Lit the spark while he was away.
Aemond stood abruptly. "I should go. It's been a long day."
"Wait," Rhaenyra said, tugging his arm. "There's something else."
He turned back, brows raised.
She fixed him with a fierce look. "Stay away from Alicent."
Aemond blinked.
"She is manipulative," Rhaenyra said. "She betrayed our friendship. She'll use you like she used everyone else. One day, you'll be just another tool for her and Otto Hightower."
Aemond opened his mouth—but found himself at a rare loss for words.
Hadn't Alicent just warned him about Rhaenyra?
Hadn't she used nearly the exact same phrasing?
"Do you understand?" Rhaenyra asked, intense.
He nodded quickly. "Yes, of course. We're the best in the world."
She smiled, reassured.
Aemond turned away and walked back toward the shadows, his mind spinning.
---
Two women.
Both believed they were saving him.
Both whispered poison about the other.
And both, in their own broken ways, cared for him.
What a mess, he thought. And what a p
erfect opportunity.
He wasn't just a boy anymore.
He was a dragon in human skin.
And soon, the whole board would belong to him.
-------------------
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