The Royal Dining Hall at Maegor's Holdfast
The midday sun streamed through the tall arched windows, casting patterns of light and shadow across the polished floorboards. In a crystal goblet, the summer-red wine caught the bend of the river beyond, glinting like a jewel.
Helaena sat to his right, placing her spoon down. Today she wore a simple white linen dress, her long silver-gold hair loosely braided into two plaits that fell over her shoulders. The sunlight caught in her hair, making it gleam like spun pearls.
"Aunt Rhaenys has sworn she will treat Aegon as her own child," she said quietly.
Alicent smiled bitterly and took her daughter's warm hand.
"I believe in Rhaenys. I believe in her character."
Aemond focused on his meal, cutting a piece of meat, chewing, and swallowing deliberately. Compared to when he had returned from Driftmark Isle half a moon ago, his skin was far healthier. His cheeks had regained a flush of blood, his figure looked taller, and the once snug black velvet doublet fit more tightly over his shoulders.
It seemed another new garment would be needed for the boy.
"Ser Criston said you'll train on the yard until dawn for half a moon," Helaena remarked.
"Do not overexert yourself. Master Meros warned that too much strain could harm your growing muscles and bones—you are still young, your body still learning."
Aemond set down his knife and fork and looked at his mother, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.
"I am well, Mother."
"My body grows stronger every day. Ser Criston says my swordsmanship improves quickly."
Alicent gazed at her confident son, momentarily awed.
"That is good."
She recalled her conversation with Otto Hightower the night before. When her father spoke of Aemond, he had been calm, calculating, and consciously aware of what must be done. The future of the Green faction might rest on this boy's shoulders. If they hoped to see Aegon on the throne, they would need Aemond—and Vhagar—in his hands. Just as Viserys had ascended the throne, aided by Daemon.
Her gaze drifted to Aemond's seat—the place meant for her eldest son Aegon. Helaena's eyes also welled with tears. She could not comprehend such complex love and hatred in her simple world, yet she felt the pain in her mother's words.
Aemond set down his cutlery, took a napkin, and slowly wiped the corners of his mouth. Alicent had chosen this path, which had brought them to the present moment. She lifted her crystal goblet and sipped the summer-red wine.
At that moment, the oak door of the hall opened quietly. A maid entered, carrying a silver tray—dessert for after the meal. She appeared fifteen or sixteen, her light chestnut hair intricately braided into a Hightower-style bun at the nape of her neck, dotted with tiny pearls.
She was fair of face: high cheekbones, a straight nose, a pair of large, bright blue eyes, long lashes, and full lips painted a soft pink, like newly unfurling petals. She wore a pale green linen skirt, gathered neatly at the waist with a silver chain barely spanning a hand's breadth.
The porcelain plate of jelly slipped toward the edge of the table, teetering on the brink of falling.
"Oh!" the maid gasped softly.
She lunged to catch the plate but lost her balance, tipping toward Aemond. Her blue eyes widened, lips parted slightly, startled and shy. Her fall was perfectly angled, the trajectory aimed directly at the prince, and her right hand landed accidentally on the armrest of his chair.
A perfect accident.
A perfect encounter.
Yet Aemond did not lift his gaze. He continued cutting the cutlet on his plate, as if the commotion before him were merely a faint whisper. When the maid's hand neared him, his left hand shifted slightly, just enough to avoid accidental contact.
Click.
Her hand struck the hard armrest; her knuckles stung. She bit her lower lip to suppress a cry of pain, lifting her head, and quickly tears pooled in her blue eyes, like a frightened, helpless fawn.
"Yes—pardon me, Prince Aemond!" Her voice trembled with panic and self-reproach. "I am so clumsy… please, please forgive my recklessness…"
She remained partially bowed, her neckline stretched forward, fair skin glowing in the sun. A hush fell over the dining hall. The queen frowned at the maid. Helaena blinked in confusion, as though she could not understand how one could be so flustered… euphemistically, by such an encounter?
Finally, Aemond lifted his gaze to the maid.
"What is your name?" he asked.