Chapter 398: Aemond’s Thoughts

"Aegon is shameless!"

Little Daeron covered his face with both hands, feeling the embarrassment keenly. Having a brother who bragged so shamelessly was humiliating.

Rhaegar held his forehead with one hand, utterly speechless. How could Aegon boast so brazenly without fear of retribution from the people of the Three Sisters Islands? Those lawless and impoverished people might just sneak up on him during one of his brothel visits.

Rhaegar sighed, "We need to urge the gold cloaks to patrol closely."

"What happened?" the twins asked, drawn over by the commotion. They plopped down on the same bench with their refreshments to watch.

For a moment, four silver and gold heads huddled together, all staring at Aegon as he spun his wild tales. They didn't move much, but their conspicuous presence quickly drew attention.

Margaery sat demurely, looking up at Aegon with feigned surprise, doing her best to play along with the prince's exaggerated stories. Her brown eyes held a hint of hidden amusement. Despite her young age, she managed to appear as if she were humorously indulging a child.

The other girls followed suit, heaping praise on Aegon, making him glow with pride. He raised his wine bottle, ready to showcase his drinking prowess.

Suddenly, Margaery's eyes flickered, noticing the silver-gold reflections across the room. Raising her gaze, she spotted four Targaryens of varying sizes.

"Prince Rhaegar!" Margaery cried out in surprise, lifting her skirts joyfully as she approached.

Rhaegar looked stunned and frowned slightly. His intuition were sensitive, and facing Margaery's gaze, he felt an inexplicable sense of unease.

"Prince, long time no see." Margaery curtsied demurely, smiling. "I haven't had time to congratulate you on your great victory over the Triarchy. I believe the king will soon organize a special merit banquet in your honor."

Rhaegar smiled politely, "Thank you for remembering, Lady Margaery."

As they chatted, he subtly adjusted his seating position, holding the twins in front of him as a barrier. The feeling of being watched intensified as Margaery closed the distance.

The sensation wasn't like Jeyne's affection or Helaena's adoration. It was an unabashed, naked covetousness.

Suddenly being hugged, Rhaena tilted her small head, "What's wrong?"

The little girl had a delicate mind, inheriting her mother Laena's gentleness.

"Stupid! Be quiet." Baela, smarter and more perceptive, covered her sister's mouth and leaned into Rhaegar's arm.

She could see it. The milky-skinned woman across the room had eyes much like those of the women who had tried to seduce her father. Cousin was her foster mother's husband, and they had to help look after him.

Rhaena closed her little mouth in resignation and scooted over to lean on her sister's side.

Morning hissed shrilly, squeezed between the two sisters and struggling outward as hard as it could.

He smiled apologetically at Margaery, unwilling to engage in too much small talk. Margaery's eyes crossed over the twins, and she sat herself down on another bench, picking out topics that the little girls would enjoy. Within a few words, she had the twins giggling. Even Daeron, who had been covering his face, was drawn into the conversation, opening his box of toys to join in.

Rhaegar secretly shook his head, lamenting the power of foreign enemies and the unreliability of allies. He considered Margaery's presence in King's Landing and speculated that the only ones left in Highgarden were the old Lord Tyrell and the newly promoted Lady Tyrell.

"Is there a conflict with her stepmother, Is she trying to avoid being kicked out?" Rhaegar mused, pouring himself a glass of sweet fruit wine and enjoying a moment of peace amidst the hustle and bustle.

The heir to the Reach was a critical issue, but he couldn't reach that far. He prayed that old Lord Tyrell still had the ability to reproduce or wouldn't die too soon. During the Dornish Rebellion, the Reach couldn't afford to be in disarray.

The calm was short-lived. The Heir Prince, the Lord's only daughter, and a few Targaryens together quickly attracted many eyes. A group of noblewomen and noblemen coveted the Heir Prince, but he was already married. Little Daeron was too young, so they could only look and sigh.

On the contrary, Aegon's side saw a lot of action. The girls from the Lannister and Tully Houses left behind their pre-selected marriage prospects and curtsied before joining Margaery.

They did not want to disrespect Aegon. The king's second son was still a prince, and they understood that. However, the second prince's first choice for marriage was Selene of House Hightower, and they were merely attendants. When Margaery took the lead, they withdrew immediately.

...

Several beautiful girls drifted away, leaving Aegon visibly displeased. "Don't go away!" he muttered under his breath.

He hadn't finished his wine, and now most of the girls had left. Only two remained with him: Selene Hightower and Anna Beesbury.

Selene was not stunningly beautiful, but she exuded a sense of freshness, dignity, and grace reminiscent of Alicent. Anna, on the other hand, was a slightly chubby girl with a very cute smile.

Aegon glanced at them both and then slumped down with his head hanging low. He had been quite taken with Margaery and the blonde beauty from House Lannister, both of whom had plump figures that he favored.

The two girls left with him now were less to his liking. He had met Anna Beesbury once before, during his trip to the Riverlands to ask for help in the last Battle of the Stepstones. She seemed a bit naive, and he found her father, Lord Lyman, annoying.

Selene Hightower was quite pretty, with long white legs that were tempting, but Aegon felt a strong aversion. Shaking his head hastily, he thought to himself, "I won't marry a woman from House Hightower even if I die!"

...

At the same time

Stormlands, Rainwood Quarters

"Knights on patrol, make way!"

A group of a dozen or so Storm Knights, waving flags embroidered with a treasure-crowned stag, rushed to the entrance of the camp on horseback. Within moments, the fortress gate opened from the inside, and soldiers ran out to move the barriers.

The Storm Knights entered the camp.

"Roar..."

A brown, clay-colored dragon shadow cut through the sky, emerging from the lush woodlands.

On the dragon's back, a silver-haired teenager clad in light armor commanded, "Sheepstealer, put me down!"

As they reached the sky above the camp, Aemond's eyes gleamed with excitement. He slapped the dragon's scales with his hand.

"Roar..."

Sheepstealer glanced at his rider and landed slowly. The dragon reeked of blood, and its body was covered with large and small pits, evidence of numerous battles. Its wide brown wings had a hole the size of a basin.

Aemond climbed down from the dragon's back, rubbing the dragon's neck. "Good job, we burned another team of Dornishmen," he said smugly.

"Roar..."

Sheepstealer squinted and moved lazily, its vertical pupils reflecting its visible disdain. Mounted on the dragon's back, Aemond charged wherever the fight was fierce. Sheepstealer was not some ancient dragon that could endure endless abuse; it was a battle-scarred creature.

As the dragon moved away, Aemond scratched his head in embarrassment. He called over a nearby soldier. "Go prepare some goats for my dragon. He needs a change today."

"Yes, Prince," the soldier replied, hurrying off to fulfill the order.

Sheepstealer's ferocity was well-known, and he demanded a lot of food after each battle. Seeing the soldier's respect and fear, the corners of Aemond's mouth rose, satisfying his vanity.

He turned and walked back to his tent. Inside, Royce Caron, clad in silver and gray armor, waited. He held his helmet in one hand and pointed at a sand table with the other, speculating on the battlefield's changes.

As a Lord of the Marches, Royce had rich experience commanding battles, always maintaining control over the Stormlands' overall situation.

"Lord Royce," Aemond greeted as he entered the tent.

"Prince," Royce responded respectfully. He then turned serious. "The army has cleared the path. In a matter of days, we will strike from Crow's Nest and break the siege of Stonehelm."

Aemond frowned, pointing at the Rainwood location on the sand table. "What about the hidden Dornish detachments?"

"They're small combat units, not a significant threat," Royce explained thoughtfully, aiming to educate Aemond. "Our large army consists of 3,000 cavalry, 5,000 archers, and 20,000 infantry. With Lord Swann of Stonehelm attacking the besieged Dornish soldiers on both sides, we can resolve the battle swiftly."

He was Lady Elenda's father and Cassandra's maternal grandfather. Aemond was joined to his granddaughter by marriage, and as an elder, he felt it his duty to teach the knowledge of marching and fighting.

Upon hearing this, Aemond's frown deepened.

At that moment, the tent curtain was lifted, and a tall and handsome knight walked in.

The knight had a kind face and a gentle brow. He bowed and greeted them, "Lord Royce, Prince."

Aemond glanced at him, unimpressed.

Royce's expression grew complicated. "Cole, has Ser Laenor not arrived yet?"

This knight was not the Kingsguard stationed in the Stepstones, Christon Cole. Cole was his first name; his surname was something else.

Royce nodded, suspicion in his eyes. Laenor's sexual orientation was well known. Cole came from a common background and was knighted at the First Battle of the Stepstones.

The two had become longtime companions. Cole was the second mate; the first was Ser Joffrey, Laenor's childhood companion, who was banished from Driftmark Island by the Sea Snake after Laenor's marriage.

Laenor, unwilling to be left alone, took a liking to the gentle and handsome peasant knight Cole. Their relationship formed an underground affair that many in the barracks disapproved of, believing it to be against the faith of the Seven and the honor of knighthood.

Aemond disliked both of them.

Royce worried that the two would bring down his future grandson-in-law and vaguely disapproved of too much contact between them.

With the three of them in the tent, the tension was palpable.

Despite being accustomed to other people's stares, Cole still felt ashamed and lowered his head. "Lord Royce, the raven crows have sent a message. The Dornish have gathered thousands to attack Mistwood."

Mistwood was located in the southern part of the Rainwood in Cape Wrath and was the domain of House Mertyns.

Royce frowned, but before he could speak, Aemond's eyes lit up. "Mistwood's defenses are weaker than Stonehelm's. We should support them first."

(Word count: 1,749)