-Chapter 149-
-A Few Days Later-
-POV Aegon Targaryen-
I knocked on the door, curious about the reason why I had been summoned by Aemon's father, and I only entered once I heard Prince Daemon order to do so from the other side.
"Your Highness," I said, because even though we held the sa rank, he was my father's brother, but above all, the Master of Laws.
'My direct superior in the Council's hierarchy,' I thought, because even with my new seat at the king's table, I still remained under Prince Daemon's orders.
"Sit down," Daemon said, gesturing for to take a seat across from him, his face devoid of expression, which slightly worried , but I followed his orders without protest.
I carefully pulled out the chair, making sure not to scrape it against the floor, then sat down, waiting to hear what my uncle expected from .
"I have heard that your grandfather, Otto Hightower, received a visit from your uncle," he said without asking anything further.
I swallowed hard, realizing that I was about to get reprimanded, so I said:
"My mother, the Queen, ordered that..."
"The Hand's orders were quite clear, were they not?" Daemon said, cutting off sharply.
I was montarily speechless, as I gradually understood that he was not interested in my version of the facts.
'He called here for one sole reason: to scold ,' I thought, making an effort not to roll my eyes.
'Mother practically forced to help Uncle Bryndon,' I thought, annoyed that I was the one being scolded when I wasn't even the root of the problem.
'It's simply because he can't say anything to my mother, so he's taking it out on ,' I thought, already aware of the longstanding resentnt between my grandfather and him.
"Was that not the case?" my father's brother asked, waiting for my response.
'And not just any response—he wants the one that will satisfy him,' I thought, nodding my head to appease him, resigning myself to endure the reprimand.
"Very well, since you acknowledge your guilt, there will be no additional sanctions."
"Additional?" I asked, slightly shocked.
"From today onward, you are dismissed from the City Watch, you are no longer the commander of the Gold Cloaks, and you are also stripped of your seat on the Small Council," he stated coldly.
"Excuse ?" I said, unable to believe what I had just heard, before indignantly adding:
"You can't dismiss !"
"I just did," he replied, once again cutting off sharply, but this ti, I wasn't going to let it slide.
I shrugged and said defiantly:
"I will take this to the Hand, this isn't…"
"The Hand left the capital early this morning, but these are his own orders. I am rely carrying them out," Aemon's father said before motioning with his hand that I could leave.
Before I could reach the door, Uncle Daemon added coldly:
"The Hand asked to deliver a ssage to you. He is disappointed that you have chosen to turn your back on your family to take the side of the Hightower leeches. He expected much more from you."
Stunned by the punishnt, but even more so by the final words of the man who had made the decision, I slowly walked out of Daemon's office without saying a word, wandering through the halls of the Red Keep, gradually reflecting on how I had gotten myself into this situation.
"Aegon," Bryndon said, placing a hand on my shoulder.
I looked up at him, still sowhat dazed, and then a furious rage overtook as I lunged at him, completely enraged, because thanks to him, I had just lost the respect of the only person I admired in this world.
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-POV Cregan Stark-
"So, what did he say?" I asked, even though I already knew what to expect, because ever since my father's death, I had been nothing more than a prisoner in my own ho, and my father's most loyal n had all started being sent away.
'So have even begun to have accidents,' I thought, hoping that the letter I had sent to Aemon with my grandfather's help had reached him.
"Sa thing as always, he claims he doesn't know how your mother died. The Maester concluded that she died of natural causes, but…"
"It's too much of a coincidence," I said, convinced that that snake Bennard had my mother killed, as she was the only one still defending my rights.
'I will never forgive him,' I swore internally, hiding deep within a cold rage capable of freezing even the warst seas.
"I agree with you, but until the Prince arrives…" he said, pausing for a mont before continuing, "If he even decides to help us, we cannot remain in this situation."
"He will co," I said with certainty, because I knew the Prince well enough to understand that he would never pass up such a tempting opportunity to gain control of one of the Seven Kingdoms.
"Your father ssed up so badly that I really doubt it," Grandfather said, clearly not believing that Aemon would care enough about .
'Perhaps he doesn't, but right now, he needs allies to secure his authority. And since Father is gone, it's up to to decide whether or not to follow the Prince,' I thought.
"He did what he thought was right," I said, refusing to judge my father's choices despite the consequences they had brought.
'Death, famine, and disease,' I recalled, thinking about the North's descent into hell after the Prince's departure.
'All ports closed due to the inability to trade, thanks to the pirates of House Sunderland, granaries mysteriously burning down with all their contents inside…'
"But it's you, your mother, and all the Northerners who paid the price, not him. He died, all because he couldn't resist listening to that snake Bennard's advice. If the Prince really does co, I want that little viper dead," my grandfather said, clenching his jaw.
'He hates him almost as much as I do,' I thought.
"No, death is too good for him," I said, a cold gleam in my eyes, before continuing:
"A few years ago, Gerold Royce tried to usurp Prince Aemon, and Aemon did not kill him. At the ti, I thought it was a sign of weakness, but now I understand. Killing is easy, quick, and efficient. No, what I want is for him to suffer every day of his life."
I turned my head to look straight into my grandfather's eyes, and I saw that despite the charisma and commanding presence he had developed over years of leading n, even he was shaken by the icy fury lurking within , waiting for its chance to be unleashed.
The first opportunity to cast a freezing wind upon our enemy.
Winter is coming, Bennard. I hope you're ready, you filthy dog.
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