SEE HOW IT SHINES

vii

Aemond is leaving the Dragonpit when he hears his mother's voice. He freezes instantly; Alicent Hightower never, never, comes to the Dragonpit. She hates the beasts that live within it, especially now that Syrax, Caraxes, and the others have all taken up residence in the city once more. Aemond himself is rarely in the pit, either, because Vhagar is a foul-tempered crone who hates to be limited by the building, massive as it is. He's only come to find–

"Aegon," Alicent barks. "Finally. I've been looking for you everywhere."

"Your dogs have been looking, more like. I suppose I should be honored that you yourself managed to find me here," he meets her icy disdain with his own. Aemond hates when his brother talks to Mother like a child. He's heard a thousand of their bickering matches before, each as petty and pointless as the last, but this one already sounds different; what could have brought the queen all the way across the city to scold her son in the dragons' den?

"Do not test me, boy. I should drag you by your ear to your grandsire for taking such a tone with me. He's the one who wished to speak to you directly, but I intervened on your behalf. Again."

Aegon scoffs. "And what does the Lord Hand want with me now?"

Aemond hazards a look in their direction, peeking out from behind the huge archway that opens from the Dragonpit to the side of Rhaenys' Hill. His mother stands on the steps of a wheelhouse, arms folded over her chest, scowling down at Aegon, who stares up at her with a bored, vacant look on his face. His hair is windswept and his leathers disheveled, telltale signs that he's just returned from a ride. Aemond ducks back behind the archway wall before either spot him.

"It has come to our attention that you have asked the king yet again if your son can be moved into the Red Keep permanently."

Aemond groans internally. This, still? He'd thought Aegon had given up on the idea after what happened in the Kingswood. In a rare moment of vulnerability some weeks after the incident, Aegon confessed to his brother that he blamed himself for Father's attack, and confided in him the nature of their conversation. Aemond had been shocked to hear of it–sure, he was fond of his sweet nephew, but the boy was a bastard, not a trueborn son, and had no place in the king's household. But to hear that his brother is still petitioning the king, even now... Idiot. Father is dying. You should be at his side every moment trying to soak up all the knowledge he has to share–like Viserra–not bothering the old man with the living situation of your whore's pup. You'll be king soon enough, and you can bring the boy into the castle when it's yours, but not a moment sooner.

(Viserra. She sneaks into his thoughts before he can lock the door to keep her at bay. Over the last weeks following her arrival, and especially since that dream three weeks ago–the one that's come to him again and again since the first time, driving him half-mad with a want he doesn't want–she's been on his mind more than he'd ever like to admit. Slowly, painfully slowly, her persistence in his dreams and visions and thoughts, waking and not, has started to erode his defenses. He finds that hating her is not second nature, not anymore, and he has to begrudgingly admit to himself that she does have some redeeming qualities. Her commitment to spending time with the king is one of them, and he wishes his brother had half of her sense of duty and desire for the crown. Her efforts are futile, but Aegon's would be greatly beneficial once his reign begins. In moments like these, Aemond wishes that he were the king's heir; not because he wants the throne for himself, but because he'd be far better suited to it than his brother. But such is the way of things, he supposes.)

"I will not apologize for wanting my son near me," Aegon snaps, drawing Aemond's attention back to the conversation outside.

"Aegon, he is a bastard," Alicent says wearily. They've had this conversation countless times; it often leads to the worst of their fights. "He cannot be given a prince's honors. It warms my heart to see your dedication to fatherhood, but I only wish you'd marry, and father legitimate sons, and pamper them the same way you do Essie's boy."