The Princess and the Queen 26: Aemon I
"In a real battle, you will not have the liberty of hesitating," Ser Criston Cole said to them all, walking back and forth across the yard. "In that moment, your enemy would instantly cut you down, and you would not get back up."
Aemon nodded eagerly at his trainer. In truth, he knew all of this, how he couldn't be slack when fighting. The other kids didn't, however. Vaegon Velaryon was the least hesitant, but nowhere near the skill level of Aemon. Tom Strong was even less talented but loved to taunt and laugh until he actually had to fight, and then he would just be a coward. Willem Massey, meanwhile, was both hesitant and useless. What they all had in common, however, was that they would hesitate, and Aemon would use the time to knock his sparring partner down and whack them into submission.
They would do better to know this.
At times, Aemon wished he would spar with the older kids since he was clearly much more talented than the weak Vaegon Velaryon, the snivelling Tom Strong, or the useless Willem Massey. His mother and Ser Criston forbade him, stating that the older kids were much too large for Aemon to fight.
"Well, I am twice as good," snapped Aemon. "I want to fight them. I would beat all of them; I would make them shit their pants and squeal like pigs!"
His mother found that mildly amusing but still forbade him all the same. She did pat him on the head, however, and said to use his anger in the yard, to beat all the other kids.
I would still beat them, angry or not.
Ser Criston handed them all swords and shields. Some squires helped the other kids strap their shields on, but Aemon did it himself. He twirled his sword around in his arms, waiting for all the others to be ready.
"Very well," Ser Criston announced, clasping his hands together. "Massey, you are to spar with Vaegon," he said, moving them into position. "And Strong, you and the Prince shall spar with each other."
Easy.
Aemon smirked and took up his position across from the Strong lad. He was a distant nephew of Lord Larys, his mother's friend. The lad was some months older than Aemon and slightly taller. He was bigger built too, but that would be no issue. His curly hair made him look like Joffrey, Aemon's half-sister's son, which made sense, considering they were cousins.
At least this one admits his parenthood.
Some years ago, back when Aemon's half-sister came from Dragonstone, Aemon asked his mother why his half-nephew, Joffrey, looked nothing like his Targaryen mother or Lannister father. His mother simply smiled and rubbed his pale gold hair, telling him he would understand when he grew older. Some years later, his mother revealed to him why; it was because Joffrey was the illegitimate offspring of Aemon's half-sister and Harwin Strong.
"Then why does the King not do anything about it?" Aemon asked his mother. "Didn't the septa say that bastards are cursed?"
"You know that your father turns a blind eye to anything your sister does," Mother sighed.
He's not my father.
Still, his mother was correct. The King coddled Rhaenyra, favoured her offspring, and ignored Aemon and his siblings. It enraged him; what could a ten-year-old do against the King of the Seven Kingdoms?
I wish my mother would do something to that smelly old man!
"Because Joffrey is a bastard Strong… is that why his dragon eggs never hatch?" Aemon asked.
"That may very well be the reason, Aemon," she replied.
"If I had an egg, it would never go cold!" angrily declared Aemon.
"I know you would, my sweet," laughed Mother, kissing him on the head.
It wasn't fair. Why did a bastard get to have as many dragon eggs as he wished, whilst Aemon still did not have one? Aemon had pure Valyrian blood, whilst Joffrey's was diluted by that of Harwin Strong, some dead man who died in a fire.
I know it, truly… it's because the King loved him.
Aemon felt his blood boiling once again, like it did whenever he laid his eyes on the rotting corpse of the King. He looked at Tom Strong, clad in dark blue padded leather, lazily swinging his sword back and forth. The sight of the lad reminded Aemon of Joffrey and his hundreds of stone eggs, which made Aemon even angrier.
"You may begin!" shouted Ser Criston.
Aemon charged at his opponent, even before Tom Strong could even get any taunts in. It all went by in a blur, with Aemon imagining Tom Strong as one of his nephews, Joffrey or Viserys, or his half-sister Rhaenyra, as they fought. He knocked the Strong lad to the ground instantly, splintering his shield, and swinging wildly at his ribs and chest.
It was over before it even began. Little Tom Strong was writhing on the floor, his wormy mouth moving, saying something he could not hear, whilst tears came down from his brown eyes. Aemon carried on hitting him, for every taunt he used to say in the yard until big, muscular hands pulled him off.
"Aemon!" roared Ser Criston. "Aemon! He yielded, Aemon!"
Ser Criston dragged the shrieking Aemon away, and yanked the sword and shield out of his hands. Aemon tried breaking free of Ser Criston's arms, but the knight was too strong.
"I was winning!" spat Aemon, balling his fists in rage.
"Prince Aemon, you must understand," sighed Ser Criston, only letting go when Aemon's anger subsided. "We are sparring, my prince. Tom will be your brother-in-arms someday; you cannot injure him too much."
If he truly is the calibre of man I am to fight alongside, I fear that my side would have already lost.
"You said not to hesitate on the battlefield, so I didn't hesitate!" Aemon angrily replied.
"When an opponent yields, you must allow them," shrugged Vaegon Velaryon, his pale lilac eyes apologetic. "It is the basic code of chivalry, Aemon."
"I did not ask for your words, Vaegon!" roared Aemon.
Sometimes, Vaegon Velaryon truly infuriated Aemon. Aemon respected him, since they were cousins and family, but the Velaryon lad could be patronising. He was born a few moons before Aemon, but seemed to act like he was so much older than him. He also made unnecessary comments often, and Aemon rued that his cousin had a dragon before him.
"Vaegon, allow the Prince to cool his head. Your comment was not necessary," Ser Criston whispered, putting a hand on Vaegon Velaryon's shoulder. "Aemon, are you ready to return to training?" he gently asked, offering Aemon his training sword and shield again.
"No!" Aemon replied. "We are done! I am better than you all anyways!"
Aemon pulled his little helmet off his little head and flung it onto the ground, letting it roll across the brown mud. He then marched back to his quarters, leaving Ser Criston and the other kids to continue with their training.
Maybe if they train for more, they shall be a match for me in the yard.
In his quarters, Aemon sulked and brooded for a while until he decided to read a book. The one lying on his table was Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns: Their Unnatural History. Aemon read a few pages, gazing at the magnificent drawings until he reached a chapter about dragon eggs. That reminded him of how he still did not have one, which made him seethe once more, so he left the book to go sulk on his bed some more.
A while later, he heard footsteps outside his room. One was light and swift, whilst the other was heavy, accompanied by the clanging of armour. Aemon knew who they were without even needing to see them.
Mother and Ser Criston!
They were the two people on the very small list of people Aemon trusted the most in the Red Keep. The footsteps stopped some distance from his door whilst his mother and Ser Criston remained deep in chatter. Aemon couldn't make out the words, so he put his ear near the wall so he could hear. It became clearer, and it seemed as though the subject matter was not positive.
"I did suggest that Aemon should train with the older kids, Your Grace," Ser Criston whispered, his tone nervous.
"I should have bloody taken on your suggestion," Mother replied, her words harsh and quick. "And now the damned Clubfoot will likely want an apology. Are you certain that Strong lad did not say anything to prove Aemon?"
"Usually, little Tom Strong is full of taunts, but this time Aemon just seemed to see blood," said Ser Criston. "I am afraid the princeling is all to blame this time," he chuckled.
All to blame? Maybe Ser Criston is correct…
"Seven hells," snapped Mother. "And the entire Vaegon situation… the poor lad has apologised to me personally, already, whilst Laenor wants one from Aemon."
"Aemon did not mean what he said to Vaegon," Ser Criston reassured. "It was a comment made in the spur of the moment. You know Aemon likes the Velaryon lad."
"That is true," she sighed. "But it's another damned thing to add to the pile, with the Dragonstone issue, too. It would help if Viserys could actually come to damned councils," scoffed Mother.
"You know that will not happen," plainly said Ser Criston.
Mother didn't reply, and the footsteps came close to the door. Aemon quickly leapt away from the wall and onto his bed, to return to his sulking. The large door then swung open, and Aemon's mother and Ser Criston walked in.
She entered the room quickly, her blue dress fluttering behind her. Her silver hair was let loose, and her lilac eyes were filled with annoyance and concern. Still, to Aemon, she conveyed the essence of regality, much more than the King. Ser Criston followed behind her in his pristine white suit of armour, closing the door once he entered.
"Aemon," she carefully said, walking up to the bed. "I heard that something occurred in the yard, earlier."
"Tom Strong is annoying!" Aemon replied. "As are the rest! I told you, before, I want to train with the older boys, then they could actually fight me!"
Mother looked over to Ser Criston and sighed, before turning back to Aemon. She kneeled by the bed and put her soft hands on his long, pale gold hair and stroked it.
"Very well, you shall train with the older boys, commencing from the morrow," Mother replied. "But that does not give an answer as to what happened earlier… House Strong are our allies, and you must not get angry with our allies, you know this… I have told you half a hundred times."
"Does that mean I have to apologise to Tom Strong and the Clubfoot?" Aemon asked, his eyebrows furrowed.
"Yes, to both of them. And you shall address him as Lord Larys Strong."
"Only if Tom Strong stops with the taunts," countered Aemon, his arms crossed in defiance.
"Very well, I shall ask Tom Strong to stop when I give him your apology," sighed Mother, running a hand through her hair. "And not just Tom. You shall apologise to Vaegon for your harsh words, too."
We are cousins, and Vaegon did not truly mean to anger me, I think.
"I shall, Mother," Aemon said, bowing his head.
"Good," she replied. "Vaegon is your family, and I do not need to stress the importance of loyalty and family. You are well aware of that too."
"Yes," smiled Aemon, as Mother took him in her arms. She caressed his hair whilst rocking him back and forth.
"Thank you, my sweet," she grinned, giving him a peck on the forehead. "We are family, and family comes before anything. There are people in this world who would like to see you harmed. With all of us together, you, me, Daeron, Baela, Grandmother, Grandmother, your uncle Laenor and his children, Ser Criston, we are what we have. And you must not let that go, understand me, Aemon?"
"Family. Our family, before everyone else," Aemon said whilst nodding intently.
Our other allies matter too, but they shall never be our family.
"I knew you would understand, Aemon," Mother said, giving him a warm smile before getting up. "Ah, Aemon, you have dragon lessons in the Pit, now, don't you?"
"I do not wish to go," Aemon said, crossing his arms again.
Aemon did love dragons; that was not to be doubted, but the dragon lessons were not interesting at all. He could only take so much watching Daeron, Baela, and Vaegon command their dragons and watch them fly under the domed roof whilst Aemon just stared. All Aemon would do was imagine the day he was the one giving the dragon commands to a gigantic dragon in the Pit, but even that got tiring. There was only so much he could imagine, from him flying over a keep whose inhabitant was disloyal to his family to a brutal dragon fight above the ocean.
All I do is gawk at them having their own dragons and wish that I had one too! Where is the fun in that?
"And why do you not wish to go to that, Aemon?" Mother asked, crossing her arms, mirroring her son.
"I have no dragon yet, what's the point?" he replied. "Valaena does not have a dragon; why does she not need to?"
"We have gone through this before, Aemon," frowned Mother.
It is because Lady Alicent forbade it.
Aemon knew that his cousin was a quaint girl, scared of loud sounds and big creatures, who liked to mumble to herself and play with bugs rather than other kids. Valaena was almost always terrified of dragons, save for her father's or brother's dragon. Aemon did find it peculiar, however, in that she still had a beautiful pink and black dragon egg, which she would hold close to her chest and pray over every single day.
"Your cousin Valaena is a gentle girl, which is why she does not go to the Pit. You are not a gentle boy, are you, Aemon?" asked Mother.
"No!" shouted Aemon. "I am fierce, and not scared of anything!"
"Then you shall go to the dragon lessons, won't you?" she smiled.
"How does that have anything to do with the lessons?" he scoffed.
"In truth, it doesn't," Mother frowned. "But you should go for another reason. For your siblings, and your cousin. For your brother Daeron, your sister Baela, and Vaegon. Remember that squires tourney some weeks ago?"
Aemon nodded eagerly. How could he forget? He dominated the tourney, pummeling Tom Strong and Edwyn Mullendore into the mud, with his siblings and mother cheering from the stands.
"Daeron and Baela did not need to be there to watch you. In fact, Daeron would have rather been walking in the gardens with Lady Jocelyn and Baela out to seven-knows-where with her friends, but I made them come and watch you. So they could cheer you on as you donned that armour and rode the palfrey," she explained. "It is the same with you, Baela's dragon has only so recently become large enough to mount, and you know how much she loves to ride it. Instead of thinking how you don't have a dragon, think of how happy your sister is that she does. She loves it when you cheer her on from the ground below… she may not show it, but she truly does."
"It's to do with family," said Aemon.
"Exactly," Mother grinned. "Daeron's dragon lessons don't need to be on the same day as Baela's, but it still is. Because we are a family, and do things together. You may not truly need to go to dragon lessons, but it would be nice to be there for your family too."
"They would need my protection, too!" Aemon exclaimed. "I may be smaller and younger, but twice as fierce and strong!"
"Oh, absolutely, my sweet," smiled Mother before dusting off his shoulders. "Do enjoy yourself, today."
On the way to the Dragonpit, Aemon shared a carriage with Daeron, Baela, and Vaegon. His elder brother wore a dark blue doublet and black breeches boots, neatly fastened with little golden dragons, and had a thin silver cloak draped over his shoulder. His silver hair was neatly combed, and his dark purple eyes glimmered from the sunlight streaming in from the curtains. Baela wore a similar doublet to her brother, but hers was sleeveless. Her silver-gold hair was cut shorter than Daeron's and was let loose, covering half of one of her light purple eyes. Vaegon was in Velaryon colours, an aquamarine doublet with little silver seahorse clips. His silver hair that had streaks of black went down to his shoulders, and he wore a ring on his third finger the same pale lilac as his eyes.
When they were entering, Daeron nudged Aemon on the shoulder and whispered "Sorry!" to Aemon, before gesturing to Vaegon and taking his place next to him. Aemon understood what his brother meant by that but still gave him a little shove in return.
"I am sorry for my words, earlier," Aemon said to his cousin, his head bowed. "I should have conducted myself better."
"Thank you, Aemon," smiled Vaegon, who sat across from Aemon. "I shall apologise too; I-"
"Don't apologise," quickly interrupted Daeron. "You said nothing wrong. Right, Aemon?" he said, glaring at Aemon in a manner that reminded him of their mother.
"Yes, you did nothing wrong, truly," Aemon replied as Daeron loosened his shoulders.
Vaegon simply nodded and grinned before turning his head to stare out at the city. They passed by hovels and shops in Fleabottom, as the carriage bounced over rocks underneath them. Aemon couldn't help but grimace at the sight of the smallfolk living in squalor, and could hardly imagine how Lady Jocelyn could regularly visit septries and orphanages to give bread and water to the destitute.
She has even dragged Daeron along for some of these… how does he not puke at the smell?
"Daeron, your boots are untied!" Baela urgently said, pointing down to the floor of the carriage.
"Do I?" asked Daeron, leaning forwards to check, before Baela's finger came up and flicked him in the nose.
"Hah!" she laughed. "I got you there!"
"Sev- I'll get you next time!" chuckled Daeron, chucking a pillow at his sister.
"Will you?" Baela asked, cocking her head to the side.
"Since when were you in such a jovial mood, Baela?" Aemon asked. "Usually, you find dragon lessons terribly boring."
"No, I don't!" she protested. "Well… mayhaps… but now that I can actually ride on a dragon instead of watching Daeron, it's become much more enjoyable."
"I did take you on Tess, that one time," frowned Daeron. "Did you not enjoy that?"
"I did, but Mother restricted that from happening again, remember?" countered Baela.
"Ah, yes, I do now," Daeron replied. "She said that Tessarion would not be able to take both our weights. I thought otherwise, but very well," he shrugged.
"I agree; you are not that fat!" Baela laughed, as Aemon and Vaegon snorted at the jape. "But still… it is so much more different actually being the rider and giving the commands. I never understood what you meant all those years," she said, her smile wide. "Damn you for your dragon growing up so much quicker than mine!"
"I cannot wait for the day Vermax is large enough," Vaegon added. "He gets larger by the day!"
And I still do not have one yet…
Daeron seemed to notice Aemon's scowl, so he reached out his hand and grabbed it, smiling warmly.
"And you too, Aemon," encouraged Daeron. "You will have one soon!"
"And it will be bigger than Moondancer, Tessarion, and Vermax combined," said Baela, ruffling Aemon's hair. "I just know it."
"You could come with me on Tess if you wish," Daeron suggested. "She's had a growth spurt recently, and I reckon she would be large enough to hold two."
"Or come with me on Moondancer… but Mother needn't know!" winked Baela. "Or are you too scared?" she teased.
"I am not scared," protested Aemon. "I just want my first time on dragonback to actually be my first time!"
"Very well," shrugged Baela, patting his shoulder.
"I understand why," Daeron smiled. "And it will be soon."
They remained in amiable silence for a while longer, until their carriage exited the streets of Fleabottom. The stink eventually receded, and Baela breathed a sigh of relief, and Vaegon opened the curtains, letting in some more sunlight in the carriage.
"I hardly saw you this morning, Daeron," Baela said. "Were you out in the city with Jocelyn again?"
"No, Jocelyn went with Ser Thoren and some other Reachers today," Daeron replied. "I was at a Small Council meeting."
Recently, Mother had started taking Daeron to Small Councils, in order to prepare him for ruling. Aemon understood why but thought that Daeron would still be better than the King, even without any preparation.
"More droll, I take?" Baela asked. "And has Father finally decided to attend them?" she scowled.
"He wasn't at this one, unfortunately," he replied sadly. "I wish he could be, though, and see how much I have learned."
As if he would care.
Baela just forced a smile and nodded. Aemon found it strange that even though his big brother was the smartest person he knew, Daeron still didn't seem to realise that his father did not care about him.
I am only ten and know. He is seven-and-ten, a man grown, yet doesn't!
"The council was quite interesting today, actually," said Daeron, his tone more upbeat. "Though mayhaps not for the right reasons…"
"What was it?" Baela asked, her interest piqued.
"It seems that our sister has begun building a fleet on Dragonstone. Ser Otto reckons that Casterly Rock is funding all of it, whilst Lord Larys claims that shipbuilders from the Lys and Tyrosh have aided too, and they have plans to make it as large as the Redwyne fleet, or Driftmark's, but Grandfather thinks they won't go that far."
"They can't do that!" gasped Aemon.
"Why not?" Daeron shrugged. "Any lord or lady is allowed to build their own fleet."
"But we should have the biggest fleet," said Vaegon.
"It may not be as large as our fleet or the royal fleet, but I do agree," Daeron replied.
"Is anything going to happen about it?" asked Vaegon.
"Would Father even do anything about it?" Baela scoffed, waving a hand in the air, just like Mother often did.
"Never," whispered Aemon.
"We can't do anything about it," frowned Daeron. "Rhaenyra is well within her right to undertake this, as much as we don't like it. I do wish we could send out a missive forbidding them, but that is not how it works."
"You've just bloody soured my mood," laughed Baela.
"Sorry," said Daeron apologetically, putting a hand on Baela's knee whilst she just smiled. "Very well… onto other topics… where were you this morning, then, Baela?"
"Playing kissing games with the older knights," giggled Aemon before Baela smacked him on the head.
"You shouldn't know about this sort of stuff!" she said, wagging a finger at him whilst Vaegon was almost rolling off his seat from laughter.
"Well, it is true, though?" Daeron said, crossing his arms.
"Half true," conceded Baela. "Though it is with Aly Blackwood and Oscar Tully, and both are of age with me. I would never do that with the older knights."
"Good!" replied Daeron sternly. "If it had been Unwin Peake or any of the older men…"
"Do not fret, Daeron," she laughed. "If any of them had tried to kiss me, I would punch them in the nose and feed their coc- ears to my dragon!"
"That is heartening to hear, sister," Daeron smiled. "Does your betrothed not care about any of this?" he asked. "I do not think Jocelyn would appreciate it if I were to play kissing games with Elinor Massey or Darlessa Fossoway."
"I do not think he likes girls," shrugged Baela. "If he did, I would only kiss him."
"Very well," chuckled Daeron, and by then, they had arrived at the great Dragonpit. Aemon had seen the sight hundreds of times by now, but its massive dome and tall bronze and iron doors never failed to take his breath away. He imagined himself landing a great dragon on the roof, and wondered if it could withstand the weight of one.
As was tradition, the dragonkeeper greeted them all before leading them into the Pit. Daeron, Baela, and Vaegon took turns giving their dragons commands, whilst Aemon watched them eagerly speak broken Valyrian, and the dragon would obey, with varying degrees of success.
During that time, his mind wandered off to his nephews and niece on Dragonstone, who would have also had similar lessons since his half-sister supposedly took some dragonkeepers with her to the island when she was exiled.
I wonder if it is Prince Daemon who instructs them on how to command a dragon.
It was likely true, since Aemon's uncle was supposedly obsessed with those beasts. Aemon didn't like him, however, since he found the man to be violent and rash, who would stare for too long and make his cousin Valaena uncomfortable.
Well, everything makes her uncomfortable, but Lady Alicent claims that he does so in particular.
He didn't envy his half-sister's children on Dragonstone for having to live with that man, though in truth, he didn't really care much about them. In fact, he didn't like them, especially Prince Daemon's son, Viserys.
And he has a dragon too? How could such a snivelling weasel like him manage to hatch an egg and bond to a dragon?
Viserys couldn't be further from his twin sister, from what Aemon remembered of the worm. Aemon actually somewhat liked his betrothed, in spite of everything.
And she has a dragon, too, now! And what a dragon she had claimed!
Aemon couldn't believe it when the news arrived from across the Blackwater. His eight-year-old niece had managed to tame Silverwing, one of the largest dragons alive. Aemon was impressed by however she managed to do it, but it also made him feel like he had to do better.
If she is to be my lady wife, my dragon should be larger than hers… that is what Ser Criston taught me.
It was true to an extent. Although Aemon's mother had claimed Vhagar so many years ago, before Aemon was born, in fact, her husband once rode an even larger dragon, so many years before that.
As much as the King loves to boast of how he was the rider of Balerion, I scarcely believe him.
Aemon thought that the King was lying about it, and mayhaps he was. The King was not averse to lying, and Aemon knew that better than anyone. Just under a year ago, on Baela's fifteenth nameday, the King made a grand speech that he loved all of his children, but it was clearly false to anyone who actually had eyes.
Eventually, the lessons drew to a close, and the keepers allowed them all to play with their dragons, before they could return to their chains. Moondancer and Vermax flew in circles, chasing each other under the great dome, with Baela laughing wildly from the saddle of the pale green beast, and Vaegon cheered on from below. Daeron just sat in the comfort of Tessarion's scales, the copper and cobalt dragon's wing cloaking him under her protection, whilst he read a small book he took with him, likely some messages written by Lady Jocelyn.
As they were engrossed with their dragons, Aemon had that same feeling again, that he should have a dragon, or at least an egg. He knew that there were no untamed dragons in the Pit, but one of them may have laid an egg.
I cannot know if I do not go and venture for one.
Aemon did exactly that, walking down a crevice in the structure as the torchlight became dim and the ground became muddy and slippery. He was almost engulfed in darkness when a voice called out to him.
"Aemon!" Daeron shouted. "Where- seven hells!" he said, sprinting to Aemon and grabbing him. "It's dangerous down there."
"I was going to look for dragon eggs!" screamed Aemon, and Daeron dragged him back up to the main structure.
Tessarion grunted from across the Dragonpit, her blue eyes staring apologetically, whilst Moondancer landed right in front of them. Baela leapt off her dragon, whilst Vaegon ran up to them.
"It's not safe down there... you could have been burned!" said Daeron, shaking his head profusely and tutting.
"But the other dragons know me… I would have been safe!" protested Aemon.
"You wouldn't have," Baela sighed. "If you were to truly trawl through a dragon's nesting area, no matter how much you know the dragon, it is never safe. Daeron's correct in that."
"You have to believe us, Aemon. You will get a dragon egg soon, just don't get yourself hurt searching for it," Daeron said, grasping onto Aemon's shoulders.
"Don't you remember… Mother told all the keepers to give the egg directly to you once there is a new clutch?" asked Baela. "If there was an egg down there, you would be the first to know, I assure you."
"Very well," frowned Aemon. In truth, he did not know what possessed him to do such a thing. He had never gotten confident (or foolish) enough to walk into the deep caverns in search of eggs.
Maybe it is because that is all I have been thinking about today.
"I'm sorry," Aemon whispered. "Just don't tell Mother."
"We have to, Aemon," frowned Daeron.
"She will get angry at me, though."
"No, she won't, truly," reassured Baela, giving Aemon a little hug. "She may be slightly concerned, but she will understand. And your big brother is correct."
"Come, let us go back to the Red Keep," said Daeron, putting an arm around Aemon and leading him back out of the Dragonpit. As they were leaving, Daeron glanced at Baela and just frowned, whilst Baela shrugged and grimaced.
When they returned to the Red Keep, Daeron and Baela explained the situation to Mother, who nodded intently. Lady Alicent, who was also in the room with Valaena, gasped loudly and shook her head. Once Aemon's siblings had told Mother of everything, they gave her a small embrace before taking their leave. Lady Alicent also kissed Vaegon on the cheek before sending him off to play. Aemon, meanwhile, had to remain to be chastised by his mother.
"It was not a wise thing you did earlier, Aemon," said Mother. "As I have told you time and time again, you shall get a dragon. There is no need to take matters into your own hands."
"Those beasts are dangerous, Prince Aemon," added Lady Alicent, shaking her head and crossing her green and blue sleeves. "You could have been burnt there."
"Yes, yes," Mother said. "But as I said, it may take you years to get a dragon. I did not claim one until after I had become a mother, barely more than ten years ago, yet it was the largest dragon alive. Do you not want a large dragon, just like me or your grandmother?"
"Look, its head just got eaten, and the other is engulfed with red blood," whispered Valaena, watching two bugs fight on the ground. Lady Alicent frowned at the mess it made, and put an arm on her daughter's purple dress, before she shied away at the touch.
"Yes, I would like a large dragon," Aemon slowly said.
"Then why do you go hunting for eggs? Then you must have patience, my dear," Mother warmly said. "The time shall come when you finally have a dragon; you needn't risk yourself trying to get one."
"But when will I know when it's time for me to have a dragon?" Aemon asked innocently.
"Trust me, Aemon, you shall know… I cannot truly describe the feeling, but when you know, you shall know," she replied. "Tell me, did you feel that you were going to truly claim a dragon when you tried to do what you did?"
Aemon looked at his mother's lilac eyes before looking at Lady Alicent and Valaena, then at the window, and finally, the ground. He didn't have an answer, so his mother just chuckled.
"You didn't, did you?" Mother laughed. "You knew that the attempt was futile, and that you were being silly, didn't you?"
"Yes…" Aemon conceded, and his mother just ruffled his long wavy hair.
Following that, Aemon remained in the room for a while, reading some book his septa had made him read whilst his mother and Lady Alicent talked of the latest in the court over wine and oatcakes, and Valaena stared at insects. Apparently, Lord Massey's squire had gotten the third daughter of Lord Bulwer with a child, and it was causing quite a stir, since Lord Bulwer's daughter was to marry a Cuy.
The dipping sun was streaming in through the windows, and Aemon enjoyed a cup of fresh apple juice whilst engrossed in the book. It was about Lord Cafferen's account of the Third Dornish War, and how Vermithor set the Dornish forces aflame. Aemon imagined himself atop Vermithor, letting loose blasts of bronze fire on his enemies as he turned the pages.
Eventually, he snapped out of the daydream when a knock arrived on the door.
"Gods, it is getting late; we have stayed here for some time," Lady Alicent laughed, as Mother beckoned for the knocker to enter. "Come, Valaena, we shall take our leave; supper shall be soon."
At the door was a small page, who came brandishing a piece of parchment. As Valaena picked up her little bugs and put them back in the crude house she had for them, Mother read the message, her eyes widening as she went through its contents.
"This is from His Grace… it seems that Princess Rhaenyra's labours have been successful," said Mother, nodding, whilst Lady Alicent's face briefly lit up with a smile. "Her and Prince Daemon have welcomed a son, named Aegon."
"Ah! This one is getting crushed!" yelped Valaena, as she moved one of the little insects back into its place.
"And Princess Rhaenyra is inviting me, His Grace, and our children to Dragonstone," said Mother, shaking her head and crossing her arms, while her face twisted into a scowl. "To celebrate the occasion."
"We have been invited to Dragonstone? What will you reply, Mother?" asked Aemon nervously.
"Well, it seems like I do not have a choice in that," she laughed. "Because your father has accepted the invitation."