The morning sun had barely touched the highest towers of the Red Keep when Prince Aemon set his final trap in motion. Unlike his previous strategies—which had relied on subtle interference and protective shadowing—this required precision timing, careful orchestration, and the sort of morally flexible approach to problem-solving that would have made Tyrion Lannister proud.
*Phase one,* he thought with grim satisfaction, *gather irrefutable evidence. Phase two, ensure it reaches the right person. Phase three, watch Uncle Daemon remind everyone why threatening Targaryens is historically inadvisable.*
"Septa Maegan," Aemon said with the sort of innocent curiosity that had become his trademark weapon, "I've been wondering about Ser Roderick's travels. You mentioned House Tarly? I find myself curious about the... incident you referenced."
The septa's eyes lit up with the particular gleam that indicated prime gossip was about to be dispensed. "Well, my prince, since you ask... I've been corresponding with my sister, who serves House Tarly as a septa herself. The details she shared were quite... illuminating."
Over the next quarter hour, Aemon extracted a comprehensive account that painted Roderick not as an unfortunate victim of misunderstanding, but as a calculating predator who'd left a trail of destroyed reputations across the Reach. The Tarly girl—barely sixteen—had been found with child and claimed the bard was responsible. When confronted, Roderick had vanished in the night, leaving behind debts, broken promises, and a girl who'd eventually drunk moon tea to end her pregnancy in shame.
*Not an isolated incident,* Pyrion observed grimly as Aemon processed this information. *A pattern of calculated destruction. This man is precisely the threat you anticipated.*
*Worse,* Aemon replied silently. *He's successful. Forty-three conquests suggests someone who's refined his methodology through extensive practice.*
But information alone wouldn't be sufficient. He needed to ensure it reached someone who would act on it decisively. Someone whose protective instincts regarding family members operated on a level that bypassed conventional diplomatic considerations.
Someone like Uncle Daemon.
—
Prince Daemon Targaryen was, by his own admission, many things: brilliant, dangerous, charming when it served his purposes, and possessed of the sort of creative approach to problem-solving that made enemies reconsider their career choices. What he was not, was patient with threats to his family.
Which made him the perfect weapon for Aemon's purposes.
"Uncle Daemon," Aemon said that afternoon, finding the prince in the Red Keep's solar where he was ostensibly reviewing correspondence but actually brooding with characteristic flair, "might I ask your opinion about something?"
Daemon looked up from his papers—letters from Dragonstone regarding mining yields, though his expression suggested he found rock extraction about as fascinating as watching paint dry. "Of course, nephew. Though if this is about your mathematical theories regarding optimal taxation structures, I may have to throw myself from the window."
"Nothing so dull," Aemon assured him, settling into a nearby chair with the sort of casual grace that made him appear older than his years. "I wanted to discuss the nature of threats to family honor."
*That caught his attention,* Pyrion observed with satisfaction. *His posture just shifted from bored indulgence to predatory focus.*
"An interesting topic," Daemon said carefully, his violet eyes sharpening. "What prompted such philosophical considerations?"
"Observation, mostly. I've been watching court dynamics, and I find myself concerned about... patterns of behavior that might prove problematic if left unchecked."
Daemon leaned forward, his full attention now focused on his precocious nephew. "What sort of patterns?"
Aemon appeared to consider his words carefully, as though weighing complex ethical implications. "Well, there's this new bard—Ser Roderick of Oldtown. Charming fellow, talented performer. But I've been researching his background, and..."
He paused, letting uncertainty color his voice. "Perhaps I'm being overly suspicious. After all, he's been nothing but courteous in his interactions with Princess Gael."
"Interactions?" Daemon's voice had dropped to the sort of dangerous quiet that preceded either brilliant insights or spectacular violence.
"Oh, nothing inappropriate," Aemon said quickly. "Just... persistent. He seems quite interested in securing private audiences with her. And when I mentioned this to Septa Maegan, she shared some rather concerning information about his previous... employment history."
The next few minutes were a masterclass in strategic information deployment. Aemon presented each piece of evidence with the sort of wide-eyed concern that made it clear he was deeply troubled but trying to be fair. The pattern of noble houses, the sudden departures, the "incidents" involving young women—all delivered with the sort of innocent worry that made Daemon's expression grow progressively darker.
"You believe this man represents a threat to Gael," Daemon said finally, and it wasn't really a question.
"I believe," Aemon said carefully, "that men with his particular history should be watched very carefully when they express interest in unmarried princesses. Especially princesses who might be... vulnerable to the sort of sophisticated manipulation that someone with extensive practice might employ."
*Perfect,* Pyrion purred approvingly. *You've presented evidence, expressed concern, and implied vulnerability without making direct accusations. Now you let him draw his own conclusions and plan his own response.*
Daemon was quiet for a long moment, his fingers drumming against the arm of his chair with the sort of steady rhythm that suggested violence was being planned with mathematical precision.
"Uncle?" Aemon prompted with apparent innocence.
"Thank you for bringing this to my attention," Daemon said, his voice carrying the sort of calm that preceded historically significant events. "I believe I'll need to... investigate this matter further."
*Investigation,* Pyrion repeated with aristocratic amusement. *Such a diplomatic term for what promises to be a very educational conversation.*
"Of course," Aemon agreed. "Though I do hope any such investigation might be... discrete? Princess Gael seems quite fond of her privacy, and I'd hate for court gossip to make her uncomfortable."
Daemon's smile acquired the particular quality that had historically made enemies of the Crown reconsider their life choices. "Naturally. This will be handled with all appropriate... delicacy."
—
The trap closed two days later with the sort of surgical precision that would have impressed master strategists and terrified anyone with functioning survival instincts.
Ser Roderick, believing he'd finally secured the private audience with Princess Gael he'd been pursuing, made his way to the secluded garden pavilion where Lady Meredyth had arranged for them to meet. What he found instead was Prince Daemon, seated comfortably in a chair with Dark Sister laid casually across his knees and an expression that suggested imminent educational opportunities.
"Ser Roderick of Oldtown," Daemon said pleasantly, not bothering to rise. "How delightful to finally meet you properly."
Roderick's carefully maintained composure cracked for just a moment—long enough for his predatory instincts to recognize the scent of danger. "Prince Daemon. I... wasn't expecting..."
"No, I imagine you weren't." Daemon's smile could have been used as a diplomatic weapon. "Please, sit. We have so much to discuss."
The conversation that followed was a masterpiece of civilized menace. Daemon didn't raise his voice, didn't make overt threats, didn't even touch his sword. He simply reviewed Roderick's career with the sort of detailed knowledge that made it clear the bard's past was no longer past, his secrets no longer secret.
House Redwyne. The merchant's daughter in Oldtown. House Tyrell. The serving girl who'd disappeared. House Tarly. The lord's daughter who'd drunk moon tea and nearly died from it.
And forty others whose names Daemon recited with the sort of careful precision that made each one a small dagger thrust.
"Quite an impressive record," Daemon observed once he'd finished his recitation. "Forty-three noble daughters across the Seven Kingdoms. Some might call that ambitious."
Roderick's face had gone ashen. "My lord, I can explain—"
"Oh, I'm sure you can. I'm sure you have very reasonable explanations for each and every one of these... educational experiences. But here's what I find interesting, Ser Roderick." Daemon leaned forward slightly, violet eyes gleaming with predatory anticipation. "All of these conquests have something in common. Can you guess what it is?"
"I... no, my lord."
"None of them were under my protection."
The words fell like stones into still water, each ripple carrying implications that made Roderick's survival instincts scream warnings.
"Princess Gael," Daemon continued conversationally, "is my aunt. My blood. My responsibility. And threatening someone under Targaryen protection tends to be... educational. In ways that most people don't survive long enough to appreciate."
"My lord, I would never—"
"You would never what? Seduce her? Manipulate her? Destroy her reputation and disappear in the night?" Daemon's smile turned razor-sharp. "Because that would be remarkably inconsistent with your established methodology."
The rest of the conversation was brief and definitive. Ser Roderick of Oldtown was given a choice: leave King's Landing immediately and never return, or remain and discover exactly what happened to people who threatened Targaryen family members.
He chose wisdom over stubbornness, gathering his belongings and departing the Red Keep before the sun set. His last sight of the castle was Prince Daemon watching from a high window, Dark Sister still in his hands, violet eyes tracking his retreat like a dragon marking prey.
—
"Mission accomplished," Aemon announced that evening, settling into his chambers with the profound satisfaction of someone whose careful planning had produced optimal results. "One professional predator permanently deterred, one vulnerable family member protected, and one uncle who now knows exactly how capable his young nephew is at identifying and neutralizing threats."
*Your methodology was flawless,* Pyrion observed with pride. *You identified the threat, gathered intelligence, selected the optimal response mechanism, and achieved complete victory without revealing the extent of your capabilities.*
*Uncle Daemon thinks I'm just unusually perceptive and protective,* Aemon agreed. *Which is technically accurate and maintains my cover.*
*And Princess Gael?*
*Is safe. More importantly, she's learned to trust her own instincts about people who might wish her harm. That knowledge will protect her long after this particular threat has been forgotten.*
"You know," Hestia said with warm approval, "that was very nicely done. Like conducting an orchestra, except instead of music, you were conducting people, and instead of a symphony, you created a very educational experience for someone who definitely needed to be educated."
*Educational is one way to put it,* Aemon replied with dark amusement.
*I prefer 'comprehensive,*' Pyrion added. *The man learned several valuable lessons simultaneously: the dangers of threatening Targaryens, the inadvisability of underestimating children, and the fact that reputation travels faster than horse or raven when properly motivated.*
Outside his window, King's Landing settled into its evening rhythms, completely unaware that a two-year-old prince had just orchestrated the downfall of a serial predator through nothing more than strategic information management and the careful deployment of family loyalty.
*One threat eliminated,* Aemon thought with satisfaction as he prepared for sleep. *Princess Gael safe, Queen Alysanne's eventual heartbreak prevented, and the timeline successfully altered without anyone realizing it.*
*The Dance of Dragons grows less likely by the day,* Pyrion observed with deep contentment. *Your comprehensive optimization of family dynamics continues to exceed all projections.*
*Next week,* Aemon decided, *I think I'll tackle the kingdom's agricultural inefficiencies. It's amazing how much prosperity you can generate with proper crop rotation and strategic infrastructure investment.*
*Your definition of relaxation continues to concern me,* Pyrion noted with fond resignation.
*Relaxation is for people whose kingdoms are already optimized,* Aemon replied with the serene confidence of someone whose plans typically worked exactly as intended. *I, thankfully, still have work to do.*
It was definitely going to be an interesting few years.
**[MISSION COMPLETE: Save Princess Gael]**
**[REWARD: 2,000 Points]**
**[BONUS OBJECTIVE ACHIEVED: Historical Timeline Successfully Altered]**
**[BONUS REWARD: 1,000 Points + Title: "The Protector"]**
**[ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: "Guardian Angel" - Successfully protect family member from major threat while maintaining cover]**
**[TOTAL GACHA CURRENCY: 7,647 Points]**
—
Prince Aemon Targaryen stood at his chamber window, watching the pre-dawn darkness give way to the first hints of gold along the eastern horizon. At two and a half years old, he possessed the sort of presence that made hardened knights automatically stand straighter and seasoned politicians mentally reassess their threat calculations. This morning, however, his enhanced features were set in lines of grim determination that would have been intimidating on someone who could reach doorknobs without assistance.
*The nuclear option,* he thought with the sort of calm finality that preceded either brilliant victories or catastrophic disasters. *Time to deploy the ultimate solution.*
Pyrion, perched on the windowsill like a living weapon carved from shadow and barely contained violence, turned his magnificent head toward his rider with interest. *Your contemplative silence suggests either profound wisdom or profoundly dangerous stupidity. Given your track record, I suspect both simultaneously.*
*I'm going to arrange a marriage,* Aemon announced with the sort of casual authority that made mountains move out of politeness.
*Ah,* Pyrion replied with aristocratic resignation. *Profoundly dangerous stupidity it is, then. Whose lives are we optimizing today?*
*Uncle Daemon and Princess Gael.*
The silence that followed could have been used to preserve meat for winter storage.
*You wish to marry your uncle to your aunt,* Pyrion said finally, his mental voice carrying the sort of careful precision usually reserved for defusing alchemical explosives. *Despite the fact that she is seventeen and he is sixteen, neither has expressed romantic interest in the other, and such a union would fundamentally alter the political landscape of Westeros in ways that cannot be predicted or controlled.*
*Exactly,* Aemon agreed cheerfully.
*This is either the most brilliant strategic intervention in the history of matrimonial politics,* Pyrion observed, *or the most spectacularly misguided attempt at family optimization ever conceived by someone with opposable thumbs.*
*Why not both?*
*Your relationship with conventional wisdom continues to concern me.*
"The logic is flawless," Aemon said aloud, beginning to pace with the focused intensity of someone whose plans typically worked exactly as intended even when they shouldn't have been possible. "Princess Gael needs protection from future predators—what better protection than marriage to someone who views threats to his family as personal insults worthy of creative violence?"
*That is... surprisingly sound reasoning,* Pyrion admitted grudgingly.
"Uncle Daemon needs to avoid his disastrous marriage to Rhea Royce—a union that historically leads to years of mutual hatred, political complications, and eventually her suspicious death under circumstances that make everyone question his character."
*Also accurate,* Pyrion conceded.
"And both of them are currently unmarried, politically available, and possessed of the sort of complementary personalities that could either result in legendary romance or the complete destruction of the Seven Kingdoms through concentrated stubborn pride."
*That last part is what concerns me,* Pyrion noted dryly.
"Plus," Aemon continued, his voice gaining the sort of enthusiasm that made people either want to follow him into battle or immediately call for guards, "Princess Gael marrying within the family eliminates her as a potential pawn in other houses' marriage alliances, Uncle Daemon marrying someone he actually likes prevents him from becoming bitter and resentful about forced political unions, and the combined genetic potential of their children could produce the most magnificent dragons in Targaryen history."
*Your approach to eugenics is both scientifically sound and morally questionable,* Pyrion observed with characteristic precision.
"I prefer 'comprehensive bloodline optimization,'" Aemon corrected.
*Naturally.*
"The only question," Aemon mused, settling into his chair with the satisfaction of someone whose strategic calculations had revealed an elegant solution to multiple complex problems, "is how to plant the idea in Queen Alysanne's mind in such a way that she thinks it was entirely her own brilliant insight."
*Ah,* Hestia's voice chimed in with the sort of cheerful confusion that could make philosophers weep, *manipulation disguised as inspiration. Like when you convince someone they're hungry by describing delicious food, except instead of food, it's matrimony, and instead of describing it, you're... well, actually you probably will be describing it. Never mind, the analogy works perfectly.*
*Thank you for that clarification,* Aemon replied with fond exasperation.
*You're welcome! Though I do wonder—if you're arranging marriages for family members, does that make you a matchmaker? Because matchmakers usually get paid, don't they? You should probably charge fees. Matrimonial consulting services. Very professional.*
*I'm not doing this for profit.*
*No, you're doing it to prevent historical disasters and optimize genetic potential while maintaining plausible deniability regarding your supernatural intervention in dynastic politics. Much more reasonable.*
*Exactly.*
*Your family is very complicated,* Hestia observed thoughtfully. *Like a puzzle, except all the pieces are people with strong opinions and fire-breathing pets.*
---
Queen Alysanne sat in her private solar, morning light streaming through tall windows as she reviewed correspondence from across the realm. At fifty-seven, she remained beautiful in the way that spoke of inner strength and accumulated wisdom—the sort of beauty that made people want to seek her counsel and trust her judgment even when they disagreed with her conclusions.
She was also, Aemon had observed through careful study, one of the most politically astute individuals in the Seven Kingdoms, possessed of the sort of strategic mind that could identify optimal solutions to complex problems and the personal authority to implement them regardless of conventional objections.
In short, she was exactly the person he needed to convince that his matrimonial optimization plan was actually her own brilliant idea.
"Great-grandmother," Aemon announced, entering the solar with the sort of casual confidence that made adults automatically assume he belonged wherever he happened to be standing.
"Aemon, darling," Alysanne looked up from her letters with the sort of warm smile that made hardened politicians want to confess their secrets and promise to be better people. "What brings you to visit me this morning? Not that I'm complaining—I always enjoy your company."
"I've been thinking about families," Aemon said, settling into the chair across from her with unconscious grace. "And happiness. And the intersection between political necessity and personal fulfillment."
*Subtle,* Pyrion observed with amusement from his perch on Aemon's shoulder. *Frame the conversation in terms of abstract philosophical concerns rather than specific matrimonial suggestions.*
Alysanne's eyebrows rose with interest. "Philosophy before breakfast? You continue to astound me, child. What prompted such weighty considerations?"
"Well," Aemon said, appearing to gather his thoughts with the careful precision of someone who'd actually spent considerable time organizing complex arguments, "I was observing court dynamics, and I noticed that many people seem... unhappy with their circumstances. Not unhappy with their lives, precisely, but unhappy with the gap between what they want and what they're expected to want."
*Perfect opening,* he thought with satisfaction. *Establish the general principle before moving to specific applications.*
"An astute observation," Alysanne agreed, leaning forward with genuine interest. "Can you give me an example?"
"Uncle Daemon," Aemon replied promptly. "He's brilliant, brave, charismatic, and absolutely devoted to family honor. But I get the impression that his future marriage prospects are being discussed primarily in terms of political alliances rather than personal compatibility."
*Direct hit,* Pyrion noted approvingly. *She knows exactly what political marriage you're referencing.*
Indeed, Alysanne's expression shifted slightly, taking on the sort of thoughtful concern that suggested she'd been having similar considerations about her grandson's matrimonial future.
"Political marriages are a reality of royal life," she said carefully. "Though I've always believed that the most successful unions combine political necessity with genuine affection."
"Exactly!" Aemon's enthusiasm appeared completely authentic. "Like you and Great-grandfather. Your marriage created one of the most successful partnerships in Targaryen history precisely because you genuinely liked each other in addition to being politically compatible."
*Flattery combined with historical analysis,* Pyrion observed. *Appeal to her pride in her own marriage while establishing the precedent for romance-based political unions.*
"You're very observant for someone your age," Alysanne said with the sort of warmth that suggested genuine affection mixed with slight concern about his precocious development.
"I pay attention," Aemon replied with the sort of innocent dignity that couldn't quite hide his satisfaction at having his intelligence acknowledged. "And what I've noticed is that Uncle Daemon seems... restless. Like he's waiting for something meaningful to happen but isn't sure what that might be."
"Daemon has always been restless," Alysanne agreed with fond exasperation. "It's part of his nature. Though I agree he seems particularly unsettled lately."
*Perfect setup,* Aemon thought. *Now introduce the solution as a natural extension of the problem.*
"And Princess Gael seems lonely," he continued thoughtfully. "Not unhappy, exactly, but... isolated? Like she needs someone who understands that her gentleness is strength, not weakness. Someone who would appreciate her kindness instead of trying to exploit it."
Alysanne's expression sharpened with interest. *She's making the connections,* Aemon realized with satisfaction. *Her political mind is already calculating the implications.*
"You think Daemon and Gael would suit each other?" she asked, though her tone suggested she was already considering the possibility seriously.
"I think," Aemon said with the sort of careful precision that made his words sound like logical conclusions rather than strategic suggestions, "that they're both looking for the same thing—someone who sees past the surface to the person underneath. Uncle Daemon needs someone who appreciates his loyalty and protectiveness without being intimidated by his intensity. Princess Gael needs someone who values her gentleness while being strong enough to shield her from people who would take advantage of it."
*Brilliant,* Pyrion purred with satisfaction. *Frame the marriage as meeting their individual emotional needs rather than serving your political objectives.*
Alysanne was quiet for a long moment, her sharp mind clearly working through the implications. When she spoke again, her voice carried the sort of thoughtful certainty that preceded historically significant decisions.
"They would complement each other well," she mused. "Daemon's fire balanced by Gael's gentleness, her kindness protected by his strength. And politically..."
She trailed off, but Aemon could practically see the calculations behind her eyes—the elimination of Gael as a potential political pawn, the prevention of Daemon's forced marriage to someone he would inevitably resent, the strengthening of internal family bonds over external alliances.
"Politically," Aemon agreed carefully, "it would demonstrate that the Targaryen dynasty prioritizes the happiness and wellbeing of its members over purely transactional arrangements. Which seems... appropriate, given our family's unique position."
*Perfect justification,* Pyrion observed approvingly. *Present internal marriage as a sign of strength rather than insularity.*
"You know," Alysanne said slowly, her voice gaining the sort of decisive authority that had historically moved mountains and kingdoms alike, "I believe you may be right. Daemon and Gael... yes, I can see the potential there. They're both at the age where marriage should be considered, they share fundamental values despite their different temperaments, and..."
She paused, a slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
"And I suspect Daemon would find the idea of protecting Gael from unwanted suitors considerably more appealing than most of his other royal duties."
*Mission accomplished,* Aemon thought with deep satisfaction. *She's not only accepted the idea, she's already planning implementation strategies.*
"Of course," he said with the sort of innocent curiosity that encouraged adults to explain their reasoning, "arranging such a match would require considerable delicacy. Both of them are strong-willed individuals who might resist if they felt they were being manipulated."
"Indeed," Alysanne agreed with the sort of thoughtful calculation that suggested she was already several moves ahead in the matrimonial chess game. "The key would be creating opportunities for them to discover their compatibility naturally, while ensuring they understand the political advantages without feeling coerced."
*She's already planning the entire courtship,* Pyrion observed with amusement. *Your great-grandmother is a formidable strategic mind.*
*That's why this plan will work,* Aemon replied with satisfaction. *She's too intelligent to be manipulated, but smart enough to recognize a good idea when she encounters one.*
"I'm sure you'll find the perfect approach," Aemon said with the sort of confident trust that made adults want to live up to his expectations. "You have a gift for helping people discover what they really want."
Alysanne's smile acquired the particular quality that had historically preceded either golden ages or the complete optimization of political situations that had previously seemed hopeless.
"Thank you, dear one," she said warmly. "I believe I have some arrangements to consider."
---
**Three Days Later - The Red Keep Gardens**
Princess Gael sat beneath her favorite oak tree, but today she was not alone. Prince Daemon lounged on the grass nearby, having arrived with what appeared to be casual spontaneity but was actually the result of Queen Alysanne's careful orchestration of coincidental encounters.
"I hear you've been having troubles with persistent suitors," Daemon said with the sort of casual interest that couldn't quite hide his protective instincts.
Gael glanced up from her embroidery with surprise. "Troubles? I wouldn't describe them as troubles, exactly..."
"That bard who disappeared so suddenly," Daemon continued, his voice carrying undertones that suggested he knew exactly why Ser Roderick had found other employment. "I trust he wasn't... inappropriate in his attentions?"
"No more than usual," Gael replied carefully, though something in her expression suggested she was reassessing her previous encounters in light of recent education about manipulation tactics. "Though I confess, I found his company rather... exhausting."
"Exhausting how?"
"Like he required constant performance from me. Constant validation of his sensitivity, his intelligence, his uniqueness." She set down her needlework with a slight frown. "I began to feel less like a person and more like... an audience for his self-regard."
Daemon's expression darkened with the sort of protective fury that made enemies reconsider their career choices. "That sounds less like courtship and more like exploitation."
"Perhaps," Gael agreed softly. "I'm still learning to recognize the difference."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, autumn sunlight filtering through golden leaves while dragons dozed peacefully in the warm air. It was the sort of peaceful scene that made observers think of harmony, compatibility, and the kind of gentle romance that could grow naturally between two people who understood each other.
From his concealed position behind a nearby hedge, Aemon watched with the satisfaction of someone whose comprehensive strategic planning was proceeding exactly according to enhanced calculations.
*Phase one complete,* he thought with deep contentment. *Natural conversation establishing emotional compatibility and mutual protective instincts.*
*Your great-grandmother's orchestration skills are formidable,* Pyrion observed approvingly. *This encounter appears completely spontaneous while serving multiple strategic objectives.*
*Wait for it,* Aemon replied, settling in to observe the next phase of Queen Alysanne's matrimonial campaign.
Right on schedule, she appeared at the garden's edge, accompanied by King Jaehaerys and carrying herself with the sort of casual authority that suggested this was merely a routine stroll rather than a carefully timed intervention.
"Daemon, Gael," she called warmly, approaching with the sort of grandmother smile that made grandchildren want to confess their secrets and promise to be better people. "How lovely to find you both enjoying this beautiful afternoon."
"Grandmother," Daemon rose gracefully, offering a respectful bow that couldn't quite hide his slight wariness about unexpected family encounters.
"Your Grace," Gael added, setting aside her embroidery to offer appropriate courtesy.
"Please, don't let us interrupt," Jaehaerys said with the sort of genial authority that made even casual suggestions feel like royal decrees. "Though I must say, you make a charming picture—both of you, here in the afternoon light. Very... harmonious."
*Subtle as a brick through a window,* Aemon observed with fond amusement. *Great-grandfather's diplomatic skills apparently don't extend to matrimonial suggestions.*
*Your great-grandmother's expression suggests she agrees with that assessment,* Pyrion noted with aristocratic amusement.
Indeed, Alysanne shot her husband a look that clearly communicated her opinion of his contribution to the delicate art of romantic manipulation.
"We were just discussing the challenges of navigating court society," Gael said diplomatically, apparently recognizing the need to redirect the conversation away from whatever ulterior motives her grandparents might be harboring.
"Indeed," Daemon agreed with the sort of dry humor that suggested he was also aware of the subtext. "The complexities of distinguishing genuine interest from calculated manipulation."
"A valuable skill in any context," Alysanne observed meaningfully. "Though I find that the most successful relationships are built on mutual respect, shared values, and genuine affection rather than calculated advantage."
*And there it is,* Aemon thought with satisfaction. *The philosophical foundation for romance-based marriage presented as general wisdom rather than specific suggestion.*
"Wise words," Jaehaerys agreed, though his tone suggested he was still processing the implications of whatever conversation he'd apparently missed. "The strongest partnerships are indeed those built on authentic connection rather than mere political convenience."
The conversation continued for several more minutes, touching on topics that seemed casual but were actually carefully designed to highlight the compatibility between Daemon and Gael while establishing the precedent for marriages based on genuine affection.
By the time the royal grandparents departed—with promises to "leave the young people to enjoy their afternoon"—both Daemon and Gael were regarding each other with the sort of thoughtful consideration that suggested seeds had been successfully planted.
*Mission proceeding according to plan,* Aemon observed with deep satisfaction as he prepared to make his own strategic withdrawal.
*Your great-grandmother's campaign is impressively sophisticated,* Pyrion noted approvingly. *She creates opportunities for natural connection while providing philosophical justification for romance-based unions. Most effective.*
*Now we let nature take its course,* Aemon replied, settling back to watch as two of his favorite family members began the delicate process of discovering they actually quite liked each other's company.
*And if nature requires additional encouragement?*
*Then we'll provide it,* Aemon said with the serene confidence of someone whose plans typically worked exactly as intended. *But something tells me this particular optimization project is going to succeed on its own merits.*
Behind his hedge, he watched as Daemon helped Gael gather her embroidery supplies, their conversation growing more animated as they discovered shared opinions about poetry, politics, and the proper treatment of family members who required protection from the world's various predators.
*Operation Ultimate Matrimonial Intervention,* Aemon decided, *was proceeding beautifully.*
---
**[MISSION INITIATED: "The Ultimate Gambit"]**
**[OBJECTIVE: Successfully arrange marriage between Prince Daemon and Princess Gael]**
**[CURRENT STATUS: Phase One Complete - Initial Interest Established]**
**[NEXT PHASE: Natural Courtship Development with Strategic Encouragement]**
**[POTENTIAL REWARD: 5,000 Points + Title: "The Matchmaker"]**
**[BONUS OBJECTIVES AVAILABLE:]**
- Prevent Daemon-Rhea Royce marriage (3,000 Points)
- Ensure genuine romantic attachment rather than political convenience (2,000 Points)
- Maintain plausible deniability regarding supernatural intervention (1,000 Points)
**[RISK ASSESSMENT: Moderate to High]**
*Note: Matrimonial intervention at this level could fundamentally alter the timeline in unpredictable ways*
**[CONFIDENCE RATING: High]**
*Based on demonstrated compatibility and Queen Alysanne's strategic implementation*
Somewhere in the cosmic void, ROB updated his records and made a note that Prince Aemon Targaryen had just casually prevented two separate historical disasters while arranging what promised to be one of the most successful marriages in Targaryen history.
All before his third birthday.
*This,* ROB reflected with a mixture of professional admiration and existential concern, *is either the most impressive case of historical optimization ever documented, or the most elaborate way of creating entirely new problems that haven't been invented yet.*
*Probably both,* he decided, and began preparing contingency plans for whatever impossible thing the prince would accomplish next.
It was definitely going to be a very interesting few years.
---
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