"I think Ser Lannino would be a good husband."
Alicent didn't notice her husband's probing and earnestly recommended him: "He is from a noble family, a dragonrider, and his character is impeccable."
The royal meeting had not reached a conclusion, so she offered her thoughts freely.
Viserys listened quietly and asked meaningfully, "Is this your idea or Otto's?"
"It has nothing to do with my father."
Alicent shook her head and denied it. Viserys nodded and smiled again. "Lannino is good—but he must be the right fit."
He had questioned his wife to gauge the Prime Minister Otto's intentions.
Although Otto had voiced approval at the royal meeting, most of the other ministers had opposed the idea.
The reason was simple: Daemon was a troublemaker, and no one wanted him seizing this opportunity to return to the center of power.
And Otto, as his most significant adversary, was always at odds with him—his daughter Alicent's opinion inevitably reflected his.
"You're right."
Alicent scratched her nails nervously and said, "Rhaenyra likes handsome and brave knights. She wouldn't consider a child."
Her tone was firm.
Viserys was surprised. It was the first time he saw his wife so serious.
Then, he chuckled and waved his hand. "Let's not talk about this. The children will be back soon, and there's a welcoming dinner tonight."
Alicent responded with a soft "hmm" and lowered her head.
"Just talking."
Viserys held her hand, smiled, and rose to leave.
As he passed by his favorite round stone table, his eyes narrowed slightly.
It was night.
The Red Keep was brightly lit with candles, and the dinner was held in the second-floor hall.
Aemon had changed into clean clothes and arrived early, Gunthor following behind.
Rhaenyra came a little later, dressed in a beige gown instead of her riding gear. The candlelight made her face glow with youthful beauty.
Seeing her, Aemon secretly admired her.
Western girls grew fast and matured early.
"Will I grow taller in the future?" Aemon rested his chin on one hand, full of hope.
Soon, the king and queen arrived hand in hand.
Creak!
Ser Harold, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, opened the door and stationed two guards at the entrance.
"Your Majesty!"
Aemon rose and saluted.
He might be mischievous, but etiquette came first.
"Haha, no need to be so formal."
Viserys strode in with a smile. From afar, he called, "Aemon, let your uncle get a good look at you."
Leaving behind a hesitant Alicent, he walked straight over to the table.
Aemon was stunned. He had never experienced such enthusiasm.
Viserys asked him all kinds of questions for a while, finally letting him go with great satisfaction.
Aemon let out a breath and sat down again.
Just when he thought the evening would proceed quietly, a middle-aged man in a dark green tunic walked in. His hair was combed meticulously, and he wore a modest smile. On his chest shone the sigil of the Burning Tower.
"Otto, you're here."
Viserys turned and greeted him.
"I'm honored to be invited."
Otto nodded, his etiquette perfectly measured.
As the king's father-in-law, he was qualified to attend this family dinner.
Viserys looked around and then feigned surprise. "Aemon, your mother isn't joining us?"
"No. She's a bit unwell from the long journey."
Aemon gave an excuse for Lady Rhea, who didn't want to meet the king.
Viserys didn't mind and smiled. "Well, your mother was never one to sit still. She's more like a warrior than a lady."
It sounded like praise, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.
Back when he took the throne, Lady Rhea had repeatedly petitioned to annul her marriage to Daemon, only to be refused again and again.
She had no love for the royal family.
Viserys, who favored his brother Daemon, had always found this sister-in-law troublesome.
After a bit of small talk, Alicent instructed the servants to serve the food.
Since it was a family affair, there were only a few people present.
Viserys was in high spirits. He kept raising his cup to drink with Otto and brought Aemon into the conversation.
Aemon was at a loss, wearing a simple, polite smile.
Mother had said there was no place for him in King's Landing.
If Uncle Viserys was being so enthusiastic, he must want something.
Given that he was still young and weak, it might not be something dangerous—but probably something political.
"What could a king want from me?" Aemon's eyes wandered, eventually landing on Rhaenyra, who was eating beside him.
Ever since Viserys had arrived, Rhaenyra had seemed absent-minded.
Even when her father spoke to her, she only responded with a forced smile.
It seemed the relationship between father and daughter was not warm.
"Could this dinner be about Rhaenyra's marriage?"
Aemon had a sudden realization and shivered.
He and Rhaenyra didn't share the same parents, but they shared the same grandfather.
Absolutely not!
"Aemon, what are you thinking?"
Viserys took a sip of wine and noticed his nephew's pale expression.
Aemon quickly waved his hands. "Nothing! Nothing."
My father catches crabs in the Stepstones, but I'm afraid of river crabs!
Viserys looked at him strangely, but didn't press further, chalking it up to childish imagination.
Still sipping his wine, he glanced around the hall.
Gunthor stood silently in a corner, his presence impossible to ignore.
Seeing this, Viserys recalled what Harold had reported about a small altercation earlier today, and a new idea came to him.
At that moment, Aemon was nervously focused on his food.
Then, he heard his dear uncle say, "Aemon, you're eight now. Have you started learning swordsmanship or anything like that?"
"Huh?"
Aemon blinked and replied, "No, I haven't started yet."
In Westeros, noble children usually began sword training between six and eight, guided by proper instructors.
As they grew, they had a better chance of becoming knights.
But he was different. Lady Rhea had no interest in child-rearing, only hiring an old maester to teach basic lessons.
Now that she acknowledged him, Aemon had thought about finding a capable mentor when he returned to Runestone.
After all, he had a character panel.
"I thought so. That big man behind you doesn't look like the patient teaching type."
Viserys smiled. "I'll assign you a good instructor—someone who can make you a warrior no less impressive than your father or grandfather."
"Really?" Aemon was skeptical.
"The king does not lie."
Otto, still watching silently, offered a soft word of praise.
Aemon turned to glance at him and caught a meaningful look.
Forget it. Otto must have his own plans. Who knows if they involve me?
Dad Daemon certainly has a grudge against that man!
"Ser Harold, what do you think about selecting an instructor from among the Kingsguard?"
Unaware of his nephew's anxiety, Viserys acted on his idea and addressed the Lord Commander standing nearby.
Harold looked surprised—the king had not informed him beforehand. But with his steady nerves, he respectfully replied, "There are seven brothers in the Kingsguard. As long as His Majesty's protection isn't compromised, assigning a trainer to the prince is no problem."
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