Time flew, and midsummer arrived.
Many days had passed since the "Dragonpit Riot" in King's Landing. Aemon had left the capital that very night to relocate the displaced dragons and had only returned today. Of course, "displaced dragons" specifically referred to Sunfyre and the Sheepstealer. The riders of those two dragons had, in Aemon's eyes, temporarily lost their privilege to ride them, leading to both being expelled to Dragonstone. It was a homecoming of sorts, as both had been born on the island. Furthermore, despite the objections of the younger dragonriders, the ownerless dragon Blackfyre was also sent to join them.
Though it was only three dragons, this was no simple task. Even with the dual deterrent of Vermithor and the Binding Spell, it took several days to properly relocate them and ensure they would not simply fly back.
King's Landing, the Red Keep
Upon his return, Aemon entered the great hall of Maegor's Holdfast and was met with strange looks from the assembled lords and ministers. He had struck the Hand of the King, Otto Hightower, as well as Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. The divisions between the Black and Green factions had long existed at court, but this was the first time the conflict had become so violent.
As he ascended the stairs, a thin, bald, middle-aged man approached him.
"It is a great honor to be the first to greet you, Prince Aemon."
Aemon had a vague impression of him and replied politely, "Thank you, Lord Caswell."
He was from House Caswell of Bitterbridge in the Reach. Aemon had forgotten the man's first name but remembered the title.
Lord Caswell was approachable and offered, "I am at your service."
Secrets could not be kept in King's Landing. In just a few days, news of the escalating tensions between the Blacks and Greens had spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms, leaving people in turmoil. Aemon was the Prince Consort, representing Rhaenyra. Any noble willing to serve the Princess now sought an opportunity to join Prince Aemon's side.
Aemon was stunned for a moment, then smiled. "There will be a chance, my lord."
As the two men passed, Lord Caswell's face flushed with excitement, his mustache quivering. Pleasing the powerful was essential for a noble's survival. Perhaps, seeing his loyalty, Prince Aemon would one day help expand the territory and wealth of House Caswell. It was a leap in status worth dreaming of.
"Your Highness," Ser Harrold Westerling appeared midway up the stairs, announcing solemnly, "His Majesty heard of your return and has summoned you to a council meeting."
"Understood," Aemon replied calmly. This time, there was no resentment in his voice.
With Aemon's success in taming their dragons, all three of Alicent's children had become dragonriders, and they were now being used as tools in the struggle for power. In other words, the conflict between Green and Black was reigniting. Before dealing with Otto, Aemon had already decided how to handle this. His previous reluctance to attend council meetings was born of sheer laziness; he was unwilling to waste time on meaningless debates.
Things were different now. His uncle's tacit approval of Otto's schemes reflected the King's attitude toward him and Rhaenyra. Aemon knew they could never return to the close relationship they had enjoyed when his uncle had no sons of his own to rely on. Just because he, Rhaenyra, and Laena were husband and wife did not make him true family to his uncle or the Sea Snake. Compared to the blood bond between a father and his sons, he was ultimately an outsider.
As an outsider, he could no longer afford to be lazy. He couldn't let Rhaenyra, their "family" by blood, bear the full burden and become the sole target of her half-siblings' hostility. Aemon had no qualifications to be the good guy, so he would play the villain. If Rhaenyra could still show love for her younger siblings, her status would be elevated, and the family's internal conflicts might be resolved. Otherwise, they were on the fast track to a Dance of the Dragons.
Besides, the point was this: being the bad guy was deeply satisfying.
Aemon had little tolerance for fools and had been patient for far too long. Only after the fight did he understand why Daemon was so prone to tantrums. It must be the secret to a long life!
Soon, he arrived at the council chamber. Without him needing to knock, the two Kingsguard at the door opened it and welcomed him in.
Aemon glanced around, his eyes quizzical. His uncle, King Viserys, sat at the head of the table, idly turning a stone globe. The Hand of the King, Lord Lyonel Strong, sat to his right, his hands clasped in his lap, his head lowered in thought. Aside from the King and his Hand, the room was empty.
"Prince Aemon is here, Your Majesty," Ser Harrold announced from behind him.
Aemon mentally sighed. Ah, so there's also the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, not to attend the meeting, but to protect the King.
"You're here, Aemon," Viserys said, looking up with a smile.
"Is everyone here?" Aemon asked as he pulled out a new chair and sat down. Don't ask why it was new.
Hearing this, Viserys's smile vanished.
Such a major incident had a huge impact. While the two main draconic culprits, Sunfyre and Sheepstealer, had been sent away, the remaining dragons were now without a proper home. Vhagar and Dreamfyre were fine, having lairs in the Hills of Rhaenys. Syrax, Rhaenyra's dragon, was brought back to the Red Keep to be raised in luxury. His own children's young dragons remained in the godswood, cared for by specialized dragonkeepers. Rhaenyra now dedicated a significant portion of her day to their care to prevent any accidents.
With Otto Hightower severely injured and bedridden, the matter of his children's marriages had been entrusted to the Master of Coin, Lord Lyman Beesbury. The old man had ridden back to the Reach in a carriage to arrange the matches. As for the marriage Prince Qoren had proposed, it had to be shelved. Tyland Lannister had assumed the role of envoy to the Stepstones. Grand Maester Mellos and Otto were both bedridden; Lord Corlys and Tyland were in the Stepstones; Lord Lyman had returned to the Reach.
Of the vast Small Council, only the King and the King's Hand remained.
"Pfft!" Aemon couldn't help but chuckle, quickly lowering his head.
"Is this amusing to you?" Viserys bristled. Don't you have any responsibility for how things have turned out?
"Sorry, sorry," Aemon muttered, covering his mouth, afraid he would laugh again.
"Well," Lord Lyonel said, raising his voice. "The meeting should get back on track." If this continued, they would have to adjourn.
"Hmph," Viserys snorted. "Two matters. One is ensuring the smooth running of the council, and the other is about Aegon's marriage. Let's start with the first."
"The Sea Snake and Tyland are abroad. They will return someday," Aemon said honestly.
"And what of the positions of Hand of the King and Grand Maester?" Viserys glared at him.
Aemon turned his head away, feigning indifference.
Seeing this, Lord Lyonel spoke with a hint of pain in his voice. "Lord Otto has had an... accident. The position of Hand should be retained. I will continue to serve until he is fit to return." He paused, then added, "Grand Maester Mellos made an appearance, but he was not well. His Majesty and I are considering his successor."
Aemon was surprised. That old dog Mellos actually stopped pretending and showed up. On second thought, he probably emerged only to treat the injuries of Otto and Aegon before taking to his bed again.
"How are Aegon and Aemond?" Aemon asked, his gaze fixed on Viserys.
The King's face darkened. "The maester's diagnosis is that they will live."
Aemon smiled. It wasn't just that they would live; they were alive and well. He had measured his blows carefully. There was no need to ask for details. Aegon had a broken leg, but it was a clean fracture of the shin bone. It was in a cast and would take a year or two to fully heal. He had a cut on his head, but it hadn't affected his brain or his IQ—though he didn't have much of either to begin with.
Aemond would recover even faster. He hadn't kicked his younger cousin where it counted, leaving his 'precious eggs' intact, so Aemond was certainly still a man. The most serious injury he had was likely a broken nose, which was the main reason for the bleeding. It was precisely because their injuries were minor that Aemon dared to return to King's Landing as if nothing had happened.
"I've sent ravens to the Vale," Aemon said generously. "Maester Mulquin is sending a few sacks of topaz barley from Gulltown to improve their diet while they recover."
"You think the royal family cannot afford it?" Viserys feigned anger.
"Ten sacks," Aemon said, his expression unfazed.
"You are thoughtful," Viserys smiled, turning to pour himself a glass of wine. Then, his face darkened again. "Damn it, there isn't even a cupbearer."
Aemon curled his lips quietly. Topaz barley was a truly miraculous crop. Short-term consumption improved one's health, and long-term consumption could prolong life. The fields in the Vale yielded three harvests a year, all in the summer, for a total of about 14,200 kilograms. It sounded like a lot, but supply was tight.
His mother, Lady Rhea, wanted some and occasionally gave a portion to her Royce kin. Laena, Jeyne, and Jainsfer, his three wives, needed it, as did Johanna, the "Black Swan" who served him. Then there were his five growing children: Jaehaerys, the twins, Gaemon, and young Aegon. He had many mouths, old and young, to feed. Not to mention Laena and Jainsfer's families. Should he send some to Aunt Rhaenys? And Laenor, his cousin and brother-in-law, was so kind and always showered his nieces with expensive gifts; should he not receive some?
The Sea Snake, however... no need. Daemon was on the same level as the Sea Snake. Jainsfer's father and brother at the Redfort were his staunchest supporters; he had to show his gratitude. To that end, the Eyrie, Driftmark, and the Redfort all had fixed allocations. Furthermore, loyal subordinates like his Runeguard were rewarded at the annual banquet. The head of a house knows the cost of every bushel and coin. It was not easy being a prince.
A sack of topaz barley weighed 120 kilograms, so ten sacks was 1,200 kilograms. By contrast, Rhaenyra's private crop on Dragonstone yielded no more than 1,800 kilograms a year. She was not one to hoard it; her uncle, Alicent, and her half-siblings all received a share. Aemon would not touch Rhaenyra's portion, preferring she keep her private property.
Beating his cousins had cost Aemon more than half a year's worth of the precious grain. His uncle had profited handsomely.
Viserys sipped his wine and complained, "If some people were more generous, the royal family would not have to be so tight-fisted."
Aemon ignored him. Good fences make good neighbors. His uncle and Rhaenyra were family, and the King could enjoy Rhaenyra's wealth. He was the "Targaryen of the Vale," a separate branch of the house. Dragons were family property; young dragons like Blackfyre could be sent where they were needed. However, fixed assets, like topaz barley and the copper mines of the Lonely Mountain, had to be clearly demarcated.
"Ahem, let us discuss Prince Aegon's marriage," Lord Lyonel said with a light cough, bringing the council back on track.
Viserys composed himself and spoke bluntly. "We will wait for the selection of the new Grand Maester. For now, what do you think of Aegon's bride being chosen from the Reach?"
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