Aemon was invited to the Dragonpit by an unsullied man, Grey Worm, who had just arrived in King's Landing. Two months had passed, and the restoration of the domed Dragonpit was nearing its end.
"I apologize for the interruption, Your Majesty."
Grey Worm stood proudly, leading a hundred-man squad at the bronze gate.
"It's no problem. What is it?" Aemon raised a hand.
"Harrenhal needs some supplies." Grey Worm was very disciplined; he wasn't the kind of commander who would leave his post without a good reason. The gloom of Harrenhal had been lifted, but the broken towers and walls were still a major problem. The first batch of lime and other materials had been used up, and a second batch was urgently needed.
"Also, Chestnut has been making a fuss about wanting to see you." As he spoke, Grey Worm's voice softened, and his eyes glanced toward the Dragonpit hall.
The giant Chestnut, still in his rune armor, stood at nearly eight meters tall in the dim hall, looking around like a curious child. It seemed he had learned his lesson; his movements were tiptoeing, not daring to make any noise. At first glance, it was quite cute.
Aemon chuckled, "I think the Reach can't afford him anymore."
Grey Worm shook his head helplessly. This was, of course, a joke. The Reach could afford to feed a whole group of giants, let alone just one. But the giant Chestnut disliked outsiders and had been making a fuss about wanting to see Aemon. The two Children of the Forest at Harrenhal had tried to persuade him, and they were almost sent flying by his gate-sized palm.
Aemon was happy about Grey Worm's arrival, which made him feel that he had a man in King's Landing. He casually asked, "How's the Riverlands?"
"Well, there's a small problem." Grey Worm scratched his head, surprised. "Ser Simon says that the Blackwood and Bracken families have been making a fuss lately because one family's cattle crossed the border to eat the other's grass."
The Blackwoods and the Brackens were the two families with the deepest animosity in the Riverlands. Whenever there was trouble in the Seven Kingdoms, the two families would inevitably take advantage of the chaos to fight each other.
Aemon was a little speechless. "Didn't Lord Grover of Riverrun stop them?"
"I heard he's an old man who can't get out of bed, and Riverrun is being managed by his son." Grey Worm thought for a moment and added, "His son is even more mediocre than him and can't command the Riverlands lords." To be able to settle in the Riverlands, he had studied the noble family's network of relationships. He even remembered that Lord Grover's grandson had just had his third name day. He had even sent a glass art piece from Myr as a gift.
"Just leave them alone. Uncle will take care of it." Aemon shook his head. He would leave this small matter for his uncle to worry about. The Prince Regent was now 21 years old. He had grown not only in stature but also in his positive and optimistic mindset.
He had to remember: his uncle was his employee. He shouldn't get angry with him; on the contrary, he should be tolerant. The Iron Throne would eventually belong to Rhaenyra, and then to his son, Jaehaerys. It was better to have his uncle take the pressure first than to have his wife and children suffer.
In a word, be magnanimous!
"I will notify Maester Munkun to allocate the supplies. You can return to Harrenhal after they are shipped from Gulltown." Aemon's smile brightened.
"Yes, thank you, Your Majesty." Grey Worm stood up straight, smiling shyly. He knew that he was the Prince Regent's link in the Riverlands. He had to guard his post well.
Aemon gestured for Grey Worm, who was lost in thought, to follow him. The two of them entered the Dragonpit hall.
"Brother!!" The giant Chestnut saw him and bent down, his eyes filled with joy.
"Have you eaten well lately?" Aemon used the most simple words to touch the giant's large heart. It was hard to imagine that the giant, who was normally so mischievous, had become clingy.
The giant Chestnut's laughter was like thunder. He said happily, "I've eaten well, and I've fought a battle." He had even used the gates of Oldtown as a hammer to smash some people. Don't ask who those people were; the Hightower army had something to say.
"Alright, go play." Aemon shooed the giant away like a child.
Grey Worm watched from the side, admiring the Prince Regent's broad-mindedness to tolerate a humanoid race like the giants.
Aemon didn't think so much about it. At the end of the Dance of the Dragons, the Citadel announced that winter had arrived. A long winter that lasted for six years, from 130 AC to 135 AC, swept across the entire continent of Westeros. The extinction of dragons and the ebb of the magical tide also happened during this period. It was not difficult to see that these things were all related.
Aemon planned to have as many children and hatch as many young dragons as possible before the true winter arrived, to strengthen the power of the "dragon race." Whether it was the Children of the Forest or giants, they were all extraordinary humanoid species. Even if they were not as powerful as dragons, they all had some magical aura. He had to unite all the forces he could. There was no rule to the magical tide. Perhaps with more dragons and more extraordinary creatures, the tide would return faster.
"Prince!" An old dragonkeeper led the way, and young dragonkeepers carried in one box after another. When the boxes were opened, they revealed dragon eggs placed on a layer of dry grass.
Aemon looked at them and asked, "Which one is Vhagar's or the oldest?"
"This one." The old dragonkeeper still had a bitter face and pointed to a gray-brown dragon egg in one of the boxes. He introduced it seriously. The mother of this dragon egg was unknown. But it was certain that it was not from the batch that Aenar the Exile had brought to Dragonstone. Those dragon eggs had long since turned to stone. Perhaps the wild dragons like Cannibal and Sheepstealer were from that batch. And this dragon egg was not produced by Vhagar.
Vhagar was a great contributor to the Targaryen family. Not only was she a founding dragon, but she was also the bloodline source for all the current dragons. Dreamfyre, Vermithor, and Silverwing all had to call her "mother." Caraxes and Meleys had to call her "grandmother." Of course, dragons did not have family ties, nor did they use their mothers to determine their seniority. Every twenty or thirty years, a batch of new dragons would grow up, and they could be called a generation.
"At that time, the Dragon Guard hadn't been formed yet, and the records of dragon egg's age were incomplete. I guess its mother might be Meraxes." The old dragonkeeper's expression was serious as he spoke in High Valyrian.
Aemon was first surprised, then he accepted it. Dragons didn't lay many eggs, but each clutch had a good number of them. Under normal circumstances, a clutch had three to five eggs. The only bloodline that was explicitly recorded for Meraxes was Silverwing, who was torn apart by Balerion the Black Dread. It was reasonable that there were other dragon eggs preserved.
"I'll take it." Aemon made a decision.
"But..." The old dragonkeeper hesitated, wanting to know the Prince Regent's purpose for taking the dragon egg.
Aemon didn't explain much, only saying that the dragon egg would remain in the Dragonpit. He wouldn't take it with him. The old dragonkeeper breathed a sigh of relief. If another dragon egg was lost, he would have no face left.
While the dragonkeepers were carrying the boxes away, Aemon, holding the brown-yellow dragon egg, walked around the Dragonpit hall. That's how it looked to outsiders.
In reality, he flipped his right hand, and a blue card appeared.
[Incubator]: "One-time item."
Pop~
Aemon tore up the card. The blue card, which was worth 800 essence points, turned into a ball of light and instantly condensed into a lump of iron.
Clang!
A one-foot-diameter, oval-shaped iron lump, like a furnace, was suspended on the dark floor. The sound was loud, but it didn't attract much attention. It was no secret that the Prince Regent was skilled in martial arts and knew a little "magic."
"Squeak~~" The golden-nosed rat popped out of his pocket and sniffed around. It was full of the smell of dragons. The golden-nosed rat's small eyes widened, and it timidly pulled back its head.
"You're a coward." Aemon said with disdain. If it weren't for the golden-nosed rat's cheek pouches that could hold dragon eggs, and the Prince Regent's fondness for pets, he would have thrown it into the sewer to mate with a stinky sewer rat. He wondered if they could produce white mice. He would give one to each of his children.
"Squeak~~" The rat in his pocket moved, begging for mercy. No, no, no~ They were from different species; they couldn't mate.
Aemon patted his pocket, then looked down at the heavy brown-yellow dragon egg in his hand. With a mix of anticipation and joy, he placed it in the incubator. The incubation time was not consistent, but it would eventually hatch. With some luck, it might even hatch tomorrow. A dragon egg that had been stored for seventy or eighty years, on the verge of turning to stone, was about to be revitalized.
"Splendid!" Aemon said with a smile as he closed the lid.
Counting the young dragons "Blackfire," Arrax, and Urrax, the family now had two-owned and one wild, riderless dragon. The wild dragon "Fire-eater" was not included. When this dragon egg hatched, there would be four riderless dragons.
"I should go back and drink some goji berry and fire dragon pepper-infused water. I heard it works wonders." Aemon bowed his head in deep thought, remembering a folk remedy Alicent had mentioned. Then, he suddenly came to a realization.
Seven Hells!
He was so young. Had he already fallen to the point of drinking goji berries in a thermos? Aemon felt teary-eyed. It's all for the family. I'll just have to suffer a little.
He returned to the Red Keep at noon. Aemon sat on the bed, his brow furrowed.
[Aemon Targaryen]
Talent: Dreamer (Gold)
Bloodline: Ancient Valyrian Dragonlord (58.5%)
Skills: Archery (Always Hits), Riding (Top Level), Swordsmanship (Great Mastery)...
Witchcraft: Binding Spell (Mastery), Burning Rune (Proficient), Solid Rune (Proficient), Illumination (Mastery)...
Magic Cards: Strong and Robust (Blue), Solid as a Rock (Intermediate, Purple), Kingly Temperament (Purple)
Forces: The Vale (entire territory), Myr, Stepstone Islands, Isle of Tarth, Oldtown, Starfall
Equipment: Space Ring, "Lament," "Lady of the Void," War Horn, Double Valyrian Daggers, Pyromancer's Stone Sculpture, Pyromancer's Nightlight...
Pets: Golden-nosed Rat (Blue), White Deer (Auspicious Beast)
Comment: "Young Dragonlord, be sure to protect your back."
The panel flipped, revealing the card page. Three green cards floated, and next to the golden hourglass was: [Essence Points: 10310].
"I'm a bit poor," Aemon muttered softly. Ten thousand essence points were only enough to charge [Hammer of the Volcano] once. Having tasted the sweetness of Lonely Mountain, he wanted to carve out another volcano. He wanted a big one, one that could rival Dragonmount.
One dragon was not as powerful as a live volcano in terms of fire magic. No matter if it was the magical tide ebbing or the snow falling, it couldn't extinguish the passion of a volcano.
"I have to save up, but I need to be careful about where I carve out the volcano." Aemon stroked his chin.
First, it couldn't be too close to a town. It would not only destroy the town and kill the people, but it would also not be suitable for dragons to live in.
Second, it couldn't be outside of Westeros. He wasn't afraid of the Others beyond the Wall. The Targaryen family was rooted in Westeros, and the volcano should be here too, to provide more habitats for dragons. He hoped that one day, he could turn it into a sight as spectacular as the Valyrian peninsula. If the Others were to come south, they would not be able to return.
Screech!
Laenor pushed the door open and walked elegantly to the bed. This was his room. This was his bed.
"Has Aunt Rhaenys gone back?" Aemon lay down.
Laenor placed Aemon's head on his lap and gently massaged his head with his slender hands. His voice was filled with a sense of helplessness. "Mother couldn't stand the restraints of King's Landing. The king sent Helaena and Aemond to escort her."
Aegon: "I'm in King's Landing, and I'm free to do whatever I want." What a blast!
Aemon closed his eyes, inhaling Laenor's faint scent. He snuggled his head against him, acting spoiled. There were too many messy things in King's Landing. In the Vale, besides reading, practicing swordsmanship, and fishing, he didn't have to worry about anything else. He had Maester Munkun in River Valley City, and Gothor in River Valley Town. He had the extremely intelligent but wicked woman Jeyne in the Eyrie, and his mother Lady Rhea in Runestone. Plus, with Jeyne, who was a cheerful person, he could win over the noblewomen of the Vale.
Aemon didn't have to worry about anything. He didn't think he was being irresponsible or handing over his duties. As a lord of a region, if he had to hold meetings every day, manage farmers' disputes, and collect taxes, what was the point of having people to work for him? He might as well bleed them dry one by one. Only his uncle enjoyed this, liking to discuss things with his ministers.
Time passed by. Laenor's hands, which were massaging his head, slowly slid down. It was a good afternoon, perfect for a nap. Aemon hugged him for a while, and Laenor looked up, poking his face with his fingers. Did he have to make the first move? Had he gotten so arrogant after being in the dominant position for two years?
Aemon snored, pretending to be asleep. A man who is over twenty...
"Aemon!" Laenor frowned slightly, his tone a little heavier.
"Snore, snore~~" He continued to pretend to be asleep.
Seeing this, Laenor sighed softly, stood up, and sat on the side of the bed. After a moment of silence, he leaned down and kissed his forehead, saying softly, "You should rest well and take care of your body." "When you feel ready, come find me at Driftmark." With that, he looked at Aemon's sleeping face for a moment, sighed, and left the room. Rhaenys's name day was in a few days. Laenor was going back to celebrate his mother's birthday and to take Baela and Rhaena back with him so they could get to know the place where he was born and raised.
Bang! The door closed gently.
The sound was very soft, and Aemon opened his eyes.
He wasn't impotent.
Please note, he is not impotent!
It was because of the prophecy of Alys Rivers and Laenor's own experience. He didn't want Laenor to get pregnant again, at least not this year. In the original timeline, the year 121 AC was called the "Red Spring." The "Queen Who Never Was," Rhaenys, and the Sea Snake, Corlys, lost both of their children, Laena and Laenor, who died one after another. Laena died in childbirth.
He didn't believe in prophecies, but they told him that there was a pitfall ahead, and he needed to find a way to avoid it, not jump into it like an idiot with a 360-degree free fall.
Wait a minute.
"Aunt Rhaenys's name day. I should go to Driftmark." Aemon rolled over and lay flat. He took out a mint from his mouth. Laenor was a good person. He had to be careful with Laena, and he should also help his cousin-in-law, Laenor, whenever he could. He shouldn't be stabbed to death in the street by his male companion for cheating. Baela and Rhaena would be sad for their uncle.
Knock, knock, knock! The door was knocked on, and Rhaenyra carefully entered.
"What happened? I saw Laenor go to the Sea Snake," Rhaenyra said, blinking. According to her, he shouldn't have left so soon! Alys Rivers wasn't present when he was killed.
Aemon said nothing, just kept sucking on his mint. Why else? Their sex lives were not in sync. You're a rude guy, truly rude.
"You two must be hiding a secret. It makes me so sad," Rhaenyra walked to the bed and sat down, pretending to be sad.
Aemon's mouth drooped. He was not happy. He looked at her with a look full of desire and then flipped over to pin the great mother dragon down. Laenor was at risk of having a complicated pregnancy. But she was infertile. Aemon had to teach her a lesson.
The Godswood of the Red Keep.
A topaz-colored dragon was lying in the courtyard, her long tail swaying back and forth, looking quite leisurely.
"Hiss~"
"..."
Three young dragons were also in the courtyard. One emerald-green dragon was lying under the shade of a tree, and one pale-green and one pink dragon were curled up together, as if they were sisters who were close to their riders.
Whoosh~~
A gentle breeze blew by, bringing a touch of coolness to the afternoon sun.
"Hiss~?!"
Syrax suddenly raised her head, her amber vertical pupils looking behind her. The tall weirwood tree had thick roots, and a plump red pouch was hanging from its red leaves. The wind blew, and the pouch moved.
Syrax tilted her head, her majestic body got up, and she shook herself as if she had an itch.
Poop!
A lump of black, viscous dragon droppings fell on the grass, giving off a sizzling white smoke and a pungent sulfur smell.
A long time later, two young dragonkeepers came together. They brought the sheep to feed the dragons and a carriage to clean up the dragon droppings. When they saw the dragon droppings, the female dragonkeeper with a short haircut frowned and cautiously stopped her companion.
"Look!" She looked around to see that the dragon was not there. She used a bamboo stick to poke the solidified outer shell of the dragon droppings.
Crack!
A burst of hot white smoke rose, revealing several oval-shaped dragon eggs covered in scales inside the black dragon droppings.
"One, two, three..." The male dragonkeeper's eyes widened. He counted to five with a pleasant surprise.
"Hiss~" Syrax shook her head and rubbed her back against a rock in the courtyard, looking as calm as usual. There was nothing to be surprised about. It was just a way to clear her inventory.
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