"Congratulations, little Gaemon! I can't believe you actually managed to hatch that egg after all this time. You'll have to take good care of it from now on!"
The sun had dipped below the horizon, and night had fallen over the Red Keep. Inside the sprawling dining hall, servants had already lit the ornate golden chandeliers overhead. Fed by whale oil, the dense clusters of candles bathed the previously shadowed hall in a warm, brilliant light.
Tonight, the Red Keep was alive with celebration.
Word had spread throughout House Targaryen that Gaemon had successfully hatched his dragon egg. It was a massive triumph for the entire family, and King Jaehaerys had ordered a grand feast to mark the occasion.
Thanks to the tireless efforts of King Jaehaerys I and Queen Alysanne, House Targaryen was no longer the thinly populated dynasty it had once been.
Excluding the King and Queen, the royal family now boasted a thriving second generation. There were four surviving sons—Aemon, Baelon, Vaegon, and now Gaemon—and five daughters: Alyssa, Maegelle, Daella, Saera, and Viserra. With the Queen currently carrying another child, and the arrival of the third generation—Aemon's daughter, Rhaenys, and Alyssa's newborn son, Viserys—the Targaryen family was experiencing its most prosperous era in a century.
However, while the family had grown, their dragons had not.
In the last hundred years, the dragon population had barely increased. From the Conquest, only Balerion and Vhagar remained. The second generation consisted of just three: Vermithor the Bronze Fury, Silverwing, and Dreamfyre. The third generation was even smaller, boasting only Aemon's Blood Wyrm, Caraxes, and Alyssa's Red Queen, Meleys. Even counting the two wild dragons on Dragonstone, The Cannibal and Sheepstealer, there were only nine dragons in the world.
Every new hatchling was an incalculable treasure.
The one offering his congratulations was Gaemon's eldest brother, Aemon Targaryen, the future Prince of Dragonstone.
Gaemon wasn't the least bit shy. He tilted his chin up, his voice ringing with pride. "Don't worry, brother. I spent four grueling years working to hatch him. He's going to be my companion for life. You don't even need to say it—I'll take excellent care of him."
"Ha! Well said!" Aemon laughed out loud, clearly thrilled. "That's the spirit of a true Targaryen. I know you'll do a fine job."
As the eldest son, Aemon was a remarkably supportive and generous brother. He was genuinely overjoyed by the news; every new dragonrider was a massive leap in power for their house.
The moment Aemon finished speaking, Vaegon, who was sitting to Gaemon's left, leaned in.
"Gaemon, I'm sleeping in your room tonight," Vaegon declared, his violet eyes wide with anticipation. "I want to see your dragon. I've never seen one right after it hatches."
As the only male Targaryen without a dragon of his own, Vaegon was paralyzed with envy. There wasn't a Targaryen alive who didn't covet a dragon. His own egg had never stirred, and there were no unclaimed dragons on Dragonstone suitable for his age. But that hadn't dampened his obsession with them.
Since the hatchling was practically a newborn, Gaemon had fed it the remains of its shell and kept it right by his side. The platinum-white dragon was currently lounging comfortably in a padded crib next to Gaemon's chair.
Surrounding the crib were three little girls: Saera, Viserra, and Rhaenys. They were huddled together, whispering excitedly and dropping words like "So pretty!" and "He's so cute!"
Gaemon could only roll his eyes internally. An apex predator of fire and blood being called 'cute and pretty'... talk about disrespecting the natural order.
Ignoring the girls' chatter, Gaemon turned back to Vaegon's eager stare.
"Sure, no problem! We can share my room tonight. But you can't steal the blankets while I'm sleeping. If you do, I'm kicking you out."
"Deal! I promise I won't steal the blankets, don't worry!" Vaegon replied instantly, nodding furiously.
With Vaegon sorted, Gaemon looked further down the table to Prince Baelon, who was sitting to the King's left.
"Baelon," Gaemon called out. "My dragon hatched, which means I'm going to be a dragonrider. Can you take me to the training yard with you tomorrow? I need to learn how to fight. I have to be strong enough to actually deserve the title."
Baelon, who had been eating with one hand and teasing baby Viserys in his wife Alyssa's arms with the other, let out a booming laugh.
"Haha! Good man, Gaemon! Spoken like a true dragon. But knight's training is brutal. If you start, I'm not going to go easy on you just because you're small. You'd better think carefully before committing."
"I'm sure," Gaemon replied firmly. "If I want to be strong, I won't quit halfway. Don't hold back."
Sitting at the head of the table, King Jaehaerys listened to the exchange between his sons, a deeply satisfied smile touching the corners of his mouth.
"Gaemon," the King announced, his voice carrying easily over the chatter. "Since you've accepted your brother's terms, I will be your witness. If you can keep up with Baelon's training and meet his standards, I will grant you one reward. As your King, whatever you ask—so long as it is within my power—it shall be yours."
Gaemon's eyes lit up. "You have to keep your word, Father! When I'm ready, I want a piece of land. I want to design and build the largest, most magnificent castle in all of Westeros. A palace so grand that every single person in this family will have their own room and their own hearth."
Jaehaerys chuckled at the childish, yet incredibly ambitious request. He waved a hand generously. "Done! Complete your training, and I swear I will not go back on my word."
Queen Alysanne, heavily pregnant and sitting beside the King, watched her family with affectionate, smiling eyes.
"Gaemon, you are still very young," she cautioned gently. "It isn't time for formal, rigorous training just yet. Do some simple exercises with your brother, but do not push your body too hard. You have a long life ahead of you; there is no need to rush."
She then turned a stern eye toward Baelon. "It is wonderful that your brother wishes to train with you, Baelon. But remember his age. Do not take it too seriously, and understand his limits. You are to look after him."
Baelon immediately dropped his playful smirk and nodded respectfully. "I understand, Mother. I will take good care of him."
Princess Alyssa chimed in from Baelon's side, adjusting the baby in her arms. "Don't worry, Mother, I'll keep an eye on them. The boys in this family are nothing but trouble. Take your eyes off them for a second, and they'll start a war."
Every Targaryen man at the table instinctively scratched their nose or rubbed their ears. They all shared the exact same thought: 'You're calling us trouble? You're the wildest one here!' But to preserve the warm atmosphere of the feast, they all wisely kept their mouths shut.
Alyssa was fiercely spirited, known for the crooked nose she had earned in childhood scraps and the famously bold declarations she had shouted on her wedding night.
Having secured the promises he wanted, Gaemon didn't dwell on the teasing. Instead, he turned his attention toward Queen Alysanne and the fragile girl sitting quietly beside her: Daella Targaryen.
Small, delicate, and looking as though she were made of easily shattered porcelain, Daella was timid and easily frightened. She was the one child the entire family constantly worried about.
Gaemon knew her tragic future better than anyone. In four years, Daella would be married off to Lord Rodrik Arryn of the Vale. While her husband would treat her with kindness, she would succumb to a terrible fever after giving birth to her first daughter, passing away at the tender age of eighteen.
Whenever Gaemon looked at her, his heart ached. He desperately wanted to change her fate, and he knew it had to start by breaking her out of her hyper-sensitive, bird-like shell.
"Daella," Gaemon said, giving her an expectant look. "Do you want to come with me? If you're there to help and cheer me on, I know I'll win that bet with Father."
Daella, who had been shrinking against her mother's side, was completely caught off guard. She looked flustered, her hands twisting in her lap. It took a long moment of gentle coaxing from Queen Alysanne before she finally managed to speak.
"G-Gaemon..." she stammered softly. "If... if you are asking for my help, I would be glad to give it. I will definitely be there."
The final sentence sounded more like she was desperately trying to convince herself rather than him. Despite her trademark shyness and anxiety, she had given a positive response. She had agreed.
Gaemon's goal was simple: get Daella out of her room, get her talking to more people, and force her to interact with the world. The sooner she stepped out of her comfort zone, the better equipped she would be to face her future.
Seeing Daella actually agree to leave her shell, both King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne beamed with encouragement. They sheltered her fiercely, constantly terrified she would be crushed by the harsh realities of the world. Watching her take a proactive step filled them with immense relief.
"It's a promise then, Daella," Gaemon smiled. "You have to come to all my training sessions from now on!"
"I will," she nodded quickly. "I'll be there."
Before Gaemon could even celebrate this small victory, the three girls hovering over the dragon crib—Saera, Viserra, and Rhaenys—spun around in unison.
"Gaemon, we're coming to watch you train too!" Saera and Viserra declared.
"Uncle Gaemon, I want to come too!" little Rhaenys chimed in.
Gaemon felt a headache coming on. His entire plan had been to give Daella a quiet reason to get out and socialize. He hadn't accounted for the three loudest, most high-maintenance girls in the Keep inviting themselves along.
But he couldn't play favorites, and he had no valid reason to refuse them. He could only sigh and nod his agreement, silently praying that the sheer, repetitive boredom of watching a little boy swing a wooden stick would make them quit after a few days.
Seeing Gaemon's reluctant surrender, the rest of the table burst into laughter.
The grand dining hall of the Red Keep was filled with a rare, genuine joy. Sitting there with a soft smile on his face, Gaemon looked around the table. Looking at these people, an overwhelming urge swelled in his chest.
He was going to protect this family. He was going to protect the people he loved.