About a quarter of an hour later.
In a corner of the banquet hall, two silver-haired boys—one older, one younger—sat facing each other.
Aemon, wearing a sly grin, picked up a blueberry and stuffed it into little Aegon's mouth. He bit half of it, then smeared the rest over the boy's face with his saliva.
After finishing the small plate of blueberries, little Aegon's belly was bulging, and his face and mouth were completely stained blue.
"Prince, the Queen will be angry if she sees him like this."
The plump maid standing beside them was on the verge of tears.
"It's fine. I'll take the blame if Alicent asks." Aemon remained completely unbothered.
This was only the beginning.
"Wuu wuu~~"
Little Aegon shook his head, stammering as he tried to refuse, "Brother, I don't… want to eat it!"
"You can talk now?"
Aemon raised a brow, surprised to hear him speak—in High Valyrian, no less.
Could it be that because he always speaks around him, the little guy was forced to grow faster?
"Yeah yeah." Little Aegon nodded like a bobbing chicken, no longer acting spoiled.
Aemon put down the last few blueberries in his hand and smiled in satisfaction.
Once again, it had to be him!
The little one was so young he could barely talk, but he'd already learned their mother tongue.
It reminded Aemon of when his great-grandfather was still alive, and he and Alicent used to teach him Valyrian.
The transliteration of Valyrian was short and concise, somewhat like the Latin language.
He had mainly taught himself and had become more proficient in it than in the Common Tongue.
"No, I have to put my hands on my hips for this." Aemon grinned.
Tit for tat—Alicent should be thanking him.
The little future king of the Greens? Backhanded!
"Aemon, what are you doing here?"
Alicent's voice suddenly rang out, followed by a sharp gasp. "Aegon—what happened to him!"
Aemon froze, the smile instantly vanishing from his face.
Alicent hurried over, bent down, and scooped her son into her arms. Seeing his blueberry-colored face, she let out a half-laugh, half-sigh. "Aemon, why are you teasing him?"
She took out a handkerchief to wipe his face, but the blueberry stains only smudged further.
Little Aegon rolled and squirmed in her arms, looking utterly wronged like a pudgy two-year-old: "Mom~~"
"You can talk?" Alicent blinked in surprise.
Little Aegon: …
"How unexpected. Seems like Aegon should spend more time with the other children."
Alicent glanced at Aemon and teased lightly, "Thank you, Aemon."
Aemon quickly dropped his hands from his waist and smiled sheepishly. "You're welcome."
His expression was just like that of Tom Cat caught red-handed—awkward and a little obsequious.
Alicent let out a helpless sigh, wiped the corners of Aegon's teary eyes, and carried him off to wash his face.
Before leaving, she glanced back with a complicated expression, then lowered her head and walked off quickly.
Aemon waved goodbye, watching Alicent and her son leave.
He didn't even need to turn around to hear the light footsteps behind him.
When he finally turned, Rhaenyra—who had been missing earlier—was standing behind him, wearing a melancholic expression.
Before he could greet her, Rhaenyra forced a smile. "Was it fun teasing Aegon?"
She had been brought back from the godswood of the Red Keep by Alicent.
"Are you unhappy?" Aemon looked up at her, his big eyes filled with genuine concern.
Rhaenyra was caught off guard by the question and quickly denied it. "No!"
"Uh-huh~"
Aemon tilted his head, giving her a playful Don't try to fool me look.
Her face practically screamed I'm unhappy.
Rhaenyra grew uncomfortable under his gaze and turned away, muttering an excuse, "It's just… there wasn't any cake I liked at the banquet."
"I see." Aemon nodded, not exposing her lie.
He knew full well that wasn't the reason—she was just putting on airs.
Today was Aegon's naming day celebration. Half the realm's princes and nobles were gathered to flatter the infant, all but ignoring Rhaenyra—the heir to the Iron Throne.
Who wouldn't be upset?
"Do you remember what you promised me yesterday?"
Aemon kindly changed the subject, smiling. "Since you didn't find a cake you liked, why don't we go visit the Dragonpit instead?"
Never mind the tensions between Alicent and Rhaenyra.
He never forgot to collect his essence.
Rhaenyra glanced around to confirm that no one was paying her any attention. She shrugged helplessly. "Fine. I could use the distraction."
"Oh yeah, let's go!"
Aemon cheered and immediately took the lead.
No one at the banquet paid them any mind as they slipped away into the vestibule.
The gate opened slowly, revealing the street outside the Red Keep.
Rhaenyra frowned. "I didn't summon Ser Cole. How are we supposed to get there?"
With all the festivities, even a coachman would be hard to find.
"Don't worry—I've got everything prepared."
Aemon patted his chest with confidence.
Just as he spoke, Ser Steve rolled up in a white-painted palace carriage and came to a smooth stop at the gate.
"See?" Aemon beamed.
Rhaenyra blinked in mild surprise. She hadn't expected the little guy to be so capable—it made her chuckle despite herself.
Ser Steve, ever dependable, lifted the little prince with open arms and set him gently in the carriage.
Naturally, they weren't traveling alone.
Three guards who had been feasting at the banquet were summoned to follow them on horseback.
Halfway there, the carriage bumped gently along the road.
Aemon and Rhaenyra sat across from each other, heads lowered, both silent.
William, about Rhaenyra's age, sat nearby, watching over Aemon's traveling bag.
Click!
Aemon opened the insulated container and checked on the dragon eggs as usual.
A puff of white mist escaped. The black eggs remained intact.
"Found an item containing magic. Gained Magic Essence +3."
Aemon looked a little disappointed. After harvesting once every three days, the "leeks" had been trimmed again. He closed the lid.
The dragon eggs still hadn't hatched. And even if they did, what use would a baby dragon be once the Dance of the Dragons began?
"Looks like I'll have to find another method," Aemon thought to himself.
He didn't say anything, and Rhaenyra—already gloomy—remained silent as well.
As time dragged on, the atmosphere grew heavier.
"Ahem."
William cleared his throat twice, sneaking glances at the noble and beautiful princess across from him, and whispered, "Prince, I'm going to go learn how to drive the carriage."
Before anyone could react, he quickly slipped out the door.
Aemon's expression turned sour.
Useless. Even pigs know good feed. He's wasting his chance.
Rhaenyra finally stirred at the sound and smiled apologetically. "Sorry, I was distracted again."
"It's fine. I was just organizing my thoughts."
Aemon composed himself and carefully put the incubator away.
Essence wasn't easy to gather. Finding magical items was difficult—and finding ones that produced essence steadily was even harder.
So far, only two things had proven reliable.
Valyrian steel and dragon eggs.
The Red Keep had a family sword—Blackfyre—which might still yield essence every few days. That remained to be tested.
There was also Lamentation, another Valyrian blade housed in Runestone. Aemon planned to use it once he left King's Landing.
Its yield was higher.
By contrast, dragon eggs gave a small yield—but thankfully, there were more of them.
Assuming everything went as planned, this trip to the Dragonpit would be quite profitable.
As his thoughts drifted, Aemon sighed inwardly. If only I had a spell to detect magical items…
That would spare him all this blind groping and free up his time for more productive tasks.
"Oh, right—I haven't checked my cards today."
With that thought, Aemon summoned the ornate system panel.
Screech!
The white palace carriage rolled to a halt. Ser Steve's voice called out from outside: "Prince, Princess—we've arrived at the Dragonpit."
"All right."
Rhaenyra tucked a strand of silver hair behind her ear and made an effort to pull herself together.
- - - - - - - - -
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