The preparations for the tournament in the Vale were complete. Unable to bear his uncle's summons any longer, Aemon rode his dragon back to King's Landing. He entered the Red Keep and passed through halls full of courtiers, receiving many ambiguous looks along the way. He thought of the rumors likely spread by the "white maggot," Criston Cole. Endure it, he told himself.
Knock, knock.
Aemon and Rhaenyra knocked on the door of the king's bedchamber.
"Come in," the King responded, his voice suppressed with anger.
Aemon opened the door.
Crash!
A glass was immediately thrown at them. Aemon's reflexes were sharp; he quickly pulled Rhaenyra aside as the goblet shattered into a pool of slag at their feet.
Rhaenyra trembled, her eyes wide with fright. She shot him a silent look: See what you've done? We're finished!
Aemon returned a look of his own: We'll get scolded together. He had dared to come back; he was not afraid of a beating or a lecture. He held his head high, stepping over the glass shards to enter the bedroom. Stay alert, don't lose face.
Viserys did not look happy. He was itching to grab the entire wine bottle. Damn you, Daemon! he thought. You sired a son who is just as much of a troublemaker. His good mood after speaking with Otto had vanished.
"Uncle, we're back," the source of his frustration announced, without a hint of guilt.
Viserys glanced at him. Seeing that Aemon was still holding his daughter's hand only made him angrier.
"Father," Rhaenyra said, her expression carefully blank as she greeted him.
Aemon looked from father to daughter. Both had stony faces that clearly said, "I am angry."
"You may go. This is none of your concern," Viserys immediately said, dismissing his daughter.
Rhaenyra frowned. There were no outsiders here. What could she not hear? Why did he always exclude her?
Viserys, sensing his harsh tone, softened it. "You smell of dragon. Go and wash. There is a council meeting later."
Hearing this, Rhaenyra's brow smoothed. She looked at Aemon, her eyes filled with worry. He gave her a gentle nod.
Bang!
Rhaenyra left, closing the door behind her. Only the uncle and nephew remained. Viserys was silent, then suddenly glanced toward a tapestry hanging on the wall. Otto was hiding behind it. Viserys was afraid his emotions would prevent him from accurately judging his nephew's intentions.
"Speak," he commanded.
Aemon didn't. Instead, he approached the stone table, lifted the hem of his tunic, and squatted down. Under Viserys's scrutinizing gaze, he asked soothingly, "Uncle, are you feeling better?"
Viserys was stunned. He had expected the boy to either admit his mistakes with a playful grin or launch into a sharp argument. Instead, he was met with sudden concern. Viserys felt awkward and scolded, "Do not change the subject! We are talking about what you did!"
"Your health is far more important than my business," Aemon said, his eyes full of sincerity.
Viserys was taken aback, unsure how to respond. Strangely, his tense spirit began to relax. Although Otto had expressed similar sentiments, the feeling was as different as the moon from a guttering candle.
"The maester should have told you to drink less," Aemon said, shaking his head. He placed his left hand, clad in a black leather glove, on his knee. Then he raised his head, his eyes questioning.
"Yes," Viserys looked away, nodding. He removed his own glove, revealing a left hand with two missing fingers. The little finger and ring finger had been cut off at the root. The wound was dark red, covered in a solidified scab, and the surrounding skin was faintly white and swollen.
Aemon frowned. "It seems a little more serious than last time." The wound was obviously inflamed.
"An old problem," Viserys said, pulling his hand back.
"If it is a recurring problem, then you should be more careful," Aemon stood up and searched the room. Soon, he found a bowl of cooled medicine on a round wooden table. He held it under his nose and sniffed, his brows knitting together.
"The Grand Maester prepared it. What could be wrong?" Viserys asked.
"No," Aemon shook his head, setting the medicine down. "The main ingredient is milk of the poppy. It dulls the pain, but it cannot have a therapeutic effect."
"Truly? No wonder I feel so sleepy after drinking it," Viserys said, relieved. His nephew had never enjoyed his letters, but he was passionate about history and herbology. His opinion was valuable.
"Stop the medicine," Aemon said decisively.
Viserys thought about it and agreed. The Grand Maester's skills were lacking. If he could have been cured, he would have been cured long ago.
Aemon returned to his uncle's side.
"I sleep much better at night with this," Viserys said, giving a thumbs-up and showing off the jade ring that now shone brightly on his finger.
"That's good. As long as it's good for your health, it was worth it," Aemon smiled. "When I have time, I'll travel across the Narrow Sea and find some precious fruits for you."
His Royal Highness was, to be fair, very thoughtful. In this world of magic, there were naturally magical creations. There was the Ula grass near Runestone, special shrimp from the waters of Claw Isle, and wild fruits with a hint of magic from the Kingswood. Alicent now slept on a pillow stuffed with his Ula grass.
Viserys patted his nephew's shoulder. "Stay calm and don't run around." Daemon and his son were so alike, both full of an adventurous spirit. He had recovered well in recent years thanks to the strange things his nephew occasionally fed him. There were blue lobsters that made him itch but helped his wounds heal, and sour fruits that gave him energy for half a month after a single nap.
Aemon said nothing more. He skillfully took out a medicine box and began to treat the cuts on his uncle's body. Viserys sighed and took off his shirt. He was often too lazy to change the dressings himself.
"Be careful of infection," Aemon warned as he worked. The Iron Throne had cut his uncle again, but the wounds hadn't healed properly.
Viserys watched quietly, a warmth spreading through his chest. In moments like these, they were less uncle and nephew and more father and son. He was a psychologically fragile man who pretended to be strong. He craved his family's attention but never took the initiative to speak of his own pain. Rhaenyra loved him, but she was often immersed in her own world, ignoring her aging father. Alicent was dutiful, but she could never truly win his heart. His younger children could not be relied upon. He was an awkward, lonely man.
"Speak," Viserys said again.
Aemon turned his back to put away the medicine box, then quickly faced him.
"Don't play tricks on me. I will only give you one chance," Viserys's voice grew heavier. He was no fool; he could see his nephew was playing the emotional card. But who told him to fall for it every time?
Aemon grinned. "I want to be the Prince of the Vale."
"In your dreams!" Viserys's face darkened, and he nearly threw the wine bottle.
"Don't be angry, I'm not speaking nonsense," Aemon coaxed hurriedly.
"If you have something to say, then say it!"
The kingdom claimed to be unified, but it was full of hidden dangers. Dorne was unconquered, and the North and the Iron Islands were unruly. The only truly controlled territory was the Crownlands and the five other kingdoms. How could his nephew be satisfied with only the Vale?
Aemon told the truth. "The family's entry into the Vale was a plan set by my great-grandfather. I have only implemented it more thoroughly."
"That should not be your task to complete," Viserys said, his anger returning.
"If not me, then who?" Aemon replied.
Viserys was speechless. He couldn't do it, nor could Rhaenyra. His younger sons showed no outstanding talent. If his nephew didn't do it, the task would likely remain undone for three generations.
"We cannot imprison ourselves in King's Landing," Aemon said again. "The lords of Westeros are not reliable."
"So?" Viserys asked.
Aemon said indirectly, "Too many dragons are dangerous. But too few dragons are just as dangerous."
Hearing this, Viserys's pupils suddenly shrank. He remembered what Otto had just told him about Aenys I and Maegor the Cruel. Power. For power, family would kill family.
"Go," Viserys waved his hand helplessly. Aemon left.
Bang! The door closed. Otto frowned and slowly walked out from behind the tapestry.
"You will also attend the council meeting," Viserys said, rubbing his eyebrows.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Otto retreated. Before he left, Viserys suddenly said, "The children have grown up." Otto paused slightly before walking out.
"Alas," Viserys sighed. His sons were growing up, too.
An hour later, in the Small Council chamber
After washing and changing, Aemon followed Rhaenyra to the meeting.
"Princess, Prince," the two Kingsguard at the door greeted them. The royal ministers had already arrived and taken their seats.
Through the solid wooden door, they could hear the King's shocked voice. "You are dismissed, Lord Jasper."
Lord Jasper Wylde stood up immediately. "Why, Your Majesty? Have I done something wrong?"
"You are a capable minister," Viserys said, his voice firm. "But I believe the man who replaces you will be more diligent." Without waiting for a response, Ser Harrold held out a hand. "Please, my lord." Lord Wylde looked around, but no one defended him. Finally, he withdrew in frustration.
Viserys clapped his hands, and the new Master of Laws appeared.
"My lords," Otto Hightower said as he walked out. "It is good to be working with you again." Lyonel and Lord Lyman were surprised. Grand Maester Mellos pretended not to know. Tyland Lannister fidgeted.
"Take your seat," Viserys commanded. Otto sat down opposite the Hand, Lord Lyonel. A Kingsguard placed a white stone ball with green stripes onto the plate before him, replacing the gray one that had been there previously.
"Him?" Rhaenyra frowned deeply. She had put so much effort into getting rid of that old fox.
"Don't dwell on it," Aemon said, taking her hand as they walked in together. He saw it clearly. This was his uncle's way of trying to keep him in check. How pathetic.
As the two approached, Lord Lyman Beesbury chattered, "Prince Aemon, you are not a member of the Small Council."
Aemon glanced at him and continued forward.
"I asked him to come," Viserys said, supporting his nephew. The ministers could not object. Aemon pulled out a chair next to Lord Lyonel. There was no stone ball on the round table representing his position. Whatever, he thought.
"The war in the Stepstones is fierce. Tell me your thoughts," Viserys began.
Otto straightened his collar, about to speak.
"Wait," Aemon interrupted.
"What is it?" Viserys asked curiously.
Aemon didn't speak; his eyes followed Rhaenyra, who had walked to the fireplace as usual to pick up the tray with the wine.
Aemon said what he was thinking: "As the heir to the Iron Throne, Rhaenyra came of age two years ago. I believe she should have a seat at this table."
Rhaenyra stood there, moved.
"That makes sense," Lord Lyman agreed.
Viserys looked at his daughter. "It should be so," Lyonel said. Mellos and Tyland nodded. Otto smiled slightly. "Her Highness is the Crown Princess. It is indeed time she participated in the governance of the realm."
In a few short moments, it was decided.
"Sit," Aemon said, pulling out the chair next to his own.
Mwah. Rhaenyra kissed him on the cheek, her eyes overflowing with affection.
"Ahem," Viserys said, looking displeased. "Hurry up and sit down." Rhaenyra wasn't ashamed at all. If she hadn't spent so much of her time in the Vale, and had she not always been relegated to the role of cupbearer, she might have been seated at the table by the time she was sixteen.
The meeting was officially underway. The affairs of the Vale were not mentioned; the focus was on the Stepstones. The ministers discussed it seriously, completely ignoring the instigator of the recent turmoil, who sat aside watching the show. Aemon rested his elbows on the table and played with a small stone carving of a dragon. His uncle's intention was simple: make an example of one minister to frighten the others, then bring back Otto to show his full support. Any minister with sense would understand that the events in the Vale were now tacitly approved.
"The Sea Snake and Daemon have wolfish ambitions. The kingdom must not provide them assistance," Otto spoke passionately.
"Lord Borros of Storm's End has replied that he has sent troops to Tarth to monitor the Triarchy and Dorne," Lyonel added. This was the final decision. Let the Sea Snake and Daemon weaken each other. The crown would not intervene unless absolutely necessary.
"Do you understand?" Viserys glared at his nephew, who was still playing with the stone carving.
Aemon smiled awkwardly. "I do not care whether they live or die." One was his father, the other his father-in-law. If they died, he wouldn't feel much grief.
"Dismissed!" Viserys said majestically. He took a moment to glance at the dragon carving in his nephew's hand. The craftsmanship was impressive.
Aemon quickly put it away.
"Hmph," Viserys snorted coldly and walked out.
Aemon felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He hadn't drawn a card yet today. Just as he was about to summon his magic panel, a greeting brought him back to reality.
"Your Highness." Ser Criston Cole, dressed in his silver armor and white cloak, approached and said respectfully, "Her Majesty the Queen wishes to see you."
"Yes," Viserys, who had not yet left, said, calling his daughter and nephew over.
Cole then looked at the new Master of Laws. "It is an honor, my lord." Otto followed.
After finishing his report, Cole turned and left, not even glancing at Rhaenyra. Aemon smiled playfully. Cole had been beaten to a pulp by him in the last tournament and had received no comfort from the princess afterward. Cole was also ruthless to his Kingsguard brothers, offending Ser Harrold and the Cargyll twins, and found himself isolated. He had officially turned his cloak and joined Alicent.
"Childish," Rhaenyra rolled her eyes.
Aemon, full of mischief, whispered in her ear: "Long live the Green Party!"
---------------
You can read +100 advance chapters on my Patreon
Patreon(.)com/izan24
•TIER 1 you'll get +15 ADVANCE CHAPTERS
•TIER 2 you'll get +40 ADVANCE CHAPTERS
•TIER 3 you'll get +60 ADVANCE CHAPTERS
•TIER 4 you'll get +100 ADVANCE CHAPTERS