"Congratulations, little Gaimon! I never thought your dragon egg would hatch after such a long time. You must take good care of it from now on!"
The sun had set and night had fallen. Inside the spacious dining hall of the Red Keep, the golden chandeliers hanging from the ceiling glowed brightly. The servants had lit them carefully—each candle made from whale oil—casting a warm, steady light that illuminated the entire hall.
Tonight, the Red Keep was especially lively. Every member of House Targaryen had already heard the joyful news that Gaimon had successfully hatched his dragon egg—an occasion worth celebrating for the entire family.
To honor the birth of the young dragon, King Jaehaerys had arranged a grand family feast.
Thanks to the tireless efforts of King Jaehaerys I and Queen Alysanne, the Targaryen bloodline had flourished. No longer was their family small and sparse.
Excluding the King and Queen themselves, four of their sons had survived into adulthood—Aemon, Baelon, Vaegon, and Gaimon—and there were even more daughters: Alyssa, Magna, Daniela, Cenera, and Vissanrilla. With another child soon to be born to Queen Alysanne, that made eleven royal children in total. Adding to them were Aemon's eldest daughter, Princess Rhaenys, and Princess Alyssa's infant son, Viserys—the first of the third generation. It was the most prosperous era House Targaryen had known in nearly a century.
Yet, despite their growing family, the number of dragons had not increased much over the past hundred years. Of the original dragons that brought the Targaryens to Westeros—Balerion and Vhagar still lived—but only a few new ones had hatched since then. The second generation consisted of Bronze Fury Vermithor, Silverwing, and Dreamfyre. The third generation had produced only two: Aemon's Bloodwyrm Caraxes and Alyssa's Red Queen Meleys. Including two wild dragons living on Dragonstone—the Glutton and the Sheepstealer—there were only nine dragons in total.
Thus, every new hatchling was a priceless treasure to the family.
The man who had just spoken to Gaimon was his elder brother, Prince Aemon Targaryen—the future Prince of Dragonstone.
Gaimon was not intimidated by Aemon's teasing tone. Instead, he lifted his chin proudly and replied, "Don't worry, big brother. I spent four years of effort to hatch this egg. It will be my companion for life, and I'll take good care of it without you reminding me."
Aemon laughed heartily. "Ha! That's the spirit! You've got the heart of a true Targaryen. I'm sure you'll raise it well."
As the eldest son, Aemon was known for being both competent and kind. Seeing his younger brother's success filled him with genuine happiness. Every new dragonrider strengthened the Targaryens' legacy.
Just then, Vaegon, who sat beside Gaimon, spoke eagerly. "Gaimon, can I sleep with you tonight? I want to see your baby dragon! I've never seen one so newly hatched before."
His violet eyes shone with expectation.
As the only brother without a dragon of his own, Vaegon had long been envious of his siblings. His own dragon egg had remained dormant, and though there were other dragons at Dragonstone, none had accepted him yet. Still young and without a mount, Vaegon's fascination with dragons never faded.
The platinum-scaled hatchling lay nestled in a small crib beside Gaimon, having just finished eating pieces of its own eggshell. Nearby, three young girls—Cenera, Vissanrilla, and Rhaenys—stood around the cradle, chattering with excitement.
"It's so beautiful!"
"So cute!"
"Look at its little wings!"
Gaimon could only sigh helplessly. "Beautiful? Cute?" he muttered. "That's no way to describe a dragon…"
He knew, however, that newborn dragons did resemble human infants in some ways. Their bodies were small, fragile, and soft-skinned, lacking the fierce majesty they would one day possess. Only as they grew did their features—their horns, spines, and tail fins—begin to show their individuality and power.
Ignoring the girls' chatter, Gaimon turned to Vaegon. "All right then, we'll sleep together tonight. But you can't steal my blanket. If you do, I'll kick you out."
Vaegon grinned widely. "Okay! I promise I won't touch your blanket. You can trust me!"
Satisfied, Gaimon turned his attention toward Prince Baelon, who sat beside their father, King Jaehaerys.
"Brother," he called, "now that my dragon has hatched, I'll become a dragonrider one day. Will you take me with you to train tomorrow? I want to grow strong enough to be worthy of my dragon."
Baelon, laughing as he fed his infant son in Princess Alyssa's arms, replied warmly, "Well said, Gaimon! That's the spirit of a Targaryen! But knight training is not easy. If you want to train with me, I won't go easy on you."
"Don't worry, second brother," Gaimon answered firmly. "I'm ready to work hard. I won't give up halfway."
King Jaehaerys, sitting at the head of the long table, listened to his sons' exchange with a pleased smile. "Good," he said. "Since you've made this promise, I'll bear witness to it. If you meet your brother's expectations and complete your training, you may ask me for a reward—anything within my power to grant."
Gaimon's eyes lit up with excitement. "Truly, Father? Then I know what I want! I want my own land—where I can build the greatest castle in all of Westeros. Every member of our family will have their own chamber and a warm hearth there."
The king laughed heartily at his son's youthful dream. "Very well! If you fulfill your training, I give you my word—I'll grant your wish!"
Queen Alysanne, sitting beside the king with her pregnant belly resting gently against the table, smiled tenderly at her son. "Gaimon," she said softly, "you're still young. It's good to start with simple training, but don't push yourself too hard. You have a long life ahead of you—there's no need to rush."
Then she turned to Baelon, her tone more serious. "Baelon, I'm glad your brother wants to follow your example, but remember his age. Don't be too harsh with him. Train him carefully, and take good care of him."
Baelon nodded solemnly. "Yes, Mother. I'll make sure of it."
Princess Alyssa, who had been rocking her baby in her arms, chimed in with a smile. "Don't worry, Mother. I'll keep an eye on them both. The men in this family are always causing trouble. Leave them alone for a moment, and chaos follows."
The men at the table—Baelon, Aemon, and even young Gaimon—shared silent looks, all thinking the same thing: You say we're troublesome, but you're the most troublesome of all! None dared to voice it aloud, not wanting to spoil the cheerful mood.
Despite her teasing, Alyssa Targaryen had always possessed the bold heart of a warrior. Even her slightly crooked nose was the mark of her reckless childhood. On the night of her wedding to Baelon, she had famously shouted throughout the Red Keep, "I've finally gotten what I wanted!"
Across the table sat Princess Daniela, slender and gentle as porcelain, quiet beside her mother. She had always been timid and shy—the most delicate of Jaehaerys's daughters.
Her future, sadly, would be the most tragic of them all. Four years later, she would marry Lord Rodrik Arryn of the Vale. Though her husband loved her deeply, tragedy struck when she gave birth to their first daughter. Stricken with fever, she passed away before dawn at only eighteen.
Whenever Gaimon looked at Daniela, he couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow. He wished to change her gentle, fearful nature—to give her strength enough to face life's hardships.
"Sister," he said suddenly, turning toward her, "will you come with me when I train? Your encouragement will help me succeed, and I'd like to have you there."
Daniela looked startled by the sudden request. Her mother reached out to comfort her as she stammered softly, "Gai… Gaimon, if you really want that, then… yes, I'll come. I promise."
Her hesitant voice grew steadier by the final words. Though timid as ever, she had agreed.
Gaimon smiled. His intent was simple—to help her step outside her comfort zone, to see the world beyond the safety of the Red Keep. Perhaps then, she could grow into someone stronger and happier.
King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne exchanged loving looks. Their daughter's timid nature had always worried them. Seeing her take even a small step forward filled them with pride and relief.
"Then it's settled," Gaimon said cheerfully. "Sister Daniela, you'll come to my training sessions from now on."
Daniela nodded. "Yes… I'll come."
Just then, the three young girls who had been crowding around the dragon's cradle—Cenera, Vissanrilla, and little Rhaenys—spoke up together.
"Gaimon, we want to watch your training too!"
"Uncle Gaimon, I want to go too!"
Gaimon blinked, momentarily overwhelmed. He had only meant to encourage Daniela, but now the others wanted to tag along as well. Still, how could he refuse his family? Smiling helplessly, he agreed.
"All right, you can all come. But don't blame me if you get bored—it's just training, not a feast!"
Everyone around the table laughed. The room filled with warmth and laughter, the flickering candlelight dancing over their silver hair and violet eyes.
Gaimon sat quietly for a moment, watching his family—his brothers, sisters, parents, and cousins—all smiling, all together. A deep feeling stirred within him.
He wanted to protect this family. To guard the people he loved most in the world.
And with that thought burning in his heart, the night at the Red Keep glowed even brighter.
Ãdvåñçé çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn (Gk31)