"Where is the magic?" Daeron furrowed his small brow and stretched out his tiny hand, observing intently.
He neither saw magic nor felt any difference between himself and ordinary people.
Rhaegar also extended his hand and said seriously, "You are a Targaryen. Remember, fire and blood are one."
As soon as he finished speaking, a wisp of flame suddenly rose from his palm.
"Fire!!"
Daeron exclaimed, his eyes widening to the fullest.
Rhaenyra and Helaena, however, remained much calmer, watching patiently.
They had already seen Rhaegar's extraordinary powers, and summoning fire was just one of them.
Rhaegar gently swayed his palm, making the flames flicker, and said, "Grow up quickly. Once you're able to help share my burden, I'll consider passing this power down to the family."
His words seemed directed at Daeron, yet at the same time, it was as if he were speaking to himself.
The family, despite its external strength, was weak internally—its members scattered like loose sand.
Whether it was pyromancy, blood magic, or runes, he couldn't afford to share these secrets recklessly.
At this rate, he might have to wait until his own children were born before he could truly pass them on.
Daeron stared unblinkingly at the flame, filled with longing. "Can I really learn this fire magic?"
"It's hard to say, but there will always be something suitable for you," Rhaegar shook his head and withdrew the fire from his palm.
But Daeron was determined. Clutching the ancient book tightly, he set his face with resolve. "I know I can do it."
Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he turned and walked out. "I'll go back and study. I need to finish reading the ancient texts you gave me first."
Rhaegar did not stop him, simply watching as Daeron's small figure disappeared through the door.
This younger brother of his—aside from his natural talent for dragon-riding—seemed to have a gift for learning as well.
More than Aegon and Aemond, Daeron possessed a relentless determination to better himself.
As Daeron left, Helaena remained standing there, tilting her head in confusion.
Did he just leave her behind?
Rhaegar turned back to Rhaenyra and Helaena, his gaze shifting between them as he asked, "Do you two want to learn magic?"
"Are you sure you want to pass on such power?" Rhaenyra asked seriously.
"You must keep it a secret," Rhaegar said after a brief pause.
Unlike his more carefree younger brothers, he wanted to equip Rhaenyra and Helaena with abilities to protect themselves.
Rhaenyra thought for a moment, then, noticing the silent Helaena beside her, decisively stretched out her hand.
Helaena, following suit, extended her small chubby hand as well.
"Are you ready?" Rhaegar grasped one of their hands in each of his own, his eyes filled with sincerity.
The two sisters quickly nodded, their expressions solemn.
"Good."
Rhaegar gently patted their hands before abruptly letting go.
As they looked at him in confusion, he pulled out a sheet of parchment and shrugged. "You two don't have the talent for pyromancy, so just learn some runes instead."
He wasn't a blood mage—he couldn't just determine someone's magical talent by holding their hands.
Teaching through written knowledge was a much more practical approach.
Rhaenyra sighed, rubbing her forehead, feeling somewhat embarrassed for her curiosity.
Taking the parchment, she saw that it clearly outlined the structure and inscription of the rune **[Bronze]**.
The introduction also explained the mysteries of the rune system and its connection to mental strength and bloodlines.
Wait…
Rhaenyra pulled the still-dazed Helaena into her arms so they could study the parchment together.
Meanwhile, Rhaegar lay back on his bed, closing his eyes in quiet rest.
Teaching required patience. They needed time to study first.
If they could understand it, they would naturally learn.
If they couldn't, even hand-in-hand guidance wouldn't make much progress.
---
### Elsewhere, in Aegon's Room
Aemond had just reached the door when he heard their mother's voice from inside.
"Aegon, your father doesn't care about you at all. You must learn to look out for yourself."
*Creak—*
Before Aemond could listen further, the door opened, and Alicent stepped out, her eyes red and swollen.
Seeing Aemond, she quickly wiped away her tears and forced a smile. "Aegon is inside resting. Go check on him."
She knew better than anyone how close her two sons were.
"Mother, you should rest early too," Aemond said gently, offering comfort before stepping inside.
Alicent's smile faded as she hurried away.
Inside the room, Aegon lay on the bed, shirtless, staring at the ceiling in boredom.
A servant girl was tidying up the dishes beside him, bending over to pick things up.
Aegon turned his head, his gaze falling directly on the curve of the maid's figure.
Licking his lips, he reached out, about to touch her—
"Aegon, are you alright?"
Aemond's voice suddenly rang out.
Aegon flinched, hastily pulling back his hand before he could make contact.
"Prince Aemond."
The maid turned her head at the sound, quickly bowing in respect.
Aemond glanced between Aegon and the servant, sighing as he waved his hand. "You can leave. I need to talk to Aegon."
He had seen exactly what Aegon had been about to do.
Even while injured, his brother couldn't resist his impulses.
Wasting their mother's devotion on this kind of behavior…
The maid nodded, picked up the leftover dishes, and quickly walked out, looking flustered.
Now, only the two brothers remained in the room.
Aegon scowled, clearly displeased. "I was this close to touching her. You really have the worst timing."
"Aegon, she's mother's maid."
Aemond spoke in a calm tone as he walked over to the bedside and sat down.
Aegon propped himself up with both hands, smirking lazily. "So what? Don't you like voluptuous women too?"
"Aegon!" Aemond raised his voice, warning him to watch his words.
Last time, Aegon had taken him to a brothel and chosen an experienced woman for him.
To be honest, it had felt good, but that woman was probably older than their mother.
"Alright, alright, I won't say any more."
Aegon rolled his eyes, pulling the blanket over his lower body, and grumbled, "What do you want this time?"
His younger brother was such a hypocrite, always pretending to be the well-behaved son their parents favored.
But deep down, he wasn't much better than Aegon himself.
"I asked Rhaegar to take me to Dragonstone, and he agreed."
Aemond's voice carried a hint of excitement, his eyes gleaming as he said, "I want you to come with me and help me find a powerful dragon."
Aegon studied him quietly, tilting his head.
For a long moment, there was silence.
Then—
"Pfft… Hahaha…"
Aegon couldn't hold it in anymore and burst into laughter, mocking mercilessly, "You can't even tame a hatchling, and you want to bond with a full-grown dragon?"
If the dragons on Dragonstone were so easy to claim, the dragonseeds on the island would've tamed them long ago.
There was no way Aemond would get one.
Aemond's face turned red with anger. "Why can't I? Rhaegar tamed the Cannibal, so I can do it too!"
"Hahaha, stop it! I'm dying of laughter here."
Aegon clutched his stomach, his laughter pulling at the bruises on his face. He winced in pain but still chuckled, covering his face. "Rhaegar's a lunatic! He actually jumped onto the Cannibal's back to tame it. If you saw that black dragon, you wouldn't even dare move."
"Aegon, I consider you my brother!"
Aemond clenched his fists, shouting in frustration.
Aegon stifled his laughter and taunted, "Aemond, being dragonless isn't a big deal. Our grandfather's generation had Vaegon the Dragonless."
Vaegon Targaryen, the seventh child and fourth son of King Jaehaerys I, was known for his cold nature and lack of emotional attachments.
He had no interest in the sister he was supposed to marry, nor in dragons.
Instead, he went to the Citadel and became a maester dedicated to scholarly pursuits.
Not long after King Jaehaerys I passed away, Vaegon followed, marking the near extinction of that generation of Targaryens.
Being called "dragonless" made Aemond's expression darken. He stood up and shouted, "Aegon, I will prove myself!"
He had had enough of this brother who only made himself feel superior by belittling him.
Storming toward the door, he left in anger.
Watching his brother leave, Aegon lay back down, clicking his tongue in boredom.
But he moved too abruptly, aggravating his bruises. Gritting his teeth in pain, he cursed, "Damn Daemon, settling personal grudges like that… Just wait, I'll get you back for this."
---
**A few days later.**
Inside the council chamber, at the **Small Council** meeting.
A weary Viserys sat at the head of the table, surveying his gathered advisors.
"Your Grace, Lord Boremund Baratheon has passed away. His son, Borros, has inherited Storm's End and is currently holding a funeral," Otto Hightower announced solemnly, holding a letter in his hand.
Viserys rubbed his temples and sighed. "Lord Boremund was a respected man. His passing is a loss to all of the Seven Kingdoms."
Lord Lyman Beesbury spoke up, advising, "Your Grace, Lord Boremund was beloved by the people. The royal family should publicly honor his memory."
Lyonel Strong nodded thoughtfully. "Agreed. This could also be an opportunity to assess Lord Borros and his loyalty to the Crown."
Borros Baratheon had quite the reputation.
Brash, warlike, and excessively proud…
Someone like that inheriting Storm's End made it essential to confirm his allegiance.
"Borros is Rhaenys's cousin. He will remain a loyal ally to House Targaryen," Viserys said with confidence, though he wasn't keen on making the trip to Storm's End himself.
He had been feeling unwell lately, exhausted beyond measure.
Whether by the Kingsroad or by ship, the journey would only worsen his fatigue.
Lyonel picked up on the king's reluctance and frowned. "Your Grace, Lord Boremund was once bound to House Targaryen by marriage. It is only right that the royal family makes an appearance."
"I agree," said Jasper Wylde, the **Master of Laws**.
With the War of the Stepstones concluded, the Crown's influence over the Narrow Sea had grown, increasing interactions with House Baratheon.
Once respectful, the Baratheons had become more indifferent toward the royal family—a troubling sign.
As the council members continued their persuasion, Viserys found himself unable to refuse. He forced a small smile.
After some thought, he turned his gaze toward his eldest son.
Sensing his father's expectation, Rhaegar spoke at the right moment. "Father, I can go to Storm's End on behalf of the royal family."
He had already anticipated Lord Boremund's death and wanted to personally gauge Borros's stance.
As heir to the throne, his presence would suffice.
Viserys's eyes lit up slightly, approving of his son's willingness to take on the responsibility.
At that moment, Otto tapped his fingers on the table and suggested, "Why not have Prince Rhaegar take several of the royal children with him? It would show the Crown's deep respect for Lord Boremund."
"All of them?" Viserys hesitated.
Otto's gaze darkened slightly. "Storm's End isn't far from Bloodstone. Prince Aegon has made mistakes—perhaps it's time he returned to his assigned post."
"And as for the other princes and princesses, they rarely leave King's Landing. A journey like this would be a good opportunity for them to represent the strength of the royal family."
Viserys hesitated upon hearing this.
Otto's proposal was reasonable—it aligned with his vision of fostering strong family bonds among his children.
*(End of Chapter)*