"What the hell can they even train?"
Aemon said, amused.
Laena, unconcerned, replied, "You'd better go. Rhaenyra's letter says the princes are acting strangely, and they need a grown-up boy to guide them."
"Oh?"
Aemon blinked.
How strange?
Aegon had copied Laenor, dragging his brothers and nephews to a brothel.
The former nearly broke his legs, the latter nearly broke his back.
"Don't look at me, how would I know?"
Laena took the twins' hands as they walked back. "I've passed on the message. If Rhaenyra gets angry, don't come looking for me."
Her tone was tinged with jealousy.
Aemon smiled, the expression reminding him of his mother, Lady Rhea, with her sharp sarcasm.
After a laugh, the family returned to the Vale.
For several years, the Seven Kingdoms had been at peace.
Under his rule, Gulltown connected the Stepstones with Myr, opening trade routes and promoting import and export.
The people grew more open-minded, and the economy flourished steadily.
He now had a royal palace, two castles, and a secondary palace in the Vale:
Riverdale, the capital, where he and his family lived.
Runestone, governing the south of the Brightmoon Mountains.
Eyrie, governing the north of the Brightmoon Mountains.
Good Luck Tower in Seagull Town, a retreat and a training base for two thousand sailors of the Gulltown navy.
Looking across the Seven Kingdoms, one could say he had built a wealthy domain.
. . .
Back at Evergreen Hall, the family sat together for dinner.
"Try this,"
Jensfer handed Aemon a hot bread roll and said proudly, "I've invented a new grilled bread. I guarantee you'll lick the sauce clean."
Aemon looked at the food—it resembled a hamburger—and asked curiously, "How did you make it?"
It looked delicious.
Jensfer raised her chin proudly. "Bread made from topaz wheat of Dragon's Valley, sliced, spread with sauce, topped with cauliflower, pickles, and a piece of roast beef."
Even burgers had their recipes.
Aemon took a bite, and the soul sauce exploded in his mouth.
The bread was golden and crisp, the roast beef charred outside and tender inside, and the pickles balanced with just enough salt.
"We want some too!"
Baela and Rhaena pursed their lips, reaching for the platter.
"You don't want to eat this, it's unhealthy,"
Aemon moved the silver platter away, giving one to Laena and Jensfer, keeping the rest for himself.
"Ahhh!"
The twins wailed greedily.
Aemon ignored them, chewing with relish.
Jensfer was right—but not entirely.
Yes, you had to fight for it, but against him? Impossible.
He was the adult; he could eat something unhealthy. The children could stick to plain bread.
"Stop bullying them!"
Laena sighed, pulled the platter over, and shared the bread with the girls.
Their father was acting more childish than they were.
Baela and Rhaena squealed in delight, nibbling happily.
Aemon rolled his eyes at Laena. "What do you know? Children must learn to strive from a young age. Only the strong are worthy of being my children."
The table was full of laughter—no prayers before meals, no rigid rules.
As Aemon had taught his children:
"Your father conquers the land, and the farmers grow the crops.
Thank them both.
The gods deceive fools. Better to call your father at home than pray to them.
The gods may not answer, but your father might—if he's in the mood."
"The harvest in Dragon's Valley is good this year,"
Laena said elegantly, chatting with Jensfer across the table.
Aemon chewed in silence.
This was a big family: one father, four women, and three children.
Rhaenyra, as Crown Princess, spent most of her time in King's Landing.
Jeyne, aloof, remained in the Eyrie.
Jensfer, humble and practical, acted as the family's peacekeeper.
She spent half the year traveling between Runestone and the Eyrie with Lady Rhea and Jeyne, and the other half in Riverdale, helping Laena with the children and local affairs.
Busy, but invaluable.
"This family would fall apart without me,"
she often joked.
And Aemon privately agreed.
"A good harvest in Dragon's Valley means another bountiful year for the Vale,"
Jensfer said.
Laena smiled warmly at her sister-wife. After a rough start, the two had learned to get along well.
Aemon preferred to stay hands-off. He bore the weight of Riverdale and the entire Vale.
Not to mention, raising children.
Having Jensfer's help was a blessing.
This was how a man should manage his family: unseen, but always in control.
Each woman had her place, and he elevated Laena's status just enough.
Rhaenyra and Jeyne, too proud, stayed in their territories.
Balance achieved.
He often congratulated himself on his fortune. Even his children were in order.
Rhaenyra had given him his eldest son—the heir to the Iron Throne.
Laena bore him twin daughters:
Baela, strong-willed, braver even than her brother Jaehaerys. Aemon imagined her inheriting Riverdale and the Vale.
Rhaena, softer and more reserved, but equally bright.
Jeyne and Jensfer had yet to give him children, eliminating rivalry among siblings.
As for a child in Myr—acknowledged, but without inheritance rights.
Dinner ended with endless chatter.
Aemon patted the twins' heads. "Come to the study later. I'll teach you to read and write."
"Okay!"
the girls answered in unison.
Aemon nodded with satisfaction. Jensfer's cooking was excellent, and the topaz wheat of Dragon's Valley truly remarkable.
Known as golden dog wheat, it carried subtle magical properties.
One seed could assimilate an entire acre of ordinary wheat, yet when harvested, only one seed of topaz wheat remained.
Aemon had five seeds—one for Rhaenyra, and the rest transplanted to Dragon's Valley.
After the Lonely Mountain's eruption, the Bronze Sacred Tree had shed a ball of black soil.
Buried in the valley, it enriched the land, slowly spreading fertility outward.
Now half of Dragon's Valley was covered in soil so rich a handful dripped with oil.
Topaz wheat, barley, beets, melons, pears, peaches, shrubs, vines—all grew abundantly, making it a paradise for dragons.
Currently, six dragons nested in Dragon's Valley.
"Teach the girls to read. We leave for King's Landing tomorrow,"
Aemon stretched, already weary at the thought of ministers waiting to pester him.
. . .
Two days later.
King's Landing.
The Dragonpit.
"Clatter..."
Chains rattled in the dim hall.
Torches flared, lighting the entrance.
Two sturdy dragonkeepers dragged barbed chains, faces tense.
"Shhh!"
A half-grown dragon with green scales climbed from the pit, eyes wild and feral.
"Wait!"
In the center, an elderly dragonkeeper raised his hand, speaking High Valyrian.
Beside him stood five boys with silver hair and purple eyes: two older, three younger.
The older boys wore green tunics, their features plain, like King Viserys.
The younger three, no more than six or seven, were strikingly beautiful—true Valyrians.
"Let it come on its own,"
the old keeper commanded.
The chains were unfastened.
"Shhh!"
The dragonling shook free, neck twisting.
Its moss-green scales shimmered, its wings flashed, and its pupils glowed like embers.
From forehead to tail ran a line of diamond-shaped thorns, its forked horns like branches and leaves.
A unique dragon, hatched from a Seasmoke egg.
"Hiss!"
The dragonling caught sight of a boy and crawled forward.
It was only two meters long.
The old keeper pushed the boy gently.
"Take command, Prince Jaehaerys,"
a female keeper translated.
Jaehaerys licked his lips and called out eagerly, "Sunny Day!"
The young green dragon paused, tilting its head.
"Hurry!"
Jaehaerys shouted, voice breaking.
The dragon bared its fangs—then stopped.
It tilted its head again, studying him.
"Well done,"
the old keeper said, patting the boy's shoulder.
Jaehaerys frowned. This counts as well done?
The keepers explained: "Once bonded, a dragon will obey no other."
Jaehaerys nodded, remembering his mother's teachings.
The other boys watched intently.
The eldest, Aegon, yawned in boredom. At fourteen, tall and pale, with dark circles under his eyes, he had already tamed the golden dragon Sunfyre.
Beside him, his brother Aemond, eleven, sulked silently. Despite visits to Dragonstone, he had yet to bond with a dragon.
Behind them stood Daeron, six, and little Aegon, five—cousins, but as close as brothers.
The court called them "Big Aegon" and "Little Aegon."
Big Aegon often led the others into trouble.
"Hurrah!"
Sunny Day growled impatiently.
"Dragonfire, Sunny Day!"
Jaehaerys stretched out his hand.
The young dragon opened its jaws, spitting green flame.
The fire struck a sheep, turning it to blackened ash.
Claws tore into the crisp skin as the dragon devoured the remains.
"I did it!"
Jaehaerys shouted in delight.
The keepers allowed him to bond further, encouraging interaction.
Behind them, Aegon slung an arm around Aemond and whispered, smirking.
Daeron and little Aegon gathered close, mischief in their eyes.
A gang was forming.
"What are you doing?"
Aemon's voice rang out as he entered the Dragonpit—catching Aegon in the act of scheming with Aemond.
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