Chapter 65: “Aemon: ‘Grow Up Fast!’”
Nine Voyages Hall.
Rhaenyra stormed out, her heart full of frustration.
She hadn't even figured out what her father was truly upset about before being publicly scolded.
If not for all the guests around, she would have burst into tears.
"It must be someone making him unhappy again!"
Grinding her teeth in anger, she quickened her pace, walking farther and farther away from the castle.
Eventually, she found herself wandering toward a secluded clearing.
From a distance, she noticed two familiar silver-haired figures sitting close together.
Her footsteps faltered as she froze in place.
Aemon and Laena Velaryon seemed to be getting along well.
Laena was seated on a patch of grass, her light blue dress spread out like a mermaid's tail.
Aemon, seated on her dress, looked as if he was nestled in her lap.
The boy had a bright smile on his face as he rummaged through his bag, pulling out snacks as if performing magic.
First a banana, then a bunch of grapes.
He stuffed them all into Laena's hands.
"Eat! I've got plenty more!"
Aemon tilted his chin up proudly, his generosity on full display.
"Thank you."
Laena couldn't help but chuckle at the boy's antics, her hands full of fruit and sweets.
She had casually mentioned skipping lunch, intending to wait for the evening feast.
Aemon took it seriously, pulling out everything he had.
"Don't worry! If that's not enough, I've got more."
He continued digging into his bag.
A prince must never let someone go hungry!
The more she ate his food, the closer their friendship would become.
And with their bond, perhaps she'd think twice before riding Vhagar recklessly.
"Squeak!"
Goldnose Mouse peeked out from the bottom of the bag, clutching its little paws over its mouth, on the verge of tears.
It was all gone!
Not even an apple core remained!
After a while, Aemon sighed and stopped searching.
"Useless mouse!"
Had it been sneaking snacks? Did it even try to stock up?
At that moment, a new voice interrupted.
"What are you two doing?"
Rhaenyra approached, her gaze shifting between the two silver-haired figures.
"Laena?"
Laena turned her head and smiled warmly.
"We ran into each other by chance. Did you leave the feast early too?"
As she spoke, her hand casually rested on Aemon's shoulder.
Aemon stiffened, suddenly uneasy.
Something bad is about to happen.
Sure enough.
Rhaenyra noticed the hand on his shoulder, and a warning bell rang in her mind.
"Is this why Father sent me out to find him?"
The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became.
Her gaze toward Laena grew suspicious.
"The feast isn't over yet. Why don't we go back together?"
"No," Laena declined gently, explaining, "There are people there I don't wish to see."
Rhaenyra blinked, realizing that Laena was engaged to someone she clearly disliked.
Suddenly, her mood lifted.
"I see. In that case, let's enjoy the scenery for a bit."
Rhaenyra smiled, deciding not to rush back.
She wasn't that foolish—her father's outburst was clearly about something else.
Laena chuckled and agreed.
"Of course. The feast will last late into the night."
Rhaenyra found a spot to sit down, her earlier hostility melting away.
Aemon, meanwhile, could only sigh.
"This… is complicated."
"I'll peel one for you."
Laena offered a peeled grape to Aemon, who accepted it wordlessly, his gaze fixed on her.
"You're making things worse on purpose, aren't you?"
Laena simply smiled, turning to Rhaenyra and offering her a peeled grape as well.
Her demeanor was that of a caring older sister.
"Thank you, Laena."
Rhaenyra was genuinely touched.
It had been a long time since anyone had peeled grapes for her.
"No need to thank me. Just treat me like family."
There was a hidden message in Laena's words, and she winked mischievously at Aemon.
"See? Even she's grateful to me."
Aemon let out a long sigh, feeling exasperated.
No wonder noble daughters raised without mothers often struggled in court intrigue.
Queen Aemma had died in 105 AC.
Without a mother's guidance, Rhaenyra lacked certain social skills—especially in emotional matters.
"In a palace drama, she wouldn't last more than two episodes."
The Next Morning.
The Nine Voyages Hall had been cleaned after the feast.
Corlys Velaryon hosted a private breakfast for the royal family, followed by a tour of his collection.
Among the items on display was the broken mask of the Crabfeeder.
"The sea is ever-changing. Even the best sailors cannot guarantee safe passage."
Corlys spoke with pride as he showcased his trophies.
Aemon followed quietly, blinking innocently, unaffected by the atmosphere.
In truth, he admired Corlys's achievements.
A brilliant political leader, a skilled strategist, and a daring adventurer.
Driftmark had once been a desolate island, much like Dragonstone.
But Corlys had transformed it through sheer will and ambition.
His nine great voyages had taken him to the farthest corners of the known world: from the icy northern wastes to the mysterious lands of Asshai, and the tropical islands of the Summer Sea.
The wealth he amassed allowed him to rebuild Driftmark's modest castle into the grand High Tide.
Small fishing villages became bustling towns like Hull and Spicetown.
Yet despite his respect for Corlys's achievements, Aemon remained wary.
Without House Targaryen's dragons, the Velaryons wouldn't hold such sway.
He glanced at his aunt Rhaenys, standing by the wine rack.
His respect for her was sincere, but he wasn't blind to the reality of power.
Daemon, leaning by a window, shared the same sentiment.
As Corlys boasted of his exploits, Daemon's eyes gleamed with disdain.
"Without dragons, I could conquer Driftmark alone," Daemon thought, sipping his wine to hide a smirk.
Suddenly, something caught Aemon's attention.
"A chessboard?"
He walked over to admire the finely crafted set.
Corlys noticed his interest.
"Care for a game?"
Aemon hesitated.
"I'm not very good."
"It doesn't matter. You'll learn as we play."
Corlys's gaze was deep, intrigued by the boy.
Chess reveals character.
Aemon shrugged and agreed.
The two sat across from each other, playing several rounds.
At first, no one paid attention.
But soon, their game drew a crowd.
"Attack!"
"You'll lose a piece if you move there."
"I know. Attack!"
Piece after piece fell.
Despite losing repeatedly, Aemon showed no frustration.
By the final game, only two pieces remained on the board.
Aemon moved decisively.
"Attack!"
"You've lost again."
Corlys captured the last piece, ending the match.
Aemon remained unfazed.
"You're a skilled player, Lord Corlys. I don't mind losing."
Winning wasn't everything.
Sometimes, playing boldly was its own reward.
But Corlys wasn't smiling.
He studied the boy's determined expression, feeling a weight settle in his chest.
After eight games, Aemon had relentlessly "attacked" him dozens of times.
Bold. Reckless. Unyielding.
Corlys leaned back, eyes narrowing as he examined the boy.
"Another Daemon?"
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