章 38: Fishing for Dragons
Blackwater Bay
The ship sailed swiftly, and the outline of Dragonstone came into view in the distance.
"Hup!"
Aemon sat at the stern of the ship on a small stool, casting his line with enthusiasm.
The baited hook splashed into the water, sending ripples outward as fist-sized bait sank below the surface.
"You won't catch anything like that," Laena said as she approached quietly. She leaned on the ship's railing, her delicate wrists resting lightly as her body shifted forward, accentuating her curvaceous figure.
Aemon glanced her way, unimpressed. "Catch or not, that's not the point."
Was he fishing for fish?
Not at all—he was fishing for inner peace.
Laena tilted her head, smirking. "You do realize the ship is moving too fast? Even if the fish catch the scent, they can't reach the hook."
Aemon raised his chin, dismissing her with mock grandeur. "Only the worthy shall bite."
"That's one way to look at it," Laena replied, her tone contemplative. She picked up a fishing rod herself and casually cast it overboard—without even bothering to attach bait.
Aemon's lips twitched into a derisive smirk. "You're not even qualified to be called the 'Idle Angler.'"
His bait, laced with powdered Ulla grass, was like a feast to any fish in the area.
And her empty hook? A joke.
"Chirp chirp!"
The little golden-nosed mouse poked its head out from Aemon's collar, pointing indignantly at Laena. It mimicked his disdain with a comical swagger.
Laena rolled her eyes and ignored the pair.
Time passed.
The Ulla grass worked its magic, drawing schools of fish.
Aemon reeled in one catch after another, his rhythm a blur of casting, reeling, and replacing bait.
Laena, at first amused, soon grew indifferent and turned her gaze toward the approaching island of Dragonstone.
"Are we stopping for the night?" Aemon asked suddenly.
She blinked. "What?"
"Dragonstone," he clarified, hauling up another flopping fish. "I could grill you some fresh fish."
Laena hesitated, then smiled. "Sure! If you treat me to grilled fish, I'll give you a tour of Dragonmont."
Aemon's brows furrowed as he gave her a sidelong glance.
Laena pointed toward the volcanic peak. "Two young dragons recently hatched there—one's bright gold, the other a deep cobalt blue. You'll love them."
She said it as if it were a certainty. Targaryens and their dragons—always a match made in destiny.
Aemon's eyes lit up despite himself. He'd been hoping for a chance to interact with dragons.
At that moment, the ship adjusted course. Dragonstone loomed closer.
"Keerak!"
Suddenly, a sharp cry pierced the air.
Aemon snapped to attention, searching for the source of the sound.
Just off the eastern coast of the island, near a rocky outcrop, a pale gray figure darted through the sky.
A young dragon.
Aemon's breath caught as he watched it dive into the sea, surfacing with a glistening silver-scaled fish clamped in its jaws. In the blink of an eye, it soared upward, vanishing into the misty clouds above.
Its shimmering pale-gray scales were like a perfect camouflage.
"Do you know that dragon?" Aemon asked, his voice hushed with awe.
Laena's expression turned serious as she pulled him toward the bow. "That's a wild dragon. Best not to provoke it."
Wild dragons were unpredictable and dangerous. It was better to steer clear.
"But my fish!" Aemon protested, craning his neck to look back at the stern.
"I'll have someone retrieve it later," Laena said firmly, her grip on him unyielding.
Her insistence had nothing to do with her own lack of fishing success earlier.
Midday
The ship resumed its original course, leaving Dragonstone behind.
Aemon slumped against the railing, his face a picture of despair.
"My dragon," he muttered. "I didn't even set foot on the island!"
He had been so close—so ready for an epic dragon-taming adventure.
Laena, now draped elegantly against the railing, found his sulking endlessly amusing.
Aemon extended a hand toward the receding island, as if trying to grasp what had been lost.
Unfortunately, his plans were thwarted when his mother, Lady Rhea Royce, unexpectedly ordered that they depart immediately.
"Why now?" he had asked, exasperated.
Rhea's icy expression didn't waver. "Your father's returned. He's treating his niece's lands as if they're his own."
The implication was clear: Rhea had no interest in staying anywhere near Daemon Targaryen.
"What? I thought he was at war!"
"He won," Rhea said tersely. "Laena received a raven. Your father, in a fit of desperation, lured the Crabfeeder into single combat and killed him."
Aemon's eyes widened in disbelief. He turned to Laena, who gave him a small nod of confirmation.
"Seven hells," he muttered, rubbing his temple.
Daemon's triumph was both a source of pride and a complication.
"And your uncle just sent reinforcements," Aemon added, his voice tinged with irony.
Aemon had learned from Alicent that Viserys had finally decided to send aid, intending to mend their fractured relationship.
But Daemon had already resolved the conflict in his own audacious fashion.
"Typical Daemon," Aemon muttered under his breath.
Rhea crossed her arms, her tone sharp. "Stay with me, or stay on Dragonstone?"
"I'll go with you," Aemon replied quickly.
"Good. Then keep quiet," Rhea said, her temper flaring at the mere mention of her husband.
Aemon sighed. Staying on Dragonstone might have given him a chance to meet his father, but he wasn't particularly eager for that reunion.
Near Driftmark
The sound of horns echoed across the bay as the ship approached Driftmark.
"I'll disembark here," Laena announced.
"I'll miss you," Aemon replied, though his tone was anything but sincere.
Laena chuckled, leaning in to pinch his cheeks. "Don't forget—Rhaenyra asked me to look after you. I'll escort you the rest of the way on Vhagar."
Aemon's thoughts faltered as his gaze inadvertently dipped, only to hastily return to her face.
"Well… goodbye," he mumbled.
Laena smirked, giving his cheeks one last playful squeeze. "Next time, visit Driftmark. I'll host you properly."
As she departed, Aemon scowled and rubbed his sore cheeks. "Brazen woman!"
His mood soured further when he returned to the stern, only to find his fish basket empty.
"Where's my fish?" he wailed, clutching at the overturned basket.
The deck was littered with faint scorch marks and gnawed fish bones.
Aemon froze, staring at the clues.
"Fish thief," he growled, looking up toward the clouds.
In the distance, the faint shadow of wings disappeared into the mist.
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