Red Keep, The Queen's Chambers.
The afternoon sunlight filtered through the high windows of the Queen's chambers, casting long shadows across the thick Myrish carpet.
The air held the faint scent of milk, lavender essential oil, and an unmistakable underlying smell of sulfur belonging to young dragons.
Aemond stood by the cradles, staring at the two restless, squirming little things beside them.
Rockfang and Ymir.
These were the names bestowed upon this pair of dragons by King Viserys I.
It had been over two months since they broke free from their eggs.
They were now roughly the size of puppies, their scales not yet fully hardened, shimmering with the moist luster unique to hatchlings.
Rockfang's scales were deep gray with coarse ridges along its spine.
Ymir was snow-white all over, save for its ice-blue eyes and translucent wings.
By rights, they should never have left the red keep.
Indeed, they were currently huddled inside the ornate cradles.
However, their heads were turned toward Aemond.
They let out low, almost whimpering purrs, the tips of their tails twitching against the bedding.
Inside the cradles, six-month-old Baelon and Daena were awake.
The two infants had grown soft silver hair, and their large purple eyes scanned the room vacantly.
Daena showed no fear towards her dragon Ymir; she even reached out a chubby hand, attempting to grab the dragon's drooping tail.
Aemond watched. These infants and their dragons shared a natural bond.
He was certain now that his blood could do more than just hatch petrified dragon eggs; it seemed to leave a deeper mark on the dragons.
Dragons awakened by his blood felt a "hatchling-like" affinity and obedience toward him.
Rockfang and Ymir were proof of this.
Though they spent day and night with the infants, protecting them as nest-mates, the moment Aemond appeared, the primal call of their bloodline made them desperate to be near him.
Mother of Dragons? Father of Dragons?
He curled his lip into a small, self-deprecating smile.
On a silver plate on the table lay fresh mutton, sliced into thin strips by the Red Keep's chefs, still streaked with blood.
Aemond picked up a piece and offered it to Rockfang.
Snap.
The gray dragon extended its neck, snapping up the meat with a precision that belied its youth, even rubbing its cold snout against Aemond's finger in a fawning gesture.
Seeing this, Ymir chirped urgently, her blue eyes fixed on Aemond.
He fed the white dragon as well, watching her swallow gracefully yet swiftly.
He did not feed them his own blood; that was reserved for Morghul.
Just then, Daena let out a babbling sound.
She seemed fascinated by Ymir eating and flailed her arms, accidentally snagging the edge of Ymir's half-folded wing.
The white dragon stiffened but didn't pull away, looking back at its little mistress with curiosity.
Then, to Aemond's surprise, Daena opened her pink mouth, where two tiny, vampire-like milk teeth had just sprouted, and took a literal "bite" out of Ymir's forelimb.
Hiss!
Pained, Ymir jerked her wing back. Her blue eyes flared with indignant fury, and she bared her tiny, needle-like teeth.
But she clearly suppressed her aggressive instincts.
Instead of biting back, she let out an annoyed hiss, beat her small wings, took flight, and,
THUMP!
A precise headbutt landed softly on Daena's chest.
The force was controlled, just enough to knock the defenseless infant backward into the soft swaddling.
After a second of stunned silence, the startled Daena burst into tears, her face turning bright red.
Aemond raised an eyebrow at his audacious younger sister.
To challenge a dragon with milk teeth, even a hatchling, showed a reckless ignorance that felt remarkably like the dragon-taming ancestors of House Targaryen.
He turned his head only to see another sight: Rockfang had somehow picked up a strip of meat and was hovering near Baelon's face, seemingly trying to feed his little master.
Baelon stared blankly at the swaying red meat, his little mouth unconsciously drifting open.
"Stop!"
Aemond moved quickly, pinching Rockfang's jaw to force him to drop the meat.
At that moment, the door pushed open.
Queen Alicent entered, followed by two bowing wet nurses.
She had clearly just escaped a Small Council meeting, still wearing her formal dark green gown, her brow etched with exhaustion and worry.
Seeing the nurses standing respectfully at the door, she knew Aemond was inside.
But the scene she walked into made her heart tighten: Daena was crying in her cradle, and Aemond was leaning over Baelon with meat in his hand.
"Aemond!" Alicent's voice rose sharply, tinged with anger and panic.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Aemond turned calmly to face his mother.
"It wasn't me, Mother. It was them."
He pointed to Ymir and Rockfang.
Only then did Alicent focus on the dragons.
Rockfang was back to eating meat, while Ymir was landing next to Daena, nudging the crying baby's cheek with her snout.
Looking at these two dragons, already growing sharper claws by the day, Alicent felt a familiar headache.
Ever since they hatched, the peace of her chambers had been shattered.
If she tried to hold her own children, the small dragons would growl and bristle.
Even the wet nurses had been bitten. They were only docile toward the infants and Aemond.
"They are growing too fast," Alicent said, rubbing her forehead.
"They can't stay here anymore. It's too dangerous."
Aemond nodded. "I agree. Tomorrow, I will take them to the Dragonpit to stay with their mother."
He glanced at Ymir, who was making a mess trying to wipe Daena's tears with her wing.
Alicent sighed in relief and moved to comfort the crying infant.
Aemond shot a look at the two dragons who were about to bare their teeth at her; they immediately settled down.
"There is one more thing," Alicent said, handing the baby to a nurse and turning to Aemond with a serious expression.
"At today's Council meeting, Tyland Lannister spoke of you. He is... concerned about your actions in Flea Bottom."
Tyland Lannister, the new Hand of the King, had taken over after Otto's dismissal.
Alicent spoke sternly.
"He says that last night, you summarily executed over a hundred people in Flea Bottom? Without a trial? Without a warrant from the Master of Laws or the Hand?"
Aemond listened silently.
"Three of my patrolmen were found with their throats slit a few days ago," he replied calmly.
"Flea Bottom is a canker on King's Landing. It is filled with the dregs of the Seven Kingdoms. In a month, the tourney for the Royal Army begins."
"If a Lord's daughter is kidnapped or a Knight's son is murdered in the streets, then will they blame the slums, or the Queen Regent who failed to clean them up?"
Alicent's lips thinned.
Aemond continued, "They no longer fear our enforcers. That means they aren't just commoners anymore. We must strike hard."
Alicent hesitated, but Aemond looked at her earnestly.
"Believe me, Mother. In one month, King's Landing will be reborn."
Finally, Alicent nodded. She would support him.
-----
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