At this moment, a carriage rolled out of Silk Street, climbing the steep slopes of Rhaenys Hill.
Dragonpit, Main Gate.
"Aemond, hurry and get out!"
The carriage stopped at the plaza, and Baelon flung open the door, leaping out like a cannonball.
"Your Highness, you—"
Ser Steffon furrowed his brows into a deep knot, his already mature face growing even more somber.
"Ser, see you later."
Aemond followed suit, jumping out of the carriage. His short legs churned rapidly as he landed.
Steffon wanted to stop them, but his hand froze midair. Sighing in resignation, he muttered, "Alright, see you later."
The two young princes were simply too energetic.
But hadn't Ser Erryk said that children were easy to take care of?
His Majesty had been well-behaved as a child…
---
The two little boys, resembling chubby dumplings, darted into the Dragonpit one after the other.
After many years, the Dragonpit had changed significantly.
The massive bronze gates were permanently left open. The domed roof had been removed, transforming the structure into an open-air coliseum-style arena.
The modifications were made entirely for the dragons' freedom to soar.
Without a roof to hinder them, the dragons could take flight freely.
There was no longer any concern about an enemy sealing off the Dragonpit's entrance to trap the dragons inside.
At this moment, sunlight poured into the Dragonpit, illuminating the polished black stone floor, which gleamed like obsidian.
Baelon tilted his head back, his small mouth forming an "O" of amazement as he gazed up at the web of interwoven iron chains covering the open-air ceiling.
Iron chain bridges—measures to restrict the dragons.
They were meant to prevent the dragons from flying out recklessly and causing harm to the people of King's Landing.
Unless necessary, these iron chains were laid across the ceiling, replacing the former stone dome.
"Hissss—screech—"
A sharp cry rang out from above, laced with excitement.
Baelon turned his head slightly and spotted a young green dragon.
"Hissss—screech—"
The dragon perched atop the iron chain bridge, flapping its crimson-membraned wings, resembling a trapped butterfly.
Aemond ran over, his voice filled with joy. "Liar! Come here!"
"Hissss—"
The young dragon did not hesitate. It plunged headfirst from the hundred-foot-high iron chains, plummeting like a falling green meteor.
Baelon watched from the sidelines, feeling that the dragon's movements seemed dangerously reckless. Its wings folded tightly against its body, making it look as if it were attempting suicide.
Thud!
A cloud of dust billowed up as the young dragon smacked into the ground with a splat, its long, thin tail twitching.
"Eesh."
Baelon slapped a hand over his forehead and turned away, unable to watch.
A completely brainless, foolish dragon.
Father had once said that it had probably been stuck in its eggshell for too long, leaving its brain a little… slow.
Aemond, however, was thrilled. Ignoring the choking dust, he rushed over and scooped up the young dragon's neck, affectionately rubbing his cheek against its head. "Liar, did you miss me?"
"Gah!"
The green dragon, called Liar, lolled its tongue out and pretended to be dead, but in the next moment, it rolled over and scrambled to its feet.
Aemond laughed, climbing onto the dragon's back. "You little rascal, take me for a ride!"
"Gah?"
Liar shook its head vigorously, plodding forward with its rider on its back but stubbornly refusing to take flight.
Aemond grew frustrated and smacked the dragon's spine.
The boy and the dragon were the same age, born less than a day apart, both under six years old.
Liar had lived in the Dragonpit all its life, eating well and growing fast.
It was already the size of a fine warhorse—more than capable of carrying a small child through the air.
But neither the boy nor the dragon was easy to handle, and soon, they were wrestling with each other.
Baelon shook his head as he watched, seriously doubting his younger brother's intelligence.
Just then, an elderly dragonkeeper approached, flanked by dragon guards. His weathered face was full of caution.
"Your Highness, how may I be of service?"
Baelon straightened his small frame and spoke in High Valyrian, his tone formal and fluent. "My mother has given birth. I am here to select a dragon egg for my younger sibling."
His pronunciation was clear, his words articulate.
The old dragonkeeper nodded in approval, leaning on his cane as he gestured toward the incubation chamber. "Follow me."
"Much appreciated."
Baelon clasped his hands behind his back, walking like a miniature adult.
The elderly keeper and the young prince headed toward the incubation chamber's tunnel, with dragon guards dispersing to keep watch.
As they walked, Baelon suddenly turned his head, his gaze falling on a dark dragon pit.
The pit was long and narrow, shrouded in shadows, making it appear especially ominous.
Baelon tilted his head, eyes filled with curiosity as he stared into the pitch-black depths.
Rustle…
A faint flicker of light appeared, accompanied by a barely audible noise.
Baelon's interest piqued. He focused intently, staring hard.
Suddenly, the light expanded.
In the darkness, a vague silhouette emerged.
A pair of glowing, amber-colored, slit-pupiled eyes snapped open.
Clank!
Chains rattled violently.
A massive dragon-shaped shadow lunged forward.
"Hissss—screech!"
Its roar was fierce and wild, but the chains restrained it, preventing it from escaping the pit. Instead, it spewed a thick cloud of black smoke and dragonfire toward the outside world.
"Whoa!"
Baelon's eyes widened in shock, startled by the sudden outburst.
"Step back and stay quiet!"
The elderly dragonkeeper's face darkened as he stepped in front of the young prince, tapping his cane against the ground as he scolded the dragon in the pit.
Clank!
The chains clanked crisply as the dragon's shadow disappeared into the pit.
Seeing this, the elderly dragon keeper let out a breath of relief and bent down to remind, "Do not approach the dragon pit without permission."
Belron hesitated slightly. "It doesn't seem hostile."
Although he wasn't entirely sure.
"Follow the rules."
The elderly dragon keeper spoke sternly in a deep voice. "I will seek permission from His Majesty to select a young dragon for you to tame."
Belron scratched his head.
The elderly dragon keeper turned and continued walking, speaking slowly. "Just like your brother."
...
Red Keep, Princess's Chambers
The newborn's cries were loud and full of vigor, filling the room with an uplifting energy.
In the hallway, three generations of family members smiled in unison.
Creak—
Just as Rhaegar anxiously paced back and forth, a slender maid pushed open the door.
"How is she?"
Rhaegar couldn't suppress his excitement and asked immediately.
The maid, her forehead glistening with sweat, relayed the message, "The princess wishes to see you."
"I was just thinking the same thing."
Rhaegar smiled and stepped into the room.
The maids were cleaning up, restoring the usual tranquility.
The tension immediately melted away as Rhaegar lifted the beaded curtain and found the mother and child resting on the birthing chair.
"You're here."
Rhaenyra was pale with exhaustion, but when she saw him, she smiled.
Rhaegar returned the smile and crouched beside her.
He gently lifted a sweat-drenched strand of hair stuck to her cheek and softly asked, "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine. Everything went smoothly."
Rhaenyra's smile was sincere as she carefully extended her arms, revealing the small bundle wrapped tightly in her embrace. With a hint of pride, she said, "Look, a girl."
Rhaegar leaned in closer, and a fair little face came into view.
But his attention wasn't on the newborn.
His palm rested on Rhaenyra's abdomen. Her thin nightgown was soaked in sweat, and a feverish warmth radiated from her body.
"What a beautiful girl. A noble little princess."
Rhaegar sincerely praised her, gently wrapping Rhaenyra and the baby in his embrace with tenderness.
Rhaenyra gazed at him with affection and rested her cheek against his shoulder. "Don't worry, I was willing, and I wouldn't have it any other way."
Rhaegar lowered his head and, unbothered by her damp forehead, pressed a gentle kiss upon it with his eyes closed.
Rhaenyra's eyelashes quivered. In that moment, all the pain of childbirth was worth it.
Smooch—
Then, without hesitation, she retaliated by pecking him on the corner of his lips.
Rhaegar froze for a second before grinning. "Shall we name the baby?"
"Of course." Rhaenyra lifted her chin proudly.
"Then I must come up with a good name."
Rhaegar arrogantly claimed the naming rights, pretending to think deeply as he occasionally peeked into the swaddle to examine the baby's features.
A long moment passed.
Rhaenyra's expression started to grow impatient, eager to hear their daughter's name.
Rhaegar, deliberately dramatic, finally declared with certainty, "Visenya—our family's greatest warrior queen."
"Perfect!" Rhaenyra agreed instantly.
Her excitement was evident, her eyes practically sparkling.
Rhaegar chuckled.
But after the initial joy, Rhaenyra soon realized Rhaegar had been teasing her. Annoyed, she huffed, "I've dreamed of having a daughter for so long. You think I wouldn't already have a name in mind?"
She turned and took back the swaddled baby, pretending to sulk.
Rhaegar coaxed her, playfully pinching the baby's soft cheeks.
He stole a glance.
Silver-gold hair at the roots, eyes still shut.
As expected, their daughter would grow up to inherit Rhaenyra's features—a true Targaryen beauty with silver-gold hair and violet eyes.
Creak—
The door swung open from the outside, interrupting the family's tender moment.
"Father, we're back!"
Aemond was the first to rush in, full of enthusiasm.
"Shh! Don't disturb Mother and the baby!"
Belron shot him a dangerous look while carefully holding a furnace-like incubation container.
Following behind them was Viserys in his wheelchair and the ever-quiet Maekar.
Viserys sighed helplessly, rubbing his forehead. "I tried, but I couldn't stop these little rascals."
"It's fine." Rhaegar's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "They all just need a little discipline."
Aemond shrank back slightly, sensing his father was singling him out.
Belron, more composed, stepped aside and opened the container, revealing a steaming green dragon egg. His voice was full of anticipation. "We personally picked this dragon egg for our little brother."
"Oh?"
Rhaenyra, though slightly exasperated, didn't reject her sons' kind gesture and sat up slightly for a better look.
Recognizing the egg, she praised them, "Very good. That will be the best dragon egg."
Belron spoke earnestly, "I took a long time choosing. I'm sure our brother will love it."
"Uh…"
Rhaenyra raised her thin eyebrows, trying to correct her eldest son's misunderstanding.
Suddenly, Meika, who had been lost in thought, calmly said, "It's a sister, not a brother."
"A sister?"
Baelor was startled and leaned in to look at the swaddled infant.
Aemond's reaction was even more dramatic. His face, which greatly resembled his older brother's, instantly fell as he exclaimed, "It's actually a sister!?"
They had all assumed it would be a brother.
Especially Aemond, who, as a veteran younger brother, had specifically been hoping for a new little brother.
Well, Meika didn't count.
At that moment, Meika's eyes widened, staring unblinkingly at Aemond as he repeated, "It's a sister."
A shiver ran down Aemond's spine under Meika's intense gaze, and he quickly conceded, "Alright, alright, it's a sister."
Only then was Meika satisfied. He leaned back over the edge of the chair, eager to see what his little sister looked like.
For such a young child, he certainly had a strong will.
Rhaegar glanced at his youngest son.
Somehow, the boy had gotten hold of a basket, strapped it to his back, and placed a dark red dragon egg inside, carefully covering it with a blanket he had managed to obtain from his grandfather.
Once all the little ones had seen the newborn Visenya, Rhaegar began to shoo them away. "Alright, you've seen her. Now, out."
"But we haven't seen enough," Aemond grumbled, wiggling his little backside in protest.
Thud!
Rhaegar didn't hesitate to kick him, grabbing one in each hand and tossing them out without mercy. "Get lost! If you're not gone by the count of three, you're all reporting to Maester Mykul."
At these words, even the usually silent Meika scrambled to his feet and ran out, the basket still strapped to his back.
As he passed his grandfather, he didn't forget to carefully drape the blanket back over the old man's chilly legs.
Viserys, exhausted, felt drowsiness creeping in. Handing the swaddled baby to his eldest son, he murmured, "I'm tired too. Take care of them."
"Father, I wasn't talking about you," Rhaegar said helplessly.
Viserys waved a weary hand. "Stay here and look after Rhaenyra."
He was utterly worn out, having been thoroughly exhausted by his daughter's labor.
Seeing no point in arguing, Rhaegar instructed Ser Erryk to escort his father back to his chambers.
Ever since abdicating, his father had moved to the more temperate Harrenhal, only occasionally returning to King's Landing.
It was probably for the best. The underground lava beneath the Isle of Faces was steadily increasing, and the hot springs there had nourishing properties.
Thud!
The door closed.
Rhaegar turned around.
Rhaenyra sat cradling the swaddled infant, softly humming a lullaby. She turned her head and met his gaze.
Brother and sister exchanged a knowing smile.
(End of Chapter)