When Viserys walked toward her under the moonlight, Rhaenys showed clear surprise on her face.
"Why aren't you sleeping?" he asked.
"I can't sleep."
Rhaenys answered softly.
Then she suddenly wrinkled her small, delicate nose in his direction, as if she had caught a scent.
Viserys immediately understood. Arianne had worn his clothes earlier, and her fragrance still lingered on him.
To avoid awkwardness, he quickly changed the subject.
"Why can't you sleep? Did you eat too much tonight?"
"No..."
Rhaenys kicked her pale, bare feet lightly, looking a little embarrassed.
"I heard about the prophecy."
"The three-headed dragon?"
"No. Your prophecy."
She looked at him, lips pressed together, her eyes almost brimming with tears.
Viserys felt a jolt in his chest.
He had clearly ordered the news to be sealed.
How did she know?
"Who told you?" he asked, suppressing a hint of anger.
"Aegon."
That made sense. Aegon was now Melisandre's apprentice. He might have been present when the prophecy was seen.
Viserys made a mental note to speak with him later.
"The prophecy I received is completely different," Viserys said lightly, reaching out to pat her head. "I only dreamed of returning in triumph."
"Then why did you seal the news?" Rhaenys asked.
She was sharp. As the child of Rhaegar and Elia, she was far more perceptive than most.
"Because I don't want to shake morale," Viserys replied smoothly.
Even though his answer was quick and steady, Rhaenys still felt uneasy.
"Viserys."
"Mm?"
"When you come back... let's get married."
For a split second, Viserys froze.
If this were a story, that line was the kind of thing that doomed a man.
He forced a smile. "When Daenerys comes of age, we'll do it together. I'm not going anywhere."
"Mm."
Rhaenys nodded. After chatting for a while longer, the two of them parted ways.
After leaving the garden, Viserys headed straight toward the residence of Aegon and Aemon.
But as he passed by the training grounds, he heard the sound of steel clashing.
The ringing of swords echoed through the night.
The two boys had abandoned wooden practice swords and were now sparring with real steel.
Moonlight reflected off their blades as they fought intensely, neither giving ground.
In the end, Aemon won.
"Uncle."
Both of them turned in surprise, only just realizing that Viserys had been standing behind them.
In just a month, both boys had grown taller. Though still lean, they stood like two straight spears.
In a few years, their looks alone would be enough to captivate countless noble girls.
Aegon's eyes were blue with a hint of purple.
Aemon's were gray with a trace of violet.
Viserys attributed Aemon's differences to his upbringing.
"Uncle, why are you—" Aegon stepped forward, while Aemon stayed a little farther back.
Perhaps because he didn't think he resembled a Targaryen enough, Aemon was always more reserved in front of Viserys.
Viserys smiled and gestured for Aemon to come closer.
The two sheathed their swords and followed him to a nearby pavilion.
"You told him about the prophecy?"
Aegon nodded. "But that was before you gave the order."
"Uncle, we're worried about you. Let me go to war with you. I can last at least thirty moves against Ser Willem now!"
Aemon spoke up, trying to prove himself.
He wasn't exaggerating. Ser Willem had not held back.
"I believe you," Viserys said. "But going to war is still not an option."
"Why not?" Aegon asked anxiously.
"Do you think the prophecy is real?"
"Not necessarily," Aegon shook his head.
"And you, Aemon?"
Aemon also shook his head.
But Viserys could tell neither of them was truly convinced.
"Then tell me," Viserys continued, his tone turning serious, "if the prophecy is true, and I really die... what will you do next?"
"I'll avenge you!" Aegon said immediately.
"Me too," Aemon added.
"Right away?"
"Right away!"
Both of them nodded firmly.
Viserys smiled faintly.
Most uncles and nephews would be rivals for the crown. The bond between the three of them was rare.
"No," Viserys said. "If the prophecy is true, you must endure. Protect the family above all else."
He looked at Aegon.
"If I die, you will inherit my throne."
Then at Aemon.
"You will be his general."
"Uncle...?"
The sudden weight of his words left them both stunned.
Then Viserys' expression hardened. His violet eyes swept over them coldly.
"If either of you ever harms your own family, for any reason, I will not forgive you. Even in death."
The sharp warning hit harder than the earlier trust.
Aemon felt, for a moment, that Viserys' gaze lingered longer on him.
Why would Uncle think I might harm family?
The thought confused him, but he silently swore that he would protect Aegon, Daenerys, Rhaenys, Elia, and Queen Rhaella with his life.
"If I don't return," Viserys continued, "immediately announce that we abandon any claim to the Iron Throne."
"My dreams tell me that in a few years, Westeros will fall into chaos. The alliance of the northern kingdoms will weaken."
He paused.
"You are still young. If you want revenge, you can wait.
Do not rush.
Protect your family. Protect the people of Gohor.
Clothes do not sew themselves. Food does not grow on its own... Remember who supports you."
"We understand, Uncle."
Both boys looked serious, their eyes slightly red.
"That's enough for today. Go rest. And do not speak of this to anyone."
They watched him leave, their hearts heavy.
The uncle who had always seemed invincible was now preparing for the possibility of his own death.
"Aemon."
"Mm?"
"Do you think Drogo is really that strong? Could he actually defeat Uncle?"
"If he could, he wouldn't have run at the Velvet Hills," Aemon said, looking at his sword. "I don't think prophecy can defeat him. Maybe... Uncle just thinks we've grown up enough to hear these things."
He paused, then added, "Aegon."
"Mm?"
"Let's keep training."
"Alright."
___________
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