The white wheelhouse came to a stop atop a high slope. Ahead stood a towering domed structure.
Bang!
Aemon didn't even wait to finish exchanging cards—he leapt down from the wheelhouse, pausing to stare at the dragon's lair.
"Wow, it's so big!"
It was much bigger than he remembered.
Larger than most noble castles, the lair loomed like a squat mountain.
"Come on, I'll take you inside," Rhaenyra said, adjusting her expression and looking noticeably more cheerful.
"Okay." Aemon followed obediently.
Looking out over the vastness of King's Landing, the dragon's lair stood out as the most iconic structure aside from the Red Keep.
As they walked, Aemon tried to estimate its size.
There was no end in sight—it had to cover at least nine hectares.
"If it weren't this massive, how could it possibly house dragons?" Aemon nodded to himself.
Still, he didn't particularly like this building. To him, it felt unnecessary.
Dragons were rulers of the sky and earth. It would be better for them to live freely on Dragonstone's Dragonmont than to be kept caged, wings bound.
Boom!
As they climbed the steps, the enormous bronze doors of the dragon pit slowly creaked open.
A dozen dragon keepers emerged, clad in gray linen and holding bamboo staffs.
"Princess. Prince," greeted an elderly dragon keeper with sparse hair, speaking in pure High Valyrian.
Dragon keepers, also known as "dragon guards," specialized in raising and caring for dragons in the lair. They were usually of Valyrian descent and trained from childhood, forming a loyal organization devoted entirely to the royal family.
"Elder, I've brought him to get familiar with the lair," Rhaenyra replied in High Valyrian with a slight nod.
The old keeper studied the young prince for a moment before nodding in approval. "Yes, royal sons should see dragons from a young age."
Rhaenyra forced a smile and stepped inside.
Sensing her mood shift, Aemon quickly thanked the old man, "Thank you for your service."
His High Valyrian was clear and fluent, without a hint of awkwardness.
Then he hurried after Rhaenyra.
Inside the dome, the light was dim, lit only by torches lining the walls.
Rhaenyra walked ahead, still speaking in Valyrian. "Do you want to see Syrax first? Or Dreamfyre?"
Aemon hustled on his short legs to keep up with her long strides.
Clearly, the old keeper's comment about "royal males" had touched a nerve.
Even so, Rhaenyra was doing her best to restrain her feelings and take care of her little brother.
Aemon chose his words carefully. "Let's look at the dragon eggs first."
"Wait here, I'll ask the keepers to bring them," she said flatly.
She walked through the oval hall as though she were in her own chambers—familiar and composed.
She truly looked like a princess.
Rhaenyra had skipped the naming day festivities, so she wasn't in formal attire. Instead, she wore a black outfit in true Targaryen fashion.
Tight trousers hugged her long legs, paired with a simple inner shirt and a corset dress that subtly outlined her curves.
Aemon glanced up and noticed that her inner collar was embroidered with golden dragon patterns, and her snow-white neck bore a delicate necklace adorned with tiny rubies.
The overall effect was understated but elegant, luxurious without being ostentatious.
"She's really rich... a proper rich lady," Aemon thought enviously.
Just look at her hands and neck, decked out in rare treasures—while his own tiny hands were bare.
Bang! Bang!
Soon, the dragon keepers returned with furnace-like incubators, arranging them neatly in the hall.
The old keeper approached and said in a low voice, "Prince, these are all the eggs we currently have."
"Thank you."
Aemon's eyes lit up as he stepped forward eagerly.
There were sixteen incubators, arranged in a 4-by-4 grid.
Rhaenyra frowned at his unrestrained enthusiasm. "Don't you have a dragon egg already?"
"Mine didn't hatch. I just want to see if any of the others are different."
Aemon smiled, then reached out to open the black steel lid of a furnace.
Click!
A cloud of thick white smoke billowed out. The red-hot coals crackled, and a green dragon egg lay nestled inside.
To everyone's shock, he reached out and touched it directly.
"Magic item detected. Magic Essence +3."
Rhaenyra grabbed his hand, alarmed. "Aemon, you'll burn yourself!"
She turned over his palm, but aside from a bit of charcoal dust, there wasn't even a trace of redness.
"Seven save us!" the old keeper gasped, eyes wide with astonishment.
Targaryens could usually tolerate heat—candlelight, hot baths—but this was the first time he'd seen someone touch a dragon egg as hot as burning coals.
"I'm okay, Rhaenyra," Aemon said, looking up innocently as he waved the little hand she was holding.
"You're... very different, Aemon," she murmured, still stunned.
Was he immune to fire?
"Still afraid of it," Aemon admitted, his gaze flickering.
He'd discovered early on that he had bloodline talents: dreamwalking and heat resistance.
Unfortunately, his dreams were rarely prophetic and mostly just disrupted his sleep.
His heat resistance, on the other hand, had only become more apparent.
After activating his [Bloodline] yesterday, he noticed he was no longer affected by heat, though cold now made him uncomfortable.
"I should really let Daemon know... it'll probably shock him."
Rhaenyra took a long time to process what she'd just seen, and her mood seemed to drop again.
"It's okay. He won't care," Aemon said with a shrug, trying to comfort the sensitive girl.
He'd only wanted to relax a bit, but ended up making her feel worse.
After venting a few more complaints about his father, Aemon put it aside and focused on the task at hand.
"Magic item detected: Magic Essence +3, +3, +3…"
The +3 notification chimed sixteen times in a row as he touched each egg—harvesting all the magic essence they had.
Counting his own black egg, the golden funnel on his panel now read:
[Essence Count: 198]
It was a massive windfall.
"King's Landing is amazing. I'm swimming in magic essence now."
Aemon beamed with satisfaction, reluctant to part with the "fat" dragon eggs before him.
If he could take a few with him…
Just as that thought surfaced, he glanced around—and immediately gave up the idea.
Not only was Rhaenyra in a strange mood, but the dragon keepers were keeping a close eye on the eggs. There was no way they'd let him walk off with any.
With a sigh, Aemon dropped his little plan and took Rhaenyra's soft hand.
"Let's go see a dragon."
After all, eggs were small. The real prize was the dragons.
"Syrax or Dreamfyre?" Rhaenyra asked again.
Aemon thought for two seconds, then answered firmly, "Dreamfyre!"
Rhaenyra gave a knowing nod and turned to lead the way.
"Come with us," the old keeper instructed, calling over several younger dragon keepers.
The she-dragon Dreamfyre was the largest and oldest adult dragon in the lair.
Her first rider had been the founder of the dragon keepers, "Good Queen" Rhaena Targaryen, the elder sister of King Jaehaerys.
After the Queen Mother's death, Dreamfyre had been kept in the lair, riderless.
Over the decades, her temper had grown increasingly foul.
But Aemon skipped along happily, clearly unbothered by the warnings.
He quietly pulled up his system panel to check his cards:
[Constitution +1] – "Safe and steady physical development."
[Miraculous Hands] – "Grants a chance to turn someone else's pocket into your own."
[Golden-Nosed Rat] – "A small rodent with a sharp nose—and even sharper ears."
One white, one green, one blue—each shimmering brightly.
- - - - - - - - -
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