Chapter 9.

A/N: Hello, my lovely readers! I have a few things to clarify before you read the chapter, so please don't skip this.

First of all, thank you for all the support. I'm very glad so many people enjoyed my story, and I hope I can keep you entertained.

Second, I would like to explain some things about my plans for this story. I don't plan to write a kingdom-building type of novel. There will be some chapters touching on the subject, but it won't become the focus. I also don't plan on bringing too much future technology into it—just a few things here and there that could help the characters gain popularity and be good rulers.

I'm also kind of rushing things a bit because I want the characters to be more independent, which is something they can only do when they are a bit older. So, the first half of this chapter will be more of a tale of the events that happened after the last chapter. I hope you don't mind, and if you do, well, tough luck, lol.

I will write this as I see fit, as writing is more of a hobby/dream of mine and not exactly my main job. Perhaps in the future, it will be, but for now, I'm here just to write my ideas and discuss things with my lovely readers, okay?

Anyway, don't forget to send me stones and leave a review. It helps not only with visibility but also keeps me motivated to write more.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

~~O~~

The king, Jaehaerys I, passed away peacefully one day after that fateful visit to the Dragonpit. But not before making Aemon and Rhaenyra promise to take care of Vermithor and Silverwing. To him, these dragons were the living symbols of his union and devotion to his sister-wife, Queen Alysanne.

The entire realm mourned the passing of Jaehaerys, known far and wide as one of the greatest rulers to ever sit on the Iron Throne. His reign had brought peace and prosperity to Westeros, and his wisdom was revered. The loss was felt deeply, from the highest lords to the humblest smallfolk.

As news of the king's death spread, so too did the tale of how the twins tamed two legendary adult dragons. Stories of Aemon's role in the taming, particularly his singing, were passed from mouth to mouth, growing bigger with each retelling. Some tales exaggerated the events, claiming that the young prince had subdued Vermithor with the blessings of the Seven, transforming what was a heartfelt moment into a legendary feat.

In the wake of King Jaehaerys I's passing, the realm was rife with speculation and intrigue. Some of the smallfolk and a minority of the lords, emboldened by the twins' legendary status, began to suggest that Aemon should be named king instead of Viserys. They viewed Aemon and Rhaenyra as blessings sent by the Seven to continue the legacy of the Old King and the Good Queen. These sentiments were fueled by the fact that Jaehaerys had chosen to spend his final moments with the twins rather than with Viserys.

This suggestion sparked a turmoil among the lords. While the majority still believed that Aemon was too young to rule, dismissing the idea as absurd, a significant minority saw potential in the young prince's capabilities and the bond he shared with his sister and their dragons. These dissenting voices, though not immediately influential, sowed a seed of doubt and hope in the hearts of many. This seed would grow over time, hinting at the beginnings of a new faction within the realm.

Despite the dissatisfaction of some, there was little that could be done in the immediate aftermath. Viserys was to be king, and his reign would begin with the support of the majority. However, the undercurrent of discontent and the growing admiration for Aemon and Rhaenyra could not be ignored.

The folk of the realm were captivated by this tale of adventure and romance. The image of a young, charming prince singing to a massive dragon in a cave, accompanied by the revered king, a beautiful princess, and the legendary Ser Ryam, captured their imaginations. Ser Ryam himself, known for his honesty and valor, confirmed the veracity of the story, stating, "I won't ever forget that magical moment for the rest of my life."

Even the Hand of the King, Otto Hightower, who had been outside but could hear the music echoing through the Dragonpit, reluctantly admitted that much of the story was likely true. Despite his initial objections, the undeniable bond formed between the twins and the dragons was a powerful testament to the enduring legacy of House Targaryen.

The twins, now burdened with the responsibility of their dragons and their roles in the realm, took the promise to heart. Rhaenyra and Aemon knew that they were not just caring for powerful beasts, but living embodiments of their family's strength and history.

In the days following the king's passing, the realm's focus shifted to the new generation. Aemon and Rhaenyra, now known as the Dragon Twins, became symbols of hope and continuity. Their bond with Vermithor and Silverwing was seen as a sign that the legacy of Jaehaerys and Alysanne would live on, through fire and blood.

~~O~~

In 104 AC, the coronation of Viserys I Targaryen was a grand celebration, warmly received by the smallfolk who admired the young and amiable king. The realm was abuzz with optimism about his reign and the prospect of Prince Aemon, already a legend in his own right, being named his heir. However, contrary to popular expectations, Viserys did not immediately name Aemon as his heir. This decision puzzled not only the masses and the majority of the lords but also his own family.

Viserys explained his decision by stating that Aemon was still too young to bear the responsibilities of being the heir. He believed that Aemon needed more time to mature and prepare for such a significant role, arguing that it was for Aemon's protection and future readiness. What he failed to mention, though, was the influence of his Hand, Otto Hightower. Otto had suggested, "The prince already has a lot of responsibilities as a new dragon rider. He should concentrate on keeping the beast at bay before turning his attention to the affairs of the realm."

This reasoning did not sit well with Queen Aemma. Furious with Viserys, she confronted him, saying, "You didn't mind his age when you dropped countless documents filled with problems for him to solve with his sister." This disagreement led to their first significant argument, and for many nights, Viserys had to sleep in a separate chamber to avoid further infuriating the queen.

The twins, Aemon and Rhaenyra, were somewhat relieved by this decision. While it stung a bit for Aemon on a personal level that his own father didn't trust his abilities as an heir, he could sense Otto Hightower's influence in the matter. Despite this, Otto's point was valid. They had many responsibilities, especially as new dragon riders. Their bond with Vermithor and Silverwing was strong and unbreakable, but they had much to learn about dragon riding. They needed to master everything from the basics to advanced maneuvers and strategies, a process that would take months or even years.

Their situation was fortunate compared to others. Had the dragon eggs placed in their cradles hatched, they would have faced the challenge of training young, often reckless and aggressive dragons. Moreover, they would have had to wait many years for the dragons to grow to a respectable size. As it stood, Vermithor and Silverwing, already tamed and battle-hardened, offered a significant advantage.

In the months that followed, Aemon and Rhaenyra dedicated themselves to their new roles. They trained rigorously with their dragons, learning to ride and command them with increasing skill and confidence. This training, combined with their duties at court and the guidance of their elders, helped them grow into their responsibilities.

And just like that, seven years have passed.

~~O~~

Aemon Targaryen, 110 AC.

As Aemon strolled through the halls of the Red Keep, his presence commanded attention. Tall and broad-shouldered, he wore his sweat-soaked red shirt and black trousers with an air of nonchalance, the light fabric clinging to his perfectly carved muscles, a testament to his rigorous training. His delicate, almost ethereal features contrasted sharply with his powerful physique. His deep purple eyes, a mark of his pure Valyrian descent, and his pale white skin gave him an otherworldly charm that left those who crossed his path breathless. His messy, now metallic silver hair only added to his wild allure, though he found it a minor annoyance the fact that his cool silvery white hair was lost, comparing himself with his sister's almost white silvery locks.

Aemon sighed inwardly, his thoughts laced with a hint of exasperation. "It's really a sin to be born so handsome..." he mused, aware that his words, though narcissistic to some, held some level of truth. His beauty had drawn unwanted attention throughout his life, and were it not for his royal status, he might have found himself kidnapped or sold to some old degenerate bastard.

Approaching a male guard, Aemon decided to ask a question, knowing that female servants often found themselves tongue-tied or incoherent in his presence. The guard, a seasoned man with a grizzled beard, snapped to attention as Aemon neared, his expression a mix of respect and curiosity.

"Good day, my prince," the guard said, bowing slightly. "How can I be of service?"

Aemon smiled politely, his charm radiating effortlessly. "Good day. Could you tell me where my sister is? I was supposed to meet her after my training session, but I seem to have lost track of time."

The guard nodded, his eyes briefly flicking over Aemon's sweat-soaked attire before he spoke. "Princess Rhaenyra was last seen in the gardens, my prince. She mentioned she wished to spend some time there before attending to her duties."

Aemon thanked the guard and made his way towards the gardens, his strides confident and purposeful.

As he approached the garden, he was greeted by a visage that seemed almost otherworldly.

If he was considered the epitome of handsomeness in the realm, then his sister was the very definition of beauty itself. No words could adequately describe Rhaenyra's divine allure. She sat on a stone bench, her silvery white hair gleaming in the sunlight, a book resting gently in her lap. She looked up as he approached.

Her hauntingly beautiful violet eyes gazed back at him, almost possessing a glow of their own as they reflected the sunlight. Sometimes, when he stared too deeply into them, he could swear he saw a pair of stars, shining as brightly as those in the night sky. Her face was perfectly carved to the point of absurdity, and he could see her cherry pink lips slowly morphing into a smile. Her delicate yet strong hands closed the book with an unnatural dexterity as she stood up. She wore a beautiful black and red dress that clung closely to her body, accentuating her slim and alluring curves. Only the most perceptive could notice that beneath her frail appearance lay a body filled with flexible and strong muscles, ready to burst into agile and swift motion if needed.

Her steps were so light, she sometimes appeared to float rather than walk, giving her an even stronger divine and sacred charm.

She smiled slightly, a teasing edge to her tone as she said, "Still not used to your big sister's beauty, stupid brother? What a hopeless siscon you are..."

Her perfume washed over his senses, and he unconsciously held his breath, trying not to get too addicted to her scent that reminded him of fresh lavender.

She shook her head and closed her eyes, already used to her brother's hormonal outbursts. She knew it wasn't his fault; it was natural for them, as teenagers, to lose themselves in their instincts sometimes. Even she, though in a much more restrained manner, caught herself staring dumbly at his Greek god-like physique and perfect face while supervising his training.

This past year, they had even stopped the grappling parts of their hand-to-hand sessions, as "accidents" involving a certain "dragon's awakening" became more frequent.

They also stopped sleeping in the same bed, much to Aemon's chagrin as he apologized profusely, saying, "It's just a physiological reaction, I can't control it."

She sighed and said, "You should breathe now before you suffocate."

Aemon embarrassedly released all the air in his lungs as he took a deep breath.

He laughed a little ashamed, and said trying to change the subject "Anyway, how's mother?" Rhaenyra could see through his failed attempt to hide his shame, but she decided against pointing that out.

'I'm such a great big sister' thought her silentily as she proceed to answer to his question.

"She's still in pain, as always. I tried some more advanced methods of prenatal care, but I can't do much without the proper tools."

In her first life, she had been a medical doctor specializing in obstetrics and gynecology. Even though that seemed like centuries ago, she still remembered much of that knowledge and those techniques.

In fact, she had nearly led a medical revolution in recent years. After much convincing, her father, King Viserys, passed a royal decree containing her ideas and knowledge, she had shared as much modern medical knowledge as she could, omitting the more technical and scientific aspects. The people of this era couldn't comprehend concepts like bacteria or viruses. She veiled her knowledge as revelations from The Crone herself.

Many maesters were skeptical of her methods, especially after her claims of divine intervention. But soon, the more curious and devout among them tried her techniques and were astounded by the results. Who would have thought that the simple act of cleansing one's hands before a procedure could reduce deaths by such a large margin? She singlehandedly reduced mortality rates by more than half, earning the moniker "The Lady of Mercy," something Aemon never ceased to mock her for, saying things like, "Oh boy, you will be the Florence Nightingale of this world, Lady Mercy." She knew he was getting back at her for the times she teased him about the whole silver minstrel thing.

She recalled rebuking him by saying, "I hope someday you will be known as the Lord of Dirt and Manure, stupid brother."

She wasn't the only one who had sparked a revolution within the realm these past years. As it turned out, her little stupid brother wasn't so stupid after all.

Apparently, his family had owned a farm in his past life, and although he wasn't an expert on the subject, he did know a thing or two about crops and better planting methods. He too used the guise of divine intervention, proclaiming, "The Seven have blessed us with wisdom and knowledge so that we can better lead and feed our loyal subjects within the realm."

Their father, King Viserys, was both surprised and glad that his children were capable of such feats—especially ones that benefited the realm as a whole.

He wholeheartedly supported the pair of twins.

Rhaenyra, her mind back in the present, looked at the state her twin was in: covered in sweat and a little out of breath, clear signs of physical exhaustion.

"You were training again?" she said in a helpless tone. It was indeed she who had suggested and even supervised their training at first, pushing him to his limits every single time, to the point where he begged for mercy when they were little.

But that changed after he began training with the sword. Her brother had become a training freak after that, spending nearly every free moment practicing. She could still remember the whispers of some of the female servants, excited to see his bare-chested body training in the courtyard, fighting against more than five guards at the same time.

At first, he challenged every squire he could to a match. Most of the time he won, and when he lost, he needed just a few more days of practice to completely obliterate his opponent. Soon, he wasn't satisfied with squires anymore, and sadly for the guards, he set his sights on them.

He would sometimes randomly say things like, "Now I'm motivated!" while sparring against the guards, and proceed to beat the hell out of them.

More than once she heard the guards whining, filled with bruises, saying, "Look, I like our training sessions with the prince, but couldn't he be a little more gentle with us? One of these days he'll break our bones, I tell ya."

She could hear in their tone that even though they complained, they still really enjoyed the sparring sessions. Especially because Aemon would sing them a song at the end of every training session, as a way to thank them and also to reinvigorate their spirits.

And that wasn't the most absurd thing he did for what he called "The Path of the Warrior."

But that's a story for another time.

She sighed exasperatedly and flicked her brother's forehead.

"I'm glad you are so eager to improve, stupid brother, but remember, resting is also part of the process of growing. You are but thirteen this year. Don't get yourself hurt because of overexertion. That could affect not only your future growth and potential, but also our plans."

Aemon, scratching his forehead, nodded with a frown. He knew his sister was right, but he just couldn't help it. He was in love with the sword, at least that's what his sister would always say.

"Okay, enough of that. Let us visit Mother to see how she is. I'm getting a bit worried," he said with a serious tone.

Rhaenyra nodded. She was also worried about their mother's situation.

'Let's hope everything is alright,' they both thought, and with that shared concern, the pair walked side by side toward their mother's quarters.