"Aemon?" Viserys immediately saw through his troublesome son's intentions. He had likely made his sister cry again or secretly bullied Aemon. He crouched down slightly, looking sternly at little Aegon. The boy's face instantly fell. Realizing that his father had uncovered his little scheme, he hesitated, wanting to flee, but Viserys grabbed him by the collar. The small boy kicked his short legs a few times before finally giving up his struggle.
"Speak. Did you bully Aemon again? Or was it Naelys this time?"
Aegon furrowed his little face in grievance. "I didn't bully them! My sister just wouldn't lend me the dragon egg to play with."
"You—" Viserys's anger flared instantly. This little brat! Couldn't he learn from the Vaelarys children? They were all so harmonious—brothers acting like true brothers. He recalled how, not long ago, when Samantha had come of age and was to consummate her marriage with the King, court tradition required the event to be observed by the gathered nobility to confirm the King and Queen's ability to produce heirs. Samantha had mentally prepared herself for it, but on the day of the ceremony, Rhaegor had somehow stolen Draezell's Valyrian steel armor, Dragonrider, along with Silverblood, and blocked the entrance, refusing to let the courtiers in.
In the end, Draezell had to intervene, dragging away the young man who was shouting, "Aegon, you're not a child! Samantha, your brother is sorry! All of you, get out!"
Only the Seven knew why Rhaegor, who was usually so respectful of tradition, had broken down so spectacularly over this particular custom.
Yet, as Viserys thought about it, he wondered—if he had a sister, if she faced a similar situation, would he or Aegon… or their brothers have reacted as Rhaegor did?
At the very least, Jacaerys and Lucerys certainly would have.
With that thought, Viserys released Aegon, who had been on the verge of tears, and turned away, lost in his own emotions.
Little Aegon stood frozen for a moment. Realizing that his father truly didn't care, he burst into wailing sobs.
"Aegon?" A gentle female voice called out from nearby. The boy turned toward the sound, his eyes lighting up at once. He had no complicated thoughts—he knew his father would never take his side. He bullied his sister and his brother, then ran to their father simply to shift the blame, hoping their father would believe he wasn't at fault. After all, Aemon was still an infant, and Naelys couldn't even speak properly yet.
But now that his father was ignoring him, he had to find someone else to help soothe his younger siblings—he couldn't let their mother find out. His father might not discipline him much, but his mother would not hesitate to give him a proper beating.
Just then, Samantha arrived. Aegon instantly felt as if he had found his savior.
Though Samantha had not displayed breathtaking beauty in infancy like her younger sister, Seryna, she had grown into an exceptionally striking young woman. Now fifteen, she was tall, with silver hair cascading down her back, a true beauty. Many knights in King's Landing secretly considered her their dream maiden. She wore a fitted black-and-red gown, draped in a cloak woven with purple and silver. Beside her stood her personal guards—an aged Unsullied warrior from Dragon's Nest and a Kingsguard knight, Brandon Tarly.
"What's wrong?" Samantha gently lifted little Aegon. Though a young woman, she had inherited Draezell's Silver blood and was a true dragonrider. She excelled in archery and possessed immense strength, hoisting Aegon effortlessly. "Tell me, did you bully Naelys and Aemon again?"
Aegon's lips quivered—he couldn't fool her. How unlucky. "Aunt Samantha, please help me. I don't want to—"
"Your Grace, leave this little brat to me!" Lady Larra stormed out of the nursery, scanning the room until her eyes landed on Samantha holding Aegon. She suppressed her fury, smoothing her expression into a smile.
"No!" Aegon wailed in despair, burying his head in Samantha's chest.
Samantha chuckled, flipping Aegon around despite his struggling protests. The boy was horrified to discover that somehow, Samantha had completely drained his strength, leaving him utterly powerless. His head drooped in resignation as he watched his mother approach.
Lady Larra accepted her son from Samantha, thanked her, then stormed off with Aegon in tow, dragging him back to the nursery.
From the balcony above, Viserys silently observed the scene.
Deep Beneath Dragon's Nest
Melisandre sat cross-legged on the obsidian floor, surrounded by thick stone tablets inscribed with strange symbols. Many years had passed, and her magic had fully returned. The slight traces of age that had once marred her features had vanished, restoring her youthful visage. But she was no longer as reckless, no longer as fanatical as she had once been.
She had come to accept what the murals around her revealed.
The magical tablets provided by Draezell, relics from the days of the Valyrian Freehold, confirmed that the murals had not deceived her. The molten lava flowing beside her cast flickering flames that formed images—some vivid, others hazy.
The flames had told her everything, yet told her nothing at all.
Melisandre closed her eyes. "Do not presume. Do not assume you can decipher the will of the gods. The only future that is certain is the final battle of Light and Dark, of Fire and Ice. The future, like fire, shifts and changes—never fixed, never certain."
And the future she had once glimpsed… had been thrown into chaos by that godlike man.
The new future—flames could no longer convey an accurate image to her.
At the very least, he stood on the side of light and fire.
Melisandre opened her eyes, then widened them in surprise.
"You would personally come to see a sinner who has defiled the will of the gods?"
Flames surged as Draezell stepped out of the fire, lowering his gaze to meet Melisandre's. "It seems you have come to understand a few things."
"I will remain here, contemplating the purpose of my existence, Chosen One," Melisandre said calmly. "May I ask what brings you here today?"
"I have come to look into the future."
Draezell sighed. His blood magic did not include any form of prophecy, and the compensation promised by the Greenseers had yet to arrive. Though it was not strictly necessary, he still wanted to catch a glimpse of the children's future.
Especially the one growing inside Diana.
That was right—nine months ago, Diana had conceived once more. And in a joyful turn of events, Rhaena, who had long shown no signs of pregnancy, was now with child as well. Draezell had taken special care to send Diana back to Dragon's Nest in advance for a safe pregnancy.
That brat Rhaegor would soon experience the love of an old father. Jacaerys was still too young to judge, and as for Seryna —what daughter was not the apple of her father's eye?
Melisandre smiled. "You have already seen the outcome, haven't you?"
Draezell nodded. This place was one of the magic-rich regions of the Red Mountains. The moment he entered, he had glimpsed visions in the flames.
A knight surrounded by flowers and admiration, and a knight bathed in blood and fire.
"It seems my wife and my siblings will bring two valiant warriors to the family," Draezell mused. In times of peace, the knight showered in flowers would thrive in tournaments, but true warriors were rarely born in such an era.
It appeared these two children were destined to take part in a real war.
Whether that would be their fortune or their misfortune remained to be seen.
"You could leave if you wanted to," Draezell said, looking at the Red Priestess.
Melisandre shook her head. "I have yet to fully comprehend the meaning of the murals." She gestured toward the surrounding carvings, which depicted the Song of Ice and Fire. "Once I understand, I will naturally atone for my sins before you."
"As long as you are aware of it."
Draezell nodded, stepping toward the magma. A single drop of blood fell from his hand. Flames roared to life, and in an instant, Draezell vanished from the narrow chamber.
Melisandre closed her eyes once more.
The flickering flames that had illuminated the hollow space suddenly extinguished, leaving only the faint glow of the molten rock.