The sun rose.
The sun set.
Time passed, and Aegon could finally get out of bed.
He limped through the Red Keep, and everyone who saw him fought to keep a straight face as they greeted him.
“Brother!
You’re finally up!” Aemond’s delighted shout came from behind.
Aegon straightened his back, adjusted his loose trousers, and turned.
“What do you mean, finally up?
A little frost and wind, nothing more.” His tone was calm.
Aemond’s face filled with admiration.
He ran over, grabbed Aegon’s hand, and pulled him toward the godswood.
“Helaena’s in the godswood.
Let’s go find her.”
The moment he was yanked into a run, Aegon’s expression shattered.
And so did his backside.
Damn you, Aemond.
The second my ass heals, you’ll learn what cruelty means.
By the time they reached the godswood, sweat was pouring down Aegon’s face.
Right now, the whitest part of Aegon was his face.
The hardest part was his mouth.
He was splitting apart with pain, but he ran all the way to the godswood without making a sound.
Helaena, who had been staring blankly at the heart tree, turned suddenly.
She looked at Aemond, and a strange smile crossed her lips.
“What are you smiling at?” Aemond asked, confused.
Helaena shook her head and turned back to the heart tree.
The godswood was a grove of elm, alder, and black cottonwood inside the Red Keep, overlooking the mouth of the Blackwater Rush.
At its center stood a heart tree, a massive oak whose branches were tangled with smokeberry vines.
Aemond was restless.
He started climbing the trunk, calling for Aegon to join him.
Aegon gave a thin, humorless smile.
“You climb. The source of this chapter is g.com.
No one climbs better than you.
I’ll pass.”
Hearing that, Aemond climbed with even more energy.
Aegon ignored him and walked over to Helaena.
He took her small hand and pressed it against the carved face on the heart tree’s trunk.
“Can you feel it?” he asked, curious.
Helaena shook her head, then nodded.
Aegon went on.
“They say there are greenseers beyond the North.
Greenseers can enter the heart trees and watch from far away.”
Helaena stroked the carved face.
From up in the tree, Aemond spoke.
“The Grand Maester says heart trees are usually weirwoods.
This one’s an oak.
Someone just carved a face into it.”
An oak could live three hundred years.
A redwood could live three thousand.
A weirwood, left undisturbed, could live forever.
“I don’t feel anything.
But sometimes, I sense another living thing.
It looks like an old man, trapped inside a huge tangle of roots.”
Aegon’s eyes narrowed.
A guess began forming in his mind.
“Try not to make contact with that old man.
He’s not a good person,” Aegon said.
“You know him?” Helaena sounded surprised.
“I don’t.
But I don’t think he’s good.
Maybe those roots are what’s holding him in.
Maybe he’s a demon.”
Helaena laughed, her eyes curving.
Aemond had climbed down without anyone noticing.
“Brother, enough boring stuff.
I want to hear about the Battle of the Five Armies.
Keep going with the story.”
Aegon had told many stories, and Aemond was most obsessed with the Middle-earth tales.
Especially the terrifying dragons in those stories.
Every time Aegon told them, Aemond’s eyes lit up.
Somewhere along the way, Aemond had developed an interest in things that were big.
“And what about Ancalagon?
Did he really exist?
He was so powerful.
How could he die?”
Aemond’s questions came like rapid fire.
Aegon had no desire to answer them.
“I understand.” Helaena nodded softly, the picture of someone easy to push around.
Aegon sighed.
He looked at Helaena, then at Aemond, who was already climbing the tree again.
“Better focus on raising Daeron.
These two are half-lost already.” He swore it to himself.
In the original story, Daeron was probably Otto Hightower’s ideal candidate for the throne.
He was described as having the classic Targaryen look, with a handsome face.
Unlike the debauched Aegon or the vicious Aemond, Daeron was clever, courteous, gentle, and deeply humble.
The most beloved of all the brothers.
Though he shared his brothers’ hatred for Rhaenyra’s sons, he had grown up in his older brothers’ shadow.
Brave, but without much will of his own.
More inclined to follow orders than give them.
The perfect right hand.
Of course, Aegon had no real intention of giving up on Helaena and Aemond.
To fight the blacks led by Rhaenyra, he had to unite every force he could.