“Has he been named?” Aemon turned to Solanna.
“I mean, did his mother give him a name?”
A faint smile appeared on Solanna’s face.
“Yes, my lord.
The poor girl once said that if the babe was a boy, she would name him Daeron.
If it was a girl, she would call her Diana.
Of course, my lord, if the name does not please you, you may always…”
Aemon scarcely heard the rest.
He stared into the boy’s eyes—or rather, into the eyes of his son.
Aemon extended one finger and gently pressed Daeron’s cheek.
The babe curled himself into a tiny ball in his arms but did not cry.
It seemed this was the only way the newborn could express his displeasure with the enormous “giant” looming over him.
“Daeron…”
Aemon softly sounded out the name.
When he raised his head again, however, Solanna had vanished.
Baelon—his younger brother—was leaning against the wall with his arms folded, smiling as he watched them.
“Baelon.” Aemon’s expression darkened.
“When did you come in?
Did you not say you were keeping watch outside?”
“My dear brother, I came to see my cute nephew.”
Baelon laughed and walked over.
He crowded close beside Aemon, curiously studying the little Daeron sleeping in his brother’s arms.
“Brother, we ought to return.
Ser Ryam is still outside waiting for us in the cold.”
Aemon remained silent.
His gaze never left the infant in his arms.
Daeron had already closed his eyes and fallen into a peaceful sleep.
Rhaenys.
His beloved daughter was seventeen now.
She had already wed the richest lord in the Seven Kingdoms—or perhaps merely the most renowned—Corlys Velaryon.
She was another man’s wife now.
Whenever Aemon thought of Corlys, his teeth nearly ground together.
Damn him.
Three years ago, Aemon’s most precious flower had gone before the king and asked permission to marry Corlys Velaryon.
And Father had agreed.
Every time Aemon remembered it, a profound discomfort seized him.
The man was twenty-one years older than her!
Corlys Velaryon, when did you steal my daughter’s heart?
Aemon could still remember the first time he had held Rhaenys in his arms.
He had been overcome with joy and excitement.
He had kissed Jocelyn again and again while she rested happily against his chest and told him that this was only their first child.
She would give him many more sweet children.
In the 70th year After the Conquest, Aemon and Jocelyn had been formally wed.
The splendor of their wedding had rivaled even the marriage celebrations of his own royal parents.
Twenty-two years had passed.
Rhaenys had been their first child.
And their last.
A deep sorrow filled Aemon’s heart.
“Brother?
Brother?”
Baelon’s expression gradually became solemn.
“Brother…
he can only ever be a Waters.
Now that we know the problem does not lie with you…
perhaps we could speak with Lord Boremund and discuss—”
Aemon cut him off before he could finish.
When he spoke, the commanding authority he used before the small council had returned to his voice.
“I have no intention of changing my heir, nor do I intend to set aside my wife.
Lord Boremund Baratheon is Lord Paramount of the Stormlands and one of the realm’s most powerful great lords.
We cannot offend so important an ally over this.
Not even by discussing the possibility.”
At least, not now…
“We should leave, brother.”
Aemon gave Baelon a slight nod before looking once more at the sleeping infant in his arms.
As though she had been waiting for precisely this moment, Solanna appeared again.
She bowed respectfully to the two princes.
“Are my lords leaving?
Then perhaps you should entrust the babe to this humble woman for the time being.”
Aemon returned the swaddled child to Solanna’s arms.
His movements were exceedingly gentle.
He seemed afraid that even the slightest carelessness might wake the boy.
Then Aemon and Baelon left the chamber.
The instant Aemon crossed the threshold, however, he stopped.
He turned back toward Solanna.
“What of the girl?”
Solanna blinked.
“The child’s mother.
Where is she?
Jaenora?”
“It was Jaenara, my lord.”
Tears appeared at the corners of Solanna’s eyes.
With the back of her right hand, she sorrowfully wiped them away.
Her left arm gently rocked Daeron.
“The child was strong, my lord.
Larger than an ordinary newborn.
Poor Jaenara…
she was so small.
Too small.
She did not survive the birth.”
Aemon fell silent once more.
He reached into his clothes.
Several gold dragons.
A handful of silver moons and silver stags.
His thoughts grew increasingly chaotic, and the coins slipped from his fingers, scattering across the floor.
One gold dragon landed upon its edge and began spinning.
Aemon lowered his gaze to the golden coin, which seemed stubbornly unwilling to fall flat.
“Take it.”
His voice was quiet.
“Take all of it.
Care for the boy.”
The two brothers walked from the room side by side.
Behind them, Solanna cradled Daeron and softly hummed a song as she watched the gold dragon continue spinning upon the floor.
Ser Ryam silently nodded to the prince and his brother.
His hand remained resting upon the sword at his waist as he mounted his horse and rode ahead, clearing the way for them.
Baelon noticed the gloom upon his brother’s face.
He urged his horse forward until he rode beside Aemon.
“Brother.”
Aemon did not answer.
Silently, he gripped his reins and followed the old knight’s horse toward the Red Keep.
“I like the boy,” Aemon finally said.
“He inherited my hair, brother.
Not like Rhaenys.
That brave, stubborn little girl came into the world with hair as black as ink, just like her mother.”
Baelon opened his mouth to speak, but Aemon was plainly not finished.
Ahead of them, Ser Ryam abruptly urged his horse into a faster pace, leaving the two princes some distance behind.
“I know as well as you do that he can only ever be a Waters.
For all his life.”
Aemon’s mouth twisted bitterly.
“Do not worry, brother.
I am not so foolish or cruel as Maegor.
I would never commit such madness.
Even if I were to name another heir, it ought to be…”
He hesitated.
“A trueborn child born in lawful wedlock.”
Aemon drew a deep, bitter breath.
“He will grow up in that brothel.
Become some little errand boy, running cups and sweeping floors.
If the Warrior should bless him, perhaps some knight will take him in.
Perhaps he might even become a hedge knight…”
Aemon stared ahead.
“He is a strong little boy.
Bigger than Daemon was when he was born…”
Aemon seemed to want to say more.
The words failed him.
Baelon looked at his elder brother and listened in silence.
“I believe he will make a fine warrior,” Baelon finally said.
“If you wish, I can come with you whenever you want to see him.
But once he grows older, it may no longer be wise…”
Aemon pressed his lips tightly together.
Seeing his brother’s expression, Baelon also fell silent.
Aemon thought of the dream he had dreamt the previous night.
There had been a boy.
Behind him rose what Aemon had first taken for a small green hill.
The boy knelt before a coffin, weeping.
At first, Aemon had thought he was seeing himself as a child.
The boy looked almost exactly like him.
Aemon walked toward him.
Then he realized that the thing behind the boy was not a hill.
It was a dragon.
A monstrous dragon of immense size, its scales a deep, dark green.
Its eyes were red-gold, and they were fixed directly upon Aemon.
Aemon had laughed.
Brother.
So it is you.
Our “Brave” Prince.
Damn you, Baelon.
You are not Jocelyn.
Why must you intrude upon my sweet dreams?
And you brought Vhagar with you as well.
Have you come to mock your poor elder brother?
Then Aemon had wondered who lay within the coffin.
Was it Daenerys, the elder sister they had lost so young?
Or his little sister Alyssa—Baelon’s wife?
A sudden pain stabbed through Aemon’s heart.
No.
He moved closer to the boy.
Aemon crouched and studied him carefully.
The boy’s hair was almost platinum, yet his eyes were darker than those of either Aemon or Baelon.
Their hue was closer to deep violet.
Upon the boy’s head rested a crown far too large for him—a circlet of Valyrian steel set with rubies.
One hand rested upon the hilt of a black sword.
Aemon stepped closer.
Closer still.
Then he recognized it.
Blackfyre.
Daeron.
Aemon silently spoke the name.
“Vhagar, dracarys!”
The boy shouted the command.
The dragon opened its jaws.
Green dragonflame erupted forth.
And in an instant, Aemon, the coffin, and the boy were swallowed together by the flames.