This is the chapter that follows 236; chapter 237 is nowhere to be found.
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Aemon brought the unconscious Aemond back to the Stone Drum Tower, immediately causing a commotion throughout the castle.
"Aemond!"
Alicent hurried down the stairs, skirt in hand. Aemond lay flat on a chair, passively consuming rice porridge fed by the maester's small spoonful.
"How could he be like this?"
Alicent's face was filled with worry, and she clutched Aemon's sleeve in grievance.
Aemon patted her hand and reassured her, "Don't worry, he's just starving." Even now, the unconscious Aemond was instinctively swallowing the rice porridge.
The elderly dragon handler who had accompanied them added clumsily, "Your Highness arrived just in time."
"That's good," Alicent clutched her chest, sighing with relief.
"What happened? What's going on?"
Viserys arrived shortly after, also looking stunned.
Aemon explained the situation with the same understanding, leaving the rest to the accompanying elderly dragon handler. The old dragon handler stepped before the king and whispered the truth in High Valyrian.
"Red and black dragons?"
Viserys's face shifted as he heard this. His second son had truly escaped death. If Aemon had arrived a little later, he might not have returned unscathed.
Meanwhile, the others began to arrive. Helena was there, standing at the edge of the stairs, holding onto the banister, staring blankly at her unconscious brother. Aemond had returned safely. Although he hadn't ridden a dragon, the experience had truly transformed him.
"Alright, maester, stay and take care of Aemond. The rest of you, return to your rooms and rest."
Viserys, distraught, dismissed the children who had gathered around him. From Aegon down to Jaehaerys, Baena, and Rhaena, the three little ones retreated in unison upon seeing their father and grandfather's wrath.
"Alas!"
Viserys sighed helplessly as the hall quieted. The rebellion of the Three Kingdoms hadn't been resolved, and his second son was causing him trouble again. He gathered his composure and prepared to withstand the pressure.
Three days passed in a flash.
Under the maester's meticulous care, Aemond recovered, able to run and jump. However, the trauma had left him even more withdrawn than before, often staying by himself and refusing to interact with others.
Viserys couldn't bear to see him sink further, so he turned to Aemon for help.
"Alicent said you'd take Helena to the Vale to relax, and take Aemond with you," Viserys said helplessly, holding his forehead in his hand as he sat down in his chair.
Aemon tutted and said honestly, "I'm planning to go back to Myr first, and the Vale will take time."
"Take them with you wherever you go," Viserys rubbed his brow, saying irresponsibly, "Just keep them out of my sight."
Aemon rolled his eyes. Very good, his father, no doubt. His disdain was clear.
"All right," Aemon agreed reluctantly. He really had to return to Myr. The Three Kingdoms remnants had the support of the Ironborn, the Dornish, and others, and they were going to stir up a storm. One must ultimately look after one's own territory. The Sea Snake was his father-in-law, and he couldn't trust him.
Suddenly, an idea struck Aemon, and he offered a condition: "One sheep is enough to herd, two are enough to lead. Leave Aegon to me, too."
"As you wish." Viserys ignored his nephew's comparison of his children to sheep, eager to entrust them all to him.
"Then it's settled." Aemon leaped to his feet.
"Get out!" Viserys cursed angrily, not in the mood to respond.
Aemon pouted and walked out the door. He had seen through his uncle's hidden stinginess. He used to call him his good nephew, but now he told him to get out. A son, when he grew up, would be arrogant.
After leaving, Aemon sent for Helena and Aemond. Following his servants' guidance, he found Aegon, who was secretly drinking in a corner. After strapping Aegon to Sunfyre's saddle, Aemond handed him to Helena, who rode Dreamfyre.
Transfiguration... The makeshift group set off.
After two days and one night of flight across the strait sea, they safely arrived at Myr, the richest city under their rule.
"Shhh!"
Vermithor soared over the city walls, its broad brown wings enveloping half the city, its piercing roar announcing its return.
"Shhh!"
Dreamfyre's graceful, light-blue body soared into the azure sky, letting out a joyful roar. It had been a long time since it had flown so far and so freely.
Sunfyre, trailing behind the two adult dragons, though unassuming in size, possessed a dazzling display of golden scales and pale pink wing membranes, chirping as it flew.
Like a whimpering monster capable of inflicting a single blow.
Aemon smiled. As expected of a descendant of Silverwing, even their sharp, repetitive chirping seemed identical.
"Dragon!!"
"It's Vermithor, His Royal Highness has returned."
"…"
Three enormous dragons appeared above the city-state, instantly igniting the passions of the people of Myr.
Whoever defeated the slave owners, freed the slaves. Whoever gave them land and jobs, whoever allowed them to earn a full meal and decent clothes through hard work—the people of Myr remembered it all.
Boom—
Vermithor plunged from the sky, his massive body swooping and gliding, soaring from the city-state's west gate out the east gate, continuing east along the Valyrian Way.
"Hey! Don't you want to take a break?"
Aegon was just imagining the deliciousness of Myrna, but was immediately ruthlessly broken by reality. Aemon was too lazy to talk nonsense and told him with practical actions.
Seeing that His Royal Highness was just passing by on a dragon, the people of Myr were not disappointed. Instead, they stepped up their work and asked their wives and children to prepare a good meal in advance. Everyone knew that this was His Royal Highness's habit. Every time he returned, he would first go to Long Lake Town in Myr territory for a tour, and then return to Myr in the evening to rest, and occasionally hold a bonfire dinner.
The bonfire dinner celebrated by the whole city would have free food and toys distributed. Everyone is used to eating their fill and having a good time at the dinner. As for whether the bonfire dinner would be too extravagant and expensive, and would foster a luxurious lifestyle among the people?
Aemon said that food and toys could not be worth much, and they were all bought at low prices from merchants. There was no need to mention the extravagance.
Today, Myr's population is composed of 60% Myr, 15% Valemen, 10% Westerosi, 5% Valyrian, and 10% of various races. It's a vast blend of skin colors, traditions, and religions. Many of these traditions clash, hindering the further integration of the city-state.
Bonfire dinners are a newly emerging festival, accessible to all races. Through careful promotion, the people are gradually abandoning outdated beliefs and embracing Myr's new festivals. Dragon worship is particularly prevalent.
Flying rapidly across the vast expanse of Myr, Vermithor spotted a large town built on the shores of a vast lake. Its grayish-white stone walls, topped by neatly arranged watchtowers and arrow towers, and its diverse buildings, create a sense of order amidst the chaos.
"Hiss!"
Vermithor roared, spreading his wings and soaring over the city walls. Atop the highest tower in the inner city hung a large bronze bell, clanging and tolling with the dragon's powerful wind.
"His Royal Highness has returned."
Inside the fortress-like structure, Runeguard Robb Rivers gazed up, a smile etched across his iron face.
Tromp, tromp, tromp...
Teams of Second Sons knights emerged, carrying the dragon-signed eagle tridents, galloping around the fortress. Lake-town was intended to be the ironclad fortress protecting the purse strings of Myr.
"We've arrived," Aemon said, stretching, a smile on his face. Gazing upon the mighty domain he had built was truly exhilarating.
The old dragon, Vermithor, knew the way, landing skillfully. Dreamfyre and Sunfyre followed suit.
"Wow, Myr has such a large city!?" Aegon exclaimed dramatically as he dismounted.
As a border fortress and a transit point for the future disputed territory, Lake-town was built to be the largest of its kind. In sheer size, while not as impressive as King's Landing and Riverdale, it was certainly on par with Gulltown, Hulltown, and Spicetown on Tidemark. It's a genuine large town.
"Aemon, you really are a hidden talent."
Aegon let out a wicked grin and nudged his cousin with his shoulder. In a town this big, the girls in the brothel must be quite attractive.
"If you don't want to have your legs broken and be locked in a cage for two months, then continue." Aemon narrowed his eyes and waved his hand to brush off his shoulders.
"Uh…" Aegon instantly became honest, his crotch damp with cold sweat. He couldn't take a joke at all. How could his sister like this heartless wooden man?
Aemon glanced at him. You don't deserve it.
Not long after, Robb rode up on his warhorse with his men.
"Your Highness!"
"Is the Disputed Lands peaceful lately?" Aemon asked with a smile, helping the man to his feet.
"Very well," Robb restrained his excitement, adding, "Some Ironborn have infiltrated the lands, and the Outlanders between Myr and Lake-town are sending more men to suppress them. This minor inconvenience is nothing to worry about."
Over time, the number of lesser nobles granted fiefdoms within Myrland increased. From the original twenty barons, it increased to ten viscounts, and finally thirty barons. All the more remote lands within the territory were converted.
"I'm confident you'll be in Lake-town," Aemon chuckled.
"It's my duty." Robb didn't dare to be arrogant.
Aemon chuckled, sent food and drink to entertain Aegon and his three siblings, and took Robb on a tour of Lake-town. He had many talented people under his command, but Robb was the one who could stand alone as a commander. With Lake-town in his care, he managed it in a military-style, orderly manner. Aemon hardly needed to worry about it, and it would work effectively.
Time ticked by. Before sunset, it was time. Aemon rode Vermithor and led the group back to Myr.
"Finally, we can go," Aegon mused, secretly excited. After days without wine or women, he was almost losing his joy.
At dusk, three dragons flew back to Myr and landed in the forecourt of a towering, majestic, classical castle east of the inner city.
"How huge!"
This time it was the usually taciturn Aemond who exclaimed. The young man tilted his head back as far as he could, barely making out the castle's features. Constructed entirely of white marble with green veins, it had a main keep and two towers, resembling a magnificent mountain carved from white jade. Against the crimson glow of the setting sun, the castle's white faded, highlighting the distinct green stripes. The combination of white and green was a breathtaking spectacle.
"This is my residence in Myr. I call it 'The Green City.'"
Aemon dismounted and headed for the Green City's gates. The Green City had only recently been completed, but it was already one of Myr's most iconic buildings.
"How extravagant!" Aegon cried with envy. The thought of his cousin eating so well while he was confined to a stinking bedroom in the Red Keep nearly gnawed his back teeth.
Bang!
As they crossed the clean marble-paved path lined with lush flowers, the gates of the Emerald City swung open.
A young boy stood at the doorway. Seeing Aemon leading the way, he exclaimed in surprise, "Father!"
"Huh?!"
The three Aegon siblings all stared at their cousin.
You thick-browed, big-eyed fellow, what have you done behind my back?
Aemon, unconcerned with the glances, calmly introduced him, "My firstborn son, Gaemon Swan. His mother is Johanna Swann, the Black Swan, Lord Steward of Myr."
Upon hearing the last name, the three Aegon siblings all looked at the boy. He was a lovely boy, with translucent white skin, but with dark hair and dark eyes, unlike the Targaryens. He looked stocky and could not have been more than five or six years old.
"The first son?"
Helena noticed this crucial piece of information.
"Yes," Aemon explained briefly. "Her mother and I weren't married, so Gaimon took her last name."
"Father, I saw you long ago."
Gaimon scurried over, professing his loyalty before gazing intently at his three silver-haired, purple-eyed uncles and aunts.
Aemon glanced down at him and smiled. "Put away your little thoughts, or your mother will teach you a lesson."
"Father, it's not good to complain so soon after you get home," Gaimon said, his face tense.
"See, Aemon treats him differently."
Seeing the dynamic between father and son, Aegon flirted with the uncaring Aemond.
Aemond frowned, as if sensing something unusual. It was common knowledge that Aemon the Dragonslayer inherited his father Daemon's temperament and was never one for good temper. Half the people of the Seven Kingdoms adored him, while the other half cursed him under their breath.
...well, most of those adoring were unmarried girls, who favored the handsome and romantic Targaryen prince. It was simply because he'd read too many storybooks.
Aemon had always been kind and gentle around his father, Viserys, his mother, Alicent, and others. But around them and Jaehaerys, he was often stern. Now, facing a son of Myr, he felt even closer than he had with Jaehaerys, a smile creeping across his face.
"They look alike," Helena whispered.
Upon hearing this, Aegon and Aemond suddenly realized that Gaemon Swann's face bore a striking resemblance to Aemon.
Aegon's eyes widened, and he shuddered.
So much alike!
This dark-haired brat, save for his hair and eye color, was an exact replica of Aemon's childhood. It brought back unpleasant memories of his early childhood.
"All right, shut up, we're all hungry," Aemon said, leading his son through the gates of the Emerald City.
"Uncle and aunt, welcome to the Emerald City," Gaemon said, stepping out from his father's side and bowing formally. This calmness and courtesy made the unrefined Aegon feel awkward.
"Thank you," Helena said softly.
Gaemon shook his head and walked ahead of the group. He would take a quick look at any Unsullied on duty along the way, observing their spirits, armor, and other details. Despite his youth, he displayed a mature side.
Aemon noticed, occasionally asking what he was looking at.
Gaemon answered earnestly, "If the Unsullied aren't well rested, they'll slack off on duty. I want to know why."
"So what have you learned?" Aemon asked.
Gaemon thought for a moment, then said, "Nothing. Everyone has their downturns, and the Unsullied, as the world's most elite military, are no exception."
"Not bad," Aemon smiled. The young man was largely right; everyone is affected by emotions. After the liberation of the Unsullied, most of them regained their humanity and gradually learned to heal themselves.
It was quite simple. Find a brothel, pay a familiar prostitute, and lie down quietly for a while. Doing nothing can be a great psychological reward. Some Unsullied, due to excessive indulgence or years of restraint, occasionally show a lack of energy. But Gaimon was still young and couldn't understand this yet.
"They're all good people, pure-hearted people," Gaimon said sincerely. Just like the taciturn and inarticulate leader Grey Worm.
Aemon nodded secretly. This son, aside from his physical features, resembled him in both appearance and personality, and was also overly mature and sensible. Aemon was indeed closer to this child than Jaehaerys, who was more child-oriented.
Gaemon's existence was largely kept semi-invisible, known only to a select few of the royal family. Gaemon was born before Jaehaerys. Rhaenyra was pregnant two months first, and the Jaehaerys in her belly should have been the eldest son in every sense. However, Johanna, through luck and cunning, conceived in one go. At seven months, she deliberately fell down the stairs and gave birth to Gaemon, two weeks before Rhaenyra's natural birth, giving him the title of firstborn.
However, as the mother's firstborn, the child inherited the dark hair and dark eyes of the Swan family. Furthermore, Gaemon's origins were considered illegitimate.
But Johanna had clearly been prepared. Less than seven days after giving birth, Johanna sailed back to Stonehelm in the Stormlands with her infant child. There, she met her greedy uncle, Lord Swann, whose leg had been broken by Aemon in a tourney. What transpired during their meeting remains unknown, with two versions circulating among the castle servants. A heated argument erupted in the room, with Lord Swann yielding to his niece. Then, a peaceful silence fell, as both sides reached a consensus. The next morning, Johanna sailed back to Myr with the child. Lord Swann acknowledged Gaemon's identity and gave him the surname Swann.
By the time Aemon learned of this and rode his dragon to Myr, Johanna had already sorted out the details, leaving Aemon, who had been struggling with the name for his child, somewhat unprepared. A Targaryen surname was out of the question; Daemon hadn't been allowed one before. Aemon couldn't be lenient with himself, but strict with others. Swann was Swann; it was better than no surname at all or a bastard's.
Aemon also questioned Johanna's reasoning. The other party's answer was touching. Her background was inferior to the others, and she had no solid backing. Even if she married, her power would not be greater than her current one, and her child's inheritance rights would not be as strong as those of her siblings. It would be better to become special from the beginning, so that people could not ignore her.
This was indeed the case. Aemon paid more attention to Gaemon than to the other children. Except for the lack of a dragon egg in the cradle, his treatment was basically the same as Jaehaerys, Baena, and Rhaena.
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