The crying child from earlier might have been himself.
Aemon moved closer to get a better look at the baby in the swaddle.
"Give Helena to me. It's time for her brother to see her."
Alicent looked helpless, took the swaddle from the maid, and handed it over.
Aemon wasn't ready yet, but the swaddle was already in his arms.
"How do I hold her?" His body stiffened, afraid she might fall.
Alicent boldly let go and chuckled. "Just support her bottom. Don't be nervous."
"Oh, oh."
Aemon's brain processed the instructions slowly, and he gently adjusted his posture.
You know what? The little thing is pretty soft.
"Ah ah~~"
The little girl turned in his arms, her head of silver-and-gold hair shaking side to side, lightly hitting Aemon's shoulder.
Her hands and feet were confined in the swaddle and she found it uncomfortable, so she twisted around wildly.
"She's biting me, I think." Aemon looked baffled, tilting his head.
His neck felt cold—as if covered in saliva.
Alicent covered her mouth and giggled. Hugging her daughter's chubby waist, she teased, "Helena really likes her brother. See? She's not crying."
Aemon's face darkened. "She's biting me."
"Ahh~~"
Little Helena was not pleased. Her soft little hands broke free from the loosened swaddle and grabbed Aemon's face, trying to bite harder.
Aemon's mouth twitched. He had no choice but to dodge—he couldn't afford to offend her.
The little thing wasn't very big, but her grip was strong, and his face hurt from the pulling.
"It's a shame she's not pulling weeds." Aemon grumbled inwardly.
Knock knock!
The two children were just beginning to get along when a knock came at the door.
A bald old man in a linen maester's robe stood outside and said slowly and deliberately, "Your Grace, Prince Aegon won't stop crying. Please come and tend to him for a while."
Alicent frowned and hesitated. "Grand Maester, where are the maids attending him?"
"They tried, but it was no use."
Grand Maester Mellos answered sincerely.
She had to go take a look.
Alicent stood and adjusted her skirt. She gave Aemon a helpless smile, apologetic after their long-awaited reunion. "Stay with Helena for now. I'll be right back."
"It's fine. That's just how kids are—crying is their thing."
Aemon waved his hand, just as Helena suddenly bounced and nearly headbutted him.
"Bring some cakes and tea. Take care of them," Alicent instructed the maid before leaving to coax the other child.
Grand Maester Mellos didn't follow her immediately. Instead, he stared at Aemon intently.
He was watching Aemon, and Aemon was watching him too.
"Is the king busy?" Aemon asked first, smiling harmlessly.
Grand Maester Mellos nodded kindly. "Yes, His Grace is quite busy every day."
Then he turned and left, giving the young prince no more chances to speak.
Aemon couldn't help but frown.
Didn't the king say the Grand Maester should be present at the royal council?
"That's strange," Aemon muttered, unwilling to overthink it.
He might not be involved in court matters, but even he knew the Grand Maester came recommended by the Citadel and naturally sided with Oldtown and the Hightowers.
Alicent had a high standing within House Hightower, so there shouldn't be an issue.
If there was… then someone must be targeting him.
"Tsk, tsk. Let's make a deal—you're not allowed to bite me again!"
Aemon held the overly energetic Helena with one hand while enjoying the tea and cakes brought by the maid.
"Ah ah~~"
Helena's pink face flushed red, her tiny baby teeth bared as she growled.
Aemon smacked her little butt lightly, his expression switching in a flash: "Behave. Your mother's not here, and you dare bare your teeth at me?"
His round face turned stern, and he genuinely exuded big brother authority.
Helena pursed her lips in grievance. Realizing the other party wasn't one to spoil her, she kept her head down and sulked silently.
She was small but had an impressive ability to read people.
She could probably manage a two-story castle.
Aemon nodded, satisfied. "That's better."
She was so good in his arms—didn't even cry.
Maybe Alicent wasn't as good at coaxing children. Maybe he had been too mature as a baby, making her think all her children would be that easy.
No wonder she kept having more.
…
Time ticked by, and the sky gradually darkened.
Aemon sat on the carpet, his little head bobbing with sleepiness, holding the even smaller sleeping baby in his arms.
Next to him was a delicate tea tray, now empty save for a few crumbs and an empty cup.
Suddenly, Aemon jolted and woke up, eyes bleary with sleep. "Still not back yet?"
His little head filled with questions.
Where was Alicent? Had Aegon cried himself unconscious?
"Nope. I gotta move."
Aemon realized this wasn't sustainable. He gently placed the sleeping Helena back into the cradle.
She was a sweet baby—but hot-tempered.
She got mad upon waking and frowned even in sleep, with tear tracks still glistening at the corners of her eyes.
"I'm off."
Aemon said to the maid, rubbed his eyes, and walked out.
The corridor was deserted. Servants had lit candles to brighten the hallways.
Aemon tightened his clothes and muttered, "King's Landing in spring is still chilly. The wind cuts right through."
Looking at the darkened sky, the sun had already set.
"Can't delay anymore. Time to do it."
His eyes sparkled with cunning as he rubbed his hands in anticipation.
There weren't many treasures in Runestone, and no magical artifacts.
Then… his path to greatness would begin here, in King's Landing.
With that thought, Aemon double-checked the direction and set out.
First stop: the king's chambers.
The silver-haired little figure slipped quickly past the eyes of servants and maids.
Bang!
Aemon kicked open the door to the king's bedroom.
"Prince, you—"
A servant passing by was so startled he nearly dropped his tray.
Aemon turned and made a "shh" gesture. "Relax. I'm just making a complaint."
It was just the king's bedroom—he'd lived here three years earlier than Uncle Viserys.
He strolled in like he owned the place.
The servants broke out in cold sweat but didn't dare stop him.
Aemon didn't panic at all. He even left the door wide open as he stepped in confidently.
Uncle Viserys was a tolerant king. In his memory, he always wore a gentle smile—sometimes too gentle, to the point of flattery.
He couldn't bring himself to punish his own brother Daemon, so how would he dare punish Daemon's children?
"Let's get to it."
Aemon praised himself for being a brave child and rummaged through the room's furniture one by one.
As expected—just ordinary junk.
He wasn't surprised. Instead, his gaze locked onto a black-sheathed longsword hanging above the fireplace.
The sword was long and straight, the blade and guard forming a cross. At the end of the hilt was a seven-pointed star—the symbol of the Seven.
"The family sword, Blackfyre—the one my great-grandfather wielded in his youth."
Aemon moved a chair over, stood on it, and removed the Targaryen ancestral sword from its mount. The moment his hand touched it, a notification rang in his ear:
"You've discovered a magic-infused weapon. +10 Magic Essence gained."
"I knew it."
Aemon smiled faintly, stroking the sword with familiarity.
His great-grandfather had let him play with it often when he was little.
When his fingers touched the hilt's end, Aemon pouted and complained, "Uncle, seriously? Just to please Oldtown and the Faith of the Seven, you swapped the ruby for a seven-pointed star."
It didn't match the Targaryen aesthetic at all.
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