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The Royal Dining Room, Maegor's Holdfast.
The Red Keep in the early morning was washed exceptionally clean by the previous night's rain.
Viserys I sat at the head of the table, his thinning body wrapped in a black-and-red velvet robe.
Compared to his complexion half a month ago, there seemed to be a spark of life in him now; though still haggard, the deathly aura of lingering illness had faded from his eyes.
He sipped warm milk mixed with honey, his gaze slowly sweeping over his family.
Queen Alicent sat on his right, dressed in a long red gown with the Hightower sigil embroidered in silver thread at the neckline.
However, the gloom between her brows had never truly dissipated.
Although Aemond had dealt with the maid, attempting to climb into his bed last night, her father Otto's unauthorized arrangement sat like an ice pick in her heart.
She was angry at Otto for using beauty to try to control her son.
But at the same time, she was puzzled about Aemond.
She feared Aemond might be like Laenor, having no interest in women at all.
At this moment, her gaze inadvertently glanced toward the opposite side of the table.
Aemond and Helaena sat side by side.
Aemond wore a simple black shirt covered by a well-tailored black vest; his silver-gold hair was neatly tied back, revealing an increasingly defined jawline.
He was leaning toward Helaena, whispering, a faint smile on his lips, likely telling her about his experiences at the Dragonpit.
Helaena tilted her head slightly to listen, a few silver strands of hair slipping from her temples to rest on her shoulders.
Her purple eyes were focused on Aemond, her long lashes trembling occasionally.
She would nod gently at certain points, a smile rippling across her lips.
The sunlight slanted in from the high window, enveloping the siblings in a halo.
With the same dazzling silver hair and the same deep purple eyes, they almost merged into one in the interplay of light and shadow.
Alicent's fingers tightened slightly around her silver fork.
The Targaryen tradition of incestuous marriage was well known throughout Westeros.
It was because of this tradition that the Targaryens had once been in fierce opposition to the Faith, until Maegor the Cruel suppressed the uprising with bloody means.
It wasn't until the reign of Jaehaerys the Conciliator that the Faith finally compromised and recognized the "Doctrine of Exceptionalism."
Daemon married his niece Laena, Alicent thought, a wave of revulsion rising in her chest.
And now he keeps close company with Rhaenyra...
But the scene before her eyes would not go away.
The natural closeness between Aemond and Helaena stirred the unease deeply rooted in her Faith.
Helaena was her pure and innocent daughter, one of the few remaining solaces in this court.
And Aemond... She looked at the calm yet sharp profile of her second son, remembering the madness of that night on Driftmark.
She was afraid Aemond would hurt simple Helaena.
And even more fearful of a particular feeling she dared not think too deeply about, yet which might have already sprouted.
"Aemond."
Viserys's voice broke the subtle atmosphere at the dining table.
Hearing the King call him, Aemond ended his conversation with Helaena and turned his head.
"Father."
"You don't look very well," Viserys observed, his brow furrowed slightly.
"Did you not rest last night?"
"I returned late from riding Vhagar," Aemond said frankly.
"I did not get enough sleep."
Viserys nodded.
"Ser Criston says you train very hard."
"Young people should have that drive."
A hint of reminiscence flashed in Viserys's eyes.
"When I was your age, I also thought all day about riding dragons and practicing the sword..."
Aemond watched his father quietly. He knew Viserys's career as a dragonrider had been short.
In less than two years, Balerion the Black Dread had passed away from old age.
And once a dragonrider bonds with a dragon, they can never ride another.
A thought suddenly flashed through his mind: Vhagar is also growing old.
If she passes, I will be grounded forever.
Viserys looked at Aemond, considering.
"Aemond, there is a Small Council meeting tomorrow," Viserys spoke slowly.
"My energy is failing, and sitting for long periods is difficult to endure. Would you be willing to come? Just stand by my side, help me pour wine and hand over documents, and listen to how the Lords deliberate on matters."
This was a clear, explicit signal.
Allowing a Prince to attend the Small Council, even just as a cupbearer, was to formally introduce him into the core of power.
It was a declaration to the court that the King had begun to value and groom this second son, especially now that the eldest son, Aegon, was kept far away at Driftmark.
Hearing this, Alicent held her breath. She knew Otto would be pleased.
This would greatly increase the Greens' influence on the Council.
Aemond set down the silver cup in his hand, his purple eyes meeting his father's gaze.
"It would be my honor, Father," Aemond replied calmly.
"I will listen carefully and learn how to share your burdens."
A genuine, relaxed smile spread across Viserys's face.
"Very good."
Then the King turned to the quiet Helaena.
"Helaena, my daughter, I heard you rode your dragon yesterday? Is Dreamfyre well?"
Helaena nodded gently.
"She is very well, Father. We flew very far yesterday..."
Knock, knock, knock.
There was a rap on the heavy oak door, the rhythm urgent.
"Enter."
Ser Criston Cole pushed the door open, his snow-white armor gleaming coldly.
He offered his salutations first.
"Your Grace, my Queen, Prince Aemond," Cole said.
"A report has just come from the Dragonpit."
Viserys's brow knitted. "What is it? Is Vhagar causing trouble again?"
His first reaction was to blame the irritable, ancient dragon.
Lately, he had received many reports of Vhagar startling the city or snapping at guards.
Cole said cautiously: "It is not Vhagar, Your Grace. It is... Vhagar's egg."
"The egg?" Viserys and Alicent were both startled.
Aemond's pupils contracted almost imperceptibly.
"Indeed, Your Grace," Cole said clearly.
"The one from originally belonging to Prince Aemond... that had always been considered petrified. The Dragonkeepers just reported that since dawn, the egg has shown signs of hatching. About an hour ago... it hatched."
Silence fell.
The only sound in the dining room was the faint crackling of the fireplace logs.
The silver spoon in Viserys's hand clattered onto the porcelain plate.
He looked as if he had heard something absurd.
"This... how is it possible... By the Seven..."
In the history of House Targaryen, there had never been a precedent for the revival of a dead egg.
Helaena let out a cry of surprise, her purple eyes wide as she looked at Aemond.
Yesterday, she had seen with her own eyes Aemond drenching that gray, lifeless dragon egg in blood.
Aemond winked at her. Helaena pursed her lips and lowered her eyes, saying nothing.
Aemond rose slowly.
Was he shocked? Naturally, but he immediately remembered that besides Helaena, his three squires and several Dragonkeepers had been present yesterday.
If Viserys investigated, the truth of the blood magic would come out.
Did the blood actually work? Was that silent stone truly reborn?
"It is black..." Cole added, his voice hushed.
"According to the description, the hatchling's scales are as dark as ink, and its eyes... are dark red."
A black dragon.
In the legends of Old Valyria, black dragons symbolized power and rarity.
Like Balerion the Black Dread, the beast that forged the Iron Throne.
At this moment, King Viserys was trembling all over, a mix of ecstasy and confusion.
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