113 AC
King's Landing
"The wait is killing me." Rhaenyra sighed.
Early in the morning, Aemon had been summoned by the Princess to her chambers.
Now, the two of them were sitting in her parlour, waiting for the Small Council's verdict, apprehensively.
The Small Council was choosing a suitable husband for Rhaenyra.
So understandably, Rhaenyra seemed nervous, sitting with her face lying flat on top of the polished oak table. The silver-gold ringlets of her hair, pooling all around her face.
"You should sit up straight, Princess." Aemon said.
"Who are you, my Septa?" Rhaenyra grumbled, sending him a glare from underneathejer tresses of hair.
"Worrying won't do anything Princess, you'll know when you'll know." Aemon said, turning the page of the book her was reading.
"And anyways, I already told you who the likely candidates are." He said.
"Yes I know, The Lord of Casterly Rock Jason Lannister, The Heir to Harrenhal Ser Harwin Strong, and Laenor Velaryon, The Heir to High Tide." She listed.
"But I don't want marry any of them." Rhaenyra protested.
"The one you want to me marry, you cannot." Aemon replied.
"Why can't I just marry the one I like, father sure did." She said.
"He could only do it because he was already King. You can do it too, when you're Queen and your position is stable. Your position isn't stable right now. The Hightowers are waiting in the wings. A single mistake, and those vultures will feast on your carcass." He said.
"Love is the death of duty they say, Princess. I just hope, it isn't the death of you, too."
"You worry too much, Aemon. Father has promised that I'll remain his Heir. My position is secure." She said.
"Don't be so sure, Princess. There are many Lords who would happily go to war for Aegon's sake, if your father were to pass." He said. "All that holds the peace, is him. And if I were you, I wouldn't trust such a paper shield."
"No matter what decision the Council makes, you need to break it of with Ser Criston." Aemon said.
"Remember, how you mocked Ser Forrest for asking for your hand in marriage?" He asked.
"Well, at least Ser Forrest was the Heir to the Twins. Ser Criston is Heir to nothing." He said.
"Loving someone is all well and good. But ask yourself this Rhaenyra. Are you prepared to live a mediocre life with the man you love, or do you want something more."
"The choice is yours." Aemon said, his voice flat and mirthless.
"What are you reading anyways?" The Princess asked instead, sidestepping his question entirely.
"It's a Compendium on the History of Leng, it details the rise of their current ruling dynasty of God-Empresses," Aemon said, sighing.
He had tried to convince Rhaenyra several times, about ending things with Ser Criston. But it seemed, words alone wouldn't be enough. She would only understand, when reality gave her a rude awakening.
"Oh, I remember", She said, "The tiara uncle Daemon gave to me. He said it belonged to the Empress of Leng, or something."
"Yes I know, he showed it to me, also. But if I were you, I would take his words with a pinch of salt. Daemon does have a tendency to exaggerate, after all." He said, closing his book.
With the Princess whining in his ear continuously. Aemon knew, that there wasn't going to be much of a chance to read any further, today.
"He might be a bit boastful. But unlike you he's fun, at least." Rhaenyra muttered, pouting.
Just as Aemon was about to answer, a rapping sound came from the door.
The door opened a sliver, and Rowan peeked in, "It's him", He said.
"Send him in." Aemon said, with a slight nod.
A bit later the door opened again. And this time, in walked a dwarf in black and white motley.
Once the door had been closed again, Aemon addressed the dwarf.
"So, what news do you have for us, Mushroom?" He inquired.
"It's news you won't like", the dwarf said, wobbling towards them on his stunted legs.
"The King has decided to charm the Snake. So Laenor Velaryon, the Princess must wed." The dwarf answered.
"Laenor!" Rhaenyra sputtered, "But he has no interest in women."
"Lord Strong pointed that out", Mushroom interjected, "But then the Grand Maester in his boundless wisdom said something about fish, and everyone seemed to accept it."
Aemon tried to ignore Mushroom. The dwarf although resourceful and intelligent, had the most annoying habit of gossiping about the most pointless things.
"This won't do, I won't marry him." Rhaenyra said raising her voice.
"It was father who scorned Lord Corlys by following his own whims. And now, he wants me to be his pawn to satisfy the Velaryons. I refuse." She said, her cheeks flaring.
"I had warned you, Rhaenyra. You knew this would happen." Aemon said.
"All you can do now, is accept it. You're the Princess, you must do your duty." He said.
But Aemon's words fell on deaf ears, as a frantic Rhaenyra took hold of Mushroom and started shaking him violently.
"When will they announce this to the people?" She demanded, gripping him tightly.
"U-Um t-the Hand will announce it to the Court today." He stuttered.
Rhaenyra let to go of him, instead turning towards Aemon.
"I must see father before that. I need to convince him." She said.
"I would advise against that Princess." Aemon cautioned, "Once the King has made up his mind, he rarely changes it."
"I guess that this will be one of those rare occasions, then. Won't it?" Rhaenyra said, storming off.
"Princess!" Aemon called after her, hurrying to follow her.
He already knew how this would end. And although he agreed that the Rhaenyra needed to break away from Ser Criston. He felt sad for her.
A broken heart was never a gentle thing.
-----------------
To,
Lord Aemon Blackfyre,
Lord of the Neck and Heir to Bloodstone,
Son, I hope this letter finds you well. As you know, I'm a man of few words and the letters I've written are only a handful.Yet I write to you today, son. I guess, age has made me emotional. Or maybe, it is the possibility of death, constantly hanging over everything like a shroud, that has changed me.
I'll be honest with you son, things aren't going well here. This Raccallio Ryndoon is proving to be a challenging opponent. Especially, with his Dornish allies fighting alongside him. He commands a fleet of three hundred warships and has six thousand Dornish spears at his back.
And although we out number them at sea, with Lord Corlys' fleet. They outnumber us on land. They have already retaken four of the twelve islands. Including Torturer's Deep, one of of the three largest islands, which they've made their stronghold.
And while all this continues, we're bleeding gold everyday. Sellswords, Sellsails, and provisions, all of them require gold. And it is gold, we severely lack. Lord Corlys speculates that even with him helping, we will last another two years, at most.
I hate being the bearer of bad news. But it seems if things continue as they have, we'll lose the War. Well if that happens, I'll at least, be back with you then.
Prince Daemon Targaryen,
Lord of Bloodstone,
Lord Paramount of the Stepstones.
Things seemed to be really dire on the Stepstones, Aemon thought, setting the letter aside. He might have to intervene sooner than he'd thought.
It had been a really long day for Aemon. After Rhaenyra had learned of the Small Council's decision regarding her future husband, she'd rushed to confront her father, the King.
That didn't end so well. Aemon had gone with her, and so been witness to an intense screaming match between father and daughter.
Viserys didn't look like it, but he sure could shout.
Finally once, they'd stopped hurling accusations at one another. Viserys had threatened that if Rhaenyra wouldn't marry Laenor, he'd have her stripped of her position as the Princess of Dragonstone. And would instead, name Aegon his Heir.
That had finally gotten through to Rhaenyra, who in spite of being angry and pained at her father's decision had reluctantly accepted it.
Princess Rhaenyra would be marrying Laenor Velaryon, a month from now. It had been set in stone, now.
After all the drama of the day Aemon had finally retired to his chambers, and was now going through his letters.
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
Daemon's hadn't been the only one. Lord Rickon had sent a letter too, updating him about his castle's construction.
It had taken nearly seven years, but Fort Cailin itself had been completely built and furnished.
As had been the canal. Finally work could begin on the two smaller strongholds of Blackgate and Whitegate.
It would take another two to three years to finish them. And once finished, they would guard both the mouths of the canal.
Rickon also wrote about the progress on his Fleet that was being built. In the last six years, a total of one hundred and twenty ships had been built.
And still the work continued, with Aemon pouring gold and manpower into the endeavour regularly.
There were also other letters from Mysaria and Jahanara all relating the Royal Valyrian Bank. He hadn't gone through those, yet.
Aemon was ruminating on Daemon's troubling words, when there was a series of sharp knocks at his door.
"Come in." He commanded, imperiously.
One of his household guards Luthar, who was on duty for the night, leaned in through the doorway.
"Milord, there's a serving girl named Elise at the door. She's asking to be admitted, says that she has something important to tell you." He said.
"Send her in." Aemon said, putting away the letters in his desk drawer.
A brown haired young girl with coal black eyes, stepped into his room.
"What do wish to tell me?" He asked, scrutinizing her carefully.
"Milord, I serve as Princess Rhaenyra's chambermaid. Today, your man Lord Rowan approached me. He asked me to keep an eye on the Princess, and to report to you if she did anything unusual." She said.
"Go on", Aemon encouraged her.
"Well about twenty minutes ago, I saw the Princess leave her chamber, wrapped in an inconspicuous woolen shawl."
"What? Where?" He demanded, starting to panick. It was already the Hour of the Ghosts, where could she have gone so late.
"I'm afraid I don't know that milord. I tried to follow her, but she suddenly seemed to disappear around a corner." She said, "She had started drinking heavily though, when she'd recieved a note, in the evening."
It could only be Criston. She'd went to meet him, at their secret rendezvous spot. He had to find her, or things could go terribly wrong.
"Rowan will see to it, that you're compensated." Aemon said, hurriedly pulling on a cloak. "You must return now though, it won't do for someone to notice you're here."
Aemon hurriedly left his chambers, taking off in a sprint down the hallway in his haste to find her.
Aemon knew their secret meeting place, it was he who'd shown it to the Princess. Located behind a false fireplace, in the western wing of the palace was a small but cozy secret room. It used to be a map room of sorts. And may have been used by Queen Visenya Targaryen, once.
Either way, Ser Criston and Rhaenyra had been using the place for their amorous activities for sometime now. He had no doubt in his mind, that they'd choose to meet there in privacy.
If it was any other time he'd not be worried. But Aemon knew enough of the future to be concerned.
Rhaenyra had been frustated and furious, and heartbroken all day. And from what the girl said, she'd been drunk on top of that, as well.
In such a situation Aemon was afraid that she'd make a stupid decision. The last thing he needed right now, was to chase after a fleeing Princess, and bring a rogue Kingsguard to justice.
It was a good half hour before he finally came upon her. He found her seated on the floor of a deserted corridor with her back against the wall.
Her features had been hidden by the dark shawl she'd wrapped around herself. And the only reason he recognized her at all, was the silver ringlets spilling out from underneath the shawl.
Rhaenyra was crying, hee heaving sobs echoing down the empty corridor. It pained him greatly to see her like this.
Aemon approached her slowly, carefully easing down beside her.
"What happened?" He asked, quietly.
For a while they sat in quiet, Rhaenyra's sobs the only sound, before she answered.
"What did you think, happened?" She asked, looking at him with reddening eyes blurred by tears.
"He broke off things with me." She whispered, her voice hoarse and full of pain.
"I told him that I had to marry Laenor. That father had decreed it. I asked him to stay by my side in spite of it. Told him that marriage won't change anything, things between us will remain the same. He could be my paramour, like those in Dorne." Rhaenyra said, with a faraway look in her eye.
"You know what he said?" She asked.
"He told me to come with him, to Essos. There I wouldn't be Princess or Heir, I would be truly free for once, he said. He would fight as a sellsword and earn us gold, while I stayed home and raised a family. We could be happy Criston promised."
"But you told me I was meant for greater things, Aemon," She said, turning to him, "That together we would create a dynasty that could stand the test of time. So I told him no. That I couldn't run away with him."
She started sobbing again, so Aemon put his arm around her, to comfort her.
In between sobs she said, "He got angry, really angry. I've never seen him so furious. He told me he'd had enough, that he wouldn't be toyed with anymore. He said he'd soiled his honor for me. And when faced with the same choice, I had chosen the Iron Throne instead of him. So he said, it would be best if we ended things here. He didn't want to have anything to do with me anymore, Criston said."
"And then, he left." She whispered in a low voice, her tears having run dry.
Aemon didn't say anything to comfort her, words wouldn't mitigate her grief. So instead he just held her. And just like that, the two of them sat quietly in the emptiness of the corridor. The guttering torches in their wall mounted sconces their only source of illumination.
After sometime, Aemon gave Rhaenyra a nudge, "You, feel better now?" He asked.
She only shook her head in reply.
"What does that mean?" He asked, "Have you not recovered enough?"
"Too drunk, too tired." She mumbled under her breath.
"No choice, I'll have to carry you then. Can't leave the Princess lying about the castle." Aemon said, picking her up.
"You're heavier than you seem." He muttered under his breath, as he started carrying her back to the Princess' chambers.
He knew some hidden passageways that could get him there, without being noticed. And then, Elise could just let him in.
It was another half an hour before they returned to Rhaenyra's opulent chambers. And once Elise had let them in, he'd had her draw up a bath for the Princess.
While the Princess was given a bath by her maid, Aemon waited outside in the sitting room.
He'd found a carafe of some fine Dornish Red. And after the stressful day he'd had, Aemon couldn't help himself from pouring out a cup to drink.
As he was taking sips of the rich wine, Rhaenyra stepped into the room.
She'd just gotten out of the bath, and she looked lovely. The warmth of the water had made her cheeks flush with a delicate pink color. Her hair still wet from her bath hung down her back like a glistening cascade of silver gold ringlets. And her eyes, the same rich purple orbs he'd always known. But now they were filled with sadness, instead of the mischievous glint, that he'd come to love.
"Pour me some of that wine, would you?" She said, sitting down across from him.
Her dress was a thin silk camisole that clung to her curves suggestively. It made it hard for Aemon to focus on the conversation.
"You've had enough wine for the night, Princess.
It's time you got some sleep." He said, getting up. "We'll have a talk in the morning." Aemon said, turning to leave.
But before he could leave, Rhaenyra's words froze him in place.
"Stay with me tonight, Aemon." She whispered.
"I'm afraid that won't be appropriate, Princess." He answered.
"You say you care for me, Aemon." She said, "If you do, then don't go. Don't leave me alone after all that happened tonight."
He wanted to, he so wanted to. But he couldn't. It wasn't his place to desire such things.
"I'm sorry Princess, but I can't do this. I must leave." He said, turning away.
But before he could leave, he felt the Princess crash into him.
"Why? Why? Why, does everyone leave me?" Rhaenyra roared, as her small delicate hands rained down upon his chest, harmlessly.
"Fist mother, then my newly born little brother, and now Ser Criston. Everybody leaves me." She cried, her tears scalding hot against his skin.
"It must be my fault." She whispered, "I must be poison."
"It's not your fault, Princess. Please." Aemon tried to reassure her.
"Don't leave me too, Aemon." She begged, tears glistening in her eyes.
"Stay with me. Hold me. I need it." Rhaenyra whispered.
"I will, Princess. I will." Aemon said, kissing the crown of her head, as he held her.
And so he stayed with the Princess that night.
Embracing her, as she slept in his arms.
The sweet scent of her perfume assailed his senses. And the softness of her warm flesh pressed against his side, excited him. It was all he could do, to keep his arousal at bay.
All he could think of was how he would miss this feeling, once the Sun broke the horizon, and he had to leave.
Aemon stayed wide awake all that night, caught in a strange mixture of bitter-sweet ecstasy.
-------------------
"Please have a seat, Grand Master Balthazar." Aemon said.
As the portly old gentleman with a flowing white beard, dressed in rich emerald green robes with gold trim, sat down across from him.
"This is a fine establishment you run, Lord Blackfyre. And that too, in such a prime location.I'm quiet envious, I must say." The Grand Master of the Alchemist Guild said, while stroking his beard.
He wasn't wrong, the headquarters of the 'Royal Valyrian Bank' were located in the busiest part of the Capital, King's Landing's Central Square.
The building itself was a giant six story structure of fine white marble. With a lofty glass and sliver dome, and ringed by six tall towers on all sides.
Surrounding the building were lush flower gardens, with statues and marble pools and fruit trees, interspersed in between.
And all around the Bank grounds ran high stone walls, topped with sharp iron spikes. All of it culminating in an ornate wrought iron gate, with a pair of Bronze Eyes mounted on top of it.
It was also within these walls that the Blackguard had their barracks. The Blackguard were the elite guard that Aemon had setup in the name of the Bank.
Their name came from the 'Black Dragon' stitched on their garments.
On paper, they were supposed to protect the Bank's assets and interests. And although they did do that, they did much more. They were Aemon's swords, paid and controlled by him.
These were no ragtag bunch of warriors or peasant levies, they was a disciplined corps, well armed and well armored. He commanded a thousand of them all through Westeros, five hundred of their number in King's Landing alone.
A private army of sorts, within the City walls.
"...Lord Blackfyre!" Balthazar said, raising his voice.
"I'm sorry my Lord, I'm afraid I got a bit lost in my thoughts." He apologized.
"After I came all the way here on your invitation, I would have expected you to be a bit more courteous, my Lord." The old man grumbled.
"As I said, I'm sorry Grand Master. Let's get on with business now, shall we." Aemon said, changing the topic.
"As you must realise, I wish to buy some things from you." He said, "Now I know, there are some things which are secrets of your order and wouldn't divulge to me. But what I want isn't something so arcane."
"Let me guess, you want to purchase Wildfire?" The Grand Master stated in a bored tone.
Wildfire would be quiet useful, he thought. If he could stockpile caches of it away from populated areas, they could prove to be quite the gamechanger during the Dance.
"That I do of course, caches of Wildfire would be pretty useful. But that is only a secondary concern, there's something else I want more." Aemon said.
"Go on, I'm listening." Balthazar said, leaning forward, interested.
"As you know most smallfolk, even tradesmen and merchants cannot acquire the services of Maesters. They have to make do with witch doctors and dubious practitioners. These are hardly reliable, and often do more harm than help. What I propose is quiet simple, I want to broker an agreement with you. You will provide us with shipments of tinctures, salves, ointments and other remedies, and it'll be upto us to sell this to the people. Any profits we make, will be split evenly of course, fifty-fifty." Aemon said.
"That is quite tempting, yes." Balthazar sighed, "But I can't make a decision on this alone. I'd need the other Wisdoms' approval."
"Fine then, present my proposal to the Wisdoms of the Guild. Once they make a decision, we'll have another meeting to iron out the details of our collaboration." He said.
"Thank you, my Lord," The Grand Master said, giving him a slight bow as he turned and left the chamber.
Aemon didn't need to fret over the Alchemists accepting. With the need to finance their exotic projects, the Alchemists were always strapped for coin. This was undoubtedly a golden opportunity for them. There was no way, they'd say no to his proposal.
Over the last two years the Bank had expanded greatly. Along with their King's Landing headquarters they had Branches set up in all the major Cities of the Seven Kingdoms and even abroad.
White Harbor, Gulltown, Oldtown, Lannisport and Duskendale in the Seven Kingdoms. And Pentos, Qohor, Volantis and Sunspear's Shadow City in Dorne. They had grown rapidly.
Last year alone, of the quarter million gold dragons that Aemon had made over hundred thousand of it had come from his shares in the Bank. With an annual turnover of nearly two hundred thousand gold dragons, ten branches, and total holdings of three million gold dragons.
The Bank that Aemon had started had become a powerful organization.
Although, they were nowhere near as big as the Iron Bank of Braavos or the Rogare Bank of Lys, yet.
They were certainly the most powerful private entity on Westeros.
Of course not everything was rosy, and they'd with their own stumbling blocks when setting up.
People defaulting on loans becoming a big problem. They had decided to only issue loans in exchange of adequate collateral. So that if the loan wasn't repaid, they could seize the collateral, and then sell it off to the highest bidder to recoup the costs.
Obviously there were many who protested, and so it often came to violence. Thankfully, once the Blackguard had been organized, they were able to handle most such problems. Still, they remained cautious of handing out loans, and especially to the Lords. As they could just deny to pay back the money and try to resist them instead.
A knock on the door distracted Aemon from his thoughts.
"Milord, Ser Torrhen Manderly is here to meet you." The Blackguard announced.
"Send him in." He replied back, as a pudgy man with a scruffy beard stepped in through the door.
"Ser Torrhen it is a pleasure to meet you." Aemon said, "Your father is in good health, I hope?"
"It is nice to meet you too, Lord Blackfyre", Torrhen answered, "As for father, he's as healthy and hearty as ever."
"That is good to hear", Aemon said, pouring him a glass of Arbor Gold.
"Lord Blackfyre you must have guessed why father sent me here." Torrhen said.
"I have some idea", Aemon said scrutinizing the man carefully, "I believe your father is displeased that my canal has started to operate. He fears that it may draw trade away from White Harbor."
"You're wise my Lord. That is indeed the case." Torrhen replied.
"There isn't much I can do about that, I'm afraid," Aemon said, "The canal will attract many merchants and tradesmen. And so naturally, it may draw some of them away from White Harbor."
At his words, Torrhen Manderly seemed crestfallen, so he hurried to add.
"Of course, I sympathize with Lord Manderly's plight, and so I have a proposal." He said.
"I'm all ears, my Lord." The Manderly scion said, leaning forward in anticipation.
"Ships flying the Manderly banner will have to pay only half the toll, while crossing the Neck." He said.
"Of course, I expect that you will exploit my generosity. I don't want to see ships not belonging to House Manderly flying the Merman banner, just not to pay the tolls. That, I would find to be a breach of trust." Aemon said.
"Also, I have decided to provide House Manderly a loan to expand their trade fleet. And that too, for a subsidized rate of interest." He finished.
"Those are some generous terms. I am glad to accept them on behalf of my father." Ser Torrhen said.
"Marvelous!" Aemon said, "Let us have a drink then, to celebrate our new found friendship."
--------------------
114 AC
King's Landing
Today, the entirety of the Red Keep seemed to be bustling, and full of life.
For today wasn't just any day, it was the day the Princess' bridal party would leave for Driftmark.
The Realm's Delight was about to get married.
The entire City was celebrating on this joyous occasion. And the King having donated loaves of bread, wheels of cheese, fresh fruit, and tender meat to the smallfolk of King's Landing recieved their blessings and well wishes, aplenty.
Aemon was also getting ready for the day, he'd had his garments specially tailored for the occasion.
A man could only be his best, when he looked his best, he believed.
He was wearing a padded, black velvet doublet patterned with golden dragons. And a cloth-of-gold cape with a high collar that framed his face.
This he'd fastened with a ruby brooch shaped like a miniature spear, it's point enameled in red.
As he was standing before the mirror admiring himself, Rowan stepped into the room.
"The Princess asks you to attend to her." He said.
Aemon nodded showing he'd heard, before putting on his sword belt, with Nightfall in its sheath.
"Let's go." He said to Rowan, as he started walking towards the Princess' chambers, with Rowan following in tow.
Soon after, they came across the drawbridge spanning the Moat, that led to Maegor's Holdfast proper.
Stationed there, at the end of the drawbridge, was none other than Ser Criston Cole, the newly appointed Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.
As they walked past him, the white knight in his ivory scale armor, acknowledged him with a slight nod.
"Lord Blackfyre." Ser Criston said in an icy voice.
"Ser Criston", Aemon returned in a similarly cold tone.
"He didn't look to happy to see you there, my Lord." Rowan said, as they walked away.
"I can't really blame him. With how things are going, his life must be a living Hell, right now." He said.
It was sometime later, that Aemon was led into the Princess' chambers.
Honestly, he felt a little awkward coming here again. It had been only two months, since the 'incident'. And since then, Aemon had tried his best to stay away from here.
As they were led into the parlor, Aemon came face to face with Rhaenyra.
She was seated on an ornate settee, as one of her maid painted her nails.
And the only way Aemon could describe her, was that she was breathtaking.
Her hair was molten silver, her skin smooth and white, unblemished, and pale as cream.
She was slender and graceful, with full breasts and a narrow waist, and a heart-shaped face.
Once he saw her, it was as if he couldn't look away.
She was dressed in her wedding gown, a deep plum silk to bring out the violet in her eyes.
She wore gilded sandals on her feet and a tiara encrusted with rubies and emeralds in her hair.
Gold bracelets studded with amethysts adorned her wrists. And around her pale throat was a red gold choker ornamented with a single great ruby.
The necklace itself being emblazoned with ancient Valyrian glyphs.
No longer was she the girl he'd once known, but a woman grown. Gone was the Princess, for now she was a Queen.
"You look lovely, Princess." Aemon breathed.
"Too bad, Laenor won't appreciate it much", Rhaenyra said, motioning him to sit beside her.
"I'm sure Laenor can recognize true beauty when he sees it, Princess." Aemon answered.
"I recieved your summons Princess. Was there something you needed to discuss?" He asked.
"Why? Do I need to have a reason to meet with my favorite cousin?" She joked.
"Of course not, Princess." He smiled.
"Are you okay with all this, Princess. This marriage?" He asked, growing serious.
"I'm as good as I can be, I suppose." She said.
"Everyone has to traverse a path in life. Maybe, this is the path fate has chosen for me." Rhaenyra said, sighing.
"It'll all work out fine Princess. I promise." Aemon said, gently taking her hands in his.
Rhaenyra looked at him, her face a complex mix of emotions.
"There's something I need to say to you, Aemon." She said.
"I might be late in saying this, but I'm sorry for that day. I was really vulnerable that night, and might have come off a bit too strongly." Rhaenyra said.
"Think nothing of it." Aemon said, "It is my duty to help you up whenever you fall, Princess."
"It almost sounds like I'm some helpless child." Rhaenyra giggled.
The sweet sound of her laughter, rang through the room.
"We're all a little childish at times, Princess." He said, "Maturity is overrated."
"But you aren't like that though", Rhaenyra said, "As long as I've known you. You've always been calm and composed, not naive and childish."
"Well.....comparing with me isn't quiet fair." He said, "I do have some special circumstances, after all."
"Although you don't quite look the part. You really are a kind man at heart, Aemon." Rhaenyra said.
"First time, I've been called that. I'll have to say." Aemon laughed.
--------------------