At that moment, a chariot rumbled out of Silk Street and up the steep incline of Rhaenys' Hill to the grand entrance of the Dragonpit.
"Aemon, quickly, out of the chariot now!"
As the chariot stopped in the square, Baelon flung open the door and leapt out with the urgency of a discharged cannonball.
"Prince, you-"
Steffon's frown deepened, turning into a visible sign of concern. His features, already marked by early maturity, took on a sharper edge of distress.
"Ser, I'll catch up later."
Without waiting, Aemon jumped from the chariot, his small legs hitting the ground with a thud.
Steffon reached out to stop him, but his hand paused mid-air, and his voice carried a tint of resignation. "Alright, see you later."
The young princes, one chasing the other, were brimming with youthful exuberance.
Erryk had always remarked how children were such easy charges, saying "Your Grace was so well-mannered in his youth..."
The high-spirited pair, both plump and childlike, disappeared into the depths of the Dragonpit.
Over the years, the Dragonpit had undergone significant transformations.
The bronze gates now stood permanently open, and the solid roof had been replaced by an open framework that resembled the vast scale of a coliseum.
This renovation was designed to give the dragons the freedom to fly unhindered.
With the roof no longer a barrier, dragons could exit the Dragonpit whenever they wished, alleviating concerns about intruders or obstacles that might trap them within.
Now, the Dragonpit glowed under the illumination, its black stone floor reflecting like obsidian.
Baelon looked up, awe-struck, at the newly installed roof—a lattice of iron chains sprawling like a spiderweb across the sky.
These chains were both a constraint and a precaution, intended to prevent dragons from escaping and wreaking havoc upon King's Landing.
During periods of calm, they lay across the former stone ceiling, ready to be deployed.
From above, a piercing roar echoed, tinged with astonishment.
Baelon turned just in time to see a young green dragon, its wings a vibrant contrast against the ironwork.
The dragon struggled on the iron bridge, its wings flapping desperately like a butterfly ensnared.
Aemon darted toward it, calling out with glee, "Trickster, come here!"
Without hesitation, the dragon plunged down the long bridge like a green comet.
Watching from afar, Baelon couldn't shake the feeling that the dragon's flight was dangerously controlled, its wings snapping shut as if in a final, desperate dive.
A cloud of dust erupted as the dragon crashed to the stone floor, its long tail twitching in distress.
"Tsk, tsk."
Shaking his head, Baelon turned away, a mixture of concern and dismay on his face.
A simple-minded dragon, indeed.
His father had speculated that the dragon's long time in the eggshell might have dulled its wits.
Aemon, brimming with delight despite the choking dust, seized the young dragon by the neck and nuzzled his face against its scaled head. "Trickster, did you miss me?"
"Roar!"
The green dragon, Trickster, feigned death with its tongue lolling out, then rolled over and scrambled to its feet.
Aemon's grin widened as he clambered onto Trickster's back. "You rascal, take me for a ride!"
"Roar?"
Trickster shook its head vigorously, trotting along slowly instead of taking flight, clearly reluctant.
Annoyed, Aemon gave the dragon a playful smack on the back.
Both the boy and the dragon were of similar age, born only a day apart, and were still under six years old. Trickster, having spent its life in the Dragonpit, was as large as a fine war horse and perfectly capable of carrying a child through the air.
The pair, both spirited and playful, engaged in a friendly tussle.
Baelon, observing, couldn't help but doubt his brother's intelligence for a moment.
An elderly Dragonkeeper approached, his face lined with age and caution. "Prince, how may I assist you?"
With a stern expression, Baelon replied in High Valyrian, his pronunciation precise and his fluency evident, "My mother is giving birth. I'm here to choose an egg for my brother."
The old Dragonkeeper nodded and, leaning on his walking stick, motioned toward the greenhouse. "Follow me."
Baelon, carrying himself with the dignity of a young lord, followed the Dragonkeeper through the tunnel leading to the greenhouse, while other Dragonkeepers kept a watchful eye.
As they walked, Baelon's attention was drawn to a particularly dark dragon pit. Its narrow, elongated shape was obscured by shadows, making it seem even more mysterious.
Ssss~
A faint light flickered within the darkness, accompanied by a low, ominous sound.
Intrigued, Baelon's curiosity was piqued, and he stared intently as the light grew brighter.
Suddenly, an indistinct shape emerged from the darkness, and a pair of large, menacing amber eyes opened wide.
Crashing!
Chains rattled violently as a black, dragon-like figure surged forward.
"Roar!"
The roar was fierce and brutal, but the dragon was still restrained by its chains, only able to spew a cloud of black smoke and Dragonfire into the air.
"Wow!"
Baelon's eyes widened in astonishment at the sudden spectacle.
"Step back and be quiet!"
The old Dragonkeeper's face darkened with anger. He stood protectively in front of the young prince, banging his cane on the ground and shouting toward the dragon pit.
Crack!
The chains groaned as the dragon retreated into the cave, vanishing from view.
The old Dragonkeeper sighed with relief and turned to Baelon. "Remember, do not approach the dragon pit without permission."
Baelon hesitated. "It didn't seem hostile, though."
The old Dragonkeeper's expression remained serious. "Always follow the rules. Your Grace will arrange for you to select a young dragon to tame."
Baelon scratched his head thoughtfully as the old Dragonkeeper led the way.
The old Dragonkeeper added muttering, "Just like your brother."
...
Red Keep, Princess's Bedroom.
The newborn's cries filled the room, their piercing clarity a testament to new life.
In the hallway, Rhaegar, his father, and his son exchanged smiles of shared joy.
Creak
As Rhaegar paced nervously, a maid with a sweaty brow pushed open the door.
"How is it?" Rhaegar blurted out, his excitement barely contained.
The maid, catching her breath, replied, "The Princess wishes to see you."
Rhaegar's face lit up with a smile as he swiftly entered the room.
Inside, the maids worked diligently, restoring order to the room after the birthing. The urgency had faded, and Rhaegar lifted the bead curtain to find Rhaenyra resting on the birthing chair, holding their newborn.
"You're here," Rhaenyra said, her voice soft but laced with joy.
Rhaegar returned the smile and approached, kneeling beside the chair. He gently brushed the sweat-drenched hair from Rhaenyra's face. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, everything went smoothly," she assured him with a weak but genuine smile, then presented the swaddled baby with a hint of pride. "Look, it's a girl."
Rhaegar leaned in to inspect the baby, her tiny, pristine face just visible. But his focus was more on Rhaenyra. His hand grazed her damp, sweat-soaked gown, and he could feel the heat radiating from her.
"What a beautiful girl, a noble little princess," he praised sincerely, enveloping Rhaenyra in a tender embrace as he gently cradled both mother and daughter.
Rhaenyra's eyes sparkled as she rested her cheek on his shoulder. "Don't worry, I'm happy and it was worth every moment."
Without hesitation, Rhaegar kissed her sweaty forehead, a gesture of deep affection.
Rhaenyra's eyelashes fluttered, and in that instant, the pain of childbirth seemed to vanish.
Peck!
She responded with a soft kiss on his lips.
Rhaegar, momentarily taken aback, then smiled warmly. "Do you want me to name her?"
"Of course," Rhaenyra said, raising her chin proudly.
"Then I suppose I'll need to come up with a fitting name," Rhaegar declared, assuming the role of the namer with a playful air. He pondered dramatically, occasionally lifting the swaddling cloth to gaze at the baby's features.
Time passed, and Rhaenyra's anticipation grew, her face reflecting her impatience.
Rhaegar finally announced, with a touch of grandiosity, "Visenya, named after the greatest female warrior in our family."
"Good!" Rhaenyra's eyes sparkled with excitement. She was eager to adopt the name for their daughter.
Rhaegar grinned.
But as her initial joy faded, Rhaenyra realized Rhaegar's playful intent and pouted. "I've always wanted a girl, why did you take so long to name her?" She turned away, clutching the swaddling clothes with mock sulkiness.
Rhaegar, amused, gently played with the baby's soft cheeks.
He glanced at her features: silver-blonde hair at the roots and tightly shut eyes.
As expected, their daughter would grow to embody the Targaryen beauty—long silver-blonde hair and violet eyes, a true reflection of mother.
Creak!
The door swung open, disrupting the intimate moment shared by the family of three.
"Father, we're back!"
Aemon burst into the room, his excitement palpable.
"Shh! Don't disturb Mother and the baby's rest," Baelon admonished, his tone sharp. He carried a stove-shaped incubator, and behind him, Viserys, in a wheelchair, and Maekar, followed.
Viserys rubbed his forehead wearily. "I couldn't keep the little ones away."
"It's alright," Rhaegar said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "They're just enthusiastic."
Aemon shrank slightly, sensing his father's displeasure.
Baelon, more composed, approached and opened the incubator to reveal a steaming green dragon egg. His face was alight with anticipation. "We selected this dragon egg for our new sibling."
"Oh?" Rhaenyra, though exhausted, propped herself up to take a look. Seeing the familiar dragon egg, she praised, "Very good, that's a splendid choice."
Baelon nodded earnestly. "I searched for a long time to find this one. I'm sure our brother will love it."
"Actually..." Rhaenyra started, trying to correct her eldest son's assumption.
At that moment, Maekar, who had been daydreaming, said calmly, "It's a sister, not a brother."
"A sister?" Baelon's face fell as he glanced down at the baby in the swaddling clothes.
Aemon's reaction was even more dramatic. His face mirrored Baelon's disappointment, and he exclaimed, "It's a sister!?"
They had been expecting a brother, and Aemon, in particular, had been eagerly anticipating a new baby brother. Maekar's presence didn't count in his expectations.
Maekar's eyes widened as he fixed his gaze on Aemon. "It's a sister."
Aemon, visibly shaken, quickly replied, "Alright, alright, it's a sister."
Maekar, satisfied, settled back in his chair, eager to see what his new sister looked like.
The youngest had clearly been busy, managing to procure a basket, place the dark red dragon egg inside, and cover it with a blanket borrowed from their grandfather.
As the siblings finished admiring the newborn Visenya, Rhaegar announced firmly, "Alright, everyone out."
"We haven't seen enough yet," Aemon protested, his little pout visible.
Bang!
Rhaegar swiftly kicked him out, grabbing him by the hair and tossing him out of the room. "Get out now! If you're not gone in three seconds, you'll all be reporting to Grand Maester Munkun."
Even Maekar, who had been silent, scrambled to leave, clutching his basket. As he passed his grandfather, he carefully placed the blanket back over his cold legs.
Viserys, feeling exhausted, handed the swaddling clothes to Rhaegar. "I'm tired too. I'll rest while you take care of things."
"Father, I didn't mean for you to..." Rhaegar began, but his father's exhaustion was evident.
"Stay and look after Rhaenyra," Viserys said, his fatigue apparent from the ordeal of his daughter's labor.
Rhaegar acquiesced, and Erryk helped his father back to his room. Since his abdication, Viserys had been residing in Harrenhal for its more favorable climate and only occasionally visited King's Landing. The underground lava at the Isle of Faces had been increasing, enhancing the hot springs' restorative effects.
Bang!
The door closed behind them, and Rhaegar turned back to find Rhaenyra cradling the baby and humming a lullaby. She glanced at him sideways, and they exchanged warm smiles.
(Word count: 1,971)