-Chapter 5-
-POV Alysanne Targaryen-
It had been more than a year and a half since Aemon was born, and for the first time, it wasn't his laughter or even his babbling that melted me, but his voice, his real voice, and also the words he spoke.
I knew about his extraordinary intelligence from a young age because, although he didn't do it with everyone, he clearly expressed what he wanted through sounds, gestures, and cries, not like any baby demanding its toy, but like a real, purposeful thought.
However, how could such a young child hide from everyone that not only did he perfectly understand what people around him were saying, but he could also speak?
Watching his tears continue to flow down my neck, I forcefully stopped all my stray thoughts, sat up with the help of my pillows, and placed Aemon on my chest, rocking him. But, as Jonquil had told me, Aemon was inconsolable and continued to sob against me without stopping.
I felt my heart break feeling his sadness, and I said, "I'm not going to die."
He didn't look up at me, though I felt my words had the desired effect because his sobs stopped, and now he was sniffling. I placed a hand behind his head, and then he looked up and said:
"You promise?"
I could see the doubt filling his eyes.
"I promise," I said.
He looked up and then struggled to wipe his tears. I smiled and took a silk handkerchief to wipe his eyes myself, as well as his runny nose, and then we remained silent until I realized he had fallen asleep.
I smiled, stroking his beautiful gold-silver curls, and then said, "Inform Lady Rhea that I will sleep with Aemon tonight."
"Very well, your highness," she said.
"Jonquil," I called before she crossed the door.
"Yes, your majesty?"
I turned to her with tears in my eyes and then said with a small smile while continuing to stroke Aemon's beautiful curls, "Ask that my dinner be brought to me."
"Very well, your highness," she said, her eyes glistening with tears.
'I can't die yet, I need to live a little longer for him,' I thought, looking at Aemon's peaceful sleeping form.
---
-1 and a half years later-
During the past 18 moons, I learned to live lightly with my great-grandmother, forgetting all that was to happen in the future. We spent all our time together and were practically inseparable.
It even came to the point that my mother and I were invited to her apartments to share breakfast with her and the king, usually, we were only invited to family meals a few times a week but never in the morning to break our fast together.
I learned to read and write with her during this time, and she even taught me High Valyrian. She was amazed by my quick learning and my maturity, which was far beyond my age. But I eventually understood that the reason she didn't talk about it and treated it all as normal was that she considered me the 'reincarnation' of her son Aemon.
We never talked about it, but I felt it in the way she was with me; she was more a mother than a great-grandmother to me. One only had to look at the chasm between the treatment that Rhaenyra and I received to realize her maternal feelings toward me.
This created some tension between my father and Viserys, as the latter, although not expressing it, was jealous of the attention the Queen gave to my father Daemon's family, even though he was the 'heir.' It was never stated in words, but the relations of our entire family were tense, and everyone knew why.
My grandfather noticed quite quickly, so he made sure to bridge the gap in treatment by completely ignoring me and spending all his time either with the kingdom's politics or with my uncle Viserys's family, never mentioning my name or even trying to form a relationship with me.
I wasn't hurt by this, and it was without any emotion that I stood in front of his funeral pyre burning with the fire of Vermithor.
"Once again a member of the house of the dragon has left us too soon..."
I didn't listen to the rest of the High Septon's meaningless drivel; instead, I focused on my great-grandmother, who was stoic. It wasn't the first time I had attended the funeral of one of her children, but Baelon's death didn't affect her.
From the beginning to the end, from the diagnosis of his illness to his death, nothing made her express her grief. She maintained a good appearance, but for me, who saw her every day, I saw that she wasn't doing well at all, and Baelon Targaryen's death could very well be the blow that would finish her.
---
-2 weeks later-
-Red Keep Gardens-
"Grandma," I said.
"Hmm?" she replied, coming out of her thoughts.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
She smiled and stroked my hair before saying, "I'm perfectly fine as long as you stay by my side."
I smiled, and just as I was about to say something, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard arrived, and she said, "The king requests your presence at the small council."
"Very well, Jonquil. I leave Aemon in your care; I won't be long."
Jonquil nodded respectfully, and then she extended her hand for me to follow her. I accepted reluctantly, but I knew all too well what it was about...the damned succession.
---
Hello everyone, I'm happy to see all your enthusiasm for this story.
I've taken your requests for more chapters into account, and honestly, it's a bit challenging because I'm writing several stories at the same time.
But you know your guy, right?
I've found a little compromise: I'll publish an extra chapter for every 200 power stones, with no upper limit.
It's up to you now.
Ghostrider0002