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It was Lucerys’s 5th nameday, and it was the first time that Aemond saw a sea of Baratheons walking in the Red Keep. Many families were present at the Keep: Arryn, Baratheon, Velaryon, and, of course, them, the Targaryen. But there was something that pulled him towards the presence of the Baratheons. From the history books, he knew that the Baratheons had a mix of Durrandon and Targaryen blood, and from the textbooks, he knew they had magic in their blood. Maybe that was the reason why his eyes kept focusing on them. The fascination was not just in the way they looked but also in how they carried themselves, their presence seeming to command attention and respect effortlessly.
If Aemond thought his mother was protective and a mother-hen, then it didn’t compare to how Lady Jocelyn Baratheon and Princess Rhaenys Velaryon treated Jacaerys and Lucerys, especially Lucerys. Maybe it was because Lucerys would inherit Driftmark, and because Lucerys wore his heart on his sleeve, compared to Jacaerys, who always acted like a princely prince. Or maybe it was because of something else, something more profound and intrinsic that Aemond couldn’t quite grasp. The way Lady Jocelyn's eyes softened when she looked at Lucerys, or how Princess Rhaenys would gently smooth his hair, it all spoke of a deep, abiding love that seemed almost mystical in its intensity.
But beyond that, Aemond still couldn’t take his eyes away from Lady Jocelyn; there was something eerily similar about her that Aemond could not put his finger on. He tried asking his siblings if they, too, could see it, but Aegon was drunk, and Helaena just kept on smiling while playing with her bugs. Their lack of concern only deepened Aemond’s curiosity and frustration. He felt like he was on the brink of understanding something crucial, something that could change his perspective, but it remained just out of reach.
Everyone can see that Boremund loves his sister Jocelyn, and everyone can also see that Lady Jocelyn loves her family, every one of them. She treats them fairly, even her brother’s son - Borros, whom she treats like her own son. And in turn, everyone loves everyone who has Baratheon blood.
And for the first time since Aemond could remember, he saw what a family was supposed to look like. And for the first time, he saw his nephews look like their family. Borros and Rhaenys's hug was way too tight, and Aemond also wanted to feel that kind of hug. When Borros hugged and lifted Jacaerys and Lucerys way up high, they both squealed and giggled after. The sheer joy and laughter that followed were infectious, making Aemond yearn for a similar connection.
With the Arryns and Baratheons both in the Red Keep, Aemond and his siblings now looked like the ones who didn’t belong and were not part of the family. He hated it when he couldn’t figure things out, but what he hated the most was knowing things but his mind simply didn’t want to acknowledge them. It created a knot of unease in his stomach, a constant reminder of the differences that set him apart - is this what his nephews were feeling every time Aemond’s mother made them feel like they were bastards?
—
Aemond was always fascinated with the people in the portraits in the grand hallway, especially the portraits of the late Queen Aemma. He knew that his mother hated the portrait for its constant reminder that she would never be Viserys’s love and that their marriage was nothing but a political move. And though he sympathized with his mother, that didn’t erase the beauty of Queen Aemma. Her serene expression and regal bearing captivated him, making him wonder about the kind of person she was beyond the paint and canvas.
But looking at one’s picture for a long time would make you see the faces of the people around you. His sister Rhaenyra he understood, especially because that was her mother, but sometimes, when his nephew smiled his secret sweet smile, he could see Aemma’s face in his. Her brown eyes were the same as Lucerys’s big ones. The resemblance was uncanny, almost as if Aemma’s spirit had left an indelible mark on her descendants.
But of course, he could only see that similarity once in a while because that little gremlin had a smirk on his face, especially when doing pranks with his brother and his own brother, and Aemond hated that Aegon not only had to have Jacaerys but now also had Lucerys. It was unfair because he only wanted a friend, but now Aegon hogged them both. The feeling of exclusion was bitter, making him long for the companionship he was often denied.
There were three pictures of Queen Aemma around the Red Keep, but more were hidden in the library and his father’s room. However, one thing that always fascinated him was the ones where young Aemma was painted not only because of her beauty but also because of her hair—it was brown. Brown like the Arryns because, of course, Queen Aemma had Arryn blood.
“I thought she had white hair because she was a Targaryen,” Aemond whispered to himself, but unbeknownst to him, a maester was passing by and was able to hear him.
“Ah, her hair turned white as time passed, but she had the features of an Arryn when Queen Aemma was young,” the maester said while looking at the portrait and then back at Aemond. His tone was gentle, as if he understood the boy's confusion and sought to enlighten him.
“That can happen?” Aemond asked, thinking about his nephews.
“Yes, just like Prince Rhaenys, she has Baratheon blood, which is very strong blood. Her hair was as black as the night, just like her mother Lady Jocelyn Baratheon. It turned white due to age, which is why it’s more silver than most Targaryen, which is more golden,” the maester answered, motioning for Aemond to follow him. The explanation intrigued Aemond, filling him with a sense of wonder about the complexities of his lineage.
“I know that they might have magic in their blood, but how can you say Baratheon’s blood is strong?” Aemond asked while following the maester to some books.
“Let me ask you this, Prince Aemond. Do you know there are rumors about your nephews' true heritage?”
Aemond looked surprised at the maester, now knowing what to say. The sudden shift in topic was jarring, making him feel like he was treading on dangerous ground.
But it was a good thing that the maester continued speaking. “And do you know why the people are not supporting the claims?” the maester asked again. His eyes were sharp, probing, as if he were searching for the boy's hidden thoughts.
Aemond just looked at the maester, wanting to know, but didn’t want to betray his mother.
“Why don’t we start our history lesson this hour?” The maester smiled while handing Aemond a book. “I’m going to teach you about the history of the whole Targaryen Family.” The promise of knowledge was a powerful lure, drawing Aemond deeper into the maester's web of intrigue.
-
Aemond and the maester were in the library for almost four hours before he left, and now he was more confused and feeling things that he could not name. New feelings that he only felt now, feelings for his sister and her sons and the people that he used to hate and feel disgusted with, namely his sister, Ser Harwin, and Prince Laenor. He now felt disgusted with himself. The revelations had upended his world, leaving him adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions.
Aemond liked learning. Knowledge was a weapon that could bring down a whole empire if used wisely. And now that he knew his family tree and the history of his family, he felt like he had a power that could either destroy or repair his family and, overall, the whole realm.
—
At Lady Laena’s burial, Aemond reached out his hands to his nephews. And though he didn’t claim Vhagar that night, he was able to make a friend. The gesture was small but significant, a tentative step towards bridging the chasm that had long separated them.
He let Rhaena try to claim Vhagar first, and when that didn’t happen, he tried and was able to bond with the old dragon. The three seemed to hate him for that, but at least there was no fight, and Lucerys chose to take his side and told the others it was fair and square. The unexpected support warmed Aemond's heart, giving him hope for a better future.
They might have fought verbally, but after talking to some grown-ups, they were able to mend things.
—
“Come on, uncle! If we do not go now, the knights will roam this hall, and we will not be able to go to Rhaena’s room!” Lucerys’s excitement was infectious, his energy a bright spark in the dim corridors of the Keep.
“They will not need to roam here to know we are here. You’re loud enough for the both of us,” Aemond said and sighed, amused with Lucerys’s antics but tired because of how many times he tried to remind Lucerys to use his inside voice. Despite his exasperation, Aemond couldn't help but smile at the boy's exuberance.
When the guard passed by, they quickly sneaked and ran towards Rhaena’s room, and they wanted to give their gift before the others did. The thrill of the clandestine mission added a layer of excitement, making them feel like they were part of a grand adventure.
“Quick, let’s go!” Lucerys grinned at Aemond, and Aemond smiled back. The bond they were forging was precious, a fragile but vital thread connecting their hearts.
As they reached Rhaena's room, they paused to catch their breath, their faces flushed with excitement.
"Here, you give it to her," Lucerys urged, pushing a small, poorly wrapped gift into Aemond's hands. "It's from both of us."
Aemond nodded, taking the gift - that is very obvious to be a dragon egg - with a smile. The gesture was simple but meaningful, a symbol of their growing friendship and mutual respect.
They knocked on the door, and when Rhaena opened it, her eyes lit up with surprise and delight. "What are you two doing here?" she asked, her voice filled with curiosity and amusement.
"We brought you a gift," Aemond said, holding out the package. "For your nameday."
—