Strange Atmosphere

Strange Atmosphere

Perhaps I was the child who used to cry and fuss.

Aemon leaned closer, wanting to see the baby in the swaddling clothes clearly.

"Give Helena to me. It's time her brother had a look at her."

Alicent looked helpless as she took the swaddled baby from the Maid and passed her over.

Before Aemon could prepare himself, the bundle was already nestled in his arms.

"How am I supposed to hold her?" Aemon's body went rigid, afraid he might drop her on the floor.

Alicent boldly let go and chuckled. "Just support her bottom. Don't be nervous."

"Oh, okay."

Aemon's brain worked on a single core as he carefully adjusted his posture.

Sure enough, the little thing was quite soft.

"Ah-ah~~"

Passed from one pair of arms to another, the little baby girl shook her tiny head of fine silver-gold hair from side to side before plopping it into the hollow of Aemon's shoulder.

Being bound up in the swaddling clothes made her uncomfortable, so her body squirmed wildly.

"I think she's biting me." Filled with confusion, Aemon tilted his head sharply to one side.

His neck felt cool and damp, as though it had been smeared with drool.

Alicent covered her mouth and giggled. Holding her daughter's chubby little waist, she teased, "Helena really likes her brother. Look, she isn't even crying anymore."

Aemon's face darkened. "She's gnawing on me."

"Ah-ah~~"

Little Helena was displeased. Her tender little hand broke free of the loose swaddling clothes, cupping Aemon's cheek as she prepared to bite him even harder.

Aemon's mouth twitched. He couldn't afford to provoke her, so he could only dodge.

The little thing was tiny, but her hands were surprisingly strong. She tugged at his face until it hurt.

What a waste not to have her pull weeds.

Knock, knock!

Just as the one adult and two children were getting along nicely, someone suddenly knocked on the door.

A bald, stout old man in a roughspun maester's robe stood at the door and said unhurriedly, "Your Grace, Prince Aegon has been crying without stopping. Please go tend to him for a while."

Alicent frowned at this and hesitated. "Grand Maester, where are the Maids caring for him?"

"They have tried, but nothing worked."

Grand Maester Mellos answered with an innocent expression.

With things having come to this, she naturally had to go take a look.

Alicent rose and smoothed her skirts. She cast an apologetic look at Aemon, whom she had only just reunited with, and smiled helplessly. "Stay with Helena for now. I'll be right back."

"It's fine. That's just how babies are when they cry."

Aemon waved his hand, and Helena sprang upward in his arms, nearly headbutting him.

"Bring some pastries and tea. Take good care of them."

After giving the Maids her instructions, Alicent went out to soothe her other child.

Grand Maester Mellos did not follow immediately. Instead, he gave Aemon a long, deep look.

He was looking at Aemon, and Aemon was looking at him as well.

"Is the King very busy?" Aemon asked first, wearing an innocent smile.

Grand Maester Mellos nodded kindly. "Yes, Your Majesty is occupied with countless affairs every day."

With that, he turned and left, not giving the Little Prince any further chance to speak with him.

Aemon could not help frowning.

Wasn't the King holding a small council meeting? The Grand Maester should have been attending it.

"Something's strange," Aemon muttered, not wasting his mind dwelling on it.

Though he did not involve himself in politics, he knew that Grand Maesters were recommended by the Citadel and naturally stood with Oldtown Hightower.

Alicent held an exceptional position within House Hightower, so there should not be any problem.

If there really was a problem, then someone must have set their sights on him.

"Tsk, tsk. Let's make this clear first: no biting me!"

Aemon tucked the overly lively Helena under one arm and enjoyed the afternoon tea brought by the Maid.

"Ah-ah~~"

Helena's pink little face flushed red as she bared her tiny milk teeth and grumbled.

Aemon smacked her little bottom, his expression changing at lightning speed. "Behave yourself. Your mother isn't even here, and you still dare bare your teeth at me?"

His round little face tried to look stern, and he truly had a bit of an elder brother's dignity.

Helena pursed her lips in grievance. As if she knew he would not go easy on her, she lowered her head and sulked silently.

Though she was just a tiny little lump, she was very good at reading the room.

As good as someone one or two stories high.

Aemon nodded in satisfaction. "That's more like it."

How nice she was in his arms. She did not cry at all.

Who knew how Alicent soothed children? He must have been too well-behaved before, giving her the mistaken impression that every child she bore would be the same.

No wonder she had gone on to have several more.

Time passed second by second, and the sky gradually darkened.

Aemon sat on the carpet, his little head bobbing sleepily as he held an even smaller sleeping baby in his arms.

An exquisite tea tray sat beside him, with only crumbs and empty cups left on it.

Suddenly, Aemon shivered and woke with bleary eyes. "She's not back yet?"

A tiny head filled with huge confusion.

What was Alicent doing? Had Aegon cried himself to death halfway through?

"No, I need to get moving."

Aemon decided this could not go on. He placed the peacefully sleeping Helena back in her cradle.

The little thing knew when to yield, though she had quite a temper.

Having been wronged while awake, she still frowned in her sleep, with pitiful tear tracks lingering at the corners of her eyes.

"I'm leaving."

Aemon informed the Maid, rubbed his eyes, and headed out.

The corridor was empty, with servants having lit the candelabras for illumination.

Aemon pulled his collar tighter and muttered, "Spring in King's Landing is still so cold. The wind is freezing."

Looking outside, he realized that the sun had already set.

"I can't put this off any longer. It has to be now."

Wisdom gleamed in Aemon's eyes as he rubbed his little hands together expectantly.

There were ultimately too few good things in Runestone, and he could not find any more magical items.

Then let his path to rise begin in King's Landing.

Having sorted out his thoughts and repeatedly confirmed his destination, Aemon set off at once.

His first stop was the King's Bedchamber.

The little silver-haired figure darted swiftly past the gazes of one Maid after another and Servant after Servant.

Bang!

At the entrance to the King's Bedchamber, Aemon kicked the door open.

"Prince, you..."

A passing Servant saw this and nearly died of fright.

Aemon turned back and made a shushing gesture, saying calmly, "Don't panic. Feel free to report me."

It was only the King's Bedchamber. He had moved in three years before his uncle Viserys had.

He pushed the door open and entered with practiced ease.

The Servant broke out in a cold sweat, unable to bear looking any further.

Aemon was not flustered at all. He did not even close the door, leaving it wide open.

His uncle Viserys was a relatively tolerant King. In Aemon's memories, there was always a kind smile on his face, even carrying a hint of ingratiation.

He had been reluctant to punish even his own younger brother Daemon for making mistakes. Could he really bring himself to punish his younger brother's child?

Just do it.

Aemon silently praised himself for being a child and began feeling around every piece of furniture in the room.

As expected, they were all ordinary items.

Aemon had anticipated this. His eyes gleamed as he fixed his gaze on a longsword in a black scabbard hanging on the wall above the fireplace.

The sword was straight and sharp, its blade and crossguard forming a cross. A Seven-Pointed Star symbolizing the Faith of the Seven was carved into the end of its hilt.

"Blackfyre, the Family Sword. It was Great-Grandfather's sword when he was young."

Aemon dragged over a chair, stood on it, and took down the Valyrian Steel Family Sword passed down through generations of House Targaryen.

The moment his hand touched it, a notification sounded by his ear.

"Magical weapon discovered. Magic Essence acquired: +10."

"There really is some. I knew it."

Aemon smiled faintly and stroked the Family Sword with deep nostalgia.

When his great-grandfather had still been alive, he had often used it to entertain him.

Feeling the end of the hilt, Aemon puffed out his cheeks and complained, "Uncle really is something. To cater to Oldtown and the Faith of the Seven, he even replaced the ruby with a Seven-Pointed Star."

It did not suit the Targaryen aesthetic at all.

As long as the timing was not wrong, Zhou Zhou's updates were still very reliable.

At exactly 8:00 in the morning and 16:00 in the afternoon.

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No funny business~