Before long, guided by the scenes from his dream, Aemon found a broad cave draped in vines.
There was no particular reason.
Just a faint sense of familiarity, coupled with an inexplicable thread of fear.
"Squeak, squeak."
The Gold-Nosed Rat crawled out of the satchel, its golden nose sniffing about.
Aemon set it on the ground, took off the satchel, and bent down. "Go on. Wait for me to come out."
Taming a dragon was far too dangerous. There was no need to bring the little thing along.
"Squeak?"
The Gold-Nosed Rat was reluctant, vigorously nuzzling its head into its master's palm.
What kind of rat was afraid of life and death?
"Be good. Dragonfire will roast you."
Aemon's eyes were gentle as he gave it a little push. "Hurry up. Take my precious satchel with you."
"Squeak~"
Utterly unwilling to part, the Gold-Nosed Rat picked up the satchel strap in its tiny mouth and scampered away, looking back every few steps.
Aemon smiled and watched the little creature slip away.
He was not one hundred percent certain about taming a dragon.
Dragons were dangerous, especially those with violent temperaments.
According to the family's history of dragon-taming, most had succeeded in their teens, while a few only did so as adults.
Like his uncle Viserys and his father Daemon.
As descendants of Baelon the Brave, the brothers had both tamed dragons after turning twenty.
His father Daemon had been even later, taming Blood Wyrm Caraxes in 105 AC, when he was already twenty-four.
Only Maegor the Cruel could compare in that regard.
"Keep your spirits up. I can't disgrace myself!"
Aemon patted his cheeks, more serious than ever before.
Then he strode into the cave.
Crack!
Lighting a spare torch, Aemon narrowed his eyes slightly as he adjusted to the