Chapter 52: Chasing under the Moon

The sun sets.

Aemon stepped onto the beach of Dragonstone and trotted on the golden sand.

The fishy and salty sea breeze blew and felt cool on his face.

"Ser, keep up."

Aemon shouted happily.

He was running.

It was the second time in his life he had set foot on Dragonstone and was running on the beach.

The goal was particularly clear.

A huge mountain towering between the cliffs.

Dragonmont!

"Dragonmont is an active volcano, and the dragons' lairs are all there."

Aemon smiled, full of enthusiasm to face the unknown.

He wanted to tame a dragon.

The two white knights followed closely, looking for branches to make torches in advance.

It was getting dark.

Even on Dragonstone, one had to remain extremely vigilant.

The sun gradually set and the sky darkened.

Aemon took the lead, bypassing several steep slopes and rushing toward the rocky and barren terrain.

Further ahead stood Dragonmont.

"Stop, who's there!?"

Suddenly, several flames lit up in the distance, followed by a loud shout.

Aemon turned his head.

He saw a group of people rushing from the direction of Dragonstone Castle, built atop the cliffs.

An old man and two young dragonkeepers, wearing coarse linen clothes, held bamboo sticks tightly in their hands.

Five guards clad in armor and red cloaks.

One of them looked particularly fierce—tall and strong—rushing toward them aggressively.

He was the one who had shouted.

"Prince."

Ser Alec's face changed slightly and he looked to Aemon for instruction.

"Stay calm."

Aemon was much more composed.

Dragonstone was Targaryen family land, and Dragonmont was the dragons' lair.

A patrol force was to be expected.

The patrol team soon approached.

The old dragonkeeper looked wary and questioned in High Valyrian, "Who are you, and what is your purpose in coming to Dragonmont so late at night?"

"Why ask so many questions? Seize them first!"

The tall knight in the lead was clearly uneasy and waved his hand to have them captured.

"Hold!"

The two white knights unsheathed their swords, showing no fear.

Aemon stepped forward, staring at the tall knight, and raised his voice in High Valyrian: "I am Aemon Targaryen, son of Daemon, Prince of House Targaryen."

His voice was sonorous and firm.

As he spoke, he looked at the dragonkeeper directly.

The old dragonkeeper's expression shifted. After clearly recognizing him, he solemnly declared, "The prince has arrived. Please forgive us for not welcoming you properly."

He quickly pulled the two younger dragonkeepers to bow in respect.

There was no need for further questioning. Aemon's silver-gold hair and innate nobility already confirmed his identity.

Moreover, his High Valyrian was fluent.

Upon hearing "Prince," the tall knight's face changed slightly. He hurriedly straightened up and greeted him with a forced smile, "Your Highness, I am Ser Alfred of Dragonstone. I extend my sincerest welcome."

Aemon narrowed his eyes, trying to recall where he had heard that name.

It was vaguely familiar.

He seemed to be a character during the Dance of the Dragons—a traitor, in fact.

This man had contributed to Rhaenyra's death.

"Prince, what are your orders?"

Ser Alec remained alert and did not sheathe his sword.

Aemon saw no reason to conceal his purpose and replied bluntly, "I came to tame a dragon."

This time, he spoke in the common tongue for all to understand.

The old dragonkeeper looked up at the sky and kindly advised, "It's getting dark. Why not wait until morning and choose a hatchling?"

"No. I want a giant dragon."

Aemon's tone was firm.

"You mustn't be so reckless."

The old dragonkeeper was clearly shocked.

The torchlight flickered in the wind, revealing Aemon's delicate, youthful face—still unmistakably a child.

How could a child awaken a sleeping dragon?

In the midst of the conversation, someone had other thoughts.

Ser Alfred, middle-aged and the most senior hedge knight on Dragonstone, always commanded respect.

But staying on the island meant his status would remain stagnant.

"Daemon's son… What an opportunity."

Alfred lowered his gaze, his thoughts churning.

It was no secret the king and his brother Daemon were estranged.

And this time, Daemon had not stayed on Dragonstone after returning from the Stepstones—eliminating a great deal of potential trouble.

Rumors from old acquaintances said relations between the brothers had soured even further.

Daemon's son, sneaking to the island in the dead of night to claim a dragon—there had to be something fishy about it.

"Could it be rebellion?"

Alfred felt excitement surge in his chest.

Worst case, the king disapproved of his nephew taming a dragon, so the boy came in secret.

If he stopped him, he couldn't be blamed either way.

Even if wrong, he could excuse it by saying the prince was too young to be left alone.

Yes. That was the move.

With that thought, Alfred pushed past the old dragonkeeper, stepping forward with a courteous tone: "Your Highness, the night grows late. Why not rest at the Stone Drum Tower for the night?"

The Stone Drum Tower was part of Dragonstone Castle, built into the cliffs.

Aemon frowned and declined, "No need. But thank you."

He had no desire to engage further and gave the two white knights a signal before turning toward Dragonmont.

"Hold!"

Alfred wasn't going to let his prey escape so easily. He stepped forward again to block the way.

Swish! Swish!

The white knights raised their swords, blocking both the dragonkeepers and guards closing in.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Aemon looked at him, puzzled.

Alfred's face was one of feigned concern: "Your Highness, please reconsider the dragonkeepers' advice. It's truly unwise to proceed now."

Aemon's eyes grew cold. He gave a swift command: "Ser, hold them off."

Just from the man's unpleasant expression, he could see his true intent.

"Be careful, Your Highness."

The two white knights weren't hesitant. Each grabbed an opponent and began to clash.

Aemon didn't waste time—he ran.

Seeing him flee, Alfred lost all pretense and shouted: "Stop him! Don't let His Highness wander into danger!"

The four guards and two dragonkeepers hesitated, then decided to follow.

The guards had their orders.

The dragonkeepers were genuinely concerned—no child should wake a sleeping dragon.

"You go help him. I'll hold this one!"

Alec raised his sword and attacked. His brother Erik dashed after the prince.

Clang!

Steel rang against steel as Alec clashed with Alfred, sparks flying in the night.

...

A bright moon rose high into the sky.

"Hoo-hoo—"

Aemon ran swiftly, breathing steadily.

The moonlight lit his path, and he neared the base of Dragonmont.

He glanced back—several figures were still chasing him.

"Haha! I won't let you stop me."

Aemon laughed aloud.

There was no panic, only a thrill—a reckless joy of running under the moonlight.

Before long—

He reached the base of Dragonmont after following a winding, rocky trail.

He looked back once more. The pursuers had been delayed, but not for long.

"That should be enough time."

Aemon turned and began to climb the steep mountainside.

His gaze fixed halfway up the slope.

It was overgrown with greenery, but wisps of thick smoke seeped out from one of the many caves.

The place was clear in his memory.

If he remembered correctly—

There, deep inside the smoking cave, lay two riderless dragons in slumber.

- - - - - - - - -

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