The year 96 A.C. Was one of happiness and sorrow. On the same moon, when I took flight for the first time, my second nephew, Maelon Targaryen, died stillborn. It was Aemma's third pregnancy, which she carried to full term, but it was her fifth in total. I still remember the pain on Aemma's and my brother's faces every time they lost a babe. Yet even after Maelon, they would try, as my brother was my father's heir, and he needed a son for an heir.
I found those days difficult. I enjoyed the time I spent with Visenya and the others, but I couldn't really talk with any in for truth. I was a child of four and could hardly speak of those matters like Aemma's pain.
So I often discuss it with my behemoth of a friend, the only real friend I had then. With Balerion, he can speak of all things without being on my toes. So, whenever I could, I would ask to go to the dragon pit to see the old dragon nestled in the pit. He left Balerion unchained as he had forbidden it. Balerion now often took flights on his own and would fly to the ocean to hunt for sea creatures.
Pages out of the Journal of Aemon Targaryen the White Dragon.
Aemon Targaryen (96 A.C. Fith moon)
"Balerion, how are you, my friend?" He asked happily aloud when he arrived. "Good young fellow, but where are your guards? Aren't you supposed to be with someone?" The old dragon asked. "I ran in the pit. I ditch Harold. I'm ready to fly, Balerion," He said, excitement going through his entire body. Balerion gently bit his gape, lifted him up as if he didn't weigh more than a feather, and quickly lowered him on his back. "Good plan. I wouldn't have been able to climb the ropes." Aemon said with a grin to his companion as he saddled himself in the saddle.
"Ready," The Balerion roared. "Yes, Soves," He shouted in High Valyrian. The giant dragon started walking to the cave system of the Dragonpit and went outside through the open door, of the side entrance. Then, with a mighty roar, Balerion leaped into the air, and the morning sun shone through the sky.
It was a breathtaking sight as they flew, Aemon thought and murmured to his friend. "Thank you, Balerion,"
Balerion gave an answering roar, making it so that most, if not all, people of King's Landing would wake up. "I'm in so much trouble, sorry, Harrold." He murmured aloud.
"You are my friend," Balerion rumbled as he flew toward the east to the dragon. 'The time flew by on the dragon's back. Thank the gods, the Targaryens still have saddles. Rhaegal didn't have one and he remembered gripping his spike for dear life. The memory left him melancholy but also with happiness at the past ride with his past dragon.' He wondered as he sat comfortably on Balerion's back.
"Rhaegal, my grandchild, Dreamfyre egg, no?" Balerion rumbled. "The dragon eggs Elissa Farman stole are very similar in appearance to your description,"
"Most likely, the three eggs Daenerys hatched were similar in appearance to them, yes," Aemon answered the ancient dragon.
"Dragonstone, I missed you, old castle," Aemon sighed as the ancient fortress of the Targaryens came into view. In their time together, Balerion told him a lot about how the Valyrians built the black stone walls, castles, and cities. The architects infused the stone with volcanic lava, and the dragon flame would melt the stone so the masons could hammer the stone into shapes or fuse the laid stone together into solid walls, making them almost unbreakable. It gave the castle an even more impressive appearance than it had before.
"It's where the capital should have been for us. We gave your family its power, but the hubris of men is never far away from someone. Even Aegon thought of that. There is a reason why most dragons in the dragonpit stop growing, not only for the lack of freedom," Balerion rumbled.
"Mmm, funny. Dany said the same to me when we were in the dragon pit. All those many years ago. She said, 'This place was the beginning of the end for my family. Skorverdon daor, a dragon, is not a slave. They were terrifying and extraordinary. They filled people with wonder and awe, and we locked them in here. They wasted away. They grew small, and we grew small as well. We weren't extraordinary without them. We were just like everyone else.'" Aemon added, speaking of the melancholy memory.
Aemon's mind then drifted off to her. 'She wasn't normal. She was beautiful, and something in her broke. That made her give fire blood to so many people. The day, everything went from bad to worse, and it would eventually end with him killing his last family on the part of his father. Becoming a kinslayer. Oh, Dany, I'm sorry I wasn't there for you.'
"You have to let the pain go of the past, Aemon, or it will consume you. The fate of your aunt was tragic, but she was fire, and with all the death and betrayal around her, with you not being there for her, and her fear for you. As well as you not accepting that part of your family, perhaps you could have helped her and maybe even saved Rhaegal and the girl Missandei. But that is the past of a future that can't be rewritten. One that isn't around anymore. The only thing that is still around from that time is the memory you carry. Without it, you wouldn't be who you are today. The only thing you can do is move forward and keep the memory of the ones you love so you don't forget them," the old dragon rumbled.
"There is this saying, Aemon, even dragons have them. 'Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift, that's why it's called a present,'" Balerion chuckled.
'The dragon actually talks like Maester Aemon,' Aemon thought with a smile. "I shall keep that in mind, my friend. I better not throw away advice from an almost three-century-old dragon,"
After seeing Dragonstone, they flew back, and the smell of the city as it came into view. 'Let the scolding come,' he thought.
"Aemon Targaryen!" His mother yelled at him in a high-pitched voice and hugged him in relief as Balerion put him back down on the ground and stepped down from Balerion.
"You, little evil boy, do you want your parents to die from a heart attack?" She said, glaring at him sternly in the face. "So, boy, what do you have to say?" His father said, looking sternly into his face. That face and his mother looking at him as she did now were among the few times he still felt like a kid.
"I wanted to fly with my friend," Aemon said in a childlike voice. 'I can't tell them I'm talking with Balerion. They would think him crazy.' He thought guilty as he stared down at the pavement. "Sorry, scared you, Muna, and Kepa,
"Well, it seems our boy at least has enormous willpower. The last child who tried to ride the dread went missing for moons. But you must promise me. You will not ride without me again until you are eight namedays, my boy, or else I will have you read the seven-pointed star in one go," his father said, hugging him and ruffling his hair. "Even if I'm furious at you, you have shown courage in riding the Black Dread." His father said, shaking his head.
"I smell another with blood like yours, Aemon. It is your mother," Balerion said curiously. Aemon looked at Balerion. "Do you maen Visenya?"
"No," Balerion answered with a rumble. "Oh," He thought as his eyes widened as he looked toward his mother.
"Muma, babe in your belly?" Aemon said as he placed his hand on her belly, his mother looked shocked at him. "Aemon, I'm not with child," she said, looking at Baelon. "Lya, I don't know. But when did you have your moonblood? But Aemon does want a little brother or sister?" His father said.
Aemon smiled at his father. "Doesn't matter. Visenya is a great sister. If I have a brother or sister. I will be happy." His father ruffled his hair and then looked at his mother.
"I don't know, my dragon. Now you ask, I don't know," she said, with half a smile. "Well, it seems we do have a trip to maester." His father replied, smiling.
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