The king was willing, so naturally, he could not be refused.
Viserys looked pleased and laughed. "Great. As Commander of the Kingsguard, do you have any recommendations?"
"Uh…"
Harold was briefly speechless and quickly sifted through options in his mind.
The Kingsguard was judged by martial prowess. He was old now and usually accompanied the king or the princess.
Among the other guards, Cole's martial skill was undoubtedly one of the highest.
He had defeated the Cargyll brothers—also Kingsguard members—during the tournament. That had been the peak of his martial career.
However, Cole was clearly favored by the princess and widely regarded as her sworn shield.
Harold frowned, torn about whom to recommend.
Aside from him and Cole, Ser Lorent and the Cargyll brothers were also quite skilled, all capable of fighting off a dozen men. They were crucial to the king's protection.
That left only two others…
Finally, Harold thought of someone and whispered into the king's ear.
"Him."
Viserys suddenly understood and turned to one of the white knights guarding the door. "Ser Steffon, your king needs you."
Aemon couldn't help but glance toward the door.
The two white knights standing there turned their heads in unison.
Aemon recognized the one on the right—it was the same knight who had driven the wheelhouse to greet him earlier.
"Your Grace, what do you require?"
Ser Steffon Darklyn strode forward, his expression serious and respectful.
Viserys adjusted his robes and said formally, "From today onward, I hope you'll serve as Prince Aemon's knight instructor—help him become a true knight."
"Train Prince Aemon?"
Ser Steffon was stunned. He hadn't seen this coming.
After laying out the task, Viserys added, "If it would be inconvenient for you, speak freely."
"Speak openly," Harold said firmly.
Ser Steffon quickly recovered and replied solemnly, "It would be an honor, Your Grace."
Viserys was a tolerant ruler who often considered the wishes of those around him.
But those who wore the white cloak were not meant to act out of selfishness.
"Excellent."
Viserys patted his arm and turned to his nephew. "How about having this white knight train you from now on?"
The weight carried by a Kingsguard knight was not light.
"It would be my honor as well," Aemon said seriously, standing up with his round face solemn.
This was something he couldn't refuse—nor did he have a reason to.
At this time, the Kingsguard still carried high prestige—not like the messy, useless bunch they'd become in later years.
He was still young and in need of a loyal and brave protector. At most, he would just refrain from speaking ill of his uncle behind his back and pull a few small tricks in private.
"Haha, good!"
Viserys beamed at his nephew, increasingly fond of him and inexplicably happy in his heart.
After all, they were family.
In the past, to secure his place on the Iron Throne, he had kept his distance from his young nephew and neglected his duties as an uncle.
But now that his own line was secure, he could afford to care for the boy.
That chubby white face—adorable no matter how he looked at it.
Much more agreeable than his unruly bastard brother.
Aemon resumed eating.
"What a good boy," Viserys thought with a soft smile.
The next day.
Little Aegon's second nameday banquet was held as a warm-up for the upcoming royal hunt.
Guests from all over the realm gathered, and the Red Keep was bustling.
"Ah~~"
A group of nobles and lords had gathered to tease the guest of honor.
Little Aegon sat in the arms of a plump maid, with Alicent nearby, proudly showing him off to everyone.
Sometimes she'd say his hair looked like his father's, other times she'd say his eyes did.
"His nose looks like mine too, doesn't it?"
Viserys, holding a wine goblet in one hand and pinching his eldest son's face with the other, made the child squeal.
Aemon had blended into a nearby table, enjoying the abundance of food.
No one knew him, so he could relax.
He ate and watched the festivities with equal enjoyment.
"Prince, you're still growing. You should eat smaller meals more often,"
Ser Steffon, dressed in silver armor and a white cloak, stood nearby and felt the need to advise him.
Aemon looked up, jam clinging to the corners of his mouth, and grinned innocently. "Okay, ser."
He was already full anyway.
Ser Steffon nodded gently, and his tension eased.
He had heard about the conflict between Aemon and Ser Cole yesterday and had feared the prince would be a spoiled little terror.
But now, he seemed easy to get along with.
Aemon wiped his mouth with a handkerchief. If he'd known what Ser Steffon was thinking, he would have told him—
You're too happy too soon!
Still, Ser Steffon did seem trustworthy.
Aemon glanced at him from the corner of his eye. Despite his youth, the man already had a weary look beyond his years.
Not as intimidating as Gunthor, nor as handsome as the Seagull Knight, he was shorter than most, plain in appearance, and always looked serious, brows furrowed.
He looked quite dependable.
"You're under me now," Aemon thought smugly.
After eating and drinking his fill, he started looking for a familiar face in the crowd.
Rhaenyra had promised to take him to the Dragonpit. She wouldn't forget.
"Huh? Not here?"
He looked around but saw no sign of Rhaenyra.
Just then, someone entered the hall and made straight for the king.
Viserys was doting on his son, enjoying the praise of the courtiers.
"Your Grace, there's urgent military news from the Stepstones."
Tyran Lannister leaned in and reported in a low voice.
Viserys turned and saw his Master of Ships approaching.
Tall, clad in luxurious black, with neatly combed golden hair and a strikingly handsome face, Tyran looked solemn.
"Your Grace…"
Tyran tried to speak further about the Stepstones.
Viserys raised his hand, cutting him off. "Tyran, not today."
"But—" Tyran was stunned.
"Let the Sea Snake and Daemon handle it for now."
Viserys brushed him off, returning to his wine and meat, not wanting more trouble.
At the same table, Aemon had witnessed the entire exchange.
Viserys noticed him and gave a warm smile.
Aemon returned the smile, then quietly slipped away.
The matter concerned his father Daemon, but he wasn't too worried.
The Crabfeeder was a tough opponent, but his fate was sealed.
Not long after, Viserys, pestered again by Tyran, made an excuse to leave and shouted that he was going to look for his daughter.
"I'll go look for her."
Alicent overheard and quickly guessed where Rhaenyra might be.
The two had been childhood friends and shared a secret hideout.
But after Alicent married Viserys and gave birth to a child, Rhaenyra's position as heir had become unstable, and their relationship had slowly frayed.
Rhaenyra's absence now was likely intentional.
Aemon's eyes lit up, and just as he was about to say he'd go with Alicent to look for her, someone handed him a baby.
"You help watch the child."
"No! I can't!"
Aemon protested, clearly bitter. He was still a child.
"Ah~~"
Little Aegon was thrust into his arms and began wailing.
"Stop fussing. I'm not happy either."
Aemon frowned, clearly unwilling.
Little Aegon wasn't having it either, kicking and screaming. "Ah~~"
"Speak the Common Tongue," Aemon muttered darkly.
You're already two—still crying like a newborn Helaena.
"Ah~~"
Little Aegon shook his head defiantly, showing no respect.
"Good boy. Let's not lose face here."
Aemon wasn't the type to surrender. He could lose to a bichon, but not to this brat.
Holding Little Aegon in one arm and grabbing a plate of blueberries with the other, his smile slowly turned wicked.
- - - - - - - - -
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