The city of King's Landing, the hills of Rhaenys, deep within the Dragonpit.
Aemond stood in the incubation chamber in the southern part of the Dragonpit, his black leather boots treading on the warm earth.
Before him stood three specially made young nests of Dragonglass.
Each nest attempted to mimic the environment of the Valyrian volcanoes.
Three newborn dragons writhed within the nests.
The first was scarlet, its scales like blood in the firelight, each with a metallic sheen.
She was the smallest, but also the most active, using her tiny claws to pull at the edge of the nest, trying to climb out.
As Aemond approached, she looked up, her small amber eyes like flames burning in the shadows.
She opened her mouth, revealing a row of needle-like teeth, emitting a sharp hissing sound and a childish voice.
"Grumpy little thing." Aemond stepped closer and whispered.
The scarlet dragon, he could now clearly see she was a she-dragon, and she sensed the scent in the air.
She tilted her head, her amber eyes fixed on Aemond's hands, especially the tip of his index finger.
Yesterday, due to the wedding, the wound had just healed, and there was still a barely noticeable trace of blood.
She recognized the scent of blood, the same as her first breath when she burst from her shell.
Watching Aemond draw closer, she hissed.
Aemond ignored it, crouched down, and extended his hand.
She feigned timidity, cautiously lowering her head, carefully approaching and touching the tip of Aemond's finger with the tip of her cold nose.
And then the young dragon suddenly opened her mouth, her fangs and sharp teeth about to bite him!
But Aemond was faster.
His hand was like lightning, his five fingers retracting precisely, pinching the young dragon's neck.
The movement was clean and neat, without the slightest hesitation.
The young dragon was choked to the limit and suddenly let out a piercing shriek, her hind legs clawing at the air, her tail thrashing.
"Calm down." Aemond said.
The young dragon struggled for a few seconds and gradually stopped.
She glared at Aemond with anger and confusion in her eyes, but was actually restrained, the power difference between them too great.
Aemond released his grip, and the little dragon fell back into her nest, stumbling.
She involuntarily hissed, fluttering her underdeveloped membranous wings, trying to fly.
But she had hatched less than a day ago, and her wings were too soft, fluttering a few times like a clumsy chicken, then falling again.
Aemond looked at the awkward little red dragon and couldn't help but laugh.
He extended his hand again.
This time, the young dragon learned her lesson and didn't attack immediately.
Just as Aemond's hand was about to touch her, the young dragon suddenly tensed, flopped down in the nest, twitched twice, and lay still.
Playing dead?
Aemond raised an eyebrow.
He leaned closer to look carefully.
The young dragon's body was stiff, she didn't even blink.
This little one? You're not scared to death, are you?
He extended his index finger and gently poked the young dragon's belly.
The next second, the young dragon suddenly resurrected, opened her mouth, and began to gnaw on that finger!
But this time, she didn't use her teeth.
Instead, she wrapped her tongue, covered with tiny spines, around his fingertip, greedily sucking and licking the blood oozing from the wound on his finger.
Aemond was stunned for a moment, then laughed in exasperation.
This little red dragon was truly... shameless.
"Enough." He patted the young dragon's head.
The young dragon groaned discontentedly, but seeing Aemond's eyes, she obediently stepped aside.
The other two young dragons had already smelled the blood.
The silver she-dragon with red eyes, like two drops of clotted blood in the shadows, slowly crawled towards him.
She stopped beside Aemond, looked up, and stared curiously at the little blood on Aemond's finger, but didn't pounce on it greedily like the red dragon.
Aemond crouched down and touched the silver dragon's back with his right hand.
The silver dragon didn't resist, but she didn't respond either, just stood quietly, gazing at him with her red eyes, unblinking.
The third was a dark gold male dragon, his scales shining like splendid dark gold.
He wasn't as active as the Scarlet Dragon, nor as quiet as the Silver Dragon.
He stood in the center, head held high, his golden eyes fixed on Aemond.
Aemond extended his hand.
The Dark Gold young dragon didn't flinch, nor did he initiate or approach.
He allowed Aemond's hand to rest above his head, feeling the temperature and strength of that palm.
Suddenly, he opened his mouth, and a small orange-red flame flickered in his throat!
A small stream of fire surged forward!
The flame was so weak it went out before leaving his mouth, leaving only a few wisps of smoke in the air.
The meaning was clear.
I can breathe fire now.
He raised his head and let out a childish but proud roar.
Aemond truly laughed this time.
It wasn't the angry laugh from the young red dragon, but genuine amusement.
"Proud little creature." He said, gently stroking the dragon's scales on top of the young dragon's head with his fingers.
He squeezed a few drops of blood from his fingertip, this time willingly, deliberately pressing the wound so droplets of blood seeped out.
He first fed the Dark Gold Dragon.
Instead of greedily sucking like the red dragon, the Dark Gold Dragon showed his tongue and moved calmly.
Then he fed the Silver Dragon.
The Silver Dragon lowered her head and lightly licked, then looked at him after licking.
The Scarlet young dragon had long been impatient, jumping in the nest, making pitiful hissing sounds, as if saying:
What about me? What about me? I want it too!
Aemond glanced at her and ignored her.
The little red young dragon grew even more anxious, trying to climb out of the nest, but fell again.
She lay there, whimpering pitifully, her amber eyes wet as she looked at Aemond.
"You really are greedy." Aemond looked at her and commented.
But in the end, he extended his hand and let the red dragon lick the blood stains on his fingertips.
The little red dragon immediately became cheerful, wagging her tail like a puppy as she licked.
After feeding them blood, Aemond stood up and turned to Dragonkeeper Rossart, who was waiting nearby.
"These three dragons," Aemond said, "I will name them myself."
Dragonkeeper Rossart bowed and said, "Yes, Your Highness."
"Their names will be recorded in the dragon genealogies."
Aemond pointed to the scarlet she-dragon: "Her name is Alex."
Pointing to the silver she-dragon: "Her name is Light."
Finally, he pointed to the dark gold dragon: "His name is Caesar."
Dragonkeeper Rossart took out parchment and charcoal from his hands.
Aemond looked at the three young dragons and began to calculate.
The Greens now had eleven dragons: four adult dragons (Vhagar, Dreamfyre, Tessarion, Sunfyre) and two young dragons (Morghul, Shrykos).
Five hatchlings (Ivy, Ymir, Alex, Light, and Caesar) had hatched themselves.
And the Blacks...
They had six adult dragons: Rhaenyra's Syrax, Daemon's Caraxes, Rhaenys's Meleys, as well as Silverwing, Sheepstealer, and the riderless "Bronze Fury" Vermithor.
Plus three young dragons, Moondancer (Baela), and two that just hatched.