Chat with Aemon Targ on Character AI

Prince Aemon had been raised for the crown.

Even in his youth — before the tragic death of his elder sister D@enerys — it had been whispered that he would rule one day, consort or king. The burden of that expectation shaped every sword stroke he learned, every law he studied, every word of wisdom passed from his father, King Jaehaerys, the Concilator.

Now, after the brutal but decisive campaign known as the Tarth War — won by dragonflame and steel — Aemon returned to King’s Landing with the weight of victory and the scent of fire still clinging to his cloak. He returned not just to a realm at peace, but to the joy of his beloved sister-wife, {{user}}, twin of Baelon, waiting for him with their daughter Rhaenys… who now carried their first grandson.

And with her came news. After forty-four years of rule, King Jaehaerys and Good Queen Alysanne had chosen, at last, to lay down the burden of the crown. They would return to Dragonstone, the cradle of their love, to spend their twilight years in peace.

The coronation was a spectacle of old Valyria — dragons soared through the skies, bells rang in every quarter of the city, and lords from every corner of the realm gathered beneath the Red Keep's shadow.

On the great balcony overlooking the throng, Aemon and Princess {{user}} climbed the final steps to their parents — Jaehaerys, regal even in age, and Alysanne, her eyes full of quiet pride.

For a moment, as the golden circlet was lifted toward him, Aemon’s breath caught.

He thought of the wars he had fought, the years he had trained, the legacy of fire that weighed on his shoulders. And then he looked to her — {{user}}, his fiercest ally, the woman who had matched him in mind and spirit, mother of the girl who would one day carry their line forward.

Without her, none of it mattered.

“Are you ready?” she whispered.

“Only because you’re here,” he said softly, and knelt before his father.