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CaveLeather Baelor closed the ledger and stared at the ash-blackened scrap of paper.
Daemon visiting Alicent in the dead of night.
To keep me from claiming a dragon?
The question sat cold and sharp in his mind.
… In the Red Keep, a pair of maids whispered that the queen was unwell and politely dismissed the Kingsguard stationed outside her chambers.
Daemon stepped from the hidden passage, eyes traveling over her without the slightest pretense of courtesy.
Even after three children, Alicent Hightower still possessed the kind of beauty and fullness that made a man linger.
“Queen Alicent,” he said, voice low and amused, “summoning me at this hour… loneliness, is it?” Her face tightened at once.
“Watch your tongue, Daemon.
I am your brother’s wife and queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
You will show me the respect that rank demands.” She had heard the stories of his shamelessness.
She had not expected him to be quite so bold in her own bedchamber.
Daemon plucked an apple from a nearby dish, dropped into a chair, and crossed one leg over the other.
“Very well, dear sister-in-law.
What does the queen require of her loving good-brother?” Alicent’s voice dropped.
“I know you have no desire to see Baelor claim a great dragon.
In that, at least, we stand together.
Our interests are the same.” She leaned forward.
“You have not seen how he treats Aegon.
He keeps the boy from the Dragonpit entirely.
If a creature that selfish ever sits the Iron Throne, neither of us will survive the settling of accounts.” Daemon’s interest sharpened.
Two months.
That was all it had taken for the returned prince to plant real fear in the queen.
He rocked his foot lazily.
“And what, exactly, do you propose?” “He means to claim a dragon on Dragonstone.
All I need from you is a false rumor.
The rest I will handle myself.” She already knew the Cannibal’s recent movements.
One carefully arranged accident while the boy approached the wild dragon would be enough.
Daemon studied the self-satisfied set of her shoulders and offered a quiet warning.
“Do not speak so confidently, Your Grace.
That boy is the one my brother calls ‘Baelor Blessed by the Gods.’ The firstborn he places above every other hope.
Without a plan that leaves no trace, I suggest you abandon whatever worm-eaten scheme you are hatching.” Alicent laughed once, soft and cold, and answered in the precise cadence her father had used for years.
“You still believe you have the right to lecture me?
You are already inside my chambers, Daemon.
Whether you join the plot against Baelor or not, Viserys will never forgive either of us once he learns of this night.” In other words: we are already in the same boat.
Daemon’s smile remained, but the warmth left his eyes.
In the queen’s face he saw the ghost of the man he despised most—Otto Hightower, the sonless old goat who had wormed his way into the heart of the realm.
… At noon the next day the royal ships slipped out of Blackwater Bay.
Viserys and Alicent traveled with the children.
To ensure his firstborn’s safety, the king had granted Rhaenyra and Daemon leave to fly ahead on dragonback.
He also hoped, quietly, that his forever-childish brother might finally act like an uncle.
Daemon did not refuse.
Once aloft he offered an unexpected suggestion.
“With Caraxes at hand, my nephew could try for Vermithor.
The old Bronze Fury is the strongest dragon on Dragonstone short of Vhagar herself.
Place that beast under the royal banner and neither the Triarchy nor Dorne will dare test the Stepstones again.” Viserys felt a rare flicker of pride at the thought, then shook his head at once.
“You know my answer.
Baelor’s life outweighs every dragon in the world.” Daemon, whether from the night’s bargain or from some buried guilt, spoke a rare honest word.
“He is your heir.
The duty of protecting the house and carrying its wars belongs to him.
Vermithor’s name alone still makes half the realm flinch.” Rhaenyra leaned forward, eyes bright.
“Father, let him try.
Daemon and I will be right there.
Nothing will go wrong.” Helaena tugged at the king’s sleeve, small white hands raised.
“Brother is very strong.
I saw it.
He is a true dragon.
Fire does not frighten him.” Alicent’s voice cut across her daughter’s.
“Helaena.
This is not for you to decide.
Your father will choose.” Viserys looked to the boy who had been reading quietly against the rail.
“Baelor.
What say you?” Baelor closed the book.
“I agree with my sister.
Silverwing is gentle, but I would rather claim Vermithor.” The words were true enough as far as they went.
Vermithor was only the public target.
The real prize remained the far more dangerous Cannibal.
After weeks of studying the Dragonpit ledgers, Baelor had learned one iron rule of claiming: the closest bond formed between rider and dragon when their natures already matched.
Viserys’s gaze hardened.
“Have you also begun to ignore your father’s wishes?” Baelor met the look without flinching.
“I am thinking of the house, Father.
With Uncle watching over me, nothing will happen.
Do not refuse.” Viserys opened his mouth, then closed it again.
The majority of the voices around him—Rhaenyra, Daemon, even little Helaena—stood with the boy, and their reasons were hard to dismiss.
In the end the king simply glared at the lot of them, turned on his heel, and vanished into the cabin in a black temper.
The moment the door shut, the four conspirators looked at one another.
The laughter they had been holding back rose at once, silent and shared.
Baelor’s smile faded first.
“Sister… is Father truly all right?
Should I go apologize?” Daemon waved the concern away.
“No need.
He has always been like this—especially when he is scolding me.
Half the time I swear he wants to stuff my own cock back down my throat.” The two brothers had once been closer than any other pair in the family.
It was Viserys himself who had taken the younger Daemon to a Dragonstone brothel for his first night with a woman.
Later, when the succession to the title of Prince of Dragonstone had hung between them and their cousin Rhaenys, Daemon had gathered hundreds of loyal men and thrown their support behind Viserys without hesitation.
That was why, no matter how many times the Rogue Prince erred, the king could never bring himself to cast the eternal child aside.
CaveLeather