Viserys’s smile stiffened slightly.
From the very beginning, his plan had been to provide support to the Stepstones campaign as slowly as possible, allowing Daemon and Corlys to exhaust as much of their strength as he could.
He had hoped to use the opportunity to bring both men back into the fold of the royal family.
To be honest, this outcome was not what Viserys had wanted.
But having one of them return was still better than having neither.
Viserys stepped forward with a smile.
Blackfyre rested in one hand, while with the other he accepted the vine crown.
After giving it a brief glance, he handed it to Ser Harrold, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.
“Welcome home, brother.”
Viserys placed a hand on Daemon’s shoulder and smiled.
“I am home, brother.”
Without hesitation, Daemon leaned against Viserys’s shoulder and gave a slight nod, almost like a child returning home after a long journey.
Amid the applause of the assembled lords, the bloodline of Prince Baelon the Brave had been reunited once more.
It was a clear signal from the king.
Even though his brother had launched a war against the Triarchy without royal permission, Viserys would not allow anyone to make an issue of it.
Daemon clearly understood this.
Otherwise, he would never have maintained his arrogant posture, flown over King’s Landing to announce his return, and escaped without suffering any punishment whatsoever.
“Daemon, let me introduce you to your nephew, Baelon.”
Viserys patted his brother’s shoulder and smiled as he called his beloved eldest son over.
“Congratulations, nephew.
You’ve finally escaped the title of ‘Baelon the Cursed.'”
Whether Daemon was sincere or not, Baelon couldn’t tell.
But from the moment they met, Daemon’s attention had remained fixed on his eyes.
More accurately, he was staring at the dark circles around them, the consequence of Baelon’s dreams.
“Uncle, congratulations on your victory and your return to the family!”
Rhaenyra happily embraced Daemon.
“I still remember our promise.
Once I conquered the Stepstones, we would fly from King’s Landing to Dragonstone together and have some fun.
Surely you haven’t forgotten?”
Daemon smiled as he reminded her.
His gaze, however, casually swept toward Baelon.
Small.
Frail.
Exhausted.
Still tormented by dreams.
perhaps simply being alive is already a form of suffering.
Baelon naturally noticed the contempt hidden in Daemon’s eyes.
He couldn’t help finding it amusing.
It seemed he had overestimated the uncle who had once called him Heir for a Day.
…
Viserys personally took his brother by the hand and led him into the welcoming feast that had been prepared in his honor.
Queen Alicent was impeccable in both age and her ability to manage a grand occasion.
The banquet had been arranged flawlessly, leaving absolutely nothing to criticize.
Viserys was deeply moved and publicly praised Alicent with the highest compliment he could offer.
“You truly are a worthy Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”
Alicent smiled and slipped her arm around her husband’s.
“You spend every day buried in matters of state.
Helping you with these small affairs is simply what I should do as your wife.”
Viserys gently held Alicent’s slender, pale hand.
“My queen, you’ve worked hard.”
“I told you, it’s simply my duty.”
“Heh.
Rhaenyra really is a model of a virtuous wife and loving mother.”
Rhaenyra looked at the affectionate king and queen with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
At this moment, the expression on her face was almost as dark as the black steel that had become a specialty of the Free Cities.
“Sister, you’re hurting my shoulder.”
Sitting on a wooden chair, Baelon pitifully tapped the hand Rhaenyra had placed on his shoulder.
Rhaenyra froze before immediately giving his shoulder a gentler massage.
“Sorry, Baelon.
I almost forgot you were still here.”
“Ruining your image within the royal family just because of her wouldn’t be worth it,” Baelon reminded her quietly.
He then raised his head in boredom and looked around.
Viserys had an arm around Daemon’s shoulder, happily reminiscing about embarrassing incidents from their childhood.
Daemon nodded and played along on the surface, but his eyes occasionally swept around the room, quietly observing everything around him.
Before long, the victory feast prepared for Prince Daemon officially began.
The nobles and councilors who had come to celebrate approached one after another to offer the victorious prince a toast.
Rhaenyra was no exception.
She had admired Daemon ever since she was young and had always been fascinated by the adventures he had experienced across Westeros.
“Baelon, my eldest son, was kept in Oldtown for many years because of his frail health.”
“By the grace of the Seven, during the recent royal hunt, he was fortunate enough to receive the blessing of the White Hart, the King of the Forest, and his body was miraculously healed.”
For a brief moment, Daemon’s expression became solemn.
Then it relaxed.
“Brother, even Aegon the Conqueror never encountered such a miraculous blessing.
My nephew is undoubtedly fortunate.”
“Yes.
If the Grand Maesters had not examined his body themselves, even I would have thought such a story belonged in some old children’s tale.”
“But he truly did it.
Perhaps this is the favor of the gods upon House Targaryen.”
“Perhaps Baelon is the child who has been chosen.”
Viserys’s declaration sent a shock through every nobleman present.
Faith in the Seven had deep roots throughout Westeros.
Even the High Septon himself would usually only dare claim to be a humble servant and preacher of the gods.
Yet King Viserys had directly declared that Baelon was a child chosen by the sevens.
The implications were obvious.
Daemon reached over and patted Baelon on the head.
“My great nephew, may you remain as healthy as you are today for the rest of your life.”
“Just as my brother said, I hope you encounter even more miracles in the future.”
Rhaenyra failed to notice the hidden currents beneath the conversation.
Instead, she excitedly applauded and quietly offered her brother her own blessing.
Not far away, Alicent’s gentle expression had visibly stiffened.
Her fingernails unconsciously dug into the flesh around her thumb.
She had originally believed that as long as Baelon remained trapped in Oldtown, the Hightowers could use their influence over the city and the Great Sept to slowly destroy the king’s frail eldest son under the guise of having him atone before the Seven.
Once Baelon was gone, she would have the nobles and councilors she had already contacted recommend one of her own sons as the next heir.
By then, even if Viserys objected, the position of heir would inevitably fall to Aegon.
But Baelon’s blessing from the White Hart had delivered an almost fatal blow to that entire plan.
Given Viserys’s obvious favoritism toward his eldest son, all it would take was the right opportunity for him to formally name Baelon Prince of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne.
Could all those years of planning by House Hightower really be wasted like this?
Alicent’s fingernails dug so deeply into her skin that blood began to appear.
To prevent anyone from noticing that she was losing control of her emotions, Alicent deliberately found an excuse and temporarily left the feast.
At almost the same moment, Larys, who had been listening to several noblewomen discussing the situation in the Stepstones, noticed Alicent’s hurried and visibly flustered departure.
His sharp mind immediately detected something interesting.
Larys rose from his seat, politely said farewell to the noblewomen, and followed after her at an unhurried pace.