Baelon nodded in thanks, then lowered his head and continued eating the sumptuous breakfast laid out before him.
Viserys was eating roasted lamb chops and cream cake, his eyes filled with warmth as he looked upon his harmonious family.
He was delighted that his eldest son, Baelon, had been willing to put aside his grievances and forgive Daemon.
At the same time, he was relieved to see that his troublesome younger brother had finally matured enough to restrain his pride.
“Father,” Rhaenyra said, “Uncle Daemon and I have already made plans.
Once the Small Council meeting is over, we’re going to ride our dragons to Dragonstone together!”
Daemon immediately played along.
“I promised Rhaenyra that after the war in the Stepstones was over, I would fly with her to Dragonstone and teach her some of what I’ve learned about riding dragons.”
Viserys was delighted.
“Seeing you care so much about your nephew and niece truly makes me happy.
Brother, you’ve really grown up!”
“Brother, people never remain exactly the same.”
Daemon raised his goblet of red wine and gave Viserys a meaningful toast.
Viserys smiled and raised his own cup, genuinely pleased by the apparent growth of his younger brother.
The atmosphere at breakfast was exceptionally warm and harmonious.
Unfortunately, Baelon could no longer bring himself to finish the bread in his hand.
He had spent far too many years in Oldtown.
As far as family affection was concerned, the only person who had ever truly cared for him was his sister Rhaenyra.
As for the rest of his days, they had consisted of either “atoning before the Seven” or engaging in endless verbal battles against the Hightower family, the maesters of the Citadel, and the factions within the Great Sept that opposed House Targaryen.
Daemon’s double-edged remark had undoubtedly set off every alarm bell in his mind.
After breakfast, Viserys convened the Small Council to discuss how the Stepstones should be defended.
Otto, the Master of Whisperers, was once again the first to speak.
“Your Grace, according to the latest reports from the Stepstones, the islands are an important trading port for both the Triarchy and Dorne.
Simply defending them will only continue draining the royal treasury.”
“I propose that we send envoys to negotiate with the Triarchy and Dorne.
If we reduce some of the port taxes, perhaps we can obtain the peace we so desperately need.”
Viserys nodded in satisfaction.
Otto’s words had clearly struck a chord with him.
As a kind and forgiving king, negotiation and marriage alliances had always been his preferred methods of maintaining a balance of power.
Daemon, however, could hardly believe what he had just heard.
“Otto, are you suggesting that before we’ve even eaten the meat, we should hand half of it over to the enemy?!”
“Prince Daemon, I am merely presenting my personal opinion to the king.”
“Furthermore, the royal treasury can no longer support endless wars.
Peace must be our highest priority, even if that means surrendering some of our profits.”
Otto understood Viserys extremely well.
It was precisely this confidence in his ability to read the king that had allowed him to rise steadily through the ranks.
Viserys turned toward Lyonel Strong, the current Hand of the King.
“What do you think?”
“Your Grace, I do not deny the value of the peace Lord Otto proposes.
But if we surrender too much, then what was the point of conquering the Stepstones in the first place?”
Lyonel thought for a moment before offering what he considered a fair and reasonable position.
Then Lord Lyman Beesbury, the Master of Coin, spoke up.
“Your Grace, I agree with the Hand.
Peace is necessary, but we absolutely cannot allow the Triarchy and Dorne to become emboldened and demand more and more from us!”
Grand Maester Mellos sternly countered both men.
I believe we all know what sort of scoundrels the Dornish and the Triarchy are.
Surrendering a reasonable amount of our interests is a necessary price for maintaining peace within the realm!”
The debate continued all the way until noon, yet neither side managed to produce a satisfactory solution.
Daemon and Otto were particularly vicious toward one another.
It was as though they had dug up each other’s ancestors’ graves in a previous life.
Every time they met, they looked as though they would gladly pick up a wooden chair and smash it over the other’s head.
In the end, the meeting broke up in complete disagreement.
Daemon was the first to rise.
He waved toward Rhaenyra before leaving the council chamber.
“Father, I’ll be going first.”
Rhaenyra set down the wine jug, gently embraced her father’s back, and bid him farewell.
“My child, be careful.”
Viserys returned his daughter’s embrace and offered her his blessing.
“Come with me, Baelon.
I want to see your dragons and Uncle Daemon’s.”
Baelon took Rhaenyra’s hand and spoke in a slightly pleading tone.
Rhaenyra turned toward her father, unwilling to make the decision without his permission.
Viserys leaned wearily against his chair and waved them off.
“Go.
Just make sure Baelon doesn’t let the dragons hurt him.”
“I understand, Father.”
With permission granted, Baelon, Rhaenyra, and Daemon traveled by carriage toward the Dragonpit, accompanied by Ser Erryk Cargyll as their guard.
The Dragonpit was built into the mountain slopes, quiet and spacious.
When the royal carriage arrived, an armored guard hurried forward and raised his hand to signal them to stop.
“Which prince or princess has come to visit?”
Erryk rode forward and called out loudly, “Baelon Targaryen, eldest son of Viserys I and heir to the Iron Throne!”
“Rhaenyra Targaryen, the king’s eldest daughter!”
“And Prince Daemon Targaryen, the king’s brother!”
Upon hearing the names, the guards protecting the Dragonpit immediately stepped aside and allowed the royal carriage to enter.
Erryk rode ahead to inform the dragonkeepers that Syrax and Caraxes were to have their chains removed.
By the time the royal party reached the inner section of the Dragonpit, Caraxes had already begun crawling forward.
The Blood Wyrm affectionately nudged Daemon.
“Baelon, pay close attention to how Uncle Daemon interacts with his dragon.
It will be very useful to you when you eventually tame one of your own.”
Rhaenyra lightly nudged Baelon and reminded him in a quiet voice.
“I know, Sister.
And don’t forget what I asked you to do.
Don’t tell anyone else.”
Naturally, Baelon was referring to the search for information about Cannibal.
“Baelon, I always keep your affairs close to my heart.”
Rhaenyra leaned toward his ear and whispered reassuringly.
While the siblings were chatting, Daemon had already mounted Caraxes and ridden the dragon out of the Dragonpit.
From above, he looked down at the close-knit siblings, and a strange glimmer suddenly appeared in his eyes.
Come over and touch him.”
Baelon first glanced at Daemon, making sure his uncle had a firm grip on the reins before slowly approaching.
Then—
“SKREEEEE!”
Syrax suddenly opened her jaws and let out an uncontrolled roar as she lunged forward.
Had Baelon not remained alert and kept his distance, her jaws would certainly have bitten down on his right shoulder.
“Baelon!
Are you all right?”
Rhaenyra immediately moved away from Syrax and hurried forward, shielding her younger brother behind her.
“Easy, Caraxes!”
Daemon urgently tightened the reins and began soothing his restless dragon in High Valyrian.
The dragonkeepers immediately rushed toward Caraxes and skillfully began using the traditional calming commands.
Yet Caraxes behaved strangely.
The Blood Wyrm, normally obedient to its rider, did not respond to Daemon’s attempts to calm it.
Instead, it continued snarling at Baelon.
Its eyes were filled with both vigilance and aggression.
For some reason, Caraxes was looking at Baelon not as though he were a small child, but as though he were another dragon of comparable strength.
“What is going on?!”
Rhaenyra angrily questioned the dragonkeepers in High Valyrian.
“Princess, before releasing Caraxes, we calmed and fed him as usual.
We have no idea what could have caused this!”
The chief dragonkeeper immediately dropped to his knees and begged forgiveness.
“You still dare make excuses?!”
Rhaenyra’s anger flared.
“I think you’re deliberately trying to harm the heir to the Iron Throne!”
She gestured toward Erryk, ordering him to seize the dragonkeeper.
A younger dragonkeeper hurriedly knelt before the princess.
“Princess, we dragonkeepers are loyal to the royal family!
We would never conspire with outsiders or endanger the king’s eldest son!”
“Besides, dragons actually—”
Baelon interrupted him.
“Sister, Caraxes has always been one of the most ferocious dragons in House Targaryen.
There’s nothing particularly strange about him displaying aggression.”
“Besides, I wasn’t injured, was I?”
“But—”
“All right, all right.
If you and Uncle Daemon don’t leave soon, you probably won’t make it to Dragonstone tonight.”
Baelon urged Rhaenyra impatiently.
Rhaenyra helplessly sighed and gently cupped her brother’s face in her hands.
“Honestly, what am I supposed to do with you?”
She then mounted Syrax and flew out of the Dragonpit alongside Daemon.
Baelon watched the two dragons disappear into the distance.
Only then did he turn around with an intrigued expression and fix his gaze on the young dragonkeeper whose words he had interrupted.