Viserys snorted and mocked, **"Oh, so you still care about your brother? I thought your conscience had long been devoured by dogs."**
Although he had promised not to insult Daemon, he couldn't help himself.
Seeing that arrogant yet handsome face, he had the urge to spit.
Daemon let out a cold laugh—he was used to being berated by now.
He shouldn't have bothered asking.
**"What do you want?"** Daemon asked, a hint of complaint in his tone.
**"I want to talk. About our family, our responsibilities, and the kingdom,"** Viserys said, his voice heavy.
Daemon shook his head and chuckled. **"What, do you think you're a Tully now, reciting their family words?"**
**"I don't have the energy to lecture you, Daemon."**
Viserys' expression turned cold as he continued, **"I'm facing difficulties—chaos everywhere. Rhaegar and I are at odds."**
For the past two days, he had been bedridden, recovering. He hadn't had the chance to hear about Rhaegar's raid on the Three Daughters.
Deep down, he still worried for his eldest son's safety.
And then there was the war in the Stepstones, the rebellion in the Riverlands...
Daemon, unconcerned with the dirt, sat on the ground and quietly listened to his brother.
After a while, Viserys started coughing, signaling the end of his account.
Hearing about Rhaegar's attack strategy, Daemon furrowed his brows, deep in thought.
When the topic turned to the unrest in the Riverlands, his expression changed, his gaze turning sharp and dangerous.
House Bracken had launched a nighttime assault on the Tully army at Riverrun, killing the eldest son of the Lord Paramount.
Such an act was outright treason.
**"What do you think I should do?"**
Viserys suppressed his cough and asked sincerely.
He wanted to hear Daemon's opinion.
Daemon met his brother's earnest gaze. He wanted to refuse but found himself unable to.
After a moment of contemplation, he said, **"My nephew is a dangerous man. You needn't worry about him—if the raid succeeds, all is well. If it fails, the war in the Stepstones continues as planned."**
Essos was vast, filled with competing powers.
But the strongest of them—the Dothraki—never crossed the sea.
The cities of Slaver's Bay remained secluded in their corner of the world.
The Nine Free Cities were too busy fighting among themselves.
If the dragons could burn the cities of the Three Daughters, the war in the Stepstones could end sooner.
And even if they failed, things would remain as they were.
Viserys thought carefully, his voice hoarse. **"House Blackwood holds position outside Riverrun, while House Bracken lays siege to Harrenhal. I've sent knights from the Crownlands and the Vale."**
**"If you defeat both houses, how will you handle them?"**
Daemon's keen insight cut straight to the point.
Mercy—or perhaps weakness—
Had always been his brother's flaw, steadily eroding his authority.
Viserys hesitated for a moment before answering, **"Execute the two lords and replace them with smarter men."**
Daemon chuckled. **"Of course."**
At least his brother was willing to eliminate the main culprits.
**"How do you plan to execute them?"** Viserys countered.
Without hesitation, Daemon replied coldly, **"Ser Corlys Velaryon should march on Raventree Hall and Stone Hedge. Let their families drown in blood."**
Raventree Hall belonged to House Blackwood.
Stone Hedge belonged to House Bracken.
One to the north, the other to the south—Riverrun trapped between them.
For once, Viserys did not rebuke Daemon's cruelty as he once would have. Instead, he fell silent.
He knew his own approach was too lenient.
But he also knew that Daemon's method was too ruthless.
He wanted to find a compromise.
Seeing his brother hesitate, Daemon spoke plainly. **"Brother, if your rule were firm enough, there would be no rebellions to begin with."**
Viserys glanced at him, his expression calm.
Daemon pressed on, relentless. **"Your downfall has never come from external enemies, only from yourself."**
**"You are too weak, Viserys."**
His reign had been filled with feasts and tourneys, his patience endless, his demeanor always conciliatory.
Such a ruler could never command true loyalty.
Viserys chuckled at himself. **"Only you would dare speak to me like this."**
He accepted Daemon's words without anger, only self-deprecation. **"If I were as ruthless as Maegor, you wouldn't be talking to me from a cell—you'd be long dead."**
With that, Viserys covered his mouth with a handkerchief and turned to leave the dungeon.
Daemon was like a mirror—one that always reflected his flaws.
And this time, their conversation had given him some ideas.
---
### The Next Day
The sun blazed overhead, the heat unbearable.
More than twenty large ships sailed across Blackwater Bay, docking at the port of King's Landing.
Five hundred Dragonguards disembarked, carrying treasures back to the Dragonpit.
The rest of the Dragonguards, along with members of the Second Sons, formed an escort, leading a procession of freed slaves southward along the Blackwater Rush, just outside the city walls.
Their destination—the tourney grounds beyond the King's Gate.
There were many slaves, approximately five or six thousand.
Rushing into King's Landing unprepared was unwise, so they were temporarily settled outside the city.
**The Red Keep.**
Rhaegar and Rhaenyra returned together.
Before they even had time to freshen up, a maid hurried in with a message—the King had summoned them.
"Father wants to see you. Remember, don't make him angry."
Rhaenyra adjusted Rhaegar's collar and patiently advised him.
Their father did not approve of Rhaegar's attack on the Kingdom of Three Daughters.
If father and son met, there was bound to be conflict.
"Don't worry, Father is as broad-minded as I am."
Rhaegar held her hand, his eyes full of expectation. "Promise me, you'll stay calm too."
Rhaenyra's eyes sparkled with amusement, and a faint smile played on her lips. "Don't worry, I'm just as broad-minded."
With that, she tiptoed and planted a light kiss on his forehead.
Rhaegar responded with an embrace, his youthful face showing a trace of guilt, like a child who had done something wrong. "I'm sorry, sister."
"Enough with the sentimentality."
Rhaenyra pushed him away and pulled his hand as they walked out together.
---
**The King's Chambers.**
The siblings arrived at the entrance, where the twin Kingsguard knights, Erryk and Arryk, stood on either side.
Ser Criston had erred and was still serving his penance in the Stepstones.
Among the Kingsguard, the Cargyll brothers had become Viserys' most trusted protectors.
"Princess, Prince…"
The Cargyll brothers greeted them solemnly and respectfully.
"Open the door. I heard that Father is ill."
Rhaenyra gave a slight nod, exuding grace and nobility.
"Yes, Princess."
Ser Erryk personally opened the chamber doors.
The siblings stepped inside. The outer chamber was as it had always been, and they continued toward the inner bedroom.
Pulling aside the beaded curtain, the scene within was revealed.
Several people were present.
King Viserys reclined against the headboard, a thin blanket draped over his lap, a gentle smile on his face.
Beside him sat Alicent, dressed in a green gown.
She held a bowl of broth, gently blowing on it before feeding her husband.
Besides the King and Queen, Lord Otto, the Hand of the King, stood at the foot of the bed, watching his daughter and the King with an unreadable expression.
Grand Maester Mellos was tending to his medical kit, seemingly having just completed a check-up on the King.
The last person…
Jeyne wore a fitted gown, holding a letter in her hand, reading aloud the news of the Kingdom of Three Daughters being burned.
Upon hearing the good news, Viserys' complexion appeared somewhat improved as he enjoyed the care of his wife.
The sound of the beaded curtain shifting drew everyone's attention.
Viserys turned his head, his expression filled with relief. "Rhaegar, I heard about your victory."
A weight lifted from his heart, easing some of his worries.
"Father."
Rhaegar smiled. "The war in the Stepstones is nearing its end."
Seeing the deep-seated concern and exhaustion in his father's eyes, his own discontent quietly faded.
There was no point in bringing it up.
Jeyne, still holding the letter, smiled brightly. "Rhaegar, congratulations."
Rhaegar nodded, saying little.
He acknowledged his own infidelity and fickleness.
Perhaps it was the Targaryen bloodline, or simply fate playing its tricks.
With Rhaenyra standing beside him, he didn't want to provoke her when her wounds had yet to heal.
"Father, how is your health?"
Rhaenyra suddenly spoke, quickly walking to the bedside.
Viserys looked at his daughter, then at Jeyne, who had withdrawn her smile. A flicker of suspicion crossed his eyes.
He glanced sideways at his eldest son and exchanged a subtle look.
*"Boy, what's going on?"*
Rhaegar hesitated for a moment, surprised by how sharp his father's instincts were.
Viserys slightly tilted his head back, taking a sip of the broth Alicent was feeding him, a trace of arrogance flashing in his gaze.
*What a joke!*
Back in his youth, he had visited every brothel in King's Landing.
Before marriage, he had encountered more noble ladies than he could count.
This kind of situation? He could see through it in an instant.
Rhaegar lowered his head in resignation, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead.
If only he had slept with just a courtesan or a noble lady.
His mistake had been one of principle.
Viserys frowned slightly, sensing that the situation was more complicated than it seemed.
"Father, let me feed you instead."
Rhaenyra stepped forward, taking the bowl from Alicent with a fake smile. Without even blowing on it, she scooped up a spoonful and pressed it toward her father's lips.
So many obvious glances exchanged—did they think she was blind?
The scalding spoon was practically shoved against his mouth. Viserys forced a smile and swallowed the broth.
Fortunately, Targaryens had a high tolerance for heat.
Jeyne also noticed Rhaenyra's displeasure. Realizing that she must have found out something, she lowered her head in silence.
The room fell into an eerie silence.
After a long moment.
With his stomach now full of hot broth, Viserys finally raised a hand to stop his daughter from feeding him any further. He let out a wry chuckle.
"You all leave. I need to speak with Rhaegar alone."
Rhaenyra arched a brow but didn't move.
"It's important business," Viserys emphasized.
Only then did Rhaenyra relent, setting down the porcelain bowl. "You two have a good talk."
Alicent gently consoled him, her voice soothing. "Viserys, problems are solved one at a time. Be a little happier."
Otto and Melos lowered their gazes and were the first to leave the bedroom, exiting the royal chambers.
Rhaenyra gave Rhaegar a slight smile before following closely behind the two members of the Small Council.
Alicent exchanged a glance with Jeyne and followed after Rhaenyra.
Jeyne, without sparing Alicent a single look, bowed slightly to Viserys, lifted the beaded curtain, and stepped out.
As most of the people left, the bedroom suddenly felt cold and empty.
"Father, what is it?"
Rhaegar felt noticeably more at ease, sitting on the edge of the bed with a light chuckle.
It wasn't just the pressure from Rhaenyra.
Look at the people who were just here—
Alicent, Otto, and Melos, all unquestionably aligned with Oldtown.
Aside from Rhaenyra, only Jeyne could be considered an ally.
Viserys' gaze was complex, his words carrying deeper meaning. "There is a rebellion in the Riverlands. But I believe your troubles won't be small either. Be prepared to make a choice."
Emotions are the most wounding of all.
Many exceptionally talented individuals have crumbled after experiencing emotional setbacks, never recovering.
Rhaegar was the heir he valued most, and Viserys did not want any unexpected incidents.
Almost instinctively, Rhaegar responded, "Rhaenyra."
"Good. As long as you understand your own heart."
Viserys smiled once more and moved on to the main issue. "The Bracken family of the Riverlands has rebelled and is laying siege to Harrenhal..."
(End of Chapter)