Red Keep, Banquet Hall
Tyran had just been reprimanded by the king and left in disgrace.
Yet the banquet continued.
"Lord Lyonel, we haven't spoken in quite some time."
Viserys forced a smile and called out to the calm Minister of Justice.
Across a table laden with pastries, Lyonel Strong turned his head in surprise at the sound of the king's voice.
"Your Majesty."
Lyonel immediately stepped forward and bowed with due respect.
He was a wise and well-read man. In his youth, he had visited the Citadel in Oldtown and earned six links of a maester's chain.
Now in his later years, his once-strong body had grown fat and bloated, and his round face bore a gentle expression.
Viserys looked him over carefully. After a moment's hesitation, he said, "Rhaenyra is missing. Ser Cole told me she took Aemon to the Dragonpit."
"Prince Aemon is of noble blood. It is a good thing if he's willing to grow close to the princess."
Lyonel spoke seriously and was pleased to hear it.
However, judging by the king's troubled expression, there was clearly something more on his mind.
Sure enough, Viserys shook his head and sighed. "I like Aemon very much, but Rhaenyra holds deep prejudice against me and doesn't want to hear my nagging."
That sentiment left him genuinely disheartened.
"How can I be of help, Your Grace?"
Lyonel raised his brows slightly.
The rift between the king and his daughter was well known throughout the court.
But family matters of the royal house were rarely matters for ministers to interfere in.
Not everyone, after all, was as scheming as Prime Minister Otto, who had married his daughter into the royal family to make her queen.
"I simply have some thoughts," Viserys said, his expression complex. He looked around to ensure no one was eavesdropping, then added solemnly, "Rhaenyra is coming of age. Who do you think could assist her?"
Lyonel was momentarily stunned, at a loss for words.
That one sentence contained far too much information, and raised numerous implications.
First, he mentioned Prince Aemon. Then he expressed concern over Rhaenyra's marriage prospects.
And the word assist was used very deliberately, subtly affirming that the king had no intention of replacing Rhaenyra as his heir.
This also meant that the court rumors about young Prince Aegon taking over the succession were unfounded.
In an instant, Lyonel considered many possibilities.
Beyond those implications, the most important realization struck him:
Prime Minister Otto, grandfather to Prince Aegon, had clearly fallen from the king's trust.
The king is testing me! Lyonel thought grimly. Seeing the king's growing impatience, he quickly replied, "Your Majesty, based on the consensus of the royal council, Ser Laenor is undoubtedly the best choice."
It was a cautious response, meant to leave room for further discussion.
Viserys frowned, clearly dissatisfied. "Perhaps there is someone better."
Lyonel remained careful. "Ser Laenor Velaryon is heir to the wealthiest house on the continent. He is of ancient Valyrian blood and shares Targaryen ancestry. There are no better qualifications."
Why wouldn't he be suitable?
But that comment seemed to irritate the king.
Viserys took a large gulp of wine, his eyes growing sharper. He said gravely:
"Since the Great Council of 101, when the maesters read out my name as heir, and since I refused to marry Laena Velaryon, I've always felt the covetous eyes cast from Blackwater Bay."
Since his father's death, Corlys Velaryon—the Sea Snake—had remained his most feared political rival.
Lyonel had suspected something of the sort, and now it was confirmed. He spoke earnestly: "Your Majesty, if you truly wish to hear my honest opinion…"
"Of course," Viserys interrupted at once.
If he didn't want the truth, he wouldn't be asking Lyonel Strong—known for his integrity.
The Strong family held Harrenhal, guarding the riverlands and the Vale, and could offer support to King's Landing swiftly in times of crisis.
Their loyalty was beyond doubt.
Lyonel sighed deeply and answered frankly, "The council recommended Ser Laenor because you rejected his sister, Lady Laena, which led Admiral Corlys to resign."
"It's better to have the Sea Snake as an ally than an enemy."
His words were direct, and he trusted the king would understand.
The royal family and House Velaryon were deadlocked. A marriage could ease the tension more effectively than allowing hostilities to fester.
Viserys asked bitterly, "And if I refuse this proposal?"
"Lord Corlys Velaryon will not back down," Lyonel replied pragmatically. "Unless it's tied to the Iron Throne, he won't be satisfied."
"Who can defy the needs of the realm?" Viserys scoffed, anger rising. "Are you threatening me?"
"You are the king. Of course I would not dare," Lyonel replied calmly, attempting to soothe him.
Viserys gave a bitter laugh and declared firmly: "I will not marry down my daughter, and I will not forsake the dignity of a king."
If the Sea Snake would not yield, then why should he?
Never!
Lyonel saw clearly the risks and rewards and said with resignation, "Prince Aemon is of noble birth, but the war in the Stepstones is urgent, and Corlys controls half the royal fleet."
But strength still lay in the king's hand.
Viserys gripped his wine goblet tightly and softened slightly. "It matters little. The Sea Snake has suffered heavy losses in this war. His threat is greatly diminished."
His brother Daemon was on that battlefield as well.
War was brutal, and they'd even sent a letter requesting aid.
"Then—" Lyonel began, realizing the king had a plan in mind and trying to make a suggestion.
Suddenly, a scream rang out from outside the hall.
"What happened?"
Viserys stood up in alarm, baffled by the sudden uproar.
Hiss!
A dragon's cry echoed like thunder across the Red Keep.
Startled, Viserys hurried out of the hall.
He looked up at the blue sky, white clouds drifting overhead.
Hiss!
A light blue dragon soared above, wings outstretched as it danced among the clouds like a free-spirited butterfly.
"Seven hells!" Lyonel exclaimed in disbelief.
Viserys was even more shocked. He stepped forward, eyes fixed on the dragon's back, confirming repeatedly that no rider was visible.
His daughter and nephew had gone to the Dragonpit together.
But Dreamfyre hadn't been tamed. How had it flown out?
For the moment, no one had an answer.
Hiss!
Before countless astonished or terrified eyes, the light blue dragon circled King's Landing three times, causing a chorus of gasps and screams.
Then, as though content with its flight, its massive form glided above the red brick and white stone of Silk Street, folded its wings, and returned to the dome of the Dragonpit.
Dragonpit
Aemon stood watching, a smile blooming on his fair face, thrilled by Dreamfyre's return to the skies.
Dragons belonged in the air. They should not be imprisoned.
When confined too long, a dragon's physical health and vitality deteriorate—and they may even stop laying and hatching eggs.
The only ones who suffered from that were the Targaryens.
Hiss!
Suddenly, another unfamiliar roar came from the side.
Startled, Aemon turned to look.
Rhaenyra had vanished from sight at some point and was now walking out from deeper within the cave.
Hiss!
A majestic topaz-colored dragon followed her, its enormous head swinging slowly, crowned with a pair of curved horns.
Aemon's eyes lit up. "Rhaenyra, can I touch it?"
Without waiting for an answer, he eagerly moved his short legs to approach.
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