Beautiful Fool

A stone brothel.

Aemon and Rhaenyra stood hand in hand before the entrance.

"Are we really going in?"

Aemon asked for confirmation.

Rhaenyra's gaze was firm as she nodded. "We're already here."

Aemon: ...

What a powerful reason. She really needed a scolding.

Cole looked troubled and tried to persuade her. "Princess, this is not a place you should be."

"Daemon is inside."

Rhaenyra refused to listen.

"Prince Daemon is a man. You're different!"

Cole said nervously.

Rhaenyra shook her head. "He's a man, but I'm the heir to the Iron Throne. I'm no worse than him."

"But you're a girl. If the King finds out, he'll hang me."

Cole flailed in panic, babbling without pause.

Aemon watched silently, a trace of sympathy rising within him.

He felt like Cole was about to break.

"Shut up, Cole!"

Rhaenyra snapped, ordering, "If you won't come with me, then stay here and wait for orders."

With that, she dragged Aemon inside.

Aemon broke too.

The brothel was a world unto itself.

Past the curtain-covered doorway, the interior was brightly lit and thick with a pungent fragrance.

There were men and women alike, each busy with their own affairs.

This one held that one, while that one held another.

The crowd was packed tight, like some unrestrained orgy.

Aemon held his breath, his eyes overwhelmed by the sight as his young heart suffered a heavy blow.

Even after living two lives, he had never seen such a grand scene.

"Don't look."

Face flushed red, Rhaenyra reached out and covered his eyes.

"You close your eyes too."

Aemon's little hands moved faster, covering her entire face tightly.

An upside-down golden hook!

He'd get styes from looking.

Dressed in rough old clothes, one big and one small, they covered each other's faces and blocked the doorway, creating a most unusual sight.

Some people laughed at them, while others whispered among themselves.

Who brought a child to a brothel? And judging by the looks of it, she was a girl.

After a while.

Aemon listened to the indecent sounds and could not bear it any longer. "Let go. Let's go upstairs."

Rhaenyra froze.

"Idiot! The person you're looking for is upstairs."

Aemon pulled away the hand covering his eyes and dragged her toward the stairs.

Rhaenyra's face was crimson, heat practically rising from her forehead.

Holding her hand, Aemon felt her palm drenched in sweat as she kept struggling to clasp his hand in return.

Her pale fingertips tightened, as though that gave her a sense of safety.

Second floor, private room.

The two found Daemon without much effort.

It was a room with openwork patterns carved into the windows, almost entirely open to the outside.

More than a dozen prostitutes too poor to afford clothes leaned against the windows, watching while teasing one another.

They had arrived at the perfect moment. Things inside had just finished.

The prostitutes scattered all at once, and the place quieted somewhat.

Bang bang!

Aemon did not want to stay a second longer and immediately pounded on the door.

He silently apologized to his father.

Father and son appearing in the same brothel really was absurd.

A son catching his father in the act was absurd among absurdities.

But he truly wanted to get out of there.

"Come in!"

The moment he knocked, Daemon's voice came from inside.

It was somewhat muffled, and he seemed to be in a bad mood.

Aemon did not care and pushed the door open to slip inside.

No one would be in a good mood after being disturbed right after finishing.

"Aemon?"

Seeing the small figure enter, Daemon cried out in shock.

He was sitting on the balcony catching the breeze, with nothing but a blanket draped over him.

He hurriedly sat properly and covered what needed covering.

"Sorry, Father."

Aemon apologized and walked toward the bed, which reeked of lust.

A graceful figure lay sprawled across it, clearly exhausted as well.

Aemon took two Gold Dragons from his pocket and tossed them in front of her face, turning his head away. "Go outside for a while."

Daemon's mind went blank. He had no idea what was happening.

His son was paying for his father's whoring?

How filial.

The woman took the money, and regardless of how sleepy or tired she was, happily ran out the door.

Soon, only three people remained in the room.

"Uncle."

Rhaenyra buried her head low, having played the part of a quail ever since entering.

Daemon glanced over at his deliberately disguised niece, and his brow immediately furrowed.

One would have been fine—at least he was a boy.

But what was this supposed to be? Had his brother died on that stupid woman's belly?

"Why are you two here?"

Daemon stood up and silently walked over to his clothes.

"I have something to discuss with you."

Looking utterly bewildered, Rhaenyra pulled Aemon behind her.

Still not reassured.

She wrapped her arms around him with his back facing her, resting both hands on his shoulders.

She already regretted coming here.

Her uncle was indulging himself. There was no sign that he wanted to mend their relationship, and his attitude was cold as well.

Especially after seeing that gaudy slut who had just left.

A sense of disillusionment suddenly filled her heart.

Her uncle, once so tall, handsome, and considerate, now seemed rather... hard to judge.

Daemon did not know what his niece was thinking. At the moment, he only wanted the two of them gone as quickly as possible. With a dark expression, he said, "You'd better have a reason."

His brother had to be dead.

He could not even control his twelve-year-old daughter, and she was dragging his son around to fool about.

An eight-year-old at a brothel—what could such a little runt even do?

Aemon: ...

Silence was golden.

His father had said they would meet again soon. It really had been soon.

It just had not been pleasant.

Rhaenyra was frantic now and wanted to leave quickly as well, so she stated her purpose. "Uncle, I want to ask you to go to Driftmark and represent the royal family with us."

"No!"

Daemon refused without a second thought.

Rhaenyra anxiously asked, "Why?"

Hadn't her uncle cared deeply for her, loved her father, and valued the royal family's dignity and honor?

He was like the family's guardian deity.

"There is no why."

Daemon put on his clothes and sneered. "Ever since your mother died and your father drove me out of King's Landing, we have gone our separate ways."

Aemon clicked his tongue. That sounded full of resentment.

"But so many years have passed. Father no longer blames you, and we all miss you."

Rhaenyra could not hear it and continued trying to persuade him.

She had never truly encountered power.

She only saw the conflict between her father and uncle, not the source of that conflict.

They did not trust one another, guarded against each other, and constantly set traps in each other's path.

Their contradictions had accumulated step by step, leading to the situation today.

Daemon picked up his sword, losing all interest in talking. Without looking back, he headed for the door. "Say whatever you want. Viserys is nothing but a coward. What you see is only the tip of the iceberg."

Before leaving, he pointed at Aemon and gave him a stern warning. "If I see you in a brothel again, I'll break your legs!"

Aemon nodded furiously.

He had been forced into it. Ruining this father-son reunion had not been his intention.

Daemon gave him an unfriendly look and left in a hurry.

Rhaenyra tried to stop him, only to be shoved aside.

"Why?"

The girl clutched her aching shoulder, her eyes reddening beyond her control.

She felt terribly wronged.

Aemon remained silent, nearly suffering a relapse of his intolerance for idiots.

Daemon and Rhaenyra had no conflict of interest.

But Daemon and his brother Viserys were like fire and water. Neither accepted the other.

That much was obvious from the fact that Daemon had not returned to the Red Keep, instead spending the night on Silk Street.

It was not that he had nowhere to go. He simply wanted to disgust his brother Viserys.

I'm in King's Landing, but I won't obey your orders.

Your help is as useless as chicken ribs. Everything I have today was carved out with my own hands.

When the royal family runs into trouble, don't even think of asking me for help.

Unless one side lowers their head and admits their mistake first.

Aemon sighed and tugged Rhaenyra's little hand. "Let's go."

According to the course of the original world, Daemon could not possibly admit defeat and soften now.

The Stepstones were barren, with remnants of pirates still running rampant.

Daemon had no army and could not keep them in check at all.

Yet he still persisted for years, maintaining a stiff relationship with the royal family.

Only when Rhaenyra came of age and chose a husband did he give up the title of King of the Gullet, return to King's Landing, admit his mistake, and repair their relationship.

Rhaenyra did not understand all the twists and turns involved, immersed in sorrow.

Aemon had a headache. He released her hand and walked out first.

There was no way he was going to comfort her.

Targaryen men never lowered their heads to women.

Tears blurred Rhaenyra's eyes as she lowered her head and sniffled softly.

After a long while.

She raised her head and looked around the room, only to find that she was alone.

"Aemon."

Rhaenyra felt a chill run through her body and called out nervously.

Unfortunately, no one answered.

"Aemon, we should go back."

Rhaenyra was terrified and wanted to run out the door, but the outside was packed with chaotic men and women.

This was nothing like any place she knew.

Even trying to leave was painfully difficult.

Rhaenyra bit down on her lower lip, forcing back her tears.

Just then.

A silver-haired head poked through the doorway and bobbed once. "This way."

With that, he whistled and turned around coolly.

Could he really leave her here?

If she stayed, every man in the brothel would be in danger.

"Wait for me, Aemon."

Rhaenyra wept with joy and hurried after him.