The King of the Stepstones

From afar, Rhaegar surveyed the scene and saw the Dragonrider.

The Targaryen family's signature silver-gold hair and violet eyes.

On closer inspection, the man had a stern face, a high nose, and a defiant look in his eyes. His temperament was every bit as fierce as the dragon beneath him.

He had already heard the rumors in the crowd, so Rhaegar knew who he was.

His uncle, Daemon Targaryen.

A rogue prince who had dared to travel across the continent on dragonback as a teenager, leading his followers in hunts against bandits.

His exploits were said to be widely known. Some people had even written books about him.

"Look! It's a dragon—a living dragon! It's so big!"

A child's nature made Rhaegar care nothing for who his uncle was. His eyes and heart were fixed on the terrifying beast with scarlet scales.

Gripping Illyric's big hand, Rhaegar said excitedly, "One day, I'll ride an equally mighty dragon."

"No! It should be even mightier and more majestic. This dragon is too slender!"

The young boy voiced his thoughts without reservation.

Illyric had no time to look at the dragon. He tightened his grip on his sword and warily scanned the surroundings, afraid someone might panic and crash into the prince.

In the dueling arena, the Dornish youth was cornered by Caraxes. Pressed against the wall with nowhere to run, he was drenched in sweat.

Fear of the dragon filled his heart. Just as the Dornish youth's mental defenses were about to crumble,

a steady voice rang out, like music to his ears.

"Caraxes, behave yourself."

"Siga!"

Caraxes roared, as if answering his master.

Then he slowly raised his head, no longer paying attention to the Dornish youth who had nowhere left to retreat, and obediently crouched down.

With the danger gone, the Dornish youth's legs gave way. He fell to his knees with a thud, cold sweat pattering down his cheeks.

Daemon swung down from Dragonback and strode toward the stands, treating the people in the corner as if they weren't there.

No one dared block his path. Step by step, Daemon walked up to Viserys's seat.

"Stop! No one may affront the king's dignity."

Harrold, commander of the Kingsguard, drew his sword and pointed its tip at Daemon's chest.

Daemon glanced at him but paid him no heed, his expression cool.

Viserys sat motionless, his eyes deep as the sea as he studied his former brother.

Daemon was watching him too. Neither man spoke, and the atmosphere grew tense.

The nobles and ministers nearby looked anxious, unsure how the brothers would meet again.

After a moment of silence, Daemon took a step back of his own accord, easing Harrold's guard.

Then he pulled a double-bladed axe from his belt, tossed it before Viserys, and lifted his chin. "Add it to the Iron Throne!"

Viserys remained unmoved. Looking at the top of Daemon's head, he asked in a deep voice, "You wear a crown. Have you declared yourself king too?"

"When the Three Daughters were defeated, people began calling me King of the Narrow Sea."

Daemon recounted his achievements, then paused. "But I know, Your Grace! There is only one king beneath the heavens."

With that, Daemon knelt on one knee, removed the vine crown from his head, and bowed his noble head. "My crown and the Stepstones are yours."

His actions far exceeded everyone's expectations.

Who could have guessed that the ever-proud Prince Daemon would willingly yield, showing his brother the respect and courtesy due to a king?

Looking down at his now well-behaved younger brother, Viserys didn't rush to respond. Instead, he asked, "What about Lord Corlys?"

"He's sailed home to Driftmark."

Daemon answered honestly.

Viserys continued, "Who is holding the Stepstones now?"

"The Tides, the Crabs, and two thousand pirates from the Three Daughters, all dead and nailed to the beach as a warning!"

Daemon's voice was low as he answered his brother's question.

He knew the answer mattered greatly to his brother.

The answer was less than ideal. Viserys pondered briefly, then nodded as if he had accepted it.

Viserys stepped forward and first took the vine crown Daemon had presented as the spoils of victory.

After inspecting it briefly, he handed it to Commander Harrold.

It was clear he had little regard for the crown symbolizing the King of the Narrow Sea.

Noticing the expressions of the nobles and ministers around him, Viserys's eyes flickered. He said calmly, "Rise!"

Daemon looked at his brother expectantly. Hearing the signal of forgiveness, he slowly rose to his full height.

The icy indifference melted from Viserys's face, giving way to a smile. "Welcome home, brother!"

Without hesitation, Daemon and Viserys embraced.

Before everyone's eyes, the bloodline of Prince Spring Dawn, Baelor, had been reconciled once more.

Those who understood could see that the king was sending a warning.

He welcomed his brother Daemon's return, but that didn't mean anyone could use it to make an issue of things.

Daemon understood this as well.

That was why he had remained respectful throughout, unlike his usual carefree self.

Rhaenyra stood at the front of the crowd, watching this complex game of power from up close. Unconcealable delight shone in her eyes.

Her clear, naive purple eyes couldn't yet tell truth from falsehood.

She was simply overjoyed that her uncle had come home.

"Big sister~"

At some point, Rhaegar had squeezed through the crowd and come to Rhaenyra's side. He took her little hand.

Hearing him, Rhaenyra noticed him and smiled faintly. "Uncle Daemon is back. He's always been very good to me."

"That's right. He looks very handsome."

Faced with his sister's joy, Rhaegar forced a smile and joined her in praising Daemon's handsome face.

He genuinely had no idea which admirable quality he could associate with this uncle he had never met.

Though he rarely heard news from outside, he knew the title "One-Day Crown Prince" had come from this very uncle.

Daemon had hoped Rhaegar would die young, so he could inherit the Iron Throne from Viserys.

How could Rhaegar possibly like him?

After Daemon's dramatic arrival on dragonback and the brothers' reconciliation,

the day's tournament came to an abrupt end. The court moved to the banquet hall to welcome Daemon home.

As for the Dornish youth whose trousers were soaked, Prime Minister Lyonel "gently" invited him to stay at a high-end inn in the city.

They even paid his lodging fees and assigned someone to look after him, lest he find his accommodations uncomfortable.

The fuss attracted plenty of curious onlookers.

The answer they received was always the same.

The king admired the Dornish champion who had come from so far away. Today, he would first welcome his victorious younger brother, Daemon.

The tournament would resume tomorrow, and the youth was invited to continue competing in the duels.

He wasn't allowed to refuse!

The banquet was ready and waiting. Viserys walked side by side with Daemon.

Behind them followed a group of ministers and invited nobles and lords.

Alicent was undoubtedly a considerate Queen.

Upon hearing that Daemon had returned, she immediately ordered the servants to clear away the dishes that had already been eaten and replace them with food the kitchen had prepared in advance.

By the time Viserys and his party arrived at the banquet hall, everything was in perfect order. Nothing about the arrangements felt rushed.

Viserys was deeply moved. In front of everyone, he praised Alicent as his capable partner, always sharing his heavy responsibilities.

Alicent calmly took Viserys by the arm and said gently, "You're busy with affairs of state every day. You already work hard enough; you shouldn't have to worry about trivial matters."

Taking his Queen's slender, pale hand, Viserys looked at her with relief. "Thanks to you, my life isn't so lonely."

"Enough. The ministers will laugh at us if we keep this up. Take everyone in to the banquet."

A blush rose to Alicent's cheeks, her shy expression as lovely as a painting.

The Stepstones were a troubled place, rife with power struggles.