Daeren bent down to pick up the Dragon Egg and smiled. "Look what I found."
Without another word, Shayani rushed forward excitedly, cupped Daeren's face, and pressed her red lips deeply to his forehead.
Words could no longer express how she felt.
"A Dragon Egg! It's a real Dragon Egg!"
The two younger ones cheered and immediately crowded around to hug their brother and sister.
Even Viserys, whom others regarded as a fool, understood how important a Dragon Egg was to the Targaryens.
Since the Tragedy of Summerhall, the family had possessed no Dragon Eggs.
Only after a long while did Daeren finally free himself from the soft, warm embrace, the lingering heat of the girl's breath still on his cheek.
"Second Brother, we have a Dragon Egg."
Jaeherys's eyes gleamed like those of a hatchling that had spotted treasure.
Unexpectedly, Shayani was the first to calm down. Nervously, she said, "Daeren, hide the Dragon Egg back in your lands. Never let Father or anyone else learn of its existence."
Daeren answered seriously, "I understand."
Given Father Aerys's obsession with dragons, if he discovered the Dragon Egg, he would surely seize it by force.
As for outsiders, there was even less need to mention them.
Shayani grabbed her two younger brothers and put on a fierce expression. "You two remember this. Keep the secret."
"We promise."
"Mm-hmm."
Jaeherys and Viserys nodded like pecking chicks.
The four siblings now shared a secret.
After giving the two younger ones their instructions, Daeren finally had time to inspect the Dragon Egg.
Its shell was red, dotted with gold speckles and black spirals.
Judging from its appearance, it was almost certainly the one The Unworthy, Aegon IV, had bestowed upon the Baratheon Family.
"So after Bloodraven sent someone to steal the Dragon Egg, he hid it among the dismantled materials from White Wall."
Daeren silently speculated.
If that was true, then it really had been an absolutely safe hiding place.
After all, no one would search through such things for no reason.
"If Father had carried out his new city plan, would he have discovered it first?"
The thought suddenly occurred to Daeren, startling him.
Father Aerys's early plans for governing were full of impractical ideas, including but not limited to:
First, attempting to conquer the Stepstones and incorporate them into the kingdom's territory.
Second, fantasizing about building another Wall a hundred kilometers beyond The Wall to expand the kingdom's lands.
Third, having had enough of the "stench" of King's Landing, planning to build a white city entirely of marble on what was now Daeren's territory.
Fourth, when the Iron Bank demanded repayment of the loans owed by his father Jaehaerys II, Aerys declared that he would build an unprecedentedly vast fleet and conquer Braavos.
Fifth, planning to dig an underground canal beneath the Red Mountains, bringing water from the rainforests into Dorne's deserts and turning them into farmland.
Every single one of those plans was mad.
In the family's history, only Daemon Targaryen, the Rogue Prince who had been active around the time of the Dance of the Dragons, had briefly conquered the Stepstones.
"Father, are you truly mad?"
Daeren drifted into thought.
Father Aerys was mad, but there were traces to follow in his madness.
Sometimes, Daeren even felt that Father had been right.
Fearing that Tywin would harm him, wanting to strip Rhaegar of his status as heir, mass-producing Wildfire...
Though there was certainly an element of forcing the conclusion to fit the cause, all of it was closely tied to the future.
Suddenly, there was a soft knock on the door.
"Prince, Lord Tywin is in the Throne Room. He has summoned you for questioning over the suspected harm done to members of the Lannister family."
The heavy voice of Ser Gerold, the White Bull, came from outside.
Daeren paused, then sneered. "What must come will always come."
Before his sister and brothers, he placed the Dragon Egg into his inventory.
"Magic!?" Jaeherys was dumbfounded.
Viserys said, "Wow!"
"Stay here, or go find Mother."
Daeren gave them a reminder not to run around.
When he opened the door and stepped outside, Ser Gerold and Ser Jon were standing in confrontation, the atmosphere between them taut as drawn swords.
"What are you doing?"
Daeren asked despite knowing perfectly well.
When Ser Jon saw him emerge, his imposing manner eased somewhat. He said in a low voice, "Lord Hand sent Captain Gerold here."
"Is that so?"
Daeren looked at the two-meter-tall White Bull.
Ser Gerold looked at his Kingsguard brother in surprise before saying, "Lannister soldiers accused you. The King is not present, so I came ahead of time to notify you."
He made his position clear: he had rushed over to warn the prince, giving him time to prepare himself.
"Where is my father?" Daeren asked.
"Resting in his chambers."
"Take me there."
With no further words, the three headed straight for the King's chambers.
Unexpectedly, they were stopped as soon as they reached the entrance.
"Grand Maester?"
Daeren looked at the newcomer, his gaze sharpening slightly.
Pycelle wore a puzzled expression as he slowly said, "Prince, Your Majesty is taking his midday rest."
Daeren spoke bluntly. "I have been accused."
He had prepared a response when he acted, but since his teacher Tywin had brought the matter into the open, how could he not bring Father in to hold the field?
"Ah?"
Pycelle was startled, worry spreading across his aged face. "Your Majesty has just finished the Small Council meeting and taken a calming medicine. He will not wake for several hours."
Daeren's words were sharp. "He did not take medicine early, nor did he take it late. Grand Maester, what a coincidence that this happened now."
"Your Majesty needs his midday rest. He takes the medicine at this time every day."
Pycelle's hunched body trembled slightly, as though he were under immense pressure.
Daeren looked to Ser Gerold, and the honorable knight nodded in confirmation.
His suspicion cleared, Pycelle cast Ser Gerold a grateful look.
Daeren fell silent for a moment, then shoved aside that old fool Pycelle and barged through the doors to the King's chambers.
Only an idiot would believe his nonsense.
"What happened?"
Barristan had been seated in the outer chamber, and he rose to ask when he heard the commotion.
Daeren ignored him. After confirming through the curtains that Father Aerys's chest was rising and falling faintly, he began searching the cabinet where the King kept his personal belongings.
"Prince, what are you doing?"
Barristan guarded the King around the clock and was utterly confused.
"Ser Jon, protect my father. Ser Barristan and Ser Gerold, I'll trouble you to come with me."
When Daeren stood up again, an exquisite dagger was in his hand.
Its spiral hilt had been polished from dragonbone, rough against his palm yet fitted neatly to its lines.
Shing!
The dagger left its sheath, and ripples spread across the watery patterns on its silver-gray blade.
A Valyrian Steel dagger.
Daeren gave it a glance, sheathed it, and fastened it at his waist.
As the Dragonking Family, the Targaryens had migrated to Dragonstone before The Doom, and at that time the family still possessed several Valyrian Steel heirlooms.
After several Blackfyre Rebellions, the family sword Blackfyre had been taken by Coldsteel across the Narrow Sea to Essos, disappearing without trace ever since.
The family sword Dark Sister had been carried away by Bloodraven Brynden when he was exiled to The Wall to serve as a Night's Watchman, then vanished along with its owner after he left The Wall.
By this day, only the Valyrian Steel crown once worn by Aegon the Conqueror and this Valyrian Steel dagger passed down by Inael the Exile remained.
"Our family truly has fallen into decline."
Daeren shook his head and sighed.
With the token symbolizing the King in hand, he decisively left the chambers.
The three Kingsguard looked at one another, uncertain what to do.
"Lord Tywin has made his move. We should protect the prince first."
Ser Gerold was thorough in his thinking. In concise terms, he explained the matter and called for Barristan to accompany them.
"Hey, you..."
Pycelle's old face alternated between green and purple as he struggled back to his feet.
"Take care of your health, Grand Maester."
Expressionless, Ser Jon gripped his sword and stood before the doors to the King's chambers.
Before you continue