Our Family Has Fallen

Daeren bent down to pick up the dragon egg, smiling. "Look what I found."

Without a word, Shayani stepped forward excitedly, wrapped her arms around Daeren's face, and pressed her red lips firmly to his forehead.

Words could no longer express her feelings.

"A dragon egg! A real dragon egg!"

The two younger ones cheered, then huddled together to hug their older brother and sister.

Even Viserys, who was considered simple-minded, understood the importance of a dragon egg to House Targaryen.

Since the Tragedy of Summerhall, the family had possessed no dragon eggs.

It was a long while before Daeren extricated himself from the warm embrace, the lingering heat of the girl's breath still on his cheek.

"Second brother, we have a dragon egg."

Jaehaerys's eyes gleamed like a hatchling spotting treasure.

Unexpectedly, Shayani was the first to calm down. She said nervously, "Daeren, hide the dragon egg back in your own lands. Never let Father or anyone else know it exists."

Daeren said seriously, "I understand."

Given Father Aerys's obsession with dragons, if he discovered the dragon egg's existence, he would surely seize it by force.

As for outsiders, there was no need to say more.

Shayani grabbed her two younger brothers and put on a fierce expression. "You two remember this: keep the secret."

"We promise."

"Mm-hmm."

Jaehaerys and Viserys nodded like chicks pecking at grain.

The four siblings now shared a secret they would guard together.

After instructing the two younger ones, Daeren finally had time to examine the dragon egg.

A red shell, with golden spots and black spirals.

From its appearance, he could basically conclude it was the one "The Unworthy" Aegon IV had gifted to House Baratheon.

"So, after Bloodraven had someone steal the dragon egg, he kept it hidden all along among the materials dismantled from White Wall."

Daeren speculated silently.

If that were true, it was indeed an absolutely safe place.

After all, no one would go rummaging through it for no reason.

"If Father carries out his new city plan, could he discover it first?"

The thought struck Daeren abruptly, startling him.

Father Aerys's early governance plans were full of impracticalities, including but not limited to:

First, attempting to conquer the Stepstones and incorporate them into the realm's territory.

Second, delusionally planning to build another Wall a hundred kilometers beyond the existing one to expand the kingdom's land area.

Third, fed up with the "stench" of King's Landing, intending to build a white city solely of marble on Daeren's current lands.

Fourth, the Iron Bank demanding repayment of the debts incurred by his father Jaehaerys II, Aerys declared he would build an unprecedented massive fleet to conquer Braavos.

Fifth, planning to dig an underground canal beneath the Red Mountains, so water could be channeled from the rain forest into the Dornish deserts, turning them into arable land.

Every single one of these plans was mad.

In the family's history, only the "Rogue Prince" Daemon Targaryen, active around the time of the Dance of the Dragons, had briefly conquered the Stepstones.

"Father, are you truly mad?"

Daeren's mind wandered slightly.

Father Aerys was mad, but his madness had a pattern.

Sometimes, Daeren even felt he might be right.

Fearing Tywin would assassinate him, wanting to disinherit Rhaegar, mass-producing wildfire...

Though it smacked of putting the cart before the horse, it was all closely tied to the future.

Suddenly, a soft knock came at the door.

"Prince, Lord Tywin summons you to the Throne Room to be questioned regarding the matter of harming Lannister kin."

The dull voice of Ser Gerold the "White Bull" sounded from outside.

Daeren paused, then sneered. "What must come, comes."

In front of his siblings, he stored the dragon egg into his inventory.

"Magic!?" Jaehaerys was stunned.

Viserys: "Wow!"

"You stay here, or go find Mother."

Daeren instructed him not to wander off.

Pushing open the door, Ser Gerold and Ser Jon stood facing each other, the atmosphere between them tense and sword-point sharp.

"What are you doing?"

Daeren asked, though he already knew.

Seeing him emerge, Ser Jon's demeanor reined in somewhat, and he said in a low voice, "Lord Hand sent Ser Gerold here."

"Is that so?"

Daeren looked up at the two-meter-tall "White Bull."

Ser Gerold cast a surprised glance at his Kingsguard brother, then said, "Lannister soldiers have accused you. The King is not present at the scene, so I came ahead to inform you."

He made his stance clear—he had rushed over to deliver the news first, giving the Prince time to prepare mentally.

"And my father?" Daeren asked.

"Resting in his chambers."

"Take me there."

Without further words, the three headed straight for the King's bedchamber.

Unexpectedly, as soon as they reached the door, they were stopped.

"Grand Maester?"

Daeren looked at the man before him, his gaze sharpening.

Pycelle wore a puzzled expression and said slowly, "Your Highness, His Majesty is taking his afternoon nap."

Daeren spoke bluntly: "I have been accused."

He had already prepared a countermeasure when he made his move, but since his teacher Tywin had brought the matter into the open, how could he not summon his father to preside over it?

"Ah?"

Pycelle started, his aged face creased with worry: "Your Highness, the King just concluded the Small Council meeting and took a calming draught. He won't wake for hours."

Daeren's words were cutting: "Not taking medicine earlier, not taking it later. Grand Maester, the timing is quite convenient."

"His Majesty needs his afternoon nap; he takes his medicine at this hour every day."

Pycelle's hunched frame trembled slightly, as if bearing immense pressure.

Daeren looked to Ser Gerold, and the knight of honor nodded in confirmation.

Cleared of suspicion, Pycelle shot Ser Gerold a grateful look.

Daeren was silent for a moment, then shoved past the old fool Pycelle and burst through the doors of the King's bedchamber.

Only a fool would believe his lies.

"What's happened?"

Ser Barristan sat in the outer hall of the bedchamber; hearing the commotion, he rose to ask.

Daeren paid him no mind, confirmed through the curtain that his father Aerys's chest was rising and falling faintly, then began rifling through the cabinet where the King kept his personal effects.

"Your Highness, what are you doing?"

Ser Barristan, who guarded the King all day, was utterly bewildered.

"Ser Jon will protect my father. I trouble Ser Barristan and Ser Gerold to come with me."

When Daeren stood up again, a finely crafted dagger was in his hand.

A spiral grip carved from dragonbone, rough to the touch and fitting the lines of his palm.

Shing!

The dagger slid from its sheath, the watery ripples on the silver-grey steel blade shimmering in layers.

A Valyrian Steel dagger.

Daeren gave it a once-over, sheathed it, and tucked it into his belt.

Proud as the Dragonking Family, the Targaryens had migrated to Dragonstone before the Doom, when the house still possessed several heirloom Valyrian Steel items.

After several Blackfyre Rebellions, the family sword "Blackfyre" was taken by Coldsteel across the narrow sea to Essos, vanishing without a trace.

The family sword "Dark Sister" was carried off by "Bloodraven" Brynden when he was exiled to the Wall to serve as a ranger, and later disappeared along with its master when he left the Wall.

Now, all that remained was a Valyrian Steel crown once worn by "the Conqueror" Aegon, and this Valyrian Steel dagger passed down from "Inael the Exile."

"The family has truly fallen."

Daeren shook his head and sighed.

Having secured the King's token of authority, he left the bedchamber without delay.

The three Kingsguard exchanged glances, unsure of what to do.

"Lord Tywin is making his move. We protect the Prince first."

Ser Gerold, thoughtful and thorough, explained the situation in terse words and called for Ser Barristan to follow.

"Ah, you all..."

Pycelle's old face cycled through pale and purple as he just picked himself up off the floor.

"Take care of yourself, Grand Maester."

Ser Jon said expressionlessly, gripping his sword as he stood guard at the bedchamber door.