The Mad King showed his hand the moment they met.
Daeren did not answer. He surveyed the people beneath the Iron Throne as quickly as he could.
The Kingsguard commander, a general without an army.
To the left, where precedence lay, Lord Hand Tywin stood with a deep gaze, Kevon and Tygett beside him.
The right side held the most people: three Grand Ministers and one Lord Steward.
There was also a sorcerer in gray-green robes, with a sleazy air and a face full of cunning.
"Rosart the Wise."
Daeren recognized him at a glance.
Rosart was a member of the Alchemists' Guild. In the original story, he had brewed Wildfire for his father Aerys, helping him spread it throughout King's Landing with the intention of burning the entire city to ashes.
Rickard Stark, Lord of The North, and Brynden Stark, the "Direwolf," along with Lord Colton from earlier, had all been burned to death by Wildfire at Aerys's command.
He was a thoroughly treacherous villain.
More importantly, the man truly understood magic.
He had earned Aerys's favor through his ability to conjure ordinary flames.
"Pycelle died, and an even more disgusting one came along."
Daeren silently cursed his bad luck.
"Kid, are you mute?"
Aerys could no longer wait. His hands gripped the arms of the Iron Throne, blood slowly streaming down them, yet he seemed wholly unaware of it.
Daeren had his own rhythm. He suggested, "Father, why not meet the Young Dragons first?"
He emphasized the word "dragons."
Aerys's breath caught, and he shouted repeatedly, "Yes! Bring out the Young Dragons at once!"
With the prince's approval, Davos set down three cages and removed their black coverings one by one.
"Screech!"
"Screech... screech..."
The three Young Dragons revealed themselves, lively and vigorous as they slammed against their