Night whispers in the Red Keep

The royal banquet hall at the Red Keep still exudes that honey-like warmth, bathed in candlelight.

The flames on the bronze candlesticks still flickered, once again bathing the long table in a warm gold. The fat from the roasted wild boar still dripped onto the charcoal, sizzling as it burned. But today, the rich aroma of Arbor sweet red wine mingled with the fresh scent of lobster, permeating every crevice of the castle.

In the center of the long table, an ice bucket held lobsters freshly caught from Blackwater Bay, their shells still glistening with fine sea salt. Beside them were piles of candied peaches and golden-brown toasts, creating a lively atmosphere reminiscent of a small celebration—a family feast intended to welcome Princess Rhaenys and her family, but which gradually became Daemon's "exclusive pampering party."

Daemon sat at the middle of the long table, his long silver-gold hair cascading down his dark red brocade robe, holding Rhaenyra, who had just woken up, in his arms.

The little princess, dressed in a light blue dress, held a strand of his silver hair in her small hand and had a silver spoon in her mouth, which she would occasionally offer to his mouth, making everyone around her laugh.

But the plates in front of him were piled up like a small mountain— Jocelyn on his left had just handed him a roasted venison leg, carefully removing the bone;

On the right, Rhaenys handed over half a peeled lobster, her fingertips still stained with lobster roe. "Little Daemon, have a taste. The maid said it was just caught this morning, and it looks even fatter than the ones from Tidehead Island."

Jocelyn looked at Rhaenyra in Daemon's arms, her brows furrowing slightly. She reached out to take the little princess, saying, "Daemon, how can you eat while holding her? Let me hold her. You eat your meal."

Rhaenys nodded in agreement, her fingertips brushing against the creases of Daemon's sleeve. "Exactly! Last time you were on Tidehead Island, you said carrying the baby was tiring, how come you're back as a stay-at-home dad? By the way, after you left Tidehead Island, did you suffer a lot while touring the Seven Kingdoms? I heard from Corlys in a letter a few days ago that you fought with the Lys slave traders on the Stepstones again, were you injured?"

These words instantly struck a nerve with Jocelyn. She quickly grabbed Daemon's wrist and examined his palm. "Yes, I heard from Gael yesterday that you caught a wild dragon's fire with your bare hands? Did you get burned? Let me see."

Daemon smiled helplessly, letting the two of them do as they pleased, while his left hand steadied Rhaenyra in his arms. "Mother, Sister Rhaenys, I'm fine, everything's alright. Holding Rhaenyra isn't tiring at all, she's very well-behaved."

Gael, watching from a distance, grimaced, unconsciously twisting the hem of her pale purple skirt as her gaze fell on Queen Alysanne.

The Queen suppressed a laugh and patted the empty seat beside her, "My Little Gael, come and sit down. Your little nephew is quite the darling now," she said. "If we can't compete with him, we might as well watch him get 'fed'."

Gael walked over angrily, but couldn't help glancing at Daemon: "I was the one who met Little Daemon first, and now, Sister-in-law Jocelyn and Rhaenys are both fawning over him." Although she said that, there was no real anger in her eyes, just a little girlish grievance.

Alysanne shook her head helplessly and handed her a piece of candied peach. "Who told Little Daemon to be so sensible? He just got back and immediately helped your heartless father tour the Seven Kingdoms, and now he's taken on the job of Minister of Intelligence. You should be happy for him."

Gael, biting into a peach, muttered softly, "Of course I'm happy for him, it's just... it's just that he's been so busy looking at documents lately that he hasn't taken me for a walk in the garden."

The warmth on one side continued, but Laenor on the other side was anything but still.

The four-year-old slipped away from Viserys to Daemon Targaryen, staring blankly at the young male servant pouring wine;

A moment later, he reached out to touch Daemon Targaryen's short, silver-gold hair, his fingertips almost touching the ends.

Daemon Targaryen, finally losing his patience, gently slapped his hand away, his tone tinged with exasperation and annoyance. "Laenor, stop it. By the way, Rhaenys, why didn't Corlys come back with you?"

Isn't he the one who loves these two children the most?

This was an unintentional change of topic, but it made King Jaehaerys, who was at the top of the long table, frown.

The old king put down his wine glass, the three-headed dragon pattern on his black robe gleaming dimly in the candlelight. He exchanged a glance with Baelon beside him—both of them had a complex look in their eyes, clearly having already heard about the reason for Corlys's absence.

Vaegon sat beside Baelon, holding a glass of fruit wine. His pale purple eyes swept over his father and brother, and his fingers unconsciously rubbed the rim of the glass, clearly having guessed the reason.

Only Daemon Targaryen remained, head down, peeling lobsters. Using his silver fork to pick out the snow-white flesh, he continued, "Why didn't Corlys come? I wanted to talk to him about the Narrow Sea routes."

It wasn't until Viserys quietly walked up behind Laenor, gently picked up the little guy who was still trying to touch Big Daemon's cheek, and nudged Big Daemon's shoulder with his elbow to signal him to look up that our "Rogue Prince" realized something was wrong—Grandfather Jaehaerys at the top of the long table looked a little gloomy, Father Baelon's brows were furrowed, and even Uncle Vaegon stopped drinking.

Rhaenys, however, acted as if nothing had happened. She picked up the flask and poured Daemon a glass of sweet wine, speaking casually, "He's still in Essos, discussing a business deal with a friend from Braavos. It hasn't gone smoothly this time, but he said he'll definitely be back before the tournament at the end of the year to celebrate his grandfather's fiftieth anniversary of ruling the Seven Kingdoms. He can even have a spear duel with you then."

As she spoke, she suddenly changed the subject, looking at Jaehaerys: "Grandfather, I heard you appointed Little Daemon as the Master of Whisperers? That position was held by that woman, Tyanna, and so many people are eyeing it. Why did you let Little Daemon do such an unpopular job?"

Viserys quickly whispered a reminder, "Sister Rhaenys, you're the Minister of Intelligence, not the Master of Whisperers. The responsibilities are somewhat different."

"What's the difference?" Rhaenys glared at him, her tone sharp with a protective instinct. "Aren't we both dealing with shady matters? Little Daemon's only thirteen, why should he suffer like this?"

Although the young "The Queen Who Never Was" no longer had the ambition to fight for the right of succession, she was still like a mother dragon guarding her Dragon Egg, unable to bear seeing her beloved "brother" suffer the slightest grievance.

These words instantly ignited Queen Alysanne's heartache. She put down her silver spoon, her eyes slightly reddening. "Yes, Jaehaerys, how old is Little Daemon? He's been wandering since childhood, and after returning home and barely enjoying a few days of comfort, he's already doing something that will make people jealous. Those lords were already eyeing his identity, and now they have even more reason to gossip."

As she spoke, she rose and gestured to Alicent, who was serving her, to help her up. "I'm full, I'll go back to my room first. As for our patriotic and concerned the Conciliator, please continue to dine here, and go to the study to handle state affairs in the evening." After saying that, she turned and left without looking back, her skirt sweeping across the tablecloth on the floor, clearly showing her resentment.

Seeing the awkward atmosphere, Daemon Targaryen quickly put down his wine glass, grabbed his golden robe from the back of his chair, and said, "Oh, right, I have some business to attend to with the City Watch today, so I'll be going now!" With that, he practically fled the banquet hall, not even turning back when Laenor called him "Uncle."

Viserys released Laenor from his embrace, Aemma also stood up. "We should head back too. Rhaenyra must be sleepy by now; we need to go back and put her to bed." The two hurriedly left, leaving Laenor standing there, still staring blankly in the direction of the male servant.

Vaegon put down his wine glass and said calmly, "I have an appointment with my assistant, Maester Bernard, to go stargazing tonight, so I'll be leaving now." With that, he rose and left, the hem of his black robe sweeping across the ground, without uttering another word.

The banquet hall instantly became quiet, leaving only Jaehaerys, Baelon, Jocelyn, Daemon, Gael, Mysaria and Johanna who served Gael, and the five guests of the banquet Rhaenyra and her family.

Daemon quickly handed Rhaenyra, who had fallen asleep in his arms, to Aemma, who had just gotten up and hadn't gone far. He then gently patted Rhaenys's hand to comfort her, saying, "Sister, I'm really alright. Grandfather appointed me as Minister of Intelligence because he trusts me. I also want to do my part for the family and protect everyone in it."

Looking into his earnest eyes, the sharpness in Rhaenys's gaze softened, but she still couldn't help but tear up: "But you're still a child—"

Jocelyn gently put her arm around her daughter's shoulder and softly comforted her, "Alright, Rhaenys, Little Daemon is very sensible and knows what he's doing. Let's go back to our room and let your grandfather and him have a chat." After saying that, she led Rhaenyra and her family out of the banquet hall.

Gael finally had a chance to get close to Daemon, resting her chin on her hands, then sat in Daemon's lap, pouting, and reached out to touch Daemon's face. "You said you were fine, but you've been so busy these past few days that you haven't had time to spend with me. Yesterday I went to the study to find you, and you were still looking at documents. You even have dark circles under your eyes, and you've lost weight."

Daemon chuckled and ruffled her hair. "Once I'm done with this busy period, I'll take you for a walk in the garden and we'll go fishing at Blackwater Bay, okay?"

Gael nodded immediately, and the grievance in her eyes vanished instantly.

Jaehaerys, at the head of the long table, coughed twice. Baelon had also quietly left his seat sometime earlier, leaving only Jaehaerys, the two of them, and Gael's maids Mysaria and Johanna in the banquet hall. Our old king reluctantly broke their hushed whispers, "Alright, you can go back and rest now. I should also go to my study to attend to official business."

The old king looked at his young grandson and daughter flirting before him, a hint of embarrassment on his face, but more so, a sense of pride in Daemon's maturity.

After nightfall, Daemon calmed Gael, who had sneaked into his room. Mysaria and Johanna, already used to it, quietly held the princess and fell asleep together. Then Daemon quietly got up and knocked on the tower door of the king's study.

The candlelight was still burning in the study. Jaehaerys sat behind his desk, a pile of parchment scrolls half his height in front of him, his scepter leaning against the side of his chair. Seeing Daemon enter, he put down his quill. "You've arrived? Have a seat."

Daemon walked to the table and handed over a roll of parchment. "Grandfather, this is the intelligence gathered by the Dark Blade Guard over the past few days, as well as the movements of the nobles in King's Landing. Larys has already verified it."

Jaehaerys took it but didn't look at it, instead staring at Daemon's face. "Haven't you been sleeping well these past few days? The dark circles under your eyes are almost impossible to hide."

Daemon paused for a moment, then laughed and said, "It's alright, just a bit too much paperwork. It'll be fine once it's done."

"Silly boy," Jaehaerys sighed, tapping the parchment scroll on the table with his finger. "When I first assumed power, I also tried to do everything myself, and I collapsed from exhaustion in less than half a month. Later I realized that whether you're a king or a minister, you can't shoulder everything yourself. Your men are all capable; delegate authority when necessary. Don't push yourself too hard; let them suffer a little more."

He paused, then added, "I've already spoken with Baelon, Otto, and Leonno; they'll handle the less important paperwork for you. Get some rest these next few days, spend more time with Gael, and talk to Jocelyn and Rhaenys. Don't always lock yourself in your study."

Daemon felt a warmth in his heart and bowed, saying, "Thank you, Grandfather."

"You're my grandson, who else would I love more than you?" Jaehaerys smiled and waved his hand. "Alright, go back and rest. I have some official business to attend to."

Daemon turned to leave, and just as he reached the door, he heard the old king sigh softly behind him, "I hope—my decision today won't be a mistake."

Moonlight streamed through the high arched windows of the study, falling on Jaehaerys's aged figure and on the intelligence report scroll on the desk.

The candlelight flickered, casting a long shadow of the old king, like a silent barrier protecting the Targaryen ' future, and also protecting the "Dark Blade" that seemed to be growing anew.

Daemon stood in the corridor, the Dragon Mark on his right shoulder slightly warm. He knew that the old king's worries stemmed from his concern for the family's future;

His responsibility is to prevent this worry from becoming a reality—even if the road ahead is full of thorns, he must hold the Blackfyre tightly and make it his sharpest and most reliable blade.