Warmth in the Red Keep

The morning mist of the Red Keep had not yet dissipated by the next day, and the brocade in the corridor shimmered with dark patterns in the morning light—a scene depicting Jaehaerys's suppression of a rebellion in his youth. The embroidery of spears and Dragonfire had faded somewhat, but still exuded royal majesty.

Daemon walked along the cool stone path toward Viserys's residence, the Blackfyre lightly brushing against the wall, making a faint sound that drew the attention of the golden-robed guards standing on either side of the pillars, who quickly bowed in salute.

Viserys's office was simpler than he had imagined. There was a carved wooden table by the window with a half-rolled roster of the Joint Fleet spread out on it, and a glass of warm ale next to it.

He wore a loose, dark purple silk robe, the collar of which was not fastened, revealing faint lines on his neck. Although his face was still somewhat pale, it had more color than when they had spoken privately yesterday.

Seeing Daemon enter, he immediately put down his quill, stood up to greet him, and said in a slightly tired but still gentle tone, "My Little Daemon, you've finally come. Aemma was just saying she wanted you to try her homemade honey cake."

"Is your health improving, brother?" Daemon stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the roster on the table. "Thank you for your concern regarding the Joint Fleet."

"She's much better, but Aemma's pregnancy is so heavy now that she can't sleep well at night. I'm really worried about her, and I can't sleep well every night either."

Viserys gently rubbed his furrowed brow, gesturing for him to sit down, and then had a servant bring over fresh ale. "How's things at your Dragon's Roost Port? I've heard a lot from Father and Daemon these past few days about the torrential rains on Crab Claw Peninsula. Hopefully, the rains didn't cause too much damage. And how is Aunt Gael doing?"

"The drainage ditches were reinforced in time, but some workshops were flooded. The displaced people have all been properly resettled."

Daemon took the beer, his fingertips touching the warm glass. "Gael is overseeing the distribution of supplies over there; she's more meticulous than I am, so don't worry. Besides handing over the Intelligence Minister's duties, I also wanted to tell you about Otto Hightower's actions—"

His recent frequent contacts with the lords of the Reach and the Westerlands, and his order for Ellyn Beesbury to delay supplies at Dragon's Roost Port, suggest he's trying to use the Joint Fleet's command to his advantage.

Viserys's face darkened, and he gripped the hem of his silk robe tightly. "I know what he's thinking, but Aemma is about to give birth, and I really don't have the energy to deal with him."

Yesterday I mentioned to my father that the Joint Fleet should be placed under the direct command of the Crown Prince, and he agreed. However, Otto is still arguing about it at the Small Council— "

Before he could finish speaking, soft footsteps sounded outside the door, Aemma walked in, lifting the hem of her light blue dress, holding two-year-old Rhaenyra in her arms.

The chubby little princess, dressed in a white dress embroidered with tiny dragons and with her hair tied up with a silver ribbon, lit up instantly when she saw Daemon. She struggled to peek out from Aemma's arms and reached out her chubby little hands to rush over. "Little Daemon!"

Hug!"

"Slow down, don't fall." Aemma smiled helplessly at the scene and gently handed Rhaenyra to Daemon. "This child—you haven't held her for the past few days since you and Gael went to Crab Claw Peninsula, but she talks about you every day."

Daemon bent down to take Rhaenyra from him, and the little girl immediately hugged his neck, nuzzling her head against his shoulder. She was still clutching a small wooden dragon, a gift Daemon had given her last time.

"Uncle Little Daemon, where's your little dragon— Little Grey Ghost?" Rhaenyra's voice was soft and sweet, her eyes darting around as if searching for the shadow of that light gray and cowardly dragon.

"It lives with the Glutton on the hills in the city. How about I bring it to see you next time?" Daemon gently pinched her cheek, a hint of tenderness flashing in his eyes.

Aemma sat to the side, watching the two interact, and added with a smile, "Grandpa and Grandma specially had the room you used to live in cleaned up, and even Gael's room was kept, with new velvet cushions laid out."

Next time you return to King's Landing, just stay at the Red Keep. No need to find accommodation in the city—the fireplaces in the Red Keep are warmer than outside. If Gael likes, she can continue picking roses in the garden as before."

Aemma was clearly holding Daemon accountable on behalf of Lady Jocelyn Baratheon and Queen Alysanne for not returning to his home in the Red Keep upon his return to King's King's Landing, but instead choosing to stay at the House Celtigar's mansion in the King's Landing.

"Thank you for your trouble, sister-in-law." Daemon picked up Rhaenyra and stood up. "My brother and I have some business to discuss. Let's take Little Rhaenyra out for a walk first, so she won't cause any trouble here."

Aemma nodded, then added, "It's windy outside, wrap Rhaenyra in a cloak so she doesn't catch a cold."

Daemon carried Rhaenyra out of the room. The little one nestled obediently in his arms, her tiny hands gripping the Blackfyre at his waist, occasionally touching the dragon pattern on the sheath with her fingertips.

Just as he reached the corner of the corridor, he heard a familiar, hearty laugh. Daemon Targaryen, a straw dangling from his mouth, leaned against a pillar, the hem of his black and red riding attire sweeping the floor. Seeing Daemon, he strode over and patted him on the shoulder. "Little Daemon! You've finally come out of Viserys's! Your first day back and you don't come to see me, but instead catch up with your brother? That's not very nice of you!"

"Weren't you at the Red Keep with Rhea?" Daemon raised an eyebrow, noticing the mockery in his eyes. "What brings you here?"

Mentioning Rhea House Royce, Daemon Targaryen's smile froze for a moment before he immediately resumed his carefree demeanor, reaching out to hug Rhaenyra: "Grandma has arranged a room for her at the Red Keep so she can rest. Little Rhaenyra, come to Uncle's, Uncle will take you to see Caraxes, okay?"

Rhaenyra buried her head in Daemon's neck, clutching his collar tightly with her little hands, and shook her head with a pout. "No—I want Little Daemon, not Big Daemon."

Daemon Targaryen's hand froze in mid-air, and he rolled his eyes helplessly. "Hey, you little rascal! When your Uncle Little Daemon wasn't around, you were playing with me just fine, weren't you? How come you're not as friendly with me now that he's back?"

Rhaenyra ignored him, only smiling sweetly at Daemon, pointing her little finger towards the Dragonpit in the distance. "Uncle Little Daemon, the dragon—"

"Alright, alright, I won't fight you for it." Daemon Targaryen gave up teasing the little princess and instead hooked his arm around Daemon's shoulder, lowering his voice to tease, "How's life doing clearing land with Gael in Dragon's Roost Port? Have you—hmm?" He winked, the implication in his words couldn't be clearer.

Daemon slapped his hand away, a smile playing on his lips. "Seriously," he said, "Dragon's Roost Port has just stabilized, Gael is busy settling the refugees. She doesn't have time for this. But you, how are things going with Rhea? Last time at my and Gael's engagement ceremony in King's Landing's Landing, you two were arguing so loudly the whole banquet hall could hear you."

These words struck a nerve with Daemon Targaryen. He scratched his head and chuckled awkwardly, "Well, her personality is as hard as a rock in the Vale. But Grandmother said we should get along well, after all, we're a legally married couple—let's not talk about that!"

He abruptly changed the subject, pulling Daemon towards the courtyard. "I know a newly opened tavern in town. The owner is from Arbor, and his sweet wine is even better Tyrosh's. Come on, it's my treat! If Little Rhaenyra wants to go, we can take her too, and let her try the honey pudding."

Upon hearing "Honey Pudding," Rhaenyra immediately looked up, her eyes sparkling as she gazed at Daemon: "Little Daemon, pudding! I want it!"

Daemon smiled helplessly, picked up Rhaenyra, and followed Daemon Targaryen: "Sure, but you're not allowed to force me to drink. Last time in Tyrosh, you passed out in the Tyrosh tavern, and I was the one who carried you back to camp."

"This time it definitely won't!" Daemon Targaryen patted his chest to assure him, then turned back to Rhaenyra and made a face. "Little Rhaenyra, keep an eye on your Uncle Little Daemon for me. If he doesn't drink, you cry, okay?"

Rhaenyra nodded as if she understood, resting her head on Daemon's shoulder, with crumbs of honey cake still clinging to the corner of her mouth.

The sunlight in the courtyard gradually warmed up, and the Glutton's dragon roar came from outside the Red Keep, deep yet powerful, intertwining with the laughter of the two and Rhaenyra's soft words.

Holding the little princess, Daemon looked at the lively Daemon Targaryen beside him and suddenly felt that no matter how turbulent the undercurrents King's Landing, with these family members around, he could find a moment of peace.

As they walked through the gardens of the Red Keep, Queen Alysanne was trimming roses with her maids. Seeing them, she smiled and waved, "Little Daemon, you two Daemon, where are you taking Little Rhaenyra? Gael were here, she'd definitely say she wanted to take her to pick roses with us."

"Little Daemon and the others are taking me to drink sweet wine and pudding!" Rhaenyra answered first, her small voice crisp and clear.

Alysanne laughed even harder, "Then don't let her eat too much, lest she can't eat dinner. Little Daemon, keep an eye on her and your Big Daemon, and you too. Remember to come to the palace for dinner tonight; your grandfather and Uncle Baelon want to hear about Dragon's Roost Port."

"Okay," Daemon replied, then hugged Rhaenyra and said goodbye to the Queen.

Daemon Targaryen muttered to himself, "Your grandmother still loves you the most. Last time I asked her for some of the new sweet wine from Arbor, she wouldn't give it to me."

"It's your fault for always making her angry," Daemon teased, but he didn't stop walking, following him towards the city gate.

At the city gate, Jarman Waters, along with the House Royce twins who remained in King's Landing to oversee the Dark Blade Guard, were already waiting. Seeing Daemon carrying Rhaenyra, he quickly stepped forward. "Your Highness, are you going into the city? May I accompany you?"

"No need, you can just patrol around the Red Keep." Daemon shook his head. "With Big Daemon around, nothing will happen."

Jarman wanted to say more, but he only saw his lord being pushed by Lord Daemon Targaryen towards the Red Keep's exit. "Don't worry, I'll bring your lord back safe and sound! Maybe I'll even bring along a drunkard!"

Daemon shook his head helplessly, picked up Rhaenyra, and followed. The sunlight shone on them, casting long shadows of the three of them and the dragon (the Grey Ghost that Rhaenyra had been thinking about all day had quietly followed behind), which fell on the stone pavement of the Red Keep, like a warm and familiar family painting.

He knew that Otto Hightower's schemes, the infighting among the princes, and the disputes over his own Crownlands were all still waiting for him to deal with.

But at this moment, he only wanted to temporarily set aside these disputes, enjoy some honeyed fruit pudding with his great-grandmother "niece" Rhaenyra, and have a glass of sweet wine with his namesake great-grandfather "cousin" Daemon Targaryen.

After all, beyond the power struggles, it is the warmth between family members that he is protecting all of this for.