"Put It on Daemon Targaryen's Tab"

The wooden door to the second-floor private room of the Pleasure Hall burst open with a bang. As Gael's sky-blue skirt swept over the threshold, it stirred a gust that made the silver lamp on the table flicker wildly.

Alicent, behind her, clutched the hem of her dress tightly. Her lapis-blue eyes were filled with anxiety, yet she still hurried after the princess.

"Daemon Blackfyre Targaryen." Gael's voice was like ice, every word striking the floorboards. "How long do you plan to hide?"

Daemon had just shielded Mysaria behind him. At her words, he turned around.

Gael's eyes were red-rimmed, clearly holding back tears, but the fury burning in her pale violet eyes was more scorching than Dreamfyre's dragonfire.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but was interrupted by the chaotic footsteps outside the window—Daemon Targaryen's injured leg had somehow slipped free of its bandages. He was now limping frantically toward the other end of the square, not even stopping to pick up his fallen carved cane. The hem of his cloak swept over the stone road like a wild rabbit fleeing hounds.

"Coward." Gael sneered, fixing her gaze on Daemon again. "He ran. What about you? How are you going to explain this?" Her eyes passed over Daemon and landed on Mysaria. The girl was clutching Daemon's sleeve desperately, her platinum curls trembling like a spiderweb in the wind. "Explain why she's wearing your clothes? Explain what you two were doing here last night..."

"Gael, it wasn't what you think." Daemon stepped forward, softening his voice as much as he could. "I never expected Daemon Targaryen to drug me. I thought it was just an ordinary drink..."

"Drugged?" Gael suddenly raised her voice, and tears finally rolled down her cheeks. "So you simply went along with it? Daemon, I thought you weren't like him!" She remembered her fears in the Red Keep last night, her determination when she mounted Dreamfyre, and the heartbreak she felt upon seeing Mysaria. Grievance and fury drowned her like a tide. "I worried about you all night! I even dared to ride a dragon to find you, yet you were here... here with another woman..." Her sobs choked off her words, and her shoulders shook violently.

Alicent hurried forward to support her. "Princess, please calm down. Prince Daemon isn't that kind of person. Prince Daemon Targaryen forcibly dragged him out last night. We all heard it, and we all saw the secret passage..."

"You think you're the only one who saw it?" Gael shook off her hand and looked at Alicent through tear-blurred eyes. "You don't know anything!"

"I do." Alicent's voice was quiet, but exceptionally firm. "I know that Prince Daemon came from a wandering life, yet he would bandage an injured kitten. I know that he would rather get soaked in the rain himself than take back his cloak from a lost child. He may have made mistakes, but he would never have done this intentionally."

At that moment, Mysaria suddenly broke free of Daemon's protection and dropped to her knees before Gael with a thud. Her knees struck the floor with a dull sound. Platinum curls fell over her face, hiding the tears streaming down it. "Princess, please don't blame him! It's all my fault! Mama Mera forced me. If I didn't do as she said, she'd sell me onto a slave ship..." She raised her head, revealing wrists covered in red marks. "I failed to protect him. I..."

"Get up." Daemon bent down and helped her to her feet, his voice carrying unquestionable authority. "No one gets to make you kneel to speak."

Mysaria was shielded behind him, and she cried even harder. "I grew up in a brothel in Lys. My father was a drunken sailor, and I don't even know who my mother was. He sold me for drinking money... I escaped onto a merchant ship under cover of night. I thought I'd escaped to Westeros, that I could live a good life in King's Landing, but still..."

Gael's sobs gradually stopped. She looked at the bruises on the girl's wrists, at those violet eyes filled with fear and despair, and remembered her own life of silk and luxury. Something seemed to pierce her heart.

Gentle by nature since childhood, the fury that had seemed capable of freezing everything had somehow turned into bitter compassion.

"This is the truth you wanted to tell me?" Gael's voice lowered, trembling almost imperceptibly.

Mysaria nodded, tears soaking Daemon's sleeping robe. "Last night, Young Eagle's Wine had consumed him badly, but he still kept saying, 'No'... I was too frightened. I was afraid Mama Mera would beat me to death... or sell me onto a slave ship and send me back to Lys..."

"Enough." Gael suddenly stepped forward. Under Daemon and Alicent's astonished gazes, she gently embraced Mysaria.

Her movements were a little stiff, but they carried sincere warmth. "Don't be afraid. No one will bully you again."

Mysaria froze, then burst into even fiercer sobs. They were no longer fearful whimpers, but the grievances she had suppressed for years finally finding an outlet.

As Daemon watched the two crying in each other's arms, he was about to take the chance to explain how he had been force-fed Young Eagle's Wine last night when orderly footsteps suddenly sounded outside the room. "By order of His Majesty the King." A steady voice came from beyond the door, carrying the distinctive authority of the Kingsguard. "Ser Lyan Redwyne is here and requests that everyone return to the Red Keep with him."

When Daemon opened the door, he saw a strange sight: Ser Lyan Goodwin, captain of the Kingsguard, stood outside with four Kingsguard behind him. Gael's maids were kneeling in the distance, scarcely daring to breathe.

"Ser." Daemon stepped aside to let them in. "May I ask what His Majesty commands?"

Ser Lyan Redwyne stood at the doorway in snow-white Kingsguard armor, one hand resting on his sword and the other holding a scroll of parchment. "By order of His Majesty King Jaehaerys, Prince Daemon Blackfyre, Princess Gael, Lady Alicent, and all relevant persons are to be brought back to the Red Keep for questioning immediately. So decreed."

His eyes swept over the unusual scene in the room—the girls embracing, Daemon's complicated expression, the mess covering the floor. When his gaze finally fell upon Mysaria, he merely frowned slightly and asked no further questions.

On the way downstairs, Gael kept holding the hand of the "unwell" Mysaria. When they reached the entrance of the Pleasure Hall, she suddenly stopped and turned to Daemon. "Buy her. From now on, let her serve as my maid."

Daemon paused, then nodded. "All right."

He touched the purse at his waist, only to remember that Daemon Targaryen had dragged him away in such haste last night that he had brought only a few gold dragons.

"Not enough money?" Gael noticed his embarrassment. A sly smile curled her lips, like a kitten delighted by a successful prank. "It's fine. I know who to ask." She lifted her head toward the Red Keep towers, where Daemon Targaryen was "resting for recovery." "Isn't Daemon Targaryen so loyal? Put this on his tab. Consider it... interest on what he owes you."

Seeing Gael's eyes brighten again, Alicent secretly breathed a sigh of relief. She could not help letting out a small laugh, then quickly lowered her head to hide it.

Though Mysaria did not understand what they were saying, she could sense the easing atmosphere. Her tense grip on Gael's hand loosened slightly.

At that moment, Daemon Targaryen, who was sneaking back into his tower to drink ale amid the chaos, let out a thunderous sneeze. He rubbed his nose and muttered, "Who's talking about me? Couldn't be little Daemon, could it? Hope you're grateful I brought you rescuers and saved your life..."

Still smug over his own "brilliance," Daemon Targaryen had no idea that a bill painful enough to make him wince for half a year had quietly been placed in his name.

The Kingsguard armor gleamed coldly in the morning light, stretching their shadows long. Daemon knew that King Jaehaerys's interrogation awaited him back at the Red Keep, perhaps also Prince Baelon's stern gaze, perhaps Viserys's worry. After all, he had taken the fall for Daemon Targaryen's scheme in Viserys's place...

Oh, and perhaps Queen Alysanne, Aemma, even Lady Jocelyn, all looking at him strangely...

And then there was Daemon Targaryen, his "loyal" great-grandfather and "good brother." Counting this little rescue mission, how many times had he set Daemon up since last night?

Though his thoughts kept turning, Daemon felt strangely calm at that moment, even faintly expectant—after all, this farce woven from desire, worry, and accident should have a proper ending.

Sunlight passed through the Red Keep's archways, casting long shadows over the stone slabs. Last night's storm seemed to have passed, yet no one knew what unexpected mark this farce on Silk Street would leave upon the history of the Seven Kingdoms.