The Belated "Journey"

The air in the Red Keep's council chamber seemed to have solidified into obsidian, so heavy that every breath carried a metallic chill.

Daemon Blackfyre Targaryen stood in the hall. Mysaria had been led by a maid to wait in the side chamber, leaving him alone to face the core of the royal family seated upon the dais.

Sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, casting mottled patterns across the floor and dividing every face into alternating light and shadow.

King Jaehaerys sat in the highest oak chair, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest. In the silence, the sound was like an hourglass marking time.

His gaze settled first on Daemon, appraising but lacking the expected fury. "It seems our Black Dragon knight can not only tame Glutton, but also follow his namesake brother to sample the 'charms' of Silk Street." The old king's voice was quiet, yet it carried the mockery of one who saw through everything. "How did Young Eagle's Wine taste?"

Daemon's cheeks warmed slightly. Just as he was about to explain, he caught sight of Jocelyn Baratheon standing in the shadow beside a folding screen.

Today, she wore a plain linen gown. Without her usual finery, her figure appeared even more slender.

Her dark eyes were fixed firmly upon him, like two deep pools—filled with undisguised worry, like a mother beast seeing her cub get into trouble;

with an indescribable tenderness, as though she saw someone else's shadow through him;

and yet with a clear trace of reproach, like a silent question: "How could you let yourself fall into such a situation?"

That look tightened his heart more than Jaehaerys's scrutiny ever could.

He instinctively straightened his back, as if trying to prove before this legitimate wife of his "father" that he was not some reckless libertine out of control.

Daemon's cheeks grew even redder, leaving him at a loss for words. Just as he steadied himself and resolved to speak, Prince Baelon raised a hand to stop him.

Baelon stood beside the king. His expression remained stern, but there was little anger in his eyes—only a touch of helpless resignation, as though this had been expected. "The king asked you," he said, turning to Daemon, his tone softening slightly. "But before that, we need to determine something else—how did Dreamfyre end up on Silk Street?"

The words were like a stone cast into still water, and Daemon's gaze drifted instinctively toward the side door.

Gael and Alicent had just been brought in. After returning, Gael had needed to take Dreamfyre back to the Dragonpit, while Alicent had been responsible for accompanying her.

The hem of Gael's sky-blue dress still bore sulfurous ash from the Dragonpit. Alicent twisted the corner of her skirt nervously between her fingers, her lapis-lazuli eyes lowered.

"I told Dreamfyre to go." Gael suddenly spoke. Her voice was soft but remarkably clear. Raising her head, she met Jaehaerys's eyes with her pale violet gaze. "I was worried something had happened to Daemon. I couldn't find any guards, so... so I secretly went into the Dragonpit."

"Secretly went into the Dragonpit?" Jaehaerys's fingers abruptly stopped tapping, his brows knitting tightly. "Do you know how long Dreamfyre has gone without a rider? Since Rhaena died, it has been like a stone that cannot be warmed! Do you think taming a dragon is like going into the kitchen for sweets?"

Queen Alysanne quickly took her husband's hand and gently soothed him. "Gael was only flustered from worry. She is just a young girl. When she could not find anyone in the middle of the night, it was only natural that she acted rashly."

She looked at Gael, affection and concern in her eyes. "But dragging Alicent along with you was still far too reckless."

Alicent immediately curtsied. "Your Majesty, Your Grace, do not blame the princess. I went willingly. Prince Daemon has treated us very well. We could not simply stand by and watch while he might be in danger."

Viserys, standing to one side, could not help speaking for them. "Grandfather, Aunt Gael was only overwhelmed by concern. Besides, since Dreamfyre was willing to carry them, that means it recognizes her. Perhaps that is a good thing?"

Jaehaerys snorted coldly. His gaze swept across the young people present before finally landing on Daemon Targaryen—who had somehow slipped into the council chamber and was leaning against a pillar, secretly stuffing candied fruit into his mouth. At the sound, he hurriedly tucked the last piece into his sleeve.

"You have the nerve to show your face here?" The old king's voice suddenly rose. "As an elder brother, it is one thing to take your younger brother to that sort of place, but you even dared drug him? If Gael and the others had not found him in time, how long were you planning to leave him on Silk Street?"

Daemon Targaryen immediately straightened up, his roguish grin instantly turning into an expression of grave remorse. "Grandfather, please calm your anger! I was wrong. I should not have taken Little Daemon to the Pleasure Hall, much less let him drink Young Eagle's Wine..." He stole a glance at Daemon and winked. "But I did it for his own good! Think about it—when he marries someday, he should at least know something about women, shouldn't he? He cannot be like certain people who can only blush at their bride on their wedding night..."

"Daemon!" Baelon cut him off sharply, though the tips of his ears had turned faintly red.

Viserys coughed awkwardly. Aemma's laughter drifted from behind the screen, touched with teasing amusement. The atmosphere in the council chamber immediately loosened somewhat.

Watching his second grandson's ridiculous display, Jaehaerys's tense lips twitched almost imperceptibly. "The men of House Targaryen are famous for their romantic ways," he suddenly said, a trace of age-worn nostalgia in his voice. "When I was young, I went to Flea Bottom with your granduncle. The first time your father went to Silk Street, I took him there myself."

Everyone was stunned by those words. Baelon's face instantly flushed crimson, while Queen Alysanne slapped her husband reproachfully. "Jaehaerys! The children are still here! Why are you telling them everything?"

"But rules cannot be broken." Jaehaerys quickly turned away, changing the subject. His eyes sharpened once more. "Taking your younger brother out to 'broaden his horizons' is one thing, but drugging him is utter bastardry! Daemon Targaryen, you are sentenced to clean up Caraxes's droppings in the Dragonpit. You are not to leave your tower for one month!"

Daemon Targaryen let out a miserable wail, but he did not dare argue. He could only accept with a miserable expression.

The old king's gaze finally returned to Daemon Blackfyre. "And you? Now that you have tasted Young Eagle's Wine, is it time to do something proper?" He picked up a parchment scroll from the table. "I have read Otto's memorial. The progress through the Seven Kingdoms was originally set for today, but after this farce, that clearly will not do. We will set it for three days from now!"

Daemon froze. "So soon?"

"How could it not be?" Jaehaerys raised a brow. "Your 'good brother' has made this known to everyone. If you remain in King's Landing, who knows how else he might lead you astray. Go see the Seven Kingdoms. Look at the roses of the Reach, the snows of the North, meet some respectable young ladies. It is better than wasting your time on Silk Street."

Baelon added, "I have already ordered the retinue prepared. Glutton will accompany you as well, both as protection and to display the royal family's majesty. The nobles along the way will receive you. As for marriage... decide for yourself. There is no need to force it, but at least let us see that you are willing to consider it."

Looking at the expectation in their eyes, Daemon suddenly understood the true purpose behind this "trial"—they were not seeking to hold him accountable, but to gently pull him back from Daemon Targaryen's "crooked path."

He thought of Mysaria's tears the night before, of Gael's resolve as she rode a dragon to find him, and something within him warmed. "I understand." He bowed. "I will make the progress properly, and I will... seriously consider marriage."

Jaehaerys nodded in satisfaction and waved for everyone to withdraw.

As Gael passed Daemon, she quietly slipped a small cloth pouch into his hand. The warmth of her fingertips lingered through the fabric. "There is Calming Herb inside. It may be useful on the road. And..." She lowered her voice, the tips of her ears red as cherries. "Do not forget to write to me."

Alicent also curtsied and said softly, "May the road be kind to you, my prince. I will take good care of the princess, and I will also keep watch... keep watch on what the Master of Laws is doing."

Daemon watched them leave, then looked at Daemon Targaryen being dragged away by the ear by Baelon. Suddenly, he felt that this turmoil might not have been such a bad thing after all.

At the very least, he had seen his family's true feelings and understood the path he ought to take.

Three days later, King's Landing Harbor's docks were packed with people. As Daemon rode Glutton in circles overhead, the Black Dragon's shadow covered nearly half the harbor.

Below, Viserys and Aemma held Rhaenyra as they waved farewell. Jaehaerys and Alysanne stood at the front, while Baelon and Jocelyn stood separately to either side. Gael, Alicent, and Mysaria remained at the very back, silently looking up. Gael still clutched the sachet embroidered with a Black Dragon.

"Remember to bring Rhaenyra a gift!" Viserys's shout was scattered by the wind.

Daemon looked down. In the morning light, the towers of the Red Keep resembled swords thrust into the sky. He knew that this departure was not only for a progress, but also to find where he belonged—in Targaryen blood, in the conflicts of the Seven Kingdoms, and in the surging current of history.

Glutton released a long dragon's roar and beat its wings toward the bay.

Daemon looked back. The outline of King's Landing gradually shrank until it became a silhouette upon the horizon. He tightened his grip on Blackfyre at his waist, the sword's hilt seeming to retain the warmth of the council chamber.

The road through the Seven Kingdoms was long. The story of the future had only just begun.