Suffocating family love

The tournament drew half the city's people.

At every joust, hedge knights and noble knights competed on the same day, and cheers rang to the skies.

At tournaments, jousts always won cheers. The melees and archery offered little spectacle and drew rather muted crowds.

Who knew what had come over Ser Swan? During the archery contest, he hesitated, but still took off his shirt.

Bare to the waist, he bent his bow and nocked an arrow.

The muscles arching across his back as he drew looked like a sculpture carved by a master.

When had a tournament ever not seen its contestants enclosed in full armor? With Ser Swan pulling a stunt like this, how could the "conservative" people of King's Landing ever have seen anything like it!

Screams and cheers from men and women alike instantly erupted, heating up the atmosphere again.

Many young noblewomen blushed scarlet, fanning themselves constantly or hiding their faces behind their fans, leaving only their eyes exposed.

The noble ladies were more direct and bold.

But the dreadful part was that Baelon saw quite a few men blushing too, screaming themselves hoarse.

Baelon: ...

You... what the bloody hell are you blushing for?! Amid the cheers, Ser Swan's back straightened further and further.

But it was not over yet.

With every eye upon him, Ser Swan's arrow trailed a long strip of red silk, neatly passed through ten tiny rings, and shot down the hanging red ball!

The red ball burst with a bang.

Tiny scraps of colored paper fluttered through the air.

Now everyone, men and women, young and old, began screaming and roaring for Samwell Swan.

The gentle expression on Ser Swan's face gradually turned into a rather ill-advised, wickedly seductive look.

Amid the cheers, he confidently displayed the bodybuilding poses Baelon had taught him on the platform, setting off waves of shrieks.

Baelon: ...

At that moment, the gentle, refined knight he had first met died completely.

A fiery, enthusiastic oddball who liked to show off his muscles now and then awakened within him.

Fortunately, Ser Swan still had some restraint and only did this while training in the yard.

Baelon sighed deeply inwardly.

It was all because my resolve was weak, corrupted by damned wealth and luxury!

I made a perfectly respectable knight like Ser Swan degenerate into this!

Every time Baelon saw Ser Swan strike a bodybuilding pose, his toes curled.

The embarrassment brought him entirely back to normal.

He concentrated, took a deep breath, and loosed an arrow.

Good!

An improvement this time!

Right on the edge of the target!

Baelon worked his aching shoulders and arms.

Drawing a bow really was hard work!

He drew an ash arrow. The wooden arrows he practiced with were maintained only with beeswax and a whetstone, leaving them pale yellow rather than blackened all over and soaked in tar like arrows intended for actual use.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a familiar figure appearing around a bend in the corridor.

Rhaenyra slowly approached.

Her lips pressed together, her interested gaze traveled over Ser Swan inch by inch.

From top to bottom.

From his broad shoulders to his powerful waist, over clearly defined muscles and their ridged, undulating contours.

The heart beneath his left breast beat powerfully, making his muscular chest rise and fall slightly.

A Swan Silver Necklace hung against his chest.

Her gaze was unabashed as she feasted her eyes on that young, strong body!

The more closely she examined him, the broader Rhaenyra's smile grew.

She spoke softly, unable to conceal the admiration in her voice. "Ser Swan, I hear you fought the Dornish in the Dornish Marches. Could you tell me about it?"

What a young, strong body.

Behind her, Ser Criston Cole of the Kingsguard stared darkly at Ser Swan, his expression hostile.

Under Rhaenyra's predatory gaze, Ser Swan drew in his arms with some discomfort.

Baelon handed his bow to Ser Uther and stepped forward, placing himself between Rhaenyra and Ser Swan.

Ser Swan quietly breathed a sigh of relief.

After a year together, Baelon had discovered that a chameleon's heart lay hidden inside Ser Swan's towering frame.

He was easily led by adoration and cheers.

Amid people's worship and shouts, his confidence swelled, flourishing like a tree.

But the moment someone with real power cast an appraising gaze upon him, his illusory confidence and glory immediately withered.

Baelon did not know how Ser Swan had developed this personality, but that did not stop him from knowing this.

So long as the crown prince gave him praise and attention, Ser Swan grew dizzy and lost sight of everything else.

He disregarded everything, pledging his life and sword in loyalty to him unto death.

Baelon asked, "Rhaenyra, what brings you here?"

Her gaze still fixed on Ser Swan, Rhaenyra spoke without even lowering her head. "Father sent me to tell you that the dragon you shared a cradle with has grown big enough to carry a rider."

"So, would you like to go to the Dragonpit together and have a look?"

Baelon frowned slightly. "He's not my cradle dragon."

"He hatched in the Dragonpit."

Once he had been able to speak, he had ordered that Dragon Egg sent back to the Dragonpit.

"I already have a dragon I want," Baelon declined. "Besides, I need to inspect the factory outside the city today."

Rhaenyra urged him, "Father is very worried about you. Even for a Targaryen, dragons aren't without danger."

"That little dragon formed a bond with you in the cradle. He poses no danger to you. Why not try accepting him and giving him a name?"

"Then you'd immediately have a dragon of your own."

Baelon remained unmoved. "There's a dragon I want."

Rhaenyra said, "Go and see him."

"The dragonkeepers all say he's a good dragon. He's clever and fierce."

Baelon shook his head.

In all Targaryen history, no one had ever tamed two dragons at once, not even Daenerys Targaryen, the Mother of Dragons a hundred years later.

To ensure he could tame an adult dragon without fail, Baelon was unwilling to create complications by approaching a young dragon before he had an adult one.

Especially a young dragon that had once grown up in the same cradle as him.

He signaled Ser Uther with his eyes.

Ser Uther left without a sound.

To persuade Rhaenyra, Baelon suitably polished his language, choosing words that sounded finer and appealed more to the heart.

"The bond between a dragon and a Targaryen goes both ways. My heart is already set on another. Would it do me any harm to visit that little dragon and make him long for me with uncertain hopes?"

"No. Quite the opposite, it would benefit me. Even if I failed to tame an adult dragon, I'd still have a little dragon waiting for me."

"But."

He sighed. "Since he's a good dragon, doesn't he deserve a wholehearted rider?"

"A rider who treats him with complete sincerity rather than as a second choice."

Rhaenyra fell silent for a moment. "So you think you should either give your whole heart or offer no hope at all?"

Baelon nodded. "Of course. The people of Westeros see dragons as calamities, but dragons are exceptionally loyal to their Targaryen riders. They never betray them."

He told a lie that was not well-intentioned. "Even the sincere heart beneath a dragon's hide shouldn't be tormented by half-true kindness and uncertain hopes."

Behind Baelon, the five knights looked at his back with admiration and longing in their eyes.

Yet at his words, Rhaenyra suddenly grew angry.

She loudly interrupted Baelon's thoughts. "Yes, yes, such lovely words!"

"You just want an adult dragon!"

"You're willing to pay any price for it!"

"You'd rather leave your father and sister worrying about you all day, afraid you'll run off to Dragonstone alone and die in Dragonfire!"

Baelon stressed yet again, "I know the duties I bear. I won't risk my life."

No one in this world cherished Baelon's life more than Baelon himself.

Sometimes he even wondered whether the way he treasured his own little life, in both actions and attitude, seemed cowardly and weak in Westeros.

"Rhaenyra, I've promised more than once."

"I won't rashly run off to Dragonstone. I won't approach a dragon alone. Before attempting to tame one, I'll feed him for at least a month or two so he grows familiar with me!"

"Why do you think I'd be so irrational?"

Rhaenyra seethed. "Because you've always been so bold and reckless!"

"The prince 'beloved by the gods'! Baelon 'the just and wise'!"

"You possess god-given wisdom!"

"So you never listen to me, and you won't listen to Father either."

Baelon was baffled. "In six years, I've never considered setting foot on Dragonstone without permission, even though it's my own territory."

After he had expressed his determination concerning Vermithor, Viserys had gripped his hand tightly and called his name.

"Baelon, have mercy on a king. You bear responsibility for the Seven Kingdoms. If you die taming a dragon, the peaceful Seven Kingdoms will descend into chaos."

"If a king cannot earn your mercy, then take pity on your father. If you die, there will be no joy left in his life."

Rhaenyra had been streaming tears then, clutching him tightly.

To reassure them both, however desperately Baelon wanted to tame a dragon, he had never tried sneaking off to Dragonstone!

Why were Viserys and Rhaenyra unwilling to believe him?