Drink it while it's hot

Lyonel Strong's pupils contracted slightly.

He studied Baelon Targaryen very carefully.

The sun sank into the Dark Mountains, and rose-purple sunset clouds shrouded the horizon.

Baelon wore a black velvet robe without any dragon insignia.

In the evening breeze, his shoulder-length silver curls rippled and gleamed.

His violet eyes shone, calm and peaceful.

Even under such an intrusive gaze, his expression remained composed, his bearing poised and elegant.

Humble and courteous, merciful and kind, he was practically the very model of a prince from a ballad.

Countless hedge knights had heard of his reputation and crossed mountains to reach King's Landing, solely to stand beside him and serve such an ideal sovereign.

Lyonel recalled what the Seven Kingdoms said about the prince.

Some nobles thought him like King Aenys-far too weak.

Both had been born small and frail, loved singers, were modest yet personally charming, intelligent and well connected.

Even his wife, too, was a daughter of the Lord of the Tides, Earl Velaryon.

He also had an uncle who was far too much like Maegor.

Daemon Targaryen loved fighting, was highly skilled at arms, carried Dark Sister, and rode the ferocious Caraxes, the "Blood Worm."

Quite a few lords feared history would repeat itself. Stranger still, the prince kept urging the king to ignore these discussions and take no action.

This only reinforced his reputation for "weakness."

But Lyonel knew.

Prince Baelon was not King Aenys. He lacked neither decisiveness nor martial courage, and even enjoyed the favor of the Seven.

Lyonel was certain he would bring Westeros an age of prosperity.

Previously, Lyonel had felt pleased with himself for this, even superior.

Compared with most foolish nobles, he was intelligent and learned, shrewd and perceptive.

But...

What had he just heard?!

Lyonel could not help curling his lips into a self-mocking sneer.

Prince Baelon was indeed not the weak King Aenys.

Like Maegor, he had rejected all the young dragons, stubbornly believing that only one dragon was worthy of him.

It was so obvious.

How had he only just realized?!

This prince, beloved of the Seven and born with divinely bestowed intelligence, raised his head, seemingly noticing his excessive scrutiny.

Prince Baelon showed no displeasure at the offense.

He smiled, raised his eyebrows, and spread his arms, saying openly, "Lord Lyonel, what would you like to see?"

Baelon had long since grown accustomed to people's attention and scrutiny.

Out of goodwill toward Lyonel, he looked at him with a smile.

His tone was tolerant and kind. "I'm willing to show you directly."

There was nothing he needed to take pains to conceal, express obliquely, or even approach in a roundabout way.

Clever word games?

Rambling political language?

Diplomatic circumlocution?

Smiling, Baelon tilted his head up, encouraging Lyonel Strong, who was twice his height.

Lyonel smiled bitterly.

What a humble, courteous, merciful, and kind prince.

What a confident, arrogant dragon!

Lords had to maintain their dignity and toughness to defend their lands, but dragon-riding Targaryens did not need to.

He spoke wearily, insisting, "Prince Baelon, war is no child's game. I..."

"Indeed."

Baelon acknowledged Lyonel's intelligence. "Now is not the time to start a war."

"I'll dissuade Father."

He did not have a dragon yet.

Lyonel had not expected matters to take such a turn!

With all the proper courtesies, Baelon offered his thanks with graceful poise.

"Lord Lyonel, thank you for your loyalty to the Seven Kingdoms. What you've said today will bring glory and peace to Westeros."

Baelon turned and headed toward Viserys's bedchamber.

Forget Ser Cole. Just throw him onto the Wall.

Going to Dragonstone to tame a dragon was what mattered.

Before he even reached the door, he heard Viserys roaring.

"How could you do such a thing?!"

Rhaenyra refused to back down. "What did I do?!"

"You and Daemon had already visited every brothel by the time you were my age!"

"You even fathered a whole bunch of bastards!"

"Even a lowly hedge knight can hold a farmer's daughter today and share a miller's daughter's bed tomorrow!"

Baelon glanced at the rose-purple sky.

He nearly lost his composure.

You two are still arguing?!

What energy.

He nodded to the two Kingsguard at the entrance, and they pushed open the doors.

Behind the enormous carved stone map table, Viserys held his forehead.

He looked as though he had a headache. "If this were in Jaehaerys's time..."

Rhaenyra retorted bluntly, "You'd throw me into a motherhouse and be done with it?"

Baelon's arrival broke the standoff between them.

He asked curiously, "What's wrong?"

Rhaenyra shut her mouth and turned toward the window.

Viserys forced a smile and rose from his chair. "Nothing."

"How was your visit to the factory today?"

He bent down and patted Baelon's shoulder, saying affectionately, "You've come at just the right time."

"Starting tomorrow, you'll serve as cupbearer on the Small Council."

Unwilling to waste time beating around the bush, Baelon said directly, "I've heard."

Viserys's brows drew into a line. He was just about to speak when Baelon continued.

"The Kingsguard will keep the secret. No one else will hear of this."

"I think the focus should be on Criston Cole, not Rhaenyra." Baelon brought up the other person involved.

Viserys's anger stalled.

Baelon said, "He has violated his honor, profaned his vows, betrayed the king, and sullied the glory of the Kingsguard."

"He should be stripped of his honors and made to take the black."

All the anger pent up in Viserys's heart found another outlet.

He shouted toward the door, ordering the Kingsguard to bring Ser Cole before him!

Before him, the father whose daughter's chastity had been defiled.

Viserys sat in his chair, waiting furiously.

The room fell silent. Watching Viserys's expression, Baelon stepped forward, poured him a cup of wine, and patted his heaving back.

Once his mood settled, Baelon could get on with requesting permission to go to Dragonstone.

Viserys gradually calmed down.

He had indeed been blinded by anger.

As long as this was dealt with in secret, Rhaenyra could still marry into House Lannister and rule the Westerlands.

If she did not like the Lannisters, she could freely choose whomever she liked among the lords of the Seven Kingdoms.

Viserys sighed.

Seeing this, Baelon had just opened his mouth when a voice rang out.

"Ser Cole's offense doesn't warrant that."

Rhaenyra made up her mind and looked Viserys firmly in the eye.

"I initiated it!"

Viserys's face, which had just cooled, burned hot again. He tightened his grip on the golden cup, making the scarlet wine tremble and spill over the rim.

Baelon, beaten to the punch: ...

Very responsible of you, big sister.

But really, there was no need.

Just then, a sudden knock came at the door.

Knock, knock, knock-

A dragonkeeper urgently reported in High Valyrian, "Your Grace!"

"Prince Daemon stole a dragon egg from the Dragonpit! For his bastard with his whore."

Viserys took a deep breath, then another.

He exercised his capacity for forbearance to the fullest.

"It's fine."

"Let Daemon act out and burn off his energy for now."

"I'll have him put the dragon egg back in a few days."

The dragonkeeper continued, "But Prince Daemon has already left on his dragon with the egg and his whore."

"He said they were going to the Free Cities!"

Overcome with fury, Viserys hurled his wine cup to the floor.

He was so angry that he panted heavily.

"Daemon..." The name squeezed out through Viserys's clenched teeth.

Baelon silently repeated the dragonkeeper's words to himself, grasping their meaning a beat late.

Wait!

Taking a dragon egg to the Free Cities!

How was that any different from throwing meat to a dog and expecting it back?!

Ha!

So he was the only one left out!

The Targaryen bloodline was all kicking into action together!

Baelon currently had no dragon, and neither did Viserys.

In this situation, they could only pin their hopes on Rhaenyra.

He urged, "Rhaenyra, mount Syrax and catch up with Daemon immediately."

Before Rhaenyra could react, the Kingsguard returned.

"Your Grace!"

"Ser Cole isn't in the White Sword Tower!"

"Someone saw him leave the Red Keep on horseback, carrying a large bundle."

Rhaenyra was incredulous. "How is that possible?!"

"Ser Harrold, are you accusing Ser Cole of fleeing?!"

"That's a very serious accusation to make against a knight!"

Viserys was so furious that he collapsed into his chair.