Why are you taking this so much to heart?

When he watched horror films in his previous life, Baelon had never understood scenes where someone clearly knew the inside story, yet the protagonists let it slide without digging deeper.

Today, he understood.

Viserys pressed a hand over his heart, gasping for breath.

He was agitated. "The Dragonpit's magnificent dome can hold eight thousand people!"

"The bronze doors are wide enough for thirty knights to ride through abreast!"

"There is no way Vermithor won't fit!"

Viserys insisted, "Vermithor must live in the Dragonpit!"

"That is my command!"

Baelon had not expected the mere mention of Old Valyria to provoke such a violent reaction from Viserys.

He did not want Vermithor to live in the Dragonpit, but under these circumstances, arguing forcefully with Viserys would only escalate their conflict.

I'd better not make him so angry that something happens to him.

He had no desire to sit on the Iron Throne just yet.

Baelon immediately put Valyria out of his mind. He strode forward and took hold of Viserys's trembling arm. "Father, look at me!"

"I'm standing right here in front of you, safe and sound."

But the fear in Viserys's chest would not subside. "I will never allow you to go to the Smoking Sea!"

Balerion had not gone to the ruins of Old Valyria alone!

Balerion had carried one of his previous riders there.

That poor girl, Aerea Targaryen, whose death had publicly been attributed to a high fever!

Viserys recalled those horrifying written accounts.

[There was no flesh left on her bones. Her body swelled, bulged, and contracted. Unknown living things writhed, heaved, and slithered beneath her skin, trying to burrow their way out.]

[She was being cooked from the inside out!]

[Her flesh grew darker and darker, her skin like roasted pork crackling...]

[...]

[Her eyeballs burst and rolled down her cheeks like boiling eggs, but a still more horrifying sight followed.]

[Benifer and I placed the poor child in ice water, and then... the things inside her came out...]

[Things beyond description, worms with faces, snakes with hands and claws... unspeakable creatures...]

Viserys was filled with fear at how close it had come. Without his knowing, his son had nearly fallen into such a horrifying plight.

At the very thought of that scene, his lips trembled uncontrollably. "I absolutely forbid you to go!"

Baelon did not argue.

He immediately spoke softly to soothe him. "Father, I know the fear in your heart."

"I know you love me. I understand how terribly you and Rhaenyra would grieve if I died."

"I swear to you," he said, tightly clasping Viserys's trembling hand. "I swear I will not go to the Smoking Sea to explore the ruins of Old Valyria without your permission."

Viserys drew a long, shuddering breath. "You swear?"

Baelon assured him, "Yes, I swear."

"I won't die without a word somewhere you know nothing about and leave you to bear the grief."

"That is my oath to you, Father."

Viserys's taut body gradually relaxed, and he slumped weakly into his chair.

His voice was no longer forceful. "Baelon, I cannot lose you and Rhaenyra."

And...

Daemon...

"If the Mother is merciful, all I ask is to die before you."

He did not want to watch his loved ones die again and endure the cruelest grief in the world.

His wife, his mother, his father, his uncle, his grandfather, his grandmother...

He had been through it far too many times.

Baelon sighed inwardly and gently patted Viserys's shoulder.

He let Viserys lean against his shoulder and draw strength from him.

At certain moments, Baelon had the strange impression that he and Viserys... were something of a reversible father-and-son pair?!

King's Landing might stand by the boundless sea, and the Targaryens might ride their dragons through the vast, endless blue sky.

But he suspected their Targaryen blood was at work. The relationships within House Targaryen were anything but cheerful or sunny.

Awkward and suffocating.

After a while, seeing that Viserys had calmed down, Baelon brought up the Iron Islands, partly to distract him.

"Father, House Greyjoy has failed to offer you gifts for several years running. That is a sign of contempt for you."

"We should send a raven to the Iron Islands to remind them of their obligations."

Viserys said, "Those Ironborn..."

"The soil of the Iron Islands is poor. Grain won't grow there, nor can they plant fruit trees. When the land gives them nothing, they take from the sea."

"Ever since the late king sent envoys, determined to end the Ironborn's raiding customs, and demanded that they stop raiding for slaves and salt wives and make their living through fishing and trade instead."

"They have used their difficult circumstances as an excuse to stop offering gifts."

Viserys sounded helpless. "Even if we send a raven, we will get the same result."

He waved a tolerant hand. "As long as they don't crown a king of the Iron Islands and revive the Old Way, let them be."

"But now we have a dragon. A powerful dragon," Baelon said.

"Vermithor and I are more than capable of protecting you and upholding your dignity."

He guided him patiently, offering a high-minded excuse. "Any humiliation they inflict on you is a humiliation to me. It is my birthright and duty to defend your honor."

"If I have a dragon, doesn't that mean you have a dragon to protect you, Father?"

Baelon's voice was firm. "I am your son. I will stand by your side. I am your shield."

Viserys tightened his grip on Baelon's hand, his eyes moved.

He thought of Vermithor lying outside the window, such an enormous, powerful dragon.

He had to admit that Baelon's words had indeed given him a certain strength.

Baelon pressed his advantage. "No matter what happens, I will stand by you. I will defend everything you have."

"You will always, always be my father."

Viserys suddenly pulled Baelon into his arms, so moved that he nearly wept.

"Thank you, Baelon. Thank you for coming into my life."

Baelon: ...

He's taking this so much to heart...

Oh no...

That conscience I never had seems to be starting to grow.

Ah, Targaryens!

Baelon said, "Send a raven to the Iron Islands. Tell them to attend the Landing Day celebration in a month's time."

"If they dare slight your honor, Vermithor will win it back for you."

"We have six dragons now. Royal power is at its height." Baelon gave him a shot of confidence.

Viserys gazed at Baelon for a long time, deeply moved.

Thank the Seven for bringing Baelon to my side.

His son, the person in this world who loved him unconditionally, his pillar of support!

Viserys had wanted to let the matter rest, but as he looked into Baelon's resolute eyes, an inexplicable strength in his chest finally drove him to nod firmly.

"Very well!"

Baelon let out a breath of relief.

What he truly wanted was not to demand the gifts that rightfully belonged to Viserys.

Now that he was marrying Laena, he had gained House Velaryon's support and controlled nearly half the Kingdom's fleet.

Where was the other half?

Wasn't the Iron Islands' fleet the only one in the Seven Kingdoms capable of rivaling the Velaryon Fleet?

He wanted it all.

He helped Viserys into bed to rest and casually poured away the wine in his cup. "It's late. Get some proper rest. We still have to return to King's Landing tomorrow."

"And don't drink before bed."

He took Viserys's hand and offered one last reassurance. "I'm here. Don't worry."