The matricide

Just as Lyonel had said, Corlys Velaryon readily accepted the betrothal between Laena and Baelon.

As for the two people concerned?

Laena obeyed her parents, believing that bringing the Targaryens and Velaryons closer together was both her duty and her honor.

Baelon raised no objections either.

And so, while Baelon was still in swaddling clothes, he acquired a fiancée twelve years his senior.

The High Septon in Oldtown also secretly breathed a sigh of relief at the betrothal.

Perhaps this generation of Targaryens would not see marriages between brothers and sisters, arrangements that placed them above even the exception.

With that promise secured, Corlys Velaryon's chest filled with an excitement he had not felt in a long time.

House Velaryon had finally received the justice it deserved, and the throne that rightfully belonged to it.

He began actively carrying out his duties as master of ships.

That meant building ships, building ships, and building still more ships!

Only now, the shipbuilding had moved from High Tide to King's Landing, and the vessels had changed from broad-bellied merchantmen to warships.

That was not the only good news.

The peace proposal Viserys had sent to the Triarchy-the "Kingdom of the Three Daughters" formed by Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh-had finally received a response.

The "Kingdom of the Three Daughters" sent envoys to King's Landing to reach an agreement.

The Three Daughters were obliged to restrain the admirals occupying the Stepstones and stop them from plundering the merchant ships of Westerosi nobles.

However, all Westerosi ships passing through had to pay a steep toll, with no evasion permitted!

And the ships, wealth, women, and boys previously taken in raids would not be returned!

Corlys Velaryon strongly advocated war to end the "Kingdom of the Three Daughters'" control over the Stepstones.

But Viserys had made up his mind to seek peace. Unable to win support on the Small Council, and unwilling to antagonize the Iron Throne again, Corlys could only reluctantly accept this policy of appeasement.

But storms would not dissipate on their own, and unhealed wounds would eventually fester. Corlys Velaryon knew the greed of the Free Cities all too well.

He understood that one day, this peace agreement would inevitably be torn apart.

For now, however, all Westeros celebrated peace and prosperity, and Viserys was thoroughly satisfied.

At last, he had the energy to address his estrangement from his daughter Rhaenyra.

What was life as a baby like?!

Sleeping, practicing stretching and kicking his legs, counting the patterns on the tapestry, counting stone bricks, and counting the scales on his dragon egg.

His dragon egg had 189 scales: 74 were golden-green, 52 were pure gold, and 63 were gold in a variety of hues.

Oh, right. He could finally roll over and crawl on his own.

Baelon toyed with his little hand-warmer of a dragon egg, feeling a sense of regret.

Warm and hard, beautiful and splendid, it even gave off heat of its own.

It was just a pity that this little dragon would not become his dragon.

Dragons, the overlords of the skies, were the key to deciding victory or defeat in war.

Aegon "the Conqueror" had relied on three dragons to end the chaos in Westeros and unite the Seven Kingdoms.

As long as they had enough food, dragons could keep growing throughout their lives, right up until death.

Once they reached adulthood, their dragonfire could melt gold and iron, and their scales were as hard as steel, enough to withstand bows and crossbows.

Very few humans could kill a dragon.

But dragons were not invincible. Young dragons had scales that could not stop arrows, and their dragonfire was not hot enough either.

In short, dragons were like fine wine: the older they grew, the richer they became.

Baelon preferred aged wine.

A fully grown dragon, a powerful creature tempered by battle and rich in experience over the century before his birth.

That was practically a national-vintage liquor aged in a cellar for a hundred years!

Who could refuse that?!

Over these past few days of lying flat in his cradle, Baelon had already settled on his preferred candidates.

Vhagar.

Vermithor.

Vhagar was one of the three founding dragons, the largest and oldest dragon after Balerion's death.

She had also been the dragon of his namesake grandfather, Baelon Targaryen, the "Prince of the Dawn" and "the Brave."

Vermithor, meanwhile, was in his prime, swift, agile, and fierce in temperament.

He was the lifelong dragon companion of Baelon's great-grandfather, Jaehaerys the Conciliator, the "Old King."

More importantly-

He was a pedigree, purebred Targaryen, and a direct descendant of both men. Taming these two dragons should not be too dangerous.

The only obstacle now was that he was still a baby, with no mobility whatsoever.

I really wish I could grow up faster.

Baelon idly toyed with his dragon egg, listening to the maids chatter as he lay still and let one of them change his diaper.

Any sense of shame had been tossed aside centuries ago!

After the five maids finished checking on Baelon, they gathered together and urged Lola to bring out the ruby pin the king had given her.

"This is a real ruby! Not a garnet!" Lola lifted her chin demurely and drew the flame-red jeweled pin from her bosom.

The gold pin, still carrying a trace of warmth, passed from palm to palm among the maids.

One maid fastened it in her red hair and exclaimed excitedly, "Look, look! Doesn't it go especially well with my hair?"

"Seven above, if I could wear a brooch like this at my wedding, I could die happy!"

Smiling, Lola held the maid's head still and pulled the pin from her hair. "Take good care of the prince. Perhaps you'll receive rewards just like Mia and me."

The room fell quiet for a while before the idle maids began chatting again.

Over the past few days, Baelon had heard quite a few secrets about the Red Keep's servants.

For instance, Dany, the kindly-looking old woman in the kitchens, was actually a ruthless sort. As a little girl, she had put justice before family and personally identified her own father, resulting in his head being hung above the city gate.

Or which kindhearted maid had smuggled a few stray kittens into the Red Keep to feed on leftovers.

They were all trivial little matters.

Suddenly, he caught his own name.

"Have you heard about that business with Prince Baelon?"

"The prince?"

Those words immediately drew the attention of everyone in the room.

To the maids, Prince Baelon was the person they served, and a child who gave them little trouble.

He only cried when he was hungry or had wet himself. The rest of the time, he either slept or played with the bells hanging above his cradle, the pearls embroidered on his blanket, or his dragon egg.

More importantly, Prince Baelon had inherited the king's generosity. He would take the brooch from the king's shoulder and press it into the hands of a maid he liked.

This had made King Viserys laugh so hard that he simply gave the items to Mia and Lola.

A lowered voice drifted into the cradle. "Kinslayer..."

"A child who crawled out after cutting open his mother's belly..."

"They say people outside the Red Keep are calling the prince that..."

Baelon was silent for a moment, but in the end, he could not help slowly forming a question mark in his mind.

Has this person's brain left their body and gone sleepwalking?

It was so clumsy and stupid that he could not even muster any anger.

In this age resembling the Middle Ages, childbirth practices were primitive. Women who died in difficult labor were no fewer than knights who died in battle.

Baelon slowly closed his eyes. He had indeed taken Aemma Arryn's life to come into this world.

But Viserys-no, everyone on this continent-would never allow that infamous label to stick.

If he had been born guilty, at least forty percent of the people in this world would share that sin with him.

No one wanted to bear that infamy.

But there was one thing Baelon could not understand.

Viserys had only one son now. Who would target him, and with such a stupid method?

His birth had indeed obstructed some people's interests. Let me think.

The Hightowers? Impossible. Otto Hightower wouldn't be this stupid.

There isn't even a Hightower queen or prince yet. Acting rashly would achieve nothing except enraging Viserys and bringing disaster upon House Hightower.

Daemon? Impossible. Daemon isn't brainless either.

When a former candidate for heir loses his place, doesn't he keep his head down? Why would he do something like this to enrage the king?!

As soon as the name "Kinslayer" began circulating in King's Landing, it reached Otto's ears.

Naturally, it also reached Viserys.

Viserys immediately flew into a rage.

He had already named Baelon Prince of Dragonstone!

Slandering Baelon was no different from treason!

He ordered Otto to trace the source. Otto Hightower was highly capable and firm-handed, and soon obtained the result.

At the time, Viserys was in Baelon's bedchamber with Rhaenyra.

Somewhat at a loss, he carefully used Baelon as a topic of conversation to ease his relationship with Rhaenyra.

Baelon was happy to cooperate, holding Viserys with one hand and Rhaenyra with the other.

Just as the two were about to open their hearts, Otto arrived to report the findings of his thorough investigation: the source of the rumor was Daemon.

Daemon Targaryen.

Viserys's face darkened. He had never expected his own brother to be behind this!

Baelon: ?

Daemon?

What does he stand to gain?

Rhaenyra reacted strongly. "Uncle? That's impossible!"

"He would never do something so vile!"

Using a mother's death to attack a child.

"I'm sorry, Princess, but I'm afraid Daemon has betrayed your trust." Otto remained composed. "At least seven people in a brothel on the Street of Silk personally heard Daemon utter..."

He paused, watching Viserys's expression. "'Kinslayer,' that word slandering the queen and the prince."

Otto watched with satisfaction as King Viserys flew into a rage the instant he heard that word, his face flushing crimson.

Viserys furiously ordered the Kingsguard, "Bring Daemon before me at once!"

Rhaenyra helplessly stroked the necklace around her neck, watching her father's retreating back as he stormed away, her face filled with worry.