Westeros Had Its Own Way of Doing Things

Dusk.

In the Council Chamber, Viserys sat upright at the head of the long table, flanked by three white-cloaked Kingsguard.

The door opened a crack, sending white light into the dim hall. Daemon stepped into the quiet Council Chamber, and the door slammed shut behind him, shutting out the light and sound.

As Daemon approached step by step, Viserys abruptly realized just how tall and formidable he had grown.

The lively, cheerful, adventurous little boy in his memories gradually became separate from the man before him.

Daemon's eyes were hazy, and he still smelled of wine. Viserys, meanwhile, rested his hand on Blackfyre, his face stern and his gaze sharp.

Daemon looked him up and down for a moment, then smiled. "You really do look like a king, brother."

Viserys seethed. "Call me Your Grace, or I will have the Kingsguard cut out your tongue!"

At Viserys's mercilessly cold words, Daemon's eyes grew brighter. "All right, all right."

"Your Grace."

Viserys had already heard the entire account from Otto, and there were more than seven witnesses who had personally heard that epithet leave Daemon's drunken lips.

For a moment, fury burned in his chest.

He had lost his wife, and in this time of grief, his own brother was maliciously slandering his son because he had lost his position as heir!

As Hand of the King, Otto had always been exceptionally capable. He could not possibly have falsely accused Daemon. Besides, the evidence was conclusive, leaving no room whatsoever for argument!

Viserys paused.

He told himself that even a hedge knight had to be allowed to plead his case before being sentenced.

And Daemon was a Targaryen, his brother.

So he spoke again, unable to resist seeking confirmation. "Did you say it?"

"Kinslayer. Is that what you called Baelon?"

The smile vanished from Daemon's face. He blinked and lowered his head to stare at the dark floor.

He scorned denying what he had done, did not wish to lie to Viserys, and scorned blaming his words on wine even more.

He blinked. "It was an accident..."

Viserys suddenly flew into a rage, the heart in his chest instantly set ablaze by dragonfire!

All his brotherly affection had been betrayed!

"Those were your true feelings!"

He tightened his grip on the sword hilt, veins bulging on his hand. "You didn't want to stay in the Vale, so I recalled you to King's Landing!"

"I have always spoken up for you on the Small Council!"

"I appointed you Master of Coin, then Master of Laws!"

"I made you commander of the City Watch!"

"Whatever money and supplies you asked for, I gave you, despite the Small Council's repeated objections!"

"I gave you so much!"

"And how did you repay me?"

Viserys's roars echoed through the hall.

"You styled yourself my heir, but Baelon's birth shattered your ambitions. So in my hour of bereavement, instead of staying beside me, Rhaenyra, and Baelon..."

His sword hand trembled, his entire face flushed red. "You lay in a whore's arms and maliciously slandered your own family!"

Daemon's first reaction to Viserys's harsh accusations was not to defend himself.

Towering anger and resentment surged through his chest.

Rage gripped Viserys's heart, but equal fury seized Daemon by the throat.

His face, so like Viserys's, flushed just as red. His voice rang through the empty hall, momentarily drowning out the echoes of Viserys's voice.

"Isn't that exactly what you wanted, brother?!"

"You've wanted to be rid of me for ages!"

"Now that Baelon is born, you want to cast me aside, drive me away, send me anywhere far from you!"

"Make the Red Keep your family's own domain!"

Viserys bellowed, "Stop making excuses for yourself!"

"I told you!"

"After I gave Baelon his title, I made a point of sharing a cup of wine with you!"

"I told you that you would always be my brother! There would always be a place for you at my court!"

Daemon remained indignant, his anger undiminished. "Then why won't you make me Hand of the King?"

"Ten years! You've sat on the Iron Throne for ten years, yet you've never once spoken of making me your Hand!"

Viserys was no less furious. "Why should I?"

In the hall, both men vented their fury without restraint or scruple, two dragons spewing dragonfire in a frenzy.

In the Dragonpit, Daemon's dragon, Caraxes the Blood Worm, suddenly opened his dozing eyes.

He let out a piercing roar that shook the Dragonpit, spewing searing dragonfire with abandon.

All the dragons were awakened and growled in displeasure, but not one joined him in his fury.

In the Red Keep, Daemon stared straight into Viserys's eyes and roared with absolute conviction, "Because I am your younger brother!"

Viserys froze at those words, the fire burning in his chest suddenly doused with cold water.

He let out a breath and leaned back against his chair, weariness showing on his face.

"Otto... Otto... He is the Hand our grandfather Jaehaerys left behind. He is diligent, loyal, and has never made a mistake."

Otto had done very well. He had no reason to replace his Hand, nor did he wish to.

"But I am your brother," Daemon insisted.

He should have sat at Viserys's left hand in the Council Chamber by right of birth!

His elder brother had become king. How could he not be Hand of the King?!

Viserys slumped wearily in his chair. "Then why do you hurt your brother?"

"Why are you so cruel to me?"

Viserys stared at Daemon, wanting to see whether a hyena's heart had somehow grown inside his brother's chest.

Daemon's anger died down.

He turned his head awkwardly, his gaze falling to the floor, and said only, "The Hand of the King should protect the king. Otto Hightower will not!"

"For his own interests, he will..."

"Enough!" Viserys's barely settled anger flared again.

Daemon was always like this, provoking his fury with just a few words.

Did he not know what sort of man Otto was?! His close and trusted Hand, who understood and accommodated him!

Besides, who on the Small Council did not pursue their own interests?!

Did Daemon think he was a fool who could not judge people?!

Anger stirred in Viserys's heart.

Otto Hightower was merely a second son of House Hightower with no inheritance!

Only at his court was Otto the second most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms! Outside his court, Otto was a nobody!

Otto's interests had always aligned with his own and those of the realm!

Viserys said, "Otto Hightower is my Hand, my staunchest protector!"

"Besides, I am the king. I have the Small Council beside me, and the Kingsguard, whose loyalty has stood the test of time. They will safeguard my authority!"

He had no shortage of people behind him to protect him!

"Who would hurt me, then?!" Viserys stared straight at Daemon and accused, "Other than you!"

Daemon looked directly into Viserys's eyes. "You yourself."

He said bluntly, "You are weak."

"The Small Council? Nothing but bloodsuckers clinging to a dragon and gnawing at it for their own gain. The Kingsguard? All they have is martial prowess!"

The words were blunt and cutting. Viserys's face turned utterly cold. "Enough. Enough, Daemon."

He was the king. He could no longer tolerate Daemon's contempt! His humiliation!

Viserys nearly blurted out an order for Daemon to crawl back to the Vale forever and never appear before him again.

But when he looked up, he saw Daemon's shining silver hair and unmistakable purple eyes.

Silver hair and purple eyes exactly like his own, Rhaenyra's, and Baelon's.

Among the black and brown hair of the Vale, they truly would stand out.

In the end, Viserys let out a long sigh and leaned back limply in his chair.

He waved a resigned hand. "Daemon, stay in King's Landing and remain commander of the City Watch, or ride your dragon, take your followers, and go wherever you wish. Do as you please."

"But remember my warning forever. If I ever hear that name from your mouth again, I will cut out your tongue."

"And."

Viserys rose and declared, "You will never, ever be my Hand."

By now, Daemon had unexpectedly calmed down. "But I will protect you."

Exhausted in body and mind, Viserys had no desire to expend any more energy listening to Daemon's hollow words. He left without looking back, not sparing Daemon another glance.

But after walking out through the Council Chamber doors, step by step, he could not help looking back.

In the silent hall, Daemon stood wordlessly as dust drifted through a shaft of light.

In the end, Viserys said nothing more. He turned and left.

Naturally, Baelon knew nothing of the conversation between Viserys and Daemon.

But that night, deeply hurt by Daemon, Viserys wallowed alone in the stillness of the late hour.

Holding him as a sounding board, he answered Baelon's questions through his rambling.

Viserys poured out his grievances about Daemon's ingratitude.

How he had resisted the Small Council's pressure for Daemon's sake, and how he had rallied his spirits after naming the Prince of Dragonstone to soothe Daemon's feelings.

As he reached the heart of it, tears welled in Viserys's eyes.

Baelon lay quietly with his eyes open, seemingly composed, but in truth, he could not keep it together at all.

He really was starting to lose it.

Wait, weren't you just raging a few days ago that slandering me was treason and had to be severely punished?!

And this was it?!

You just had an argument with Daemon, with no punishment at all?!

Even more ridiculous, you're the king, and you've already fallen out openly with your brother!

And then you still let him command the two or three thousand men of the City Watch, guarding King's Landing and the court?!

Are you really not afraid that Daemon might lose his mind one day, institute a Red Keep succession system, and toss out a "Love you, brother. See you at the king's tower"?

Then lead his men into the Red Keep and hack the whole family to death?!

Baelon unconsciously clasped his head with both hands, elbowing the Seven.

What on earth was Viserys doing?

Or was there really something wrong with Targaryen blood?!

But a few days later.

Reality proved to Baelon that wherever there was one genius, there was bound to be another.

House Targaryen's excellent matchmaking system had kicked in.

"I heard everyone in King's Landing is saying Prince Daemon has become cruel lately!"

"Criminals in King's Landing, whether they steal something or commit rape, all get beheaded once he catches them!"

"He fought with weapons on the Street of Steel the day before yesterday and killed three people!"

"Now everyone calls him Maegor with No Crown!"

Huh?

Huh?!

Daemon was an extraordinary man whose first reaction was to get angry and shout back at Viserys in a situation where, in Baelon's previous life, a royal brother would have already dropped to his knees like a dog and offered terrified assurances over and over just to stay alive.

After openly falling out with Viserys, he had not kept a low profile or conserved his strength. He had not even tried to conceal his displeasure.

He just went out every day to chop up criminals and linger on the Street of Silk to vent?!

His entire daily itinerary was utterly transparent.

What on earth were these two brothers, Viserys and Daemon, doing? The royal brothers in his previous life hadn't played their little succession games like this!

This wasn't right...

No, no, no. It was right, right, right!

This was exactly how it should be!

At last, a normal relationship between royal brothers!

Baelon's brain, tied in knots from fussing over his dragon egg every day, suddenly turned a corner, and he understood at once.

Westeros really did have its own way of doing things!

He couldn't just copy the experiences of his previous life!

In the imperial family of his previous life, the relationship between sovereign and subject took precedence over that between brothers or father and son. But to Viserys and Daemon, brotherhood took precedence over sovereign and subject.

The dull days flew by. Three months later.

Baelon had not expected to see Daemon again.

At the time, he was kicking his legs hard, training his stats. A single kick could already deal a full amount of damage.

Suddenly!

Viserys and Daemon came to his bedside together, talking and laughing.

Baelon: ?!

Wait?!

What do you mean, you've made up?!

He couldn't deal with this.