Daeron fell silent for a moment, glancing toward Ser Jon.
'What did you say? What did she say?'
Ser Jon looked away, shook his head, then nodded.
'I said nothing. She did.'
Shae, unable to follow their silent exchange, said bluntly, 'Cersei Lannister is infatuated with you, but I don't think she's a good girl, and she's not right for you.'
'Cersei is indeed rather dangerous.'
Daeron exhaled in relief and began showing Shae and the others around the farm.
Simple-hearted Shae was fascinated by the natural beauty of Dragon Language Farm, poking and peering everywhere like a child.
She forgot all about Cersei.
'How could she throw a tantrum? She hasn't even grown a heart yet.'
'Seeing Shae's innocent joy, Daeron's feelings were mixed.
She was genuinely standing in a sister's place, warning him to stay away from Cersei.
'Cersei, Cersei…'
Daeron knew too well the power of the lioness.
At fourteen, the girl had already killed before he had.
While Cersei was still at Casterly Rock, she and a close friend sought out the famous Forest Witch, Maggy the Frog, to have their futures told.
Cersei asked if she would marry a prince.
Maggy told her she would marry a king… Her friend asked if she would wed Jaime Lannister.
A direct hit on every mine.
Maggy informed the girl she would die that very night.
The child was terrified and furious.
Cersei dragged her friend away in anger; later, the unlucky girl was never seen again.
'Should I praise Cersei's skill at burying bodies or Lord Tywin's talent for cleanup?'
Daeron shook his head, too lazy to dwell on Lannister filth.
'Second Brother, your farm is huge!'
Jaehaerys's eyes sparkled, delighted by every novelty.
Viserys: 'I see a little hen.'
He flapped his arms, clucked, and tried to wriggle under the coop fence.
Grape and Coconut, grazing nearby, flapped skyward in fright and pecked the human cub mercilessly.
'Waaah—'
Viserys clutched his head and hid behind Shae.
Daeron smacked his own forehead.
A rare snapshot of early hens defeating a human toddler?
Time: 12:30 noon.
Daeron explained the simple rules of the egg hunt and called Shae and his two brothers to start.
'Beep-beep!'
The whistle sounded; two minutes on the clock… blown by Ser Jon.
'One, two, three…'
Daeron walked the farm's edge, finding several bright eggs hidden among weeds and brush.
Until now, the farm had held not a single egg.
Luckily, the place was vast; Shae and the others couldn't circle it all and noticed nothing amiss.
Much like the present Dragon Language Farm—just a cottage and a coop, nothing remarkable.
Ninety seconds of the two minutes vanished in a blink.
'Eggs, eggs…'
Viserys stared at the ground, combing every inch.
He carried a small basket already holding six eggs.
Not bad luck at all.
'Viserys, how many have you found?'
Spotting his little brother from afar, Jaehaerys rolled his eyes and strolled over.
Without looking up, Viserys answered honestly, 'Six. Pretty good, huh?'
'Impressive!'
Jaehaerys lifted his own basket. 'Look, I've three, you've six—together that's nine. We can beat the older kids.'
Viserys blinked. 'Then give me yours.'
Jaehaerys grinned brightly. 'You're so small; if you show up with nine, Second Brother won't believe it. Hand yours over—no one will suspect.'
'Makes sense.'
Viserys nodded, though reluctant to let go of his colorful eggs.
Second Brother had said
the eggs hidden on the farm came from hens fed special forage; each one held rich Life Force.
Delicious.
'Let me win the prize and I'll give you every egg to eat.'
Jaehaerys spotted his brother's weakness in a wink.
'Deal!'
At the promise of three free eggs, Viserys instantly agreed.
He passed over his six.
Jaehaerys tucked them away and patted his shoulder. 'Don't worry—once I claim the reward, all the eggs are yours.'
He spun and left.
Viserys stayed behind, beaming at future bliss. 'Thanks, Third Brother.'
'Beep-beep!'
Another whistle signaled the game's end.
Daeron rejoined his siblings and saw a triumphant Jaehaerys and a blissfully smiling Viserys.
'When will this kid ever grow up?'
He felt no malice toward little Viserys, only the fondness reserved for someone special.
'Second Brother, I've got nine eggs!'
Jaehaerys bounced forward. 'I win, right?'
'Oh?'
Surprised, Daeron looked into the basket.
Nine bright eggs neatly stacked, almost spilling over.
Yet seeing the boy's smugness, Daeron glanced at Viserys's empty basket.
'Anyway, I found them all.'
Jaehaerys lifted his chin, a tad guilty but stubborn.
Why so short of breath, then?
Daeron let it pass, giving him a look. 'In the game, you'd win.'
Finding nine eggs beat the Egg Demon Abby.
But games are games; reality is reality.
Never confuse them.
Following Daeron's gaze, Jaehaerys spotted the pre-placed basket and counted.
'One, two, three… ninety…'
His face darkened with every number; by the twelfth egg he looked utterly crushed.
Defeated.
'All right, you lost—no shame in that.'
Daeron consoled him, divided the eggs evenly, and handed each brother a basket. 'Take them home and share—no fighting.'
Viserys: !!
Jaehaerys hung his head and took his share.
'Princess, princes—I should escort you back.'
Ser Jon stepped forward.
The farm lay some distance from King's Landing; they needed to reach the city before dusk.
The two little ones climbed obediently into the carriage, reluctant to leave Second Brother Daeron.
Children sense clearly who shelters them.
Shae boarded last, lifting her basket. As she drew the curtain she cast a thoughtful glance around the farm.
Daeron waved goodbye.
He thought: when Jaehaerys grows up, don't blame your big brother for the trick.
He has a silly little brother; I have a carefree big sister.
Anything for a prize—nothing to be ashamed of.
After they left, the mailbox disgorged the hunt's mysterious grand prize: a straw hat!
'straw hat: beloved of farmers, shielding against summer heat and winter chill.'
Requirement: win the Egg Festival game.
Daeron examined it delightedly and set it on his head.
At once the blazing noon sun felt gentle, the spring breeze softer, moderating every shift of weather.
'Marvelous!'
He praised it unstintingly.
The hat would spare him the worst of normal weather while he worked or fished.
Extremes excepted.
'Aside from looking ordinary, it's perfect.'
He tucked it away; no need to wear it constantly.
A straw hat suits a farmer; he had to play the prince.
When some leave, others arrive.
'Prince, Prince, I bring an answer from Dragonstone!'
Count Owen hurried up, clutching a letter.
Daeron broke the seal: a dozen lines of graceful script.
Essence: an invitation to Dragonstone with a warm welcome.
'Definitely not written by Rhaegar.'
He gave a soft laugh.
Rhaegar's hand was different, never so wasteful of ink.
Owen, sweating, smiled awkwardly. 'Still, it's the island's reply. The moment the maester received it, I brought it.'
'Many thanks, my lord.'
Daeron produced a basket and offered it.
Inside lay four or five bright eggs.
Owen blinked, a bittersweet pang in his chest. 'You're ever gracious, Prince.'
After seeing him off, Daeron studied the letter again.
Between the lines, his good sister, the Princess of Dorne, Elia Martell, had written for her lord husband.
He gazed into the distance. 'My dear big brother, you've married a fine wife.'
I hope you won't fail her again.