Coming out from the farm.
Daeron arrived at the Hall of Abundance and saw Shaena tending to the flowers and plants.
Shaena looked up slightly: "Morning."
"Morning!"
Daeron went up and gave her a hug, acting completely familiar.
Shaena's elegant brows furrowed slightly, but her body remained honestly still.
"I'll give those three Dragon Eggs to you. How about you help me look after them?"
Daeron was like an NPC, giving out a quest the moment they met.
Shaena: "What Dragon Eggs?"
Three petrified Dragon Eggs, from the same clutch as Toothless's egg, were discovered together deep within Dragonmont.
Daeron led her to the room and searched out this clutch of Dragon Eggs.
There were four in total; one was shattered, beyond saving by anyone.
Among the remaining three, all were covered in a layer of stone skin.
"Dragon Eggs—"
Shaena was surprised, her fair fingertips gently stroking the shells of the Dragon Eggs.
The three Dragon Eggs were dusty and grey, but their original colors could be vaguely seen.
One was off-white, one was verdigris, and one was yellowish.
Daeron said, "They can't hatch for now. I'll find a way to restore their vitality."
Petrified Dragon Eggs were quite different from ordinary Dragon Eggs.
Ordinary Dragon Eggs still possessed vitality and could have their vigor replenished with sun essence.
Petrified Dragon Eggs were essentially dead; ordinary materials would have no effect on them.
Shaena's gaze suddenly became firm, her voice soft: "Alright."
"You're the best."
Daeron smiled.
Shaena had lived in the Hall of Abundance for over a month. Every day, besides teasing Cersei, she tended to the flowers and plants.
Handing this clutch of Dragon Eggs to her was just to give her something to do.
Shaena tilted her head up proudly, as if she had been encouraged.
Knock, knock, knock!
There was a knock on the door; Davos came to deliver a message.
"Prince, there is news from King's Landing."
A hint of doubt appeared between Daeron's brows: "Is there anything important?"
For over a month, his father had been writing frequently.
In short, it was all to trick him into returning to King's Landing by offering him the status of heir.
How was this any different from tricking someone into returning to their village by saying they were handing out gold?
Davos glanced at Shaena, hesitating slightly: "Prince, there really is a major matter."
"You go ahead and get busy."
Daeron found an incubation tray for her and placed the three petrified Dragon Eggs over the charcoal fire.
Shaena's expression was blank, devoid of extra emotion... as he left the room.
Daeron asked as he walked, "What happened? Has Three Daughters attacked?"
He had also heard about Three Daughters's occupation of the Stepstones.
Just a group of pirates and capitalists.
Once his dragons grew up, they wouldn't be a problem.
"No, Prince."
Davos stammered, struggling to squeeze out a sentence: "A letter from King's Landing says—His Majesty has fallen ill!"
"Hmm?"
Daeron stopped in his tracks.
Davos hurriedly took a letter from his chest and said, "Prince, see for yourself."
The content of the letter was concise.
His father Aerys was ill, seriously ill!
The Small Council summoned Daeron back to King's Landing immediately, just in case of unforeseen circumstances.
After reading it, Daeron's expression turned slightly solemn, then quietly relaxed as he chuckled, "To trick me into going back, Father really is using every means possible."
They say the good die young, but the wicked live for a thousand years.
His father Aerys wasn't called the "Mad King" for nothing.
Unless someone stabbed him with a sword, he definitely wouldn't die anytime soon.
Davos looked helpless: "We thought so too, but with the Small Council using His Majesty's serious illness as a reason, it's hard to remain indifferent."
"No news from Lord Lucerys?"
Daeron asked.
Since Three Daughters began ravaging the Narrow Sea, Lucerys had been sending him frequent messages before returning to Driftmark to make preparations, resulting in a brief loss of contact.
Davos shook his head.
"Let's make a trip back."
Daeron flicked the letter and made his decision.
It wasn't because of his father's feigned illness, but because of two other points mentioned in the letter.
After a long selection process, the The Conclave of The Citadel had recommended a candidate for Grand Maester, who was currently on his way to take up the post.
At the same time, the recruitment of new members for the Kingsguard was nearing completion.
"They want to choose a Grand Maester? Did they ask me?"
Daeron did not approve.
Whatever The Citadel sent couldn't be anything good.
In his mind, the candidate for Grand Maester had already been decided: his great-great-uncle, Maester Aemon.
No sooner said than done.
He ordered Davos to gather the men and prepare to return to King's Landing.
.
King's Landing.
Daeron rode Caraxes and led his followers through the King's Gate.
The moment the red dragon appeared, the people of King's Landing cheered.
The emergence of Three Daughters had more or less affected the lives of the commoners.
The once abundant supplies had become somewhat scarce.
Prices that were originally 1 silver stag had risen out of thin air to 1 silver stag and 10 copper pennies.
The presence of the dragon provided a sense of security for the people.
—
Red Keep.
Ser Gerold came out to greet him, saying excitedly, "Prince, please come in."
Daeron asked directly, "How is my father?"
"Uh—"
Ser Gerold was instantly silenced; the honor of a White Knight did not allow him to lie.
Seeing this, Daeron understood perfectly.
"Prince, His Majesty is sincere. He missed you so much he couldn't even eat, and he's lost a lot of weight."
Ser Gerold sighed.
Daeron didn't believe a word of it.
He probably didn't miss him; he missed his dragon.
"Ser, don't block the way!"
Ser Gerold was about to say more when he was roughly pushed aside by a large hand.
Ser Gerold's brows furrowed, feeling offended.
Jacaerys, clad in black heavy armor, led a squad of Dragon Guards following the Prince, his attitude quite hostile.
Seeing the other's displeased expression, he repeated, "Ser, don't block the way!"
By now, Daeron had already hurried upstairs.
Ser Gerold was helpless and turned his gaze toward this group of followers, revealing a look of scrutiny.
One look was enough to startle him.
This group was faintly divided into three factions.
Led by the two Kingsguard, Barristan and Ser Jon, with the silver-tongued Davos following behind, these three were Daeron's first batch of followers.
The second faction was the arrogant Jacaerys before him.
He was Lord Lucerys's nephew and the current Commander of the Dragon Guards.
Beside Jacaerys was the small-statured Howland Reed.
Finally, there was "Blackfish" Brynden and the Trident Knights he brought.
They were the only two cavalry forces under Daeron's command.
If dragon riders counted as knights—
"Jacaerys, do not offend Ser Gerold."
Barristan stepped forward to de-escalate the imminent conflict.
Ser Gerold was not afraid, just surprised by the formidable strength under Daeron's command.
He saw clearly that these people had all mastered Life Force.
Most terrifyingly, most of them were equipped with a special weapon.
Even Davos and Howland, who appeared to have no combat ability, each had a special dagger hidden on their front and lower back.
All of them were drops from Daeron's mining.
"Ser, don't block the way."
Jacaerys said this for the third time, slightly more politely: "You protect the King, I protect the Prince. We'll mind our own business."
With that, he led a squad of Dragon Guards upstairs.
Aside from Alliser, who served as the Deputy Commander of the City Watch, Jacaerys had the most men, and his style was the most domineering.
Anyone who dared to disrespect Daeron would invariably face his retaliation.
Ser Gerold stepped back helplessly.
As a Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, he was undoubtedly a failure.
He had managed to turn himself into a commander with no troops.
The Throne Room.
Before Daeron could seek out his father, the other man sought him out first.
.
Aerys wore a crown and fine robes, showing no signs of illness whatsoever.
"Boy, you finally realized you should come back and see your King."
Daeron was expressionless as he looked over the few remaining ministers before the Iron Throne.
Staunton was recovering from injuries, and Lucerys was on Driftmark.
The position of Grand Maester was vacant.
Truly, an incompetent ruler drags down the court; they couldn't even assemble a full Small Council.
Daeron gave a soft sigh and said, "Father, I am here. Say what you have to say."
Aerys had been waiting for those words and roared loudly, "Good! Give me back my dragon, my black dragon!"
"Sure!"
Daeron's expression was inscrutable as he said softly, "As long as you can tame it."
The next moment, a noise came from outside the door.
A squad of Dragon Guards led a goat in, bringing Toothless into the hall.
"My dragon!"
Aerys was extremely excited; he immediately stood up and ran down from the Iron Throne.
"Screee?"
Toothless's green vertical pupils showed confusion; he had no memory of who this person was and turned his attention to the goat.
Compared to a month ago, the young dragon had grown once more.
Its size had increased from that of a warhorse to over five meters, beginning to show the majesty of a great dragon.
"Quiet, Toothless!"
Daeron spoke in High Valyrian, soothing the restless young dragon.
Toothless looked up, gazing at his father.
Aerys ran over and pressed, "Boy, how do I tame it? How do I make it follow my commands?"
He—he wanted a dragon so badly!
"It's simple."
Daeron said calmly, "As long as the commands you give can make it obey."
"Are you playing me?"
Aerys was instantly incensed.
If he could make the young dragon follow commands, he would have been riding it long ago.
Daeron countered, "If there were a shortcut to taming dragons, wouldn't the blood of the dragonlords be a joke?"
Aerys was stunned by the words.
His Second Son was right!
If he didn't rely on his own bloodline to gain the young dragon's recognition, then his dragon blood would be useless.
Aerys gritted his teeth: "Fine, then I'll try one more time."
He didn't believe he couldn't tame a single dragon.
Daeron stepped aside.
"Screee!"
Toothless was already famished, staring at the bleating goat while drooling.
It was no longer a mere hatchling.
As their sizes increased, the appetites of the three dragons grew immensely; special fish alone could not sustain them.
While ensuring they regularly ate special fish, various livestock like cattle and sheep became meal replacements to fill their bellies.
Occasionally, the three dragons would hunt in Blackwater Bay and The Kingswood, catching their own prey.
When desperately hungry.
It would also steal special crops from the farm, eating all sorts of vegetables and fruits.
As long as it provided the nutrients needed for growth, dragons were not picky eaters.
Aerys rubbed his hands together and walked up to the young dragon, his gaze occasionally flickering toward his Second Son and the Dragon Guards.
"Be careful."
Out of humanitarian concern, Daeron gave a reminder.
Aerys felt apprehensive and looked back at the assembled ministers.
Tywin, most concerned for his old friend, stood on the steps of the Iron Throne, keeping a constant eye on the young dragon's movements.
"I am a dragon, I am the King."
Aerys hypnotized himself, forcing himself to be fearless, his gaze becoming sharp and crazed.
"Screee!"
Toothless was starving and broke free from the chains in the Dragon Guards' hands, crawling toward the goat.
Now was the chance!
Aerys acted as if possessed, suddenly letting out a roar: "Dragonfire!!"
The command was given in High Valyrian, startling the young dragon who was in a hunting stance.
"Screee!"
Toothless instantly became frenzied and breathed out eerie green Dragonfire at the shouting human.
Aerys turned pale with fright, letting out a terrified scream.
"Your Majesty!"
At the critical moment, Ser Gerold lunged to the rescue, knocking the King far away and avoiding the Dragonfire coming straight for his head.
Accompanied by the crisp sound of breaking bones, both men tumbled down.
"Screee!"
Toothless was wild and untamed, preparing to continue the pursuit.
Daeron, who had remained still, finally spoke, commanding in High Valyrian: "Calm down!"
Toothless was taken aback by the sound. His green vertical pupils looked at the annoying person pinned down by the large man, then at his stern-faced father, and chose to settle the matter.
"Screee!"
With a blast of eerie green Dragonfire, the goat became a roasted whole sheep.
Toothless crawled over and began to feast greedily.
The sound of the young dragon tearing and swallowing mingled with the King's echoing screams; the ministers' expressions were solemn, and the atmosphere dropped to freezing point.
"Quickly, someone come! Someone come!"
Qarlton reacted quickly, calling people to extinguish the fire on Ser Gerold's back.
Fortunately, the Dragonfire had only ignited the white cloak and had not burned through the silver armor, only causing a certain degree of burn to the back of the Kingsguard Commander.
"It hurts!"
Aerys was pinned down by the wall-like Ser Gerold, feeling as if he were being repeatedly crushed by a carriage.
By the time the guards lifted Ser Gerold, they saw the King's face was deathly pale, with beads of cold sweat on his forehead.
"I'm here."
Maester Harvy hurried over to examine the King's injuries.
The preliminary diagnosis was that he hadn't been burned by the young dragon, but had three ribs broken and a leg fractured by Ser Gerold's weight.
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty, are you alright?"
Qarlton was a mess of tears and snot, crying with such heartfelt sincerity.
Aerys had no time to notice who was a loyal minister; he was twitching on the stretcher from the pain as he was carried back to his chambers.
And so, the farce came to an end.
Daeron remained motionless, merely watching with cold eyes.
Instigating the dragon taming which led to his father's injury made him feel a bit of self-reproach.
But at the thought of his father having three broken ribs and a fractured leg, and having witnessed the ferocity of the young dragon—ensuring he would never dare covet his dragon again—how could his mood—
How could it be so satisfying!
Tywin approached with a cold face and said, "Prince, His Majesty was injured while taming the dragon. For the upcoming Small Council meeting, we must ask you to attend on his behalf."
"Let's go."
Daeron reached out in a gesture of invitation.
In front of the other two ministers, the master and apprentice demonstrated what it meant to cooperate.
The King was injured and could not manage affairs, so the Prince would act as Regent.
Everything would still be in perfect order.
The King's Chambers.
Aerys had his wounds treated, took painkillers, and ate a portion of the treasured special crops; his injuries were gradually improving.
But the fear of the young dragon in his heart was like an ugly scar that would not heal for a long time.
"Damn it! Damn it all!"
Aerys pounded the bedboard heavily, his eyes bloodshot as he sobbed helplessly, "My dragon... it's all the fault of that damned unfilial son. He must have conspired with Tywin to deliberately harm me."
At the thought of his grief, he burst into tears.
He hadn't been able to tame a dragon; he was unworthy of the true dragon bloodline.
Knock, knock, knock!
There was a knock on the chamber door. Some came to check on his injuries, some came to report on Ser Gerold's condition, and some came to see if the King was having a fit of madness.
Jaime was among the crowd, standing there looking at the despondent King.
Aerys's eyes were sharp, and he immediately locked onto the Lannister at the door.
He saw Jaime's youthful arrogance and recognized him as Tywin's son.
A surge of vengeful emotion welled up in his heart. The corners of Aerys's mouth curled into a smile as he let out a demonic whisper: "Boy, do you want honor?"