It was evening. The gates were open, and people were leaving in an orderly fashion. Rhaenyra walked slowly, while Daemon passed her from behind, his steps quick and forceful. He accidentally knocked her off balance.
"Be careful," Laena said, helping her up. "Sorry to get you involved."
Rhaenyra rubbed her shoulder and sighed. "Forget it. You be careful."
The confrontation between uncle and nephew had ended with Daemon backing down. No one knew what he was thinking at the time, but he had suddenly fallen silent.
Laena's face was a mixture of emotions as she whispered, "I want to have a good chat with him."
"Are you sure Daemon can listen to you now?" Rhaenyra asked, rolling her eyes. She knew her uncle's temper well.
Laena smiled faintly. "There are some things that can't be put off."
Marriage should not be a torture, she thought.
Seeing her friend's determination, Rhaenyra gave her a hug and said solemnly, "I can't give you advice, but as long as I am queen, Lys will always have a place for you."
"Thank you," Laena replied, returning the hug, her tall frame enveloping her friend completely.
...
In the conference room, Rhaegar stood alone before the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing at the red dye of the setting sun.
Knock, knock!
Aemond returned, standing there at a loss.
"Come in," Rhaegar said, his voice cold and unemotional.
Aemond's heart pounded as he slowly approached, his neck stiff with apprehension. It's just a beating. If Aegon could take it, so could he.
Rhaegar turned abruptly and lifted his leg.
Bang!
A sudden kick to the chest, delivered with all the hatred Rhaegar could muster, sent Aemond flying backwards. His face turned pale, and a suffocating pain shot through him, as if someone had locked his throat.
"Po!"
A mouthful of blood splattered on the floor, and his one good eye bulged as he crashed into a row of chairs, hunched over like a shriveled prawn.
"How dare you!" Rhaegar's voice was icy as he lectured, "You have such a small heart, using such despicable means for revenge?"
Assassinating a pregnant woman—how could Aemond even conceive of such a thing?
Aemond collapsed in a pile of chairs, then slowly rose and knelt down, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
The more Rhaegar looked at him, the angrier he became. He hated Daemon for being so weak. "Daemon has struggled for so many years and finally has a child, but it's still our blood relative!"
"Cough, cough..." Aemond gasped for breath, his contempt evident. "A child conceived by a whore."
In a way, he and Daemon were the same kind of person. They discriminated against everyone who was not a Targaryen. Mysaria, the White Worm, was born into a lowly family and was not taken seriously at all.
"Get out!" Rhaegar laughed, his voice dripping with condescension. "Take your so-called Second Sons followers and get out of Essos."
"Why?" Aemond was stunned, unable to believe his ears.
"Yes, why?" Rhaegar repeated, his tone scornful. "If you want to make a name for yourself, then go east and conquer a territory that belongs to you."
"No, I don't want to leave." Aemond shook his head repeatedly. He didn't want to leave. He still harbored ambitions of becoming the Hand of the King and expanding the power of his family.
Rhaegar spoke sensibly, "I can protect you once, but not for the rest of your life."
Daemon may outwardly tolerate this, but behind his back, he will surely plot revenge. Aemond staying by his side would only make him a target for attacks and family infighting. If he has to leave, let time heal the wounds. In the meantime, he should sharpen his edges.
Hearing that it was for his own good, Aemond no longer resisted and struggled to sit up. The two brothers looked at each other, one tall and one short.
After a long silence, Aemond asked, "Where should I go?"
"Wherever you want." Rhaegar's eyes flashed with a hint of brilliance. "Qohor, the Great Grass Sea of the Dothraki, Slaver's Bay."
The sky is high and the birds fly, the sea is wide and the fish leap. Whether it's a dragon or a worm, you'll know if you let it out to explore.
"Okay, I'll do as you say." Aemond looked stubborn but reluctantly agreed. "Take care of yourself."
Rhaegar turned his back and said lightly, "Mmm."
...
Meanwhile, Daemon left the house with a heavy heart, wandering aimlessly. He found himself near Mysaria's room but hesitated, choosing to walk past. His emotions were a tangled mess. Was it shame? Or was it reluctance to face his Paramour, who had never truly trusted him?
One thing was certain: Mysaria's fears had been justified. She had nearly paid for his arrogance with her life.
"Fate is always cruel," Daemon muttered, continuing his aimless walk.
The Topless Tower wasn't that large, and soon the scenery began to repeat itself. As he walked, a familiar voice called out from behind him.
"Daemon, let's sit down and talk."
Daemon turned, surprised to see Laena. She knew her husband's stubbornness well and leaned against a doorframe, waiting.
"Don't wander around. Come in," she said, turning to enter the room.
Daemon hesitated briefly before shaking his head with a laugh. He followed her, wondering if she was going to berate him. He entered the room and found Laena already seated at the table.
The room's exotic decor, with its murals and simple elegance, felt both familiar and distant, reminiscent of their time in Pentos.
"You come and go in a hurry, don't you?" Laena said flatly. "You always choose to run away, leaving me to clean up the mess."
"When did that happen? I've forgotten," Daemon replied, feigning nonchalance, though his eyes roved over the familiar surroundings.
"It's okay, I'll help you remember," Laena said with a touch of sadness. "You lost the love of your brother and niece because you tried to murder your six-year-old nephew out of jealousy."
Daemon flinched but said nothing.
"In order to return to your hometown, you fought with your nephew, who was the heir prince, again and again."
Daemon clenched his fists.
"And, longing for a Free City of your own, you betrayed your allies and failed to take it," Laena continued, connecting the dots of his reckless life.
Her eyes were sad as she accused him, "Have you ever thought that there is someone waiting for you?"
Daemon was deeply moved by her words. He remembered conspiring with Alicent to murder Rhaegar, only for Laena to rescue him on Vhagar. When he was imprisoned in the Red Keep dungeon, it was Laena who used her daughters' custody to negotiate a truce. And during the final assault on Tyrosh, she nearly died coming to his aid.
At that time, Daemon realized the harm he had done to his brother by declaring he had a "one day heir." His heart tightened, and the anger drained from his face, replaced by a flood of memories.
Laena's loyalty was unmatched by any woman. He stood speechless in the face of her rebuttal.
"I was once obsessed with your uninhibited nature, and I saw loving you as a challenge," Laena said, her eyes filled with bitterness. "But I'm tired. I'm not up for the challenge anymore."
Daemon looked around in confusion, a bad feeling creeping into his heart. As expected, Laena said decisively, "Daemon, let's let each other go."
"No!" Daemon was shocked, his eyes reddening. "I just want an heir. I never thought of shaking your position."
Laena stood up proudly. "Don't let people look down on you. End this tragedy." She would not stoop to compete for his affection with a prostitute. She would not drag her family and friends into it. Her bloodline came from the dragons, and the sky and sea belonged to her.
"No, never." Daemon shook his head and took a step back, as he always did. Like his brother Viserys, he was an ostrich with his head in the sand when faced with an insoluble problem. Right now, he would rather go to war and behead a thousand enemies than face his feelings of guilt.
Laena's eyes misted over, and she gritted her teeth. "If you don't want to, I have a way." At worst, she could ask Rhaenyra to witness the couple's breakup. She believed Rhaegar would want to see her and Daemon end up like this.
"I won't allow it." Daemon seemed to have lost his soul, his voice choking up.
Laena's anger rose, her voice loud and firm: "Daemon! If you don't want to break up, you should give me the respect I deserve!" If he couldn't cut it off decisively, then he should give her love, not the torment of mistrust and neglect.
After being yelled at, Daemon's eyes suddenly cleared, and his stiff body regained some vitality.
Plop! He stumbled awkwardly and fell on his butt on the bench.
Daemon's mind was in turmoil, but he seemed to have made up his mind. "Baela, I will name our daughter as the heir, and you will always be the hostess of Tyrosh."
"Are you sure?" Laena was stunned.
"There is no one more suitable to be the heir than Baela," Daemon said, silent but firm. "She has always been a good child, and you and I both know it."
Laena was stunned, disbelief evident on her face. "What about Lady Mysaria's child?"
"He will be the most powerful ally of his sister," Daemon said, rubbing his face with a smile. "I shouldn't be obsessed with a boy. He would be too temperamental."
"Daemon..." Laena was momentarily lost in thought, and the emotions that had been lost and regained filled her heart. She never thought that her husband, always so self-centered, would give up his own opinion.
"Laena," Daemon said, stroking his wife's cheek, "perhaps you should give me a boy."
"What?" Laena was stunned.
Daemon's lips curled up, and he picked up his wife and carried her into the house. "It's getting late. It seems like I haven't tasted you in a long time."
"..."
It was getting dark, and the night owl was scratching and calling.
...
It is midnight. The moon shines brightly, casting a faint halo on the floor.
Creak.
The door opens, and Daemon, his silver hair disheveled, steps out of the bedroom. His white shirt is open at the collar. He glances back and sees the slender figure lying on the bed, her white body perfectly curvy, and her long legs gleaming in the moonlight. He touches his forehead, wiping away a sweat stain, and lowers his head with a smile.
He had agreed to Laena's request, giving her his full trust and love. Baela's inheritance is proof of this. The child in Mysaria's belly... if it is a son, then the two siblings can follow the family tradition, as long as the child is not adopted. He believed that Baela's strong personality would be able to suppress her unborn brother. This inspiration came from his good nephew and niece. Rhaegar and Rhaenyra are also eight years apart.
There was a slight noise in the corner. Daemon's eyes flashed, and he slammed the door shut to stop the erotic scene in the room from being seen. A small maid tiptoed out, looking down and not daring to look up.
"White Worm's little spider?" Daemon's eyes flashed with evil light as he looked her up and down.
"Yes, Prince," the skinny maid shivered.
Daemon looked away in disgust, took a letter from his open breast pocket, and warned, "Give this to Mysaria. She'll know what to do."
The skinny maid nodded vigorously, taking the letter and disappearing like a scared rabbit.
"An eye for an eye, a son for a son," Daemon whispered softly, his eyes as deep as water. The moonlight cast a distorted shadow.
Since the one-eyed man dared to assassinate his woman, he wouldn't hesitate to retaliate in kind. His nephew Rhaegar had said he would do anything to protect his brother. But Rhaegar couldn't control everyone.
(Word count: 2,025)