Rossart cleared his throat, pretending to be fair. "Prince, what do you have to say to that?"
No one paid him any mind.
Daeron ignored him completely and addressed his father directly, "As Ser Barristan said, the hatchlings cannot leave me, or they will die."
Aerys glared furiously, about to unleash a torrent of abuse.
But in the next instant...
Daeron changed his tone. "However, I am willing to offer you one of the hatchlings, to help you become a king who rides a dragon."
"A king who rides a dragon..."
This struck a chord deep in Aerys's heart. Fixated only on the prospect of riding a dragon, he immediately asked, "Which one will you give me?"
"People choose dragons, but dragons also choose their masters."
Daeron stepped aside, inviting his father to choose the one he desired.
Aerys shot to his feet, his eyes locked on the three hatchlings, dazzled by the choices.
He wanted them all!
Daeron turned his head slightly and nudged the cage containing Toothless forward with his foot.
Skree-ga!
Toothless, energetic by nature, climbed up the bars of the cage and screeched loudly.
"A black dragon!"
Aerys's heart stirred. He muttered, "The Black Dread... I will be the Conqueror..."
For House Targaryen, Balerion the Black Dread held extraordinary significance.
Possessing a black dragon felt like riding the Black Dread himself.
"I want the black dragon."
Aerys growled.
Ser Gerold sighed helplessly and moved to pick up the cage containing Toothless.
Barristan refused to yield an inch. "Prince!?" he exclaimed urgently.
The King's mental state was erratic at best; how could they give him a hatchling?
In his eyes, Daeron was the true Lord of Dragons.
Daeron said calmly, "Ser, stand down."
Barristan wanted to argue, but the look in Daeron's eyes forced him back.
"Sorry, brother."
Ser Gerold picked up the cage, understanding his sworn brother's feelings.
Just as he turned to present the hatchling to the King...
"Wait a moment!"
Daeron called out to stop him.
Ser Gerold paused and looked back in confusion.
This time, not only Aerys, but even the ministers cast surprised glances.
"Boy, what are you doing?"
Aerys's face twisted, nearly driven mad with impatience.
Daeron put on an expression of sincere concern. "Father, dragons are not pets or livestock that can be kept casually."
Since the Dance of the Dragons, raising dragons had become a major problem.
The cruel Maegor built the Dragonpit in King's Landing, but the dragons raised there grew smaller and smaller, far inferior to the rapid growth of the early dragons.
Yet wild dragons would hunt freely, harming the common folk.
Caught in this dilemma, the dragons went extinct.
"Father, you don't want our dragons to end up like the last dragons, stunted and small, do you?"
Daeron held the winning hand.
Aerys's eyes widened.
For dragons, he could give up anything.
But if the dragons didn't grow, how could he realize his dream of conquest?
Daeron reached out and snatched Toothless's cage back from Ser Gerold, speaking confidently, "I have three suggestions to ensure the dragons grow large and strong."
"Speak!" Aerys regained his composure, realizing his second son was negotiating terms.
Daeron didn't hide his intentions. He said directly:
"One: The Dragonpit must be rebuilt, and construction must follow the blueprints I draw. Only then can I entrust the dragon to you with peace of mind."
This meant that until then, the dragons would remain under his care.
Aerys struggled internally for a long time before gritting his teeth. "Granted!"
The boy couldn't run away anyway; the dragon would be his sooner or later.
"Two: I request to recruit Dragonkeepers to serve as my personal guard, protecting the hatchlings around the clock to prevent anyone with ill intent from harming them."
"Three: Since I have rendered a great service by offering the hatchling, the royal treasury must fully cover the expenses for developing my princely fief."
Daeron stated his second and third conditions.
Hearing this, Aerys's expression improved slightly.
Compared to the first condition, these two were undoubtedly reasonable and much easier to accept.
If there were dragons, there naturally had to be a Dragonpit.
And a Dragonpit needed Dragonkeepers.
As for the princely fief, that had been his way of making things difficult for his son.
His intention was to make Daeron retreat in the face of difficulties, or to use him to attack his eldest son Rhaegar and replace him as heir.
Since his second son valued the fief so much, letting the treasury pay for its construction was fine.
"No problem. I can satisfy all of these," Aerys declared generously, giving his guarantee. "During this period, your orders are equivalent to my decrees. Everyone must obey."
Done!
Daeron had expected this. He bowed in thanks.
No one knew his father Aerys better than he did.
A self-righteous, selfish, vacillating incompetent centered entirely on himself and his stubborn ideals, who ultimately drove himself mad.
Grasp what he feared most, and he could be easily manipulated.
Just as he predicted.
Until the so-called Dragonpit was built, all three dragons would stay by his side.
He would use Aerys's greed for the hatchlings to string him along while strengthening himself.
By the time the Dragonpit was ready, he would have three combat-ready dragons on the offense, and the Dragonkeepers and Gold Cloaks as defense.
At that point, Daeron wouldn't need to pretend anymore.
The excellent "Succession by Combat" method would place him on the Iron Throne.
Of course, if anyone dared to force his hand today, Daeron wouldn't go down without a fight.
Someone decided to test his edge.
Rossart couldn't suppress his greed and spoke up, "Your Grace, who knows how long the Dragonpit will take to build? Why not keep the hatchling by your side for now?"
Pretending to worry about the hatchling's survival, he added, "I am willing to serve you and care for the hatchling."
Silence!
The air suddenly solidified.
Daeron pointed a finger and roared coldly, "Guards! Drag this barking cur out and cut out his tongue!"
Though not officially Regent, he could now exercise the King's authority.
Ser Gerold hesitated slightly, looking to the King for instructions.
Unfortunately, he misunderstood the situation.
In the next moment...
The hall doors burst open, and a squad of fully armed Gold Cloaks charged in.
"By the Prince's order, take him away!"
Led by Commander Manly, they roared and seized Rossart on the spot.
As for the King and the Small Council?
If needed, he was willing to accompany the Prince in a coup.
The Seven Kingdoms had suffered under the Mad King for too long.
"Your Grace, save me!"
Rossart panicked and tried to call for help.
The Gold Cloaks responded with practiced efficiency.
One strike to the mouth to stop the begging.
Two strikes to the legs to prevent escape.
"Mmph mmmph mmmph~~!"
Rossart soiled himself on the spot and was dragged out like a dead dog.
"One, two..."
Daeron counted silently in his head.
At the count of twelve, a bloodcurdling scream echoed from outside the hall.
Aerys's eyelid twitched. He suddenly smelled a hint of danger.
The ministers were even worse, their hair standing on end.
Everyone realized the same thing simultaneously.
Daeron had come prepared.
"My Lords, I will take my leave now."
Daeron showed no emotion, taking the three cages and exiting calmly.
No one stopped him.
---
Noon, 12:30 PM.
Leaving the Throne Room, Daeron returned to Dragon-Tongue Farm as fast as he could.
Skree-ga!
Skree... ga...
The three hatchlings were released, fluttering onto the farm soil, breathing the free air joyfully.
Daeron smiled. "You're happy, and I'm happy."
Bringing all three hatchlings back to the farm safe and sound meant he had won a complete victory in this storm.
Only Toothless would have it rough, having to go and placate his father Aerys from time to time in the future.
But he had to maintain the charade.
Skree-ga!
Caraxes flapped its wings and was the first to take flight, landing lightly on Daeron's shoulder.
Not a short glide, but true flight.
Daeron was surprised. "You can fly already?"
Skree-ga!
Caraxes made a cooing sound, hooking its long tail around its father's neck and nuzzling him affectionately with its snout.
Daeron had found its egg first, and it had received the most nurturing along the way.
It seemed it was also the most affectionate.
Daeron responded immediately, taking out a tilapia larger than the hatchling itself.
Skree-ga!
Caraxes's screech suddenly became sharp and piercing.
The moment Daeron held the tilapia, the hatchling arched its spine and snake-like neck, opening its jaws to spray a jet of crimson dragonfire.
Whoosh—
The immense force knocked the tilapia from Daeron's hand. Wrapped in dragonfire mid-air, it burned rapidly, charring and smoking.
A second later, the roasted fish smacked onto the ground.
Tessarion and Toothless smelled the aroma and flapped their wings, rushing over.
Skree-ga!
Caraxes's vertical pupils flashed fiercely. It pounced onto the roasted fish with speed and ferocity, screeching to drive its two brothers away.
The two other hatchlings retreated in alarm.