After being satisfied with the information obtained, he spoke in a calm but firm voice:
"First, I will spare your life. You will be useful to me in the future. Second, you will write a letter to your steward or your wife asking them to send all your belongings. Make it clear: I will personally inspect them. Do not try anything strange if you truly value your life."
Upon hearing Kerse's words, Xaro did not fall into despair. On the contrary, his face lit up with genuine joy as he understood that he had gained a chance to survive.
"Thank you for this opportunity, Khal Kerse. I will comply with all your requests! I will certainly ask that all my belongings be delivered as a gift worthy of Your Majesty."
Kerse smiled, satisfied with such immediate obedience, and raised his voice:
"Molegro! Find a comfortable room so that our dear guest may rest until his gifts arrive."
Molegro bowed his head respectfully.
"Yes, the blood of my blood."
Then Kerse turned his gaze toward Maegor, who was fiddling with the dragons with evident boredom.
"Brat, go train with Jorah."
Maegor showed a mischievous smile that he immediately hid, replacing it with a pitiful expression.
"But father… since the last time I trained with him, he didn't want to keep doing it."
Kerse let out a brief laugh and shook his head.
"Tell him it is an order from me. From now on he will not be able to refuse any of your training requests."
Maegor jumped with joy.
"Long live father! You're the best!"
Kerse replied with a knowing smile.
"I expect you to give it your all and not hold back. Not just because Jorah is older. Holding back would be a lack of respect toward a formidable warrior like him."
Maegor's smile turned dark.
"Don't worry, father. I won't hold back."
…
Kerse paced back and forth along the corridor outside the room. The screams that burst from within cut through him like invisible blades, one after another, tightening his chest.
Suddenly, the cry of a baby broke the air.
Kerse stopped dead in his tracks.
Rhaenys lay on a wide Dornish-style bed, bathed in the warm light of the room. The silk sheets were stained with blood.
"Your Majesty, it's a boy!" announced a handmaid as she approached.
Although the birth had been normal, Rhaenys's face was still covered in sweat. Her strong, resilient body responded immediately. She sat up, took the wrinkled, crying baby, and bathed him with her own hands.
"Good boy… don't cry, don't cry. Mommy is here."
Maegor, who had remained beside his father the whole time, spoke with contained impatience:
"Father, have they already given my brother a name?"
Before Kerse could answer, Rhaenys spoke. Her face radiated maternal warmth, though a shadow of sadness lingered between her brows.
"Rhaegor… Rhaegor Targaryen."
As she spoke the name, her gaze drifted toward the sea visible through the window, as if her thoughts crossed the ocean.
"Don't worry, my love," Kerse stepped closer and spoke softly. "I will reclaim everything that belongs to you."
He paused briefly and looked at Daenerys, who was holding her swollen belly with both hands, surrounded by her children.
"Everything that belongs to us."
At that moment, two small heads peeked in through the window. Smaug and King Ghidorah looked at the newborn with childlike curiosity.
…
'That my son was born in this place abandoned by the gods… I don't know if that's a good or a bad sign,' Kerse thought.
Daenerys, as an aunt, was radiant. Seeing her niece's and beloved husband's child born healthy filled her heart.
She looked at Kerse with shining eyes.
"I can't wait for our child to be born. I hope that when he grows up he'll be as strong as his father and his brothers."
Kerse feigned a displeased expression and replied with light laughter:
"No one is as strong as I am. Not that brat nor those yet to come. But I think he'll be strong enough to defeat Jorah with a single punch."
Daenerys rolled her eyes.
"Why do you like picking on him so much? He's a good man, he's loyal to me, and he's never provoked you. Why do you always bother him?"
Kerse merely snorted in response.
Seeing that he had no intention of answering, Daenerys changed the subject:
"They say the dragons ridden by Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters measured more than one hundred and fifty meters, and that the shadow of their wings could cover entire towns. My love… how long do you think it will take before we can ride them?"
Kerse, still slightly annoyed by her defense of Jorah, replied casually:
"I don't think they'll take long to grow. Especially with the rise in the tide of magic."
Daenerys fell silent, understanding his mild irritation. She caressed her belly and smiled tenderly.
'Be born soon, my child! I can't wait to hold you in my arms.'