Dragonstone, the Great Hall of Dragonstone.
The ancient dragon castle had always been gloomy, and even after the building was restored, the corridors remained damp and cold. At this moment, the cold was even more intense, because the queen sitting on the high throne had a face colder than stone.
Rhaenyra Targaryen sat at the stone table, holding the letter from Tyrosh in both hands. Daemon stood beside her, one hand on his sword hilt, his face also very grim. Corlys sat to the side, arms crossed and silent.
In the center of the hall, Nettles knelt on the ground, her whole body trembling. The ugly girl with black hair and brown eyes, the rider of Sheepstealer, was now like a frightened rabbit, curled up, not daring to raise her eyes.
"Say it again," Queen Rhaenyra's voice emerged through clenched teeth, suppressing her anger. "How did you escape?"
Nettles, kneeling on the ground, trembled and spoke.
"That... that day Hugh staged the coup... he sent someone to kill me, but I was with Sheepstealer... When Ulf brought his men, Sheepstealer drove them back with his fire... I... I wanted to save His Highness too, but Hugh had already taken control of the castle... He... he stood on the city wall and pushed His Highness the Prince and the two princesses forward... I... I truly could do nothing..."
"So you fled?" Rhaenyra's voice suddenly rose. "You simply abandoned those you were meant to protect? You didn't try to save them?"
Nettles, kneeling, bowed desperately. "Your Grace, spare my life! Your Grace, spare me! I didn't want to! I... I wanted to save them too, but... but I truly could do nothing..."
"Could do nothing?" Rhaenyra abruptly stood, pointed at her, and shouted angrily. "You have a dragon! You have Sheepstealer! You have a hundred ways to kill those traitors! You say you could do nothing?"
Rhaenyra walked to Nettles and looked down at her, her eyes burning with anger. "You bastards—you are all worthless! Hugh betrayed me, Sara betrayed me, and you betrayed me too!"
"I didn't!" Nettles cried out. "I truly didn't want to! I swear by the Seven! I... I truly could do nothing, Your Grace... I wanted to kill those traitors too... but I was afraid that Sheepstealer might accidentally wound Prince Lucerys, Princess Rhaena, and Princess Baela..."
"Lies!" Rhaenyra, overcome with anger, cursed furiously. "You have that ability! You have every ability!"
Mysaria and Daemon exchanged glances. Daemon sighed helplessly—he knew that Rhaenyra needed someone to vent her anger upon...
"Swear?" Rhaenyra said contemptuously and continued. "Hugh swore too. Sara swore too. Where are they now?"
Nettles could not speak; she simply pressed her head to the ground and wept.
Rhaenyra turned, returned to the stone table, took the parchment scroll, and tore it to pieces. The fragments fell like snowflakes, scattering across the floor.
"That bastard dares to threaten me!" She gritted her teeth. "A wildling pulled from a mud pit dares to threaten me!"
Daemon stepped forward and touched her shoulder. "Rhaenyra, you need to calm down."
"Calm down?" Rhaenyra shook off Daemon's hand. "My son is in his hands! And your daughters are in his hands too! You tell me to calm down? You are truly cold-blooded, Daemon..."
But Daemon simply looked quietly at Rhaenyra. Hugh's betrayal was very irritating and angered him, but now that he knew Lucerys, Rhaena, and Baela were safe, he felt greatly relieved.
Daemon was silent for a moment, then said, "What if you don't calm down? There is nothing we can do right now."
Rhaenyra glared at him, her eyes blazing, her lips trembling. She wanted to say something, but could not find the words.
At that moment, she suddenly clutched her belly, and her face changed.
"What is it?" Daemon quickly supported her.
Rhaenyra gritted her teeth; cold sweat beaded on her forehead. "Stomach... my stomach..."
Daemon's face changed dramatically, and he shouted toward the door. "Maester! Call the maester! And the midwife!"
Commotion arose outside the door; several servants hurried away.
Rhaenyra leaned against Daemon, breathing heavily, her face growing paler and paler, cold sweat streaming down her head. Her hands tightly gripped Daemon's arm, her nails digging into his skin.
"Lucerys..." she murmured, "my child... they will be fine..."
"They will be fine," Daemon held her, his voice low. "I swear they will be fine. You must trust me..."
Several handmaidens rushed in and helped Rhaenyra away. Her moans grew fainter and faded down the corridor.
Silence finally returned to the hall.
Daemon stood still, looking at his hand. His hand was stained with blood and the marks of Rhaenyra's nails, but he seemed to feel no pain.
"Corlys," he spoke.
Corlys looked at him.
"What do you say I should do?"
Corlys was silent for a while, then slowly spoke. "What do you think of Hugh's letter?"
Daemon sneered. "That bastard—doesn't he want to be Lord of Tyrosh? He took Lucerys and the others hostage so that we would be afraid and not dare do anything to him."
Corlys nodded. "Then what are you going to do?"
"What am I going to do?" Daemon gritted his teeth, his violet eyes determined. "I am going to cut off his head with my own hands."
"And then what?" Corlys asked. "What about Lucerys and your daughters?"
Daemon fell silent.
Corlys stood, walked to the window, and looked out at the sea. "Daemon, I know you are angry. I am angry too. But we cannot risk their lives."
"So you mean..."
"Appease him," Corlys said. "Acknowledge him as Lord of Tyrosh and stabilize him. When we have dealt with the Greens, we will return and deal with him."
Daemon's eyes narrowed. "You want me to bow to a bastard?"
"It's not about bowing," Corlys turned to him. "It's strategy. Daemon, are you going to go to Tyrosh now and kill Hugh? Will Aemond let that opportunity pass? And what about those who support us in the Riverlands? The Vale? The North?"
He walked to Daemon, looked directly into his violet eyes, and said. "If we deal with Hugh now, Aemond will have a free hand to cleanse the Riverlands, the Vale, and the North one by one. Then, even if you kill Hugh and save Lucerys, Rhaena, and Baela, what good will it do? If we lose this war, everyone dies."
Daemon was silent for a long time.
Then he laughed. The smile was cold, with a hint of madness.
"That bastard really knows how to choose his timing," he said slowly. "He knows we are in a dilemma."
Corlys nodded and said. "So first stabilize him. When we win, the opportunity to deal with him will come."
Daemon drew a deep breath and nodded. "Alright. Do as you say."
He walked to the table, took a quill, and wrote a few lines on a clean sheet of parchment. When he finished, he handed the letter to Corlys. "Look."
Corlys took the letter, read it, and nodded. "Yes."
Daemon rolled up the letter, sealed it with the three-headed dragon's wax seal, and stamped it with his own seal. He handed the letter to a servant at the door. "Send this to Tyrosh, to that bastard."
The servant took the letter and quickly left.
Daemon walked to the window and looked out at the eastern sea. The sun shone on the sea, glittering and calm. But inside Daemon's heart, great waves surged.
Hugh. Hugh Hammer.
Very well...