Earl Owen blinked, his expression quickly shifting to delight.
"Prince, are you returning?"
Upon hearing this, Earl Tytos stepped forward in a hurry.
Daeron was faster. He reached out and gripped the man's hands—calloused from years of wielding a sword—his tone heavy with reluctance. "Uncle Tytos, I have truly caused you so much trouble during this time."
The man was a sturdy, middle-aged fellow, a classic old-school nobleman who spent his days riding and training with the blade.
"King's Landing is not safe," Tytos insisted. "You would be better off staying at Raventree Hall until I can knight you before you leave. As for His Majesty, I will speak on your behalf."
Tytos was blunt and straightforward. He said exactly what was on his mind and never used unnecessary words.
Daeron offered a wry smile. The two of them had truly hit it off.
He called the man "Uncle" because they were related by blood. His great-grandfather, Aegon V, was known as the "King Who Should Not Have Been." Some privately called him "Egg," a nickname from his youth as a wandering knight. After Aegon V became king, he married Lady Beth of House Blackwood. By the rules of seniority, Tytos would call Beth Blackwood his great-aunt, and Aerys would call her grandmother. This made them cousins once removed. Daeron's relationship with him could be stretched to nephew and distant uncle—if both sides agreed to it.
Aerys certainly did not. He could not care less about the Blackwoods. Daeron, however, had managed to build a bridge with House Blackwood through a series of messy events.
In the Riverlands, the Blackwoods and the Brackens were known as the "Twin Houses." Their arguments had lasted for a thousand years. It was no exaggeration to say they fought a small battle every three days and a major one every week. They were as incompatible as fire and water.
The year before his eldest brother Rhaegar's wedding, the two houses had clashed again. Usually, such disputes between vassals would be managed by the Tullys, the "Lords Paramount of the Trident." But the Tullys were supported by House Targaryen, and they lacked the power to control two houses of such status. Simply put, they lacked the respect needed to keep them in line.
Lord Tully reported the matter to the Iron Throne by the book. Aerys listened for a moment, then ignored it. 'If you cannot even manage your own vassals, what use are you, you waste of space?'
The matter eventually landed on the desk of the Hand of the King, Lord Tywin Lannister. He decided that House Blackwood was in the right. When the Hand reported this to the King, Aerys flew into a rage. 'Everyone says you, Tywin Lannister, are just and incorruptible. They say the Hand is the true king while I sit here reaping the rewards. Oh, is that so? You say the Blackwoods are right? Then I shall deliberately help the Brackens!'
He immediately prepared to send men to the Riverlands to tip the scales. In the original history, this was the incident that deeply wounded the loyalty of House Blackwood. It caused them—the royal family's strongest supporters—to stay away during the War of the Usurper.
If he did not stop it, it would happen exactly as before. At the critical moment, Daeron stepped up. 'Tipping the scales? No one understood how to tip the scales better than he did.'
Aerys, who already favored his second son, was overjoyed to see Daeron standing on his side and agreed immediately. Daeron seized the opportunity to leave King's Landing. Upon arriving in the Riverlands, he first dragged the hesitant Lord Tully into the fray, then summoned both houses to a meeting. He publicly supported the Brackens to satisfy his father's moods, but in practice, he ordered the Brackens to return the pastures they had stolen from the Blackwoods and pay for the damage.
Would the Brackens agree? They had to. The Crown had already made its ruling, and with Daeron pushing Lord Tully to the front, no noble in the Riverlands dared to object.
This move won the favor of House Blackwood. Daeron explained his intentions, played up their blood ties, and secured a place at Raventree Hall as a squire. Through this, Earl Tytos saw the King's incompetence and developed a protective instinct for the young prince. He was willing to help. He did not have the mindset of "hoarding a rare commodity." At this moment, the lords of the Seven Kingdoms were pinning all their hopes on the famous Crown Prince Rhaegar. Earl Tytos, who cared little for the Iron Throne, had also become one of those hoping for Rhaegar's rise.
"I will be fine, Uncle Tytos." Daeron squeezed his hand to reassure him, his gaze flicking behind him. "Besides, when I return this time, Father will reward me."
Earl Owen, who had been caught in his glance, nodded quickly. "That is so, Prince." He had been here before and had already relayed the hidden meaning in the prince's words to the King and the Hand.
'A fief!' It was hard to believe the prince would be so bold as to ask for one. Earl Owen only felt the boy had guts.
"In that case, I am relieved," Earl Tytos said, his heart settling.
The next morning, Daeron packed his bags and followed the main force back to King's Landing. At the moment of parting, Daeron gripped Earl Tytos's hand, urging him to take care of his health, to dress warmly in the cold, and to be careful with cold drinks. Even a tough man like Tytos was moved. He kept his face stiff and said nothing, only nodding silently.
...
Five days later, the party saw the walls of King's Landing in the distance. Daeron rode a white horse in the middle of the formation. Ahead of him was the "White Bull" Gerold Hightower in his horned helm, with Ser Jon and Earl Owen to his left and right.
"Prince, we are almost there." Earl Owen handed over a waterskin, pulling him out of his thoughts.
Daeron shook his head gently, declining the drink. Taking advantage of the fact that no one was near, Earl Owen's eyes darted around, and he whispered, "Prince, His Majesty holds you in high regard. Why did you insist on a fief?"
For House Targaryen, being named the Prince of Dragonstone was the symbol of the heir. He did not understand why the prince would give up the chance to fight for Dragonstone and ask for another fief instead.
Daeron glanced at him lightly. "Dragonstone is currently Rhaegar's seat. Would he give it to me?"
"Uh..." Earl Owen was speechless.
Too lazy to bother with him, Daeron spurred his horse to put some distance between them. When he reached the front, the stoic Ser Gerold turned his head and gave a slight nod, a silent greeting. Daeron returned the gesture without making conversation.
Why ask for a fief instead of fighting for Dragonstone? First, he did not want to fight for it. Second, he could not win. But as for the real reason...
Daeron's vision blurred, and a plain panel appeared before him, with five large characters in the center: [Stardew Valley Panel].
A system panel—his secret advantage. Looking at the words "Stardew Valley," he remembered a game that combined farming and exploring. It started by letting you escape the busy city life, only to throw you into the hard work of farm life in the countryside. Honestly, just thinking about it, his body already felt a sense of "emptied-out" happiness.
And the condition to unlock this panel was to own an exclusive farm. That was the real reason he had demanded a fief.
"Prince, we have arrived at the Red Keep." Ser Gerold's deep voice broke through his thoughts.
Daeron looked up. A weathered black iron gate came into view, with the red three-headed dragon banners fluttering on both sides.
The Red Keep had arrived.
"Second Brother! Second Brother, I'm here!"
On the high, thick walls of the Red Keep, a silver-haired little boy of six or seven years old jumped up and down, waving and cheering with excitement.
Daeron chuckled, dismounted, and walked into the castle courtyard.
"Second Brother!!"
Soon, a small boy came running and shouting, crashing into his arms like a cannonball. Daeron caught him steadily, hugging him close with a smile. He looked at his younger brother, Jaehaerys Targaryen, whom he had watched grow up.
Having not seen his brother for so long, Jaehaerys was overjoyed. His little mouth chattered constantly. "Second Brother, you're finally back! Is the Riverlands beautiful?"
"It is. Everywhere you look, there are green hills and flowing water."
"..."
The brothers chatted happily, walking into Maegor's Holdfast under the gaze of those around them.
"Second Brother, Father has been in a bad mood lately." Walking down the corridor, Jaehaerys frowned, sharing what he had seen and heard.
Daeron's eyes flickered slightly. He said calmly, "It's fine. He's angry at Rhaegar; it has nothing to do with us."
Jaehaerys looked thoughtful, leaning against his brother and falling silent.
"Hee hee..."
"Come on, catch me if you can..."
A burst of girlish laughter drifted over, drawing the brothers' attention. Daeron looked down through the stained glass of Maegor's Holdfast and saw three pretty girls chasing each other in the back garden. The girls were striking, their figures gracefully developed, radiating youthful energy in their beautiful skirts. Especially the blonde girl being chased—her skin was as white as milk, her beauty was extraordinary, and her green eyes held a faint, charming look.
"Second Brother." Jaehaerys glanced at them and tugged on his brother's sleeve.
Daeron looked away and smiled. "Pay them no mind. Let's keep going."
"Mm." Jaehaerys nodded repeatedly, his spirits instantly restored.
...
The Throne Room.
A thousand swords of defeated enemies had been forged by dragonfire into the Iron Throne. The blades on its surface were layered and overlapping. The steps twisted upward, with a risk of falling if one were not careful. The base was even more dangerous, a forest of countless blades that both pushed everyone back and isolated the king above.
Daeron came alone to meet his father.
On the Iron Throne sat a tall, thin man with long, messy silver-gold hair. His head was buried low, his face hidden. He sat in a cramped position, muttering to himself. Daeron could not hear what he was saying, but he was used to it and walked closer to listen.
*Swish! Swish!*
As he reached the edge of the blades before the throne, two Kingsguard half-drew their swords, blocking his path. It was Ser Gerold and Ser Jon.
Daeron stopped and looked at the people present. On the steps of the Iron Throne stood another sturdy Kingsguard, one hand on his sword, guarding the King. There were no other white-cloaked figures.
On one side of the hall, two men stood side by side, though they kept a distance of two or three meters between them. One was an elderly man with graying hair, wearing the gray robes of a maester—Grand Maester Pycelle. The other was a slightly plump man with a shaved head, wearing black clothes, his face powdered like a mask.
The man wore a gentle smile, his hands tucked into his sleeves. He bowed slightly as he met Daeron's gaze, appearing humble and polite.
The Master of Whisperers, the "Spider," Varys.