GOT King of Dragon

Viserys spoke with heartfelt sincerity, revealing his innermost thoughts without reservation. 

When he finished speaking, he gazed at his daughter with hope, longing for his words to touch her heart. He wished that she might turn back from her wayward path. 

Rhaenyra's eyes reddened with emotion, but the look she returned to her father was filled with sadness and determination. 

It was clear she had not truly listened. 

Tears welled up and spilled over as Rhaenyra choked out, "I never wanted this. I just want someone who can protect me, someone who will treat me with sincerity." 

For the first time, she expressed her true feelings, albeit in a veiled way. 

Since losing her mother, Rhaenyra's heart had been consumed by emptiness and fear. She refused to marry a man she didn't love, only to become a tool for producing heirs. 

Though her father had loved her mother deeply, when faced with a difficult childbirth, he still chose to save her brother by cutting open her mother's belly. 

She could never forget the day she ordered Syrax to breathe dragonfire and cremate her mother's body. 

Rhaenyra dreaded the thought that history might repeat itself with her. 

The husband she imagined was a tall, handsome, and gentle man who would cherish her above all else. 

It was this longing that had caused her to develop a faint affection for the ever-kind Ser Criston Cole. 

Viserys, unaware of his daughter's inner turmoil, responded only to the surface of her words. 

Believing he understood, he said, "You can take your time. Get to know him first. When he comes of age, you can marry. Both of you are young and have plenty of time to develop mutual affection." 

"Never! He doesn't even understand what's happening. We can't decide his fate for him," Rhaenyra protested, shaking her head vehemently. 

Though she mentioned the fate of her younger brother, Rhaegar, in truth, her sorrow was for herself. 

Viserys tried to continue persuading her, but Rhaenyra covered her ears and ran out of the chamber as if fleeing. 

She didn't want to hear any more because her father always found ways to force her to yield. 

Watching her retreating, disheveled figure, Viserys angrily slammed his goblet down, muttering bitterly about her ingratitude. 

Everything he did was for the sake of his daughter's future. 

---

Three days later, the bustling tournament grounds were filled with spectators. 

Viserys sat in the place of honor, smiling as he listened to a report from his Hand, Lyonel. 

"Your Grace, the Dragonpit has been thoroughly investigated. Based on the testimony of an elderly dragonkeeper, it was confirmed that the chains restraining Dreamfyre were secretly replaced by Maester Barth of Oldtown," Lyonel reported. 

"The reason given was that Dreamfyre had been displaying aggressive behavior toward the dragonkeepers when they delivered livestock for her. To ensure the dragonkeepers' safety, shorter chains were used to limit Dreamfyre's movements." 

Viserys turned his head and raised an eyebrow. "Do you believe such a flimsy excuse?" 

Lyonel shook his head. "No, it's far too far-fetched." 

"Does the bastard locked in the dungeons have any connection to this?" Viserys asked, recalling Rhaegar's plea to spare the life of Meleys. 

"As of now, there's no evidence to suggest he had any motive to harm Prince Rhaegar. Maester Barth has also expressed disdain for his low birth," Lyonel replied honestly. 

After a moment of thought, Viserys waved a hand dismissively. "If he's not involved, release him. The lad did well to administer timely aid for Rhaegar's burns; without it, the recovery wouldn't have been so swift." 

Lyonel smiled lightly. "The prince's healing abilities are indeed remarkable. Word is that his wounds are mending quickly. Truly, a Targaryen blessed by the Seven." 

Pausing, he lowered his voice. "As for Maester Barth, his actions are highly suspect. What should we do?" 

A cold glint flashed in Viserys' eyes. "The maesters of Oldtown are servants of the people. When a servant tampers with their master's belongings, what punishment is fitting?" 

"Cutting off both hands should suffice," Lyonel suggested promptly. 

"So be it. If he wishes to take the black and join the Night's Watch, do not stop him," Viserys concluded. 

--- 

Viserys gave his approval. 

Laenor obeyed the order, bowed, and left. 

He still had numerous state affairs to handle and could not stay longer. 

Once the Hand of the King departed, only Daemon and Rhaenyra remained by Viserys's side. 

Today was the final day of the tournament, and most of the royal family would attend. 

Rhaenyra, who had been eavesdropping, turned her head and said irritably, "That damn Maester nearly killed Rhaegar, and you plan to forgive him so easily?" 

Viserys frowned and replied, "The Maesters are of the Citadel in Oldtown. No one can judge them arbitrarily as they please. Having his hands cut off or being sent to the Wall as a Night's Watchman is already a severe punishment." 

"Rhaegar almost died because of him. He should pay with his life," Rhaenyra stated firmly. 

"We can't do that. Power isn't a butcher's knife to wield at will. A king should act with justice and fairness," Viserys said, unwilling to argue further. He silenced Rhaenyra's retort with a stern look. 

"Hmph!" 

Frustrated that her suggestion was dismissed, Rhaenyra let out a cold snort and adjusted her posture in her seat. 

Daemon, sitting to the side, silently observed the father-daughter dispute, a self-mocking smirk tugging at his lips. 

He had long since come to understand his brother's weak and indecisive nature. 

Viserys, completely unaware of his brother's disdain, continued watching the jousting tournament below with great interest. 

In his mind, there was nothing wrong with how he handled things. 

A king should restrain his desires. 

He must not break the law for his own selfishness. 

--- 

The fighting in the tournament arena was fierce. 

Competitions like jousting, melees, and archery had already determined their winners. 

Only the most important event—the duel—remained, with the champion yet to be crowned. 

Under the gaze of thousands of spectators, the final two competitors stepped into the dueling arena. 

One was a towering knight from Casterly Rock, clad in heavy armor and wielding a broad sword. 

The other was the tournament's dark horse—Syrio Forel, the Water Dancer. 

Syrio's swordsmanship was as extraordinary as ever. His body moved with the flexibility of a serpent and the agility of a rabbit. 

Each strike evaded his opponent's blows and pierced the weak points in the knight's armor, drawing bright splashes of blood with his blade. 

In less than half an hour, the duel was over. 

As expected, Syrio defeated his opponent and was crowned champion of the duel. 

Amid the cheers of nobles and commoners alike, it was time for the king to bestow the rewards. 

The winners of the previous events stepped forward one by one to receive their prizes and earn the king's praise. 

Finally, it was Syrio's turn. 

Looking down at Syrio, who knelt on one knee before him, Viserys smiled warmly. "I remember you. You boasted that you would claim the championship, and it seems you were not exaggerating." 

Syrio responded respectfully, "Your Grace, I would never dare boast to the kingdom." 

"Very well. As I promised, I will grant you one request. Speak it now," Viserys said, holding true to his word. 

Syrio didn't hesitate and said directly, "I come from the faraway city of Braavos. Here, I have no family, no home, and no honor…" 

"I humbly ask Your Grace to let me stay at the Red Keep, even if only as a dance instructor." 

"Why do you wish to stay at the Red Keep? I would have thought you'd want to be knighted," Viserys asked, puzzled and growing slightly wary. 

A master swordsman skilled in lethal techniques was not someone he could easily trust to remain close to the royal family. 

Without hesitation, Syrio replied, "Because of your eldest son, Prince Rhaegar!" 

"Rhaegar?" Viserys was utterly confused. 

Syrio explained, "Prince Rhaegar, as your firstborn son, possesses character and wisdom unlike any I've ever seen." 

"A kingdom blessed with such an exceptional prince is fortunate to have such a king." 

"I wish to remain at the Red Keep to teach the prince swordsmanship during my leisure. I want to ensure that, by the time he comes of age, he possesses formidable martial skills and becomes a brave and skillful knight." 

(End of Chapter)