In the end, Baelon did not leave. However, he firmly rejected the idea of becoming his brother's heir. Daeron could not refuse his younger brother, especially with Seryna present.
Daeron truly could not control himself.
Before Viserys could react, Daeron had reluctantly agreed to Baelon's request. He entrusted the Black Keep to Baelon, while promising not to name him as the heir, granting him the right to freely enter and exit King's Landing.
With his brother and aunt as witnesses, Baelon swore before the spirits of his deceased parents and the ancestors of both families that he would keep his oath.
By the time Viserys realized what had happened, it was already a done deal.
Hand of the King Tower.
Viserys sat silently by the bed, gazing at the capital of King's Landing outside the window. After so many years of development and change, the city was no longer the same. From his vantage point, King's Landing was still growing. The once muddy, chaotic flea market had vanished, but a new one had sprung up by the city gates and along the Blackwater River, in the land that had once been barren.
It made sense, after all. The city was still there, and slums were always inevitable. The Rogar family's bank, the brothels, the Great Sept of Jacaerys, and the Dragonpit had become the landmarks of King's Landing. The bustling crowds testified to the city's prosperity.
Indeed, prosperous.
At present, King's Landing and Oldtown provided nearly seventy percent of the royal family's revenue, a fortune that could take several years to accumulate, even during the reigns of King Aegon and King Viserys I.
"Viserys, what are you looking at?" Lady Larra walked quietly to her husband's side. She was much older than Viserys, and while Viserys had wrinkles now, so did Lady Larra. Despite the wealth of the Rogar family and the secrets they held, they couldn't restore Lady Larra's youth.
"Looking at the family's kingdom," Viserys turned to look at Lady Larra, his voice full of fatigue.
He knew he could not blame Baelon.
In fact, by now, he was somewhat numb. After all these years of trying to strengthen the royal family's power, with two queens from the Vaelarys family both dead, and even leaving behind a dragon, he couldn't find any joy, only a deep sense of helplessness.
He realized that he could no longer reverse the gradual merging of the two families, and that it would eventually become dominated by the Vaelarys.
Even if Baelon succeeded the throne, keeping Candlelight in the family wouldn't change this. It might even speed up the process of the families merging.
This made his years of courting the lords look like a joke.
"My lady, you've seen everything I've done over the years. Do you think I did the right thing?"
He looked at his wife, Lady Larra, who was not only his spouse but also his political ally. The Rogar family's staunch support of the crown and their submission were rooted in her and her children.
Although Lady Larra never judged Viserys's actions.
"Viserys, you already know the answer. Why ask me?" Lady Larra replied calmly as she sat down next to Viserys's chair. "What you've done, only you know if it was worth it."
Viserys fell silent. "Larra, take the children... No, leave Aegon behind. Take the children back to Oldtown."
Lady Larra smiled, understanding what her husband was planning.
"Take care of yourself, and return home soon, Viserys."
Viserys closed his eyes, quietly basking in the sunlight.
He was tired. After helping Daeron stabilize the kingdom, he would retire to Oldtown to live out his days.
He suddenly understood why Draezell had chosen to return to Dragonstone when no one doubted his authority. Since then, the Vaelarys family's influence in King's Landing had been limited to the Black Keep and their intelligence network.
"Your Highness, I still remain your student," the elderly prince couldn't help but say.
Maegor's Tower.
The King's Chambers.
After the third reprimand, Daeron angrily sat in the high-backed chair, glaring at the terrified castle steward.
"Speak," he growled. "My beloved just died, and you can't wait to bring a girl to the king's bed?"
"No, no," the steward stammered, trying to calm himself. "Your Majesty, this was not our decision. Before you select a new queen, these girls, who have taken the moon tea, will ensure the vitality of your seed for the kingdom."
"Shut up, get out!" Without listening to the steward, Daeron grabbed a book and hurled it at him. The steward yelped in pain, his head split open from the impact, and he could only kneel in panic, begging for the king's forgiveness.
"I told you to leave!" Daeron stood up impatiently, grabbed the steward by his collar, and threw him out the door. "Go get medicine and compensation from the Grand Maester." Daeron pushed the steward against the wall, gritting his teeth. "Remember to compensate those girls. Never, ever send girls here again. Understood?"
"Yes, yes, Your Majesty."
Looking at the steward, who hurriedly ran out in disgrace, Daeron sighed and returned to the empty chambers.
The king sat for a moment. In the past, at this time, Queen Jeyne would gently pour him a cup of spiced hot wine and soothe his heart with her tender voice.
But now, everything was gone.
The king sat down wearily in the position he had just vacated.
What was I going to do again?
Daeron knocked on his own head.
He suddenly noticed the book still lying on the floor.
The Chronicle of the Expedition
Daeron suddenly remembered something, picked up a quill, dipped it in ink, and began writing quickly in High Valyrian on the blank page of the open book.
"To my beloved Queen Jeyne Targaryen."
He then wrote:
"And to all the knights who fought for the king in the war."
He signed his name.
"King Daeron Targaryen I, the Conqueror."
He paused for a moment, then continued to write: "The one who lost his beloved."
Then, he crossed out that line.
He closed the book.
This was Daeron's decision. He realized that the normal way didn't soothe his mood at all, so he made an important decision.
He would write a book, because he found that writing could make him temporarily forget his troubles.
So what would he write about?
Daeron decided to write about his expedition to the disputed lands.
Thus, the "Chronicles of the East" was born, a work that would be both loved and hated by future historians and scholars.
---
Dragon's Nest.
The elderly Lady Diana lay on the bed, her eyes blankly watching the slowly descending sunset. Having lost two daughters, this frail woman, whose health had never been good, felt her condition worsen with each passing day.
The door creaked open.
Draezell, also aged but with no wrinkles on his face, silently walked in.
The old man sat beside his wife. The couple, now old, sat in silence, unsure of what they were thinking.
It was Lady Diana's weak voice that broke the silence.
"Draezell, I can already see the Stranger and my brother waving at me."
She said calmly.
"For all these years, I've had one question I wanted to ask you. Draezell, what is your true love?"