Knock, knock, knock!
Daeron knocked on the door and entered confidently.
Tywin, who had been waiting for some time, tossed a report onto the desk when he saw him.
"Boy, here's the trace of the woods witch you were looking for."
"Thank you, teacher."
Daeron wasn't distant at all. He read as he spoke, "I thought Cersei would be the first to tell me."
"That foolish daughter of mine? You were actually counting on her?"
Tywin sneered, not bothering to hide his daughter's flaws.
A Lannister didn't care.
Cersei was indeed foolish, but she was undeniably beautiful.
Which man in the Seven Kingdoms wouldn't be moved by her beauty?
Daeron showed no reaction, focusing solely on the intelligence report.
Through Duke Hoster Tully of Riverrun, Jaime Lannister had made inquiries and finally located a suspected woods witch at High Heart in the Riverlands.
"The Ghost of High Heart?"
Daeron mulled over the name for a moment, recalling the corresponding information.
She seemed to be connected to Prince Duncan the Small.
"Boy, stop being foolish."
Tywin couldn't stand it. His magnetic voice carried a slight tremor. "You possess a power rarely seen since Old Valyria."
"Dragons!!"
The power of dragons was not to be underestimated; they had brought House Targaryen to its peak.
No one remained unchanged after witnessing the power of dragons.
He was no exception.
"I understand."
Daeron offered no explanation, knowing the main topic was coming.
Tywin looked at him with disappointment, his voice heavy. "How could you give a dragon to Aerys!?"
If it were him, he would have hidden all three dragons deep within Casterly Rock, ensuring no one but himself knew of their existence.
Yet Daeron had announced it to the world, creating a massive uproar.
In just four or five days, the news of the dragons' return was already on the desk of every high lord in the Seven Kingdoms.
"Then what do you think I should have done?"
Daeron raised his head, meeting Tywin's gaze without flinching.
Tywin paused, his expression shifting.
He understood Daeron's meaning.
From Owen Merryweather's recent grandiose recruitment of Dragonkeepers, the benefits of announcing the news were obvious.
Daeron had gone from a favored prince to a prince with real power, and now to a hotly contested contender for the throne in the Seven Kingdoms.
In less than three months, he had achieved a triple jump in status.
It was no exaggeration to say that Daeron could easily gather a large number of supporters simply by showing off the dragons.
"Are you going to abandon House Lannister too?"
Tywin immediately realized the core issue.
Daeron's expression remained unchanged. "You can be the Hand of the King forever."
But Tywin wanted more than that.
His old habit of being obstinate flared up. "Then you will betroth my daughter."
"..."
Daeron didn't respond.
Tywin, momentarily angered, said in a deep voice, "Cersei may lack great wisdom, but she has outstanding beauty and figure, plus the support of House Lannister. Is she not good enough for you?"
He always believed that young men valued a maiden's beauty above all else.
Throughout history, countless heroes had fallen for beauty.
Prince Duncan the Small even gave up the throne for it.
Daeron shook his head. "My Lord, our House has declined."
"If you were in my position, would you immediately marry the daughter of a powerful high lord?"
His tone was calm, but he changed the address.
Tywin's lion eyes narrowed slightly.
He had already given the answer to the same question long ago.
No!
When his father, Tytos Lannister, was alive, House Lannister had fallen into an awkward situation where they were bullied by everyone due to Tytos's weak character.
Back then, Tywin had the choice to marry the daughter of a powerful Westerlands noble to strengthen his position.
But he didn't choose that.
Instead, he secretly accumulated strength, waited for the right opportunity, and annihilated the entire family of a vassal who dared to offend him.
The song "The Rains of Castamere" spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms because of it.
The reason he chose that path was because he knew clearly:
Once you rely on someone else's power, you fall into a passive position, unable to truly stand tall, losing the true authority of a liege lord.
So, he married his cousin, Joanna Lannister.
His true love.
Thinking of this, Tywin felt like a bucket of cold water had been poured over him, and he fell into a long silence.
"I'll take my leave now, my Lord."
Daeron didn't disturb him further.
Talking to smart people saved effort; they understood things instantly.
If Tywin knew what was at stake, he wouldn't push too hard and cause the opposite effect.
This was the red line the dragons drew for both sides.
Crossing the line meant danger.
After a long while.
Tywin let out a long breath and sneered. "Boy, you think your wings are hard just because you have dragons."
His dragons hadn't come of age yet.
"Since you are unwilling to accept the help House Lannister offers, then bear the consequences House Lannister creates."
Tywin made a decision; he was going to cause some trouble for the boy.
He took out two intelligence reports from a drawer.
One represented the four great houses of Arryn, Baratheon, Stark, and Tully. The other represented Crown Prince Rhaegar, far away overseas.
According to informants.
The four great houses had been in close contact recently, mostly meeting under the pretext of discussing marriage alliances.
Lord Rickard Stark's eldest son, the wild boy known as Brandon "The Wild Wolf," had led men across the Neck to visit his fiancée at Riverrun.
During the visit, Brandon challenged Tywin's eldest son, Jaime, and was unhorsed by him.
"A brute with nothing but brawn."
Tywin looked down on him, thinking even his brawn was mediocre.
On the other hand, Rhaegar was in Braavos, borrowing a huge sum from the Iron Bank.
"An heir suddenly raising a massive amount of money... if not recruiting soldiers, then he's indulging in depravity."
Tywin calculated silently.
Rhaegar obviously wasn't indulging in depravity.
If no one stopped them, the two sides might join forces to oppose his old friend Aerys.
"The Iron Throne doesn't need a perfect king."
Tywin decided to interfere.
Come to think of it, Jaime had been in the Riverlands for over a month and wrote that he got along excellently with Brynden "The Blackfish" Tully, receiving personal instruction from him.
"It seems Hoster Tully isn't senile yet."
Tywin was satisfied with this.
If Jaime married Duke Hoster's second daughter, House Lannister would be counted as joining the four-house alliance.
They could even pull the wavering House Tully to form a new faction within the alliance.
As for his daughter Cersei...
Tywin's expression tightened. "That boy is probably still contemplating that despicable Targaryen tradition."
For Daeron.
He and his sister Shaena were close in age and had a harmonious relationship.
Now he had hatched three dragons.
Even if he gave one to Aerys, there were still two left, enough for the siblings to ride.
Aegon the Conqueror and Jaehaerys the Conciliator, the two sages of the early Targaryen dynasty, both followed the family tradition, accompanied by their sisters and riding dragons together.
"It won't be that easy."
Tywin's eyes were deep as he tapped his fingers slowly on the desk.
---
However,
Tywin had thought of the benefits the dragons brought to Daeron, but he still underestimated just how great those benefits were.
Daeron walked out of the Tower of the Hand and learned that Toothless had injured his father.
Without any hesitation.
He immediately sought out Barristan, who had been guarding the dragon the entire time.
He took Toothless, who was unharmed and even looking a bit eager for more, from Barristan's hands.
Skree-ga!
Toothless fluttered in the cage, occasionally opening his retractable-toothed mouth to puff out wisps of black smoke laced with green sparks.
"Little ancestor, as long as you're okay."
Daeron threw his old father to the back of his mind, prioritizing filial piety to his dragon.
Having calmed the hatchling.
Just as he was about to ask about his father's injury, he saw Lord Chelsted and Lord Lucerys Velaryon, two members of the Small Council, rushing over together.