Chapter 116: Undercurrents

As midnight approached, the ball showed no signs of winding down, with nobles still enjoying the social festivities.

Rhaegar, feeling the weight of the long night, rested his head on his hand, battling fatigue.

Footsteps echoed, and suddenly Daemon appeared, catching Rhaegar's suspicious gaze.

With hands raised in mock surrender, Daemon chuckled, "Great nephew, I haven't yet offered my congratulations on your ascension to heir."

Rhaegar's brow furrowed. "Why are you here?"

"I felt like it. Do I need more reason?" Daemon replied nonchalantly.

"As you wish, you and your Dark Sisters are welcome," Rhaegar remarked, casting a glance at the precious sword.

Daemon playfully asked, "Can you even lift it with your height?"

Rhaegar remained calm, unsure how to respond to such audacity.

Could anyone be so bold?

After a moment's thought, Rhaegar raised his glass. "Uncle, I appreciate your boldness and the help you've given my father. Here, to you."

In his mind, Daemon was already a trapped animal.

No need for harsh words.

Daemon eyed the juice in the glass and shook his head. "Children's drinks. I prefer fine wine."

Rhaegar smiled. "As heir, when I extend a courtesy, you must oblige."

"What if I decline?" Daemon smirked.

"Let's find out then."

Rhaegar replied by tipping his glass, which spilled the juice onto the floor. Daemon looked perplexed, so Rhaegar brought the glass down firmly onto the table.

There was a thump as Erryk drew his longsword and held it to Daemon's neck.

Daemon looked Erryk in the eye and gave him a disdainful look. "Are you planning to kill me?"

"I will if necessary," Erryk stated firmly.

Rhaegar poured another glass of juice and offered it to Daemon. "Here, Uncle. Have a drink."

Daemon lifted his hand, overturning the glass once more, the juice spilling out. "You1re a naive little prince. Do you think I'll yield to you?"

Bang--

The cup crashed onto the tabletop once more, and Rhaegar's countenance turned icy.

Swish swish...

Two more blades emerged from their scabbards, one poised at Daemon's neck and the other at his lower back.

Daemon glanced back, finding Cole and Harrold, who had silently approached, their expressions unreadable.

Both were Kingsguard, privy to Daemon's transgressions. How could they allow a sinner to approach the prince with such impunity?

"Uncle, I'm raising my glass to you because you've been so supportive of my father," Rhaegar said, raising his glass again and tilting his head.

"I understand your thoughts. My father was merciful, but I am not. I will be the judge, ensuring you never don the Black Cloak and journey to the Wall."

Rhaegar knew his father's tendencies well, even amidst all the animosity. When push came to shove, Viserys would inevitably hesitate.

Daemon's expression shifted slightly. "You plan to send me to the Wall as a brother of the Night's Watch?"

Rhaegar replied, "Drink this, and you may live past tonight."

He gave his uncle another chance. Kinslaying was a pretty serious accusation, and he was reluctant to see his father lose a blood relative.

"I never thought that you'd despise me so much."

"Go to the Wall and try to make amends."

There was a brief silence, broken by Daemon's grin.

He was impressed by his nephew's generosity, even in trying to spare his life.

Daemon accepted the glass, sniffing the fragrant juice before bringing it close to his lips.

Viserys silently applauded the move, his eyes darting between the two.

Daemon took a tentative sip before spilling the juice onto the ground with a sigh. "Unfortunately, this isn't to my liking."

Bang--

A wine glass struck Daemon's forehead, causing him to stagger.

Viserys trembled with anger, his teeth grinding, "Get lost and savor the end of your miserable life, you heartless beast!"

"Fine, have it your way," Daemon retorted, covering his bleeding forehead as he pushed past the blocking Cole and merged into the dancing throng.

Observing his nephew's temperament, Daemon felt the night had not been in vain.

As a prominent figure in the family, his actions caught the attention of many well-meaning individuals.

At the Velaryon lineage table, Rhaenys gripped her cutlery tightly, her tone laced with venom, "You court your own demise, so don't blame others for it."

"Daemon is his own man," Jeyne reassured softly, her eyes flickering with amusement as she glanced at Rhaegar. "The heir seems to be a bit more astute than Rhaenyra."

"He's the son of the late Queen Aemma Arryn and is a natural ally for you and the Vale," Yorbert analyzed.

"You're right, but I'm more intrigued by his marriage," Jeyne mused, her fingers lightly tracing her chin.

Yorbert hesitated, "The prince is only six years old, and according to Targaryen family tradition, he has a pair of sisters to choose from."

"Who knows," Jeyne chuckled.

At the head table, Viserys was breathing heavily and looked flushed with anger.

He couldn't understand why his eldest son had denied Daemon a chance at life when he himself was willing to grant it.

Must he, his own brother, be the one to sever his head?

"I'll grant you your wish, you bastard," Viserys seethed, suppressing his rage.

Rhaegar told Cole and Harrold to stand down and guard the entrance. On closer inspection, he could see that his hands were trembling slightly, and that he was breathing heavily.

But it wasn't fear or anger; it was a rush of excitement.

"Uncle, an eye for an eye," Rhaegar said.

Meanwhile, back in the Dragonpit, the roars of the dragons could be heard echoing around the circular chamber.

There were several massive dragons in there, including Vaghar, Meleys, Sea Smoke, and Syrax.

Bound by iron chains, Daemon's Blood Wyrm let out a roar of rage, its gaze sweeping the dark corners of the crypt.

Far away, a black dragon scaled the Dragonpit's wall, its movements betraying its master's emotions.

In the Banquet Hall, Rhaegar hoisted his heavy Dark Sister, bidding his father farewell with a smile, "I'll be on my way now, Father."

"Go on; the feast will continue for some time," Viserys replied, his response mild.

Rhaegar nodded, halting Erryk from following as he whispered a word in his ear.

Erryk's brows furrowed, and he nodded solemnly.

"Goodbye," Rhaegar bid him farewell before departing.

The festivities carried on, with Tully, Tyrell, and other nobles expressing their regrets upon learning of the prince's departure.

Meanwhile, Daemon, rejected by one partner after another, roamed aimlessly through the crowd.

"No dance partner?" a soft voice called from behind, as Laena approached with a smile.

(Word count: 1,096)