"..."
As the words fell, the surrounding space seemed to freeze.
Ser Regar looked at his father in astonishment, never expecting him to say it so openly.
Turning his head slightly, he met another pair of deep, cold eyes.
Daemon remained expressionless, but a flicker of surprise and doubt flashed in his gaze.
No one knew his brother better than he did.
A kind-hearted man.
One who avoided conflict, stayed away from dragons, and naively believed he could win everyone over with a smile.
Daemon was not the type to hide his emotions. Pressing his lips together to suppress a chuckle, he said, "I never thought I'd hear you admit to longing for a dragon, brother."
"That's not the point, Daemon."
Viserys shook his head and revealed his true thoughts. "Our family is growing stronger, and every child will have a dragon. There needs to be a leader to manage them all."
His words were sincere, and his eyes reflected concern as he met Daemon's gaze.
He was no fool. His usual indifference was merely an act.
But at crucial moments, he knew when to assert his ambitions.
The Sea Snake of Driftmark had been biding his time for years, and the foundation of House Velaryon remained formidable.
With Daemon and the Sea Snake joining forces, they controlled four dragons: Vhagar, Caraxes, Meleys, and Seasmoke.
Once the twin boys grew up and Laena's unborn child was born, three more dragonriders would emerge.
And that was without even mentioning his younger brother or the Velaryon family.
Among Viserys' many children, Rhaegar and Rhaenyra were a pair, ruling over Dragonstone and Harrenhal, commanding two dragons: Gluttonous and Syrax.
Their forces also included Vermithor, Silverwing, Sheepstealer, Grey Ghost, and Blizzard.
At first glance, their strength seemed unmatched.
But Viserys knew this was only temporary.
He and Alicent had three sons and a daughter. Three of them already rode dragons, and one was about to claim one.
For now, the four children remained obedient to their older half-brother Rhaegar, maintaining a fragile peace.
But in three years, five years… ten years?
In less than a decade, those four children would be grown, becoming true dragonriders.
By then, how could Rhaegar and Rhaenyra, with only two dragons, keep four dragonriders under control?
The longer he delayed, the worse things would become.
It could very well escalate into a three-way struggle between his eldest son Rhaegar, his second son Aegon, and his brother Daemon.
Viserys was perceptive, and he had already imagined these possible outcomes.
That was why, while his body was still relatively strong, he wanted to tame another powerful dragon—one that could reinforce his authority.
With such a dragon, he could exert pressure using all his existing status.
He would do everything in his power to help his eldest son, Rhaegar, command his siblings and unite the family.
Seeing the determination in his brother's eyes, Daemon narrowed his gaze in thought.
He realized that his brother had seen through his own ambitions.
Taking a deep breath, Daemon smirked, his usual carefree demeanor returning. "I agree. A king should have a dragon."
With Daemon's support, others had to take a stance as well.
"I agree too. Father isn't doing this just for himself—he's thinking about the family."
Rhaegar, understanding his father's favoritism, raised his right hand in full support.
It was, after all, his idea for his father to tame another dragon in the first place, initially meant to help ease his father's pain with the dragon's warmth.
But his father was right—if he had a dragon, he could better keep Daemon, Aegon, and the others in check.
His own path to the throne would be much smoother.
With two votes in favor, Viserys could barely contain his smile as he eagerly looked toward the three remaining council members.
Ser Lyonel frowned, his thick brows knitting together.
Otto Hightower remained keen-eyed, carefully observing everyone's expressions.
Grand Maester Mellos kept his hands hidden in his sleeves, his old face grim, radiating disapproval.
"So? What are your thoughts?"
Seeing the three remain silent for too long, Viserys grew uneasy.
Eventually, Lyonel spoke first. "Your Grace, you are the King of the Seven Kingdoms. We have just been harassed by a wild dragon—you should understand the dangers involved."
Grand Maester Mellos followed immediately, his voice stern. "Your Grace, your body is already covered in wounds. Riding a dragon will only further weaken you."
Otto Hightower was the last to speak, deliberating before saying, "I agree with my fellow councilors. Taming a dragon is no small matter."
Regardless of what the other two councilors thought, Otto had his own motives.
He did not want the King to tame a dragon, as it could give Viserys the power to interfere with the future of his grandchildren.
But he would not state this outright—that would only deepen the King's suspicions about his personal ambitions.
Faced with opposition from all three of his closest advisors, Viserys' temper flared. He barely suppressed his anger. "I am the King! I once tamed Balerion!"
Grand Maester Mellos, his expression unchanging, replied calmly, "That black dragon was already old and dying. You only rode it once."
"..."
Thus, a heated debate over whether Viserys should tame another dragon erupted.
Viserys argued passionately, determined to fulfill his vision of soaring through the skies once more.
Rhaegar, naturally, supported his father, believing it would strengthen the family and offered his own arguments in favor.
Daemon occasionally chimed in, observing the debate with his usual nonchalant attitude.
Meanwhile, Lyonel, Otto, and Mellos strongly opposed the idea, throwing out one counterargument after another.
Grand Maester Mellos, in particular, was the most adamant, his words sharp and uncompromising.
He cited both the dangers of dragons and the King's declining health as reasons to reject the proposal.
Half an hour passed…
" *Cough, cough…* "
Viserys, his face red from arguing, suddenly choked on his own spit and erupted into a violent cough.
Even then, Mellos continued to admonish him. "You know your own physical condition, Your Grace. Recklessly taming a dragon will only bring harm to yourself."
Furious at these words, Viserys struggled to stop coughing. His hands trembled as he pointed at Mellos.
He simply could not understand it.
He had laid out the pros and cons of taming a dragon clearly—so why were they still so determined to oppose him?
Leonor and Otto backed down, unwilling to further provoke the king.
However, Melros did not understand the wisdom of knowing when to stop and pressed on aggressively: "Dragon taming is for children. You are already over forty..."
"Shut up!!"
Rhaegar's expression changed instantly, his eyes darkening with a stormy intensity. He cut off the audacious remark with a sharp command.
Dragon taming was a personal choice. His father had consulted with them out of courtesy, not because he was obligated to follow their advice.
If this argument continued, it would only further weaken his father's health.
Melros was momentarily stunned but remained proud. "Prince, I am the Grand Maester, the most knowledgeable and wise advisor."
"If you were truly that wise, you would have already healed my father's wounds," Rhaegar said coldly.
"Prince—"
Melros was at a loss for words, his face turning red with embarrassment.
Rhaegar's gaze was icy and relentless. "Well? Where is your wisdom?"
"It's not my fault; it's the king's—" Melros faltered, clearly lacking confidence and trying to shift the blame.
"Heh, I suggest you shut your mouth," Daemon said with an amused look, eyeing him like a predator stalking its prey.
"Uncle!"
Rhaegar supported his father, who was hunched over in a coughing fit, and shot a glance at his overly talkative uncle.
The exchange seemed to embolden Melros.
Ignoring Otto's warning look, Melros abandoned all pretense and retorted angrily, "The king has a unique constitution; it's not that I didn't—"
Before he could finish, Rhaegar moved.
**Swish—**
A flash of black steel cut through the air as the family sword, **Blackfyre**, was drawn from its scabbard.
Melros hadn't even realized what had happened when the sword's dark blade traced a perfect arc—passing just inches from his ear.
**Plop!**
A severed ear, dripping with blood, fell to the ground.
A brief silence.
"Ahh! My ear!"
Agonizing pain shot through Melros' body, and he let out a gut-wrenching scream. Losing all composure, he clutched at his wound and writhed on the floor.
Even so, the pain was unbearable. He slammed his head against the floor, cold sweat soaking through his maester's robes in an instant.
Daemon watched with great interest. He nudged the severed ear with his boot and sneered, "Told you to shut up."
The ear landed right in front of Melros, still twitching slightly, like a fish tossed into boiling water.
Melros' eyes widened in horror. He could not believe what had just happened. He stared at his attacker, trembling with rage and disbelief.
But Rhaegar remained indifferent, pressing the tip of **Blackfyre** to the ground, his tone steady and composed. "Do not blame your incompetence on the sick. You never truly did your best."
He had long suspected Melros of ulterior motives but lacked concrete evidence.
When his father proposed dragon taming, Leonor deflected with matters of state, while Otto chose to remain neutral.
Only Melros clung to the argument about his father's health, acting as if taming a dragon was some kind of unforgivable sin.
Everything had happened so quickly that no one knew how to react.
Leonor, seeing Melros' gruesome state, was deeply shaken. Outraged, he protested, "Prince, he is a member of the King's Council! How can you treat him so arbitrarily?!"
Rhaegar cast him a cold glance, then turned to his father, who had finally stopped coughing.
Viserys gasped for breath, his grip tightening on his eldest son's arm.
He had not expected Rhaegar to act so decisively.
"Your Majesty, Melros is both Grand Maester and a royal advisor. He should not be treated this way!" Leonor exclaimed indignantly.
As Hand of the King, he could not allow the crown prince to become a ruthless tyrant.
"Lord Leonor, not everything is as it seems," Rhaegar interjected, his voice calm but firm.
"Melros has ulterior motives. I am certain he has neglected his duty to properly treat my father."
Leonor faltered, his expression shifting to one of doubt.
Rhaegar slowly lifted **Blackfyre**, its tip pointing at the still-writhing Melros. His voice was unwavering:
"In the records of his service, the number of prescriptions he has provided for my father can be counted on one hand. Not a single one was effective in treating wounds—just a series of useless concoctions."
"That is not sufficient evidence," Otto said, his gaze deep and unreadable.
Rhaegar's tone was ice-cold. "Lord Jasper has never needed absolute proof to pass judgment. Melros is useless—he has done nothing but waste my father's time and strength."
Once the thread of suspicion had been pulled, Melros was beyond redemption.
"Rhaegar, what do you intend to do?"
Sensing the gravity of the situation, Viserys forced a weak smile despite his discomfort.
"Father, place the Grand Maester under house arrest and appoint a new maester in his place," Rhaegar proposed without hesitation.
His father's health was at stake. Melros could not be allowed to remain.
Viserys glanced at Leonor and Otto before nodding. "Very well, let's do that for now."
With that, he pulled away from his son's support and turned toward the staircase.
As he passed the fallen Melros, he did not spare him a single glance.
Ever since his son had suggested replacing the maester during the royal hunt, Viserys had developed an uneasy feeling about Melros.
And after tonight's argument, even his normally mild temper had worn thin.
His son had cut off Melros' ear—better that than Viserys acting on his own impulse to cut out the man's tongue.
Viserys left, with Daemon following close behind.
Now, only Rhaegar and the three remaining council members remained in the hall.
"Lord Leonor, I hope you don't take this personally," Rhaegar said, attempting to ease the tension.
Then, after a moment of thought, he continued, "Melros will be confined. In the meantime, Maester Orwyle will take over my father's treatment."
"Orwyle?"
Leonor did not press the matter further. He had some impression of Orwyle—an honest and diligent assistant maester.
Rhaegar nodded. "Orwyle comes from a noble family and understands the difference between right and wrong. We will observe his performance for now."
By "right and wrong," he meant resisting the indoctrination of the Citadel.
The maesters' doctrine of absolute authority was flawed.
"I need to check on my father. I'll leave Melros in your hands," Rhaegar said indifferently.
As he spoke, he approached the fallen Melros, wiping the blood from **Blackfyre** onto the maester's robes.
**Blackfyre symbolized royal authority.**
**It could be stained with blood—but it could never be defiled.**
**(End of Chapter)**