"Have you placed your bets, Prince Viserys?" Littlefinger's high-pitched voice distracted him.
They were back in the stands.
The field used for the joust the day before would be used for the duel of honor between the two princes for the princess's hand.
"I won't bet against my brother or my nephew," Viserys said. He had a certain moral code about that.
"Oh, I'm sure your whole family doesn't feel the same way," the man said.
"Did someone place a bet?" he asked curiously.
"Princess Daenerys bet," Littelfinger said.
Viserys started feeling bad when he heard that.
In the distance, he looked at his sister. She was sitting next to their mother. He wanted to go over and sit next to her. But he had to stay close to his "rose" for appearances' sake. The girl did not arouse any desire in him. Unlike his sister, whom he had watched grow up since she was a little girl.
He still remembered when they were young and he read her stories about her family, about their pride. He told her about dragons. He had always thought they would get married.
Then she started spending time with Daemon. They were close in age, which caused them to form a stronger bond. Over the years, that bond turned them into lovers.
Viserys's hands dug into the arms of the chair.
He could feel the king slowly putting obstacles in his way. Someone was trying to pit him against his brother. The circumstances were in their favor.
Viserys had no idea who ordered his brother's murder. Supposedly, it was Gerold, and everyone believed he was behind it. Viserys regretted ever befriending Gerold. Now, everyone believed Gerold to be a bloodthirsty killer, although they didn't dare say so for lack of proof.
He felt a burning hatred when Daenerys's hand was promised to Jaehaerys while he had to settle for the farmers'.
But he would never kill his brother. It hurt him deeply that his entire family believed that lie. Little by little, he felt more and more isolated. The oppression in King's Landing seemed like a noose tightening around his neck. He still didn't know who was tying the knot.
"Betting on Daemon will only cause her trouble if Jaehaerys wins," he said. Deep down, he knew Jaehaerys would win. And that terrified him. He believed that Daenerys could come to love him in a way that she never loved Daemon. He could see her affection for her nephew, but it was usually devoid of desire or passion—just youthful infatuation.
But with Jaehaerys... he remembered the dance they had shared. Despite her reluctance, his sister's eyes didn't lie.
"She's not betting on Daemon," Littlefinger said, leaning closer as if about to reveal a great secret. Viserys leaned toward him. "She bet on Jaehaerys. Five thousand gold dragons."
"What?" It was an absurd amount. Normally, they wouldn't have let that bet into the betting house, which was run by Littlefinger.
"She bet against Myrcella Lannister. Apparently, they had a heated argument yesterday," the man said.
Viserys swallowed. His sister was already starting to fall in love with Jaehaerys. How long did it take? Three or four days. Viserys achieved nothing in years.
He always felt inadequate. He was a Targaryen, well educated; he knew how to wield a sword. He was handsome and tall.
But he didn't excel at anything. He wasn't the best warrior—that was Daemon. He wasn't the most learned, either; that was Jaehaerys. He wasn't the most charismatic, either; Aegon, even with his stoic face, was able to win over the lords. He wasn't the most handsome, not even close. The maidens used to whisper about Aegon and Daemon, although lately, they had added Jaehaerys to the list.
Viserys was not usually part of those discussions. He knew he was handsome compared to the low-born lords without dragon blood. But within his family, he was average.
Too average. This embittered him, leading him to turn to whores and alcohol. He cursed his birth. He deserved better.
"Ah, it looks like it's about to begin," said Baelish.
-----
Jaehaerys looked at the stands. Hundreds of lords stared at them like animals on display. The king and the entire royal family were present. Their expressions ranged from neutral to encouraging.
He noticed the smile on his mother's face. He also noticed how Daenerys's brow was furrowed with concern. Last night, after the banquet, they had shared an intimate moment in her chambers. They didn't sleep together; they didn't even kiss. She simply asked him about a book she had read. He took his time explaining it to her and found her to be a dedicated student.
He looked at his opponent.
Daemon wore black armor. A dragon was carved on the front, and a wolf was carved on the shoulder pads. His helmet was simple yet imposing. It was a magnificent piece. The prince held a steel shield with a white dragon carved on it. This was very different than him: Jaehaerys wore leather armor. He had chosen agility over defense.
He had his reasons.
Daemon held a one-and-a-half-handed sword. A dragon was carved into the pommel, its wings forming the guard. Its black blade was shiny with characteristic waves.
Rhaegar had retrieved DarkSister from the wall where Aemon had kept it after Blood Raven took it with him to the Night's Watch.
Maester Aemon sent it saying that Daemon had proven himself more than capable of wielding it. The old maester wanted to give it to Jaehaerys, but the latter showed no signs of being a warrior.
He wondered if Rhaegar would get the sword back before banishing his son to the North.
"An iron stick?" asked the rogue prince with a smile. "And you won't wear armor? I can wait for you to tie some books to your body for protection," he said sarcastically.
"Daenerys doesn't like steel. She said I'm more handsome without wearing a helmet," he said, trying to provoke him.
And it worked. The mocking smile on his face turned sour.
"It's good that you enjoyed her. I know firsthand how tight she is," he replied vulgarly. There seemed to be a hint of contempt in his voice when he spoke of her.
She had told him that she was a virgin. He hadn't doubted her.
"I know you're lying. The blood on the sheets is proof enough." Looking at Daemon's angry face told him that Daenerys wasn't lying about her purity. He would apologize to her later. It wasn't polite to talk about a woman that way. Fortunately, there was no one around who could hear them.
"Can we begin?" Daemon couldn't stand it any longer. His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword.
"Today, under the watchful gaze of the gods, we gather to witness the battle of wills between two men. A duel for the hand of Princess Daenerys, whose beauty surpasses all the gold in Westeros," said King Rhaegar.
"A man's honor is as strong as the weapon he wields. My brother and my son have brought this dispute to me, and they have decided that the winner of the duel will be worthy of my sister's hand. Let it be known that their fight is not for possession, but to prove themselves worthy husbands to Princess Daenerys. The loser's fate will be exile to Essos."
Jaehaerys turned to look at him.
"Daemon's exile will be to the North, as agreed," he interrupted. He would regret it later.
May the gods curse him for contradicting the king in front of everyone. But he would not cause his mother's worried face.
"It is true. Prince Jaehaerys's exile will be in Essos, while Daemon's will be in the North, alongside the Starks." He gave his wife, Lyanna, a kind look. She was pale but forced a smile.
Princess Visenya stood beside her, casting angry glances at Jaehaerys.
The king's gaze returned to Jaehaerys, showing nothing. But he could see the sparks of anger in his purple eyes.
"With the gods as witnesses, Begin!" he ordered, taking his seat.