**Chapter 116: Underlying Currents**  

The night deepened, and soon, midnight arrived. 

The ball continued, with the nobles reveling in their social engagements. 

Rhaegar rested his head on one hand, feeling somewhat drowsy. 

*Tap, tap...* 

Footsteps approached. At some point, Daemon had arrived. 

Rhaegar looked at him in confusion. 

Daemon stood with his hands behind his back and smiled. "Dear nephew, your uncle has yet to congratulate you on becoming the crown prince." 

Rhaegar asked, puzzled, "Why do you dare to come here?" 

"I come and go as I please. Do I need a reason?" Daemon said casually. 

"As you wish. If you and your dark sister can attend, I suppose I should be pleased," Rhaegar said, glancing at the sword in his hand. 

Daemon smirked mischievously. "Look at your size. Can you even wield that properly?" 

Rhaegar gazed at him calmly, momentarily unsure of what to say. 

Could a person really be this arrogant? 

After a brief thought, Rhaegar raised his cup and said, "Uncle, I admire your courage and the help you once gave my father. I toast to you." 

In his eyes, Daemon was already like a fish on the chopping block. 

There was no need for harsh words. 

Daemon glanced at the juice in the cup and shook his head. "A child is still a child. I only drink fine wine." 

Rhaegar smiled. "I am the crown prince. If I offer you a toast, you must drink." 

"And what if I refuse?" Daemon sneered. 

"Then we shall see." 

With that, Rhaegar overturned his cup, letting the juice spill onto the floor. 

Under Daemon's confused gaze, he slammed the cup down onto the table. 

*Bang!* 

The sound echoed as a flash of silver streaked through the air. Ser Erryk had drawn his sword and placed it against Daemon's neck. 

Daemon glanced at Erryk with disdain. "Do you intend to kill me?" 

"If necessary, I will," Erryk replied. 

Rhaegar poured another cup of juice and handed it to Daemon. "Drink it, uncle." 

Daemon lifted the cup, then overturned it once more, letting the juice spill again. He scoffed, "Ignorant little boy. Do you really think I would submit to you?" 

*Bang!* 

The cup slammed onto the table once more. Rhaegar's expression turned cold. 

*Swish!* *Swish!* 

Two more blades were drawn—one pressed against Daemon's throat, the other against his lower back. 

Daemon turned his head. At some point, Ser Criston and Ser Harrold had arrived, their expressions emotionless as they stared at him. 

Both knights knew the extent of Daemon's crimes. There was no way they would allow a criminal to approach the prince freely. 

"Uncle, I toast to you only because of the support you once gave my father." 

Rhaegar raised his cup once more and tilted his head slightly. "I know what you're thinking. My father is a soft-hearted man—no matter how much he claims to hate you, when the moment comes, he won't have the resolve to strike you down." 

"But I am not him. I will personally judge you, ensuring you don't even have the chance to don the black and head for the Wall." 

He knew his father too well. No matter how much hatred he voiced, when the time came to swing the blade, he would hesitate. 

Daemon's expression shifted slightly. "You intend to send me to the Wall? To become a Night's Watchman?" 

Rhaegar replied, "Drink this. If you survive the night, you may keep your life." 

He was offering his uncle one last chance. 

To carry the burden of kin-slaying was no small thing. He did not wish for his father to lose a blood relative. 

The Night's Watch was a fitting punishment. 

"I thought you would hate me to the core." 

"Go to the Wall. Atone for your sins." 

"..." 

A brief silence followed before Daemon suddenly grinned. 

He admired his nephew's magnanimity—he was still willing to grant him a path to survival. 

Daemon accepted the cup, bringing it close to his lips and inhaling the fruity aroma. 

Meanwhile, Viserys silently picked at his food, his gaze flickering between the two men. 

*Splash…* 

Daemon merely took a small sip before pouring the juice onto the floor. He sighed. "What a pity—I just can't get used to this stuff." 

*Bang!* 

A cup suddenly struck Daemon's forehead, causing him to stagger backward. 

Viserys trembled with fury, gritting his teeth. "Get lost! Enjoy what remains of your miserable life, you heartless beast!" 

"Heh. Think what you will." 

Daemon clutched his bleeding forehead, shoved past Criston, and disappeared into the crowd of dancing nobles.

He had already seen his nephew's temperament; tonight was not wasted. 

Daemon was a man who attracted attention, and this scene caught the eyes of many keen observers. 

At the table of the Vale faction, Rhea gripped her knife and fork tightly, exclaiming with resentment, "He brought this upon himself. No one else is to blame." 

"Daemon has always been known for doing whatever he pleases," Jeyne said softly, trying to calm her. Her gaze fell on Rhaegar, and with interest, she remarked, "The new heir to the throne seems to be a bit smarter than Rhaenyra." 

"As the son of Queen Aemma Arryn, he is naturally your ally and the ally of the Vale," Yobert analyzed. 

"You are correct, but I find the person himself more intriguing," Jeyne said, gently touching her cheek as a smile curved her lips. 

Yobert was taken aback by her words, hesitating before saying, "The prince is only six years old, and according to Targaryen tradition, he has two sisters to choose from." 

"Who knows?" 

Jeyne smiled faintly. 

At the head table, Viserys's breathing was heavy, his face flushed with anger. 

He couldn't understand it—his eldest son was willing to give Daemon a chance to live, so why reject it? 

Did Daemon truly want his own brother to personally sever his head? 

"You scoundrel! I'll grant you your wish," Viserys muttered, struggling to suppress his fury. 

Rhaegar gestured for Cole and Harrold to step back and guard the doors. 

Upon closer inspection, his hands were trembling slightly, and his chest beneath his regal robes rose and fell unevenly. 

Looking at his shaking hand, Rhaegar unconsciously smiled. 

This wasn't caused by fear or anger. 

He felt it—a deep, bone-chilling excitement and exhilaration. 

"Uncle, an eye for an eye." 

---

**Elsewhere, in the Dragonpit.** 

The roars of dragons echoed in waves throughout the circular structure. 

Several massive dragons coexisted in the Dragonpit at this moment. 

Vhagar, Meleys, Seasmoke, Syrax... 

The three dragons of House Velaryon and Daemon's Bloodwyrm were all present. 

A heavy iron chain was fastened around Bloodwyrm's neck, and it stretched its neck to roar, its furious eyes scanning the dark lairs. 

A sharp screech came from nearby—a pitch-black dragon climbed along the walls of the Dragonpit, wandering around excitedly. 

It had sensed the emotions of its rider. 

Those chained fellow dragons were all its enemies. 

---

**In the banquet hall.** 

Rhaegar picked up the heavy, dark Dark Sister sword, smiling as he bid farewell to his father. "I'm heading down to rest now, Father." 

"Go ahead. The banquet will continue for a while longer," Viserys replied gently, not giving it much thought. 

Rhaegar nodded. Before leaving, he stopped Erryk from following him and gestured for him to crouch down. Leaning in, he whispered something in Erryk's ear. 

Erryk frowned, his brows tightly knitted, but he nodded reluctantly. 

"Bye~," Rhaegar said as he waved and left the hall. 

The banquet continued. 

Some nobles, including the Tullys and Tyrells, expressed regret upon noticing the prince's departure. 

They had wanted to show their loyalty to the prince and offer their blessings. 

Daemon, meanwhile, drifted through the crowd, facing repeated rejections when seeking dance partners, wandering aimlessly. 

"Out of dance partners?" 

A soft voice came from behind, lighthearted and amused. Lenore walked toward him with a gentle smile. 

(End of chapter)