Damn it, this is endless!"
Viserys Targaryen couldn't help but curse under his breath.
But this time, Viserys Targaryen was well-practiced.
The next moment, without a flush in his face or a gasp for breath, he waved his hand and once again firmly covered them with the quilt.
Viserys Targaryen's movements were so practiced they were almost horrifying to himself.
Was this what 'hiding beauties in a golden abode' meant?
At this moment, he could even clearly feel Little Rose's utterly bewildered expression.
Almost the exact moment he smoothed out the wrinkles in the bedding, the door was softly pushed open again.
"Viserys?"
The newcomer tiptoed across the cold floor, calling out softly.
"Rhaenys Targaryen?"
Viserys Targaryen froze.
This little princess, with the blood of the true dragon flowing through her veins, now walked in like a thieving kitten, her fair feet bare.
"Uncle..."
Rhaenys Targaryen whispered, "Are you asleep? Will you tell me a story?"
Her small hand gently pushed open Viserys Targaryen's door, a sly yet expectant smile on her face, "Uncle Viserys loves me the most, he'll definitely tell one."
The room was dark, with only the dying embers in the fireplace casting an orange, warm glow.
The person on the bed did not respond.
She could vaguely see the raised outline on the bed.
Rhaenys Targaryen pouted, a hint of dissatisfaction and a desire to be pampered welling up.
She decided to use her trump card—to simply stay in the room, so her uncle wouldn't be able to make her leave.
Imagining Viserys Targaryen, as usual, helplessly and dotingly ruffling her hair and beginning to tell the legend of Balerion the Black Dread, her lips couldn't help but curve upwards.
She held her breath, with mischievous excitement, her small hand suddenly grabbed the edge of the bed and forcefully pulled up!
"Got you! Now tell me..."
Rhaenys Targaryen's bell-like voice abruptly stopped.
The smile on her face, a mix of petulance, triumph, and expectation, froze instantly, like water swept by a cold wind.
Her purple eyes, belonging to the Targaryen Family, narrowed abruptly the moment they adjusted to the dim light, as if she had seen the most terrifying monster in the depths of a beautiful dream.
The next moment, a delicate face, filled with alarm, lifted, her emerald eyes wide with sudden light and disturbance, like a startled fawn.
It was Myrcella Baratheon.
Time seemed to freeze at this moment.
Rhaenys Targaryen's small body stiffened in place, maintaining the posture of having pulled back the covers, unmoving.
Her smile was frozen on her face, her eyebrows slightly furrowed, as if her brain couldn't process the absurd scene before her.
"You..."
A broken syllable finally squeezed out of her throat with difficulty.
The next moment, her nose stung, and then she covered her eyes and whimpered, "All that talk about being too young to marry, it's all lies!"
She suddenly let go, dropping the heavy quilt, as if covering up a naive world she had believed in.
However, before she could recover, a snow-white arm extended directly from the other side of the quilt—it was Little Rose!
"It's little sister Rhaenys!"
Margaery Tyrell proactively poked her head out.
With her brown hair and brown eyes, she looked very much like a caring older sister at this moment.
"Sister Margaery!"
Rhaenys Targaryen stumbled back a step, her pupils constricted.
How could this be?
Such a well-mannered, kind, and understanding older sister was also here.
She was so shocked that her breathing became rapid, as if she had suffered another huge blow.
"Waaah—"
Rhaenys Targaryen could no longer accept this reality.
She covered her face and turned to leave.
"Your Majesty, I don't think you'd want Rhaenys to spread this around, would you?"
Little Rose looked at Viserys Targaryen with a playful smile.
The next moment, Margaery Tyrell confidently got up, picked up her long dress, and quickly chased after her.
Surprisingly, after a short while, Rhaenys Targaryen was persuaded by Little Rose and walked back on her own.
"Hmph, you big oaf, I'll forgive you one last time!"
Rhaenys Targaryen pouted, warning, "But the Queen of Targaryen must be me!"
Seeing Little Rose's effortless manner, Viserys Targaryen was utterly convinced!
She truly lived up to her reputation as the woman who could easily manipulate three kings; with just this, his troublesome problem was so easily resolved... In the Great Hall of The Red Keep, before the iron throne, countless nobles from the Seven Kingdoms stood on either side, eagerly awaiting.
Viserys Targaryen sat solemnly on the iron throne, forged from a thousand swords.
Below him was Myrcella Baratheon's family of five, with whom he had spent a night.
"Cersei Lannister, do you know your crime?"
Viserys Targaryen asked gravely.
Upon hearing this, Cersei Lannister nervously looked up, as if scrutinizing everyone present.
However, among the full hall of nobles below, there was ultimately no one who would ride in on a colorful cloud to save her!
"What does Your Majesty wish to hear?"
Cersei Lannister lifted her head proudly, a mocking curve on her lips, "Do you wish to hear me recount how a maiden's name was misspoken by her drunken husband on her wedding night? Or do you wish to hear how a queen faced the cold Red Keep alone on countless nights?"
Cersei Lannister's words were cold, her gaze fixed on Robert Baratheon as she said, "What exactly sustains our hypocritical kingdom, Robert?"
"Perhaps it's our incompetent marriage!"
Upon hearing this, Robert Baratheon said with a bitter smile.
In this life, what he regretted most were his three innocent children.
Half a year of imprisonment had long stripped him of his former heroic appearance, but he still stood like a small mountain in the judgment seat, as if he were the invincible king who conquered all.
"No!"
Cersei Lannister suddenly chuckled, "Not your marriage, but mine!"
Gasps of surprise suddenly rose and fell in the hall; no one had expected Cersei Lannister to utter such words.
Time seemed to freeze at that moment.
Cersei Lannister proudly surveyed her surroundings, looking at the faces that had once bowed to her, those nobles who only dared to mock Lannister from behind the scenes.
She suddenly laughed.
"No."
Queen Cersei's voice once again clearly echoed throughout the hall, "They are not your children, Robert. Joffrey, Tommen, Myrcella, not one of them has black hair!"
Cersei Lannister stared at Robert Baratheon, who was tightly bound by shackles, and loudly rebuked, "The descendants of House Baratheon are known for their strong lineage and always have black hair, didn't you know?"
Facing Queen Cersei's sharp questioning, Robert Baratheon's pupils suddenly constricted.