At that moment, cold sweat broke out across Ulf's forehead.
"Prince..." His voice came out shrill, like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on.
"You're joking... right?"
Daemon tilted his head slightly, that bone-chilling smile still lingering at the corners of his mouth.
"What do you think?"
Ulf's mind exploded.
Kill all the other dragonseeds?
Wouldn't that make him the first one to die?
Cold sweat trickled down his temples.
"Of course," Daemon said leisurely.
"There's another way to fulfill that condition."
He crouched down again.
Ulf watched as Daemon's face once more filled his vision.
"Help me kill Hugh," Daemon said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Find a way to eliminate that traitor, and I'll let bygones be bygones."
"You can forget about becoming Prince of Tyrosh, but I'll grant you the position of Governor and noble status."
Ulf's eyes went wide.
His head buzzed as though ten thousand bees had nested inside it.
Kill Hugh?
Him?
Ulf?
A glorified errand runner?
Kill Hugh? The same Hugh who could punch a bull to death?
The same Hugh who'd start hacking down his own men when he flew into a rage?
"What?" Daemon asked. "You don't believe me?"
"No, it's just..."
"You don't believe me?"
Daemon's hand shot out without warning.
His fingers spread and buried themselves in Ulf's hair.
Then they clenched.
Ulf thought his scalp was about to be ripped clean off.
It felt as though every strand of hair was being torn out by the roots. The pain nearly brought tears to his eyes.
His entire head was yanked toward Daemon's face so fast he couldn't even react.
Ulf could see Daemon's violet eyes.
He could see his own pale, twisted face reflected in those pupils.
"I am Daemon."
His voice was low, almost squeezed out from the depths of his throat, yet every word struck like a nail driven into Ulf's mind.
"Remember that..."
"I am Daemon Targaryen."
Daemon's grip tightened even further.
Pain shot through Ulf's scalp.
"Now do you know what you're supposed to do?"
Ulf nodded frantically.
His chin slammed into Daemon's fingers, making him bare his teeth in pain, but he didn't dare care.
"I know..."
"I know, I know..."
Daemon stared into his eyes for three long seconds.
Then he let go.
Ulf collapsed onto the floor like a sack of rotten meat.
His silver hair was a complete mess, and several strands that had been ripped out remained caught between Daemon's fingers like dry grass.
He gasped for air in great heaves. The clothes on his back were soaked through, plastered against his skin.
He struggled to his feet, his knees so weak he nearly collapsed again.
Turning toward Rhaenyra, Ulf pressed a hand to his chest and bowed so deeply it looked as though his waist might snap in half.
"Your Grace... I'll swear my loyalty to the Queen..."
"I swear it..."
Then Ulf turned and left.
The door closed behind him.
The instant it shut, the expression on Daemon's face changed.
He dragged over a chair and sat down.
Addam walked to the stone table, removed his helmet, and set it on the tabletop.
The helmet rolled halfway across the stone before coming to a stop.
Leaning against the edge of the table with his arms crossed, he looked at Daemon.
"Do you really think Hugh would do something that stupid?" Laenor asked.
Daemon grabbed the wine jug from the table and drank straight from the spout. Wine ran down the corner of his mouth.
"No," Daemon said, setting the jug down with a thud.
"Hugh is clever. He'd never do something that would destroy himself..."
"Those dragonseeds are the only people he can rely on."
"Then why offer a condition like that?"
Daemon smiled.
"I wasn't saying it for Hugh's benefit." He gestured toward the door with the wine jug. "I was saying it for his."
"When he goes back today, he'll start wondering whether we've secretly contacted Hugh."
"What do you think those lowborn dragonseeds will think?"
Laenor considered it for a moment.
"They'll start wondering whether Hugh might betray us?"
"Exactly." Daemon took another swig of wine.
"And then they'll begin to suspect him."
"Their alliance isn't held together by trust."
"It's held together by profit."
"And profit is the sort of thing that scatters with the first gust of wind."
"The terms I offered were already generous enough. I said I wouldn't pursue their past betrayal, and I'd reward them even further..."
He set the wine jug down and walked two fingers across the tabletop.
"Trust me."
"Hugh will rot from the inside."
"If those dragonseeds could betray us..."
"They can betray Hugh too."
Laenor fell silent for a while.
"Let's change the subject," he finally said.
"The Greens' combined fleet will be sailing north soon."
"My father has already gone to Driftmark to rebuild the royal fleet. What do we do?"
Daemon frowned.
He rose to his feet, walked over to the stone table, and traced a finger across the map.
"How many ships?"
"More than two hundred."
Daemon let out a low whistle.
"And us?"
"Fewer than eighty," Laenor replied grimly.
"Morale is terrible now."
"The men know what happened to my mother. They know Rhaenys is dead..."
"Eighty against two hundred." Daemon shook his head.
"We can't win that fight."
"What about Garon?"
Daemon glanced at him.
"The Greens will send dragons too."
"They hold the advantage now..."
Laenor's fingers tightened around the edge of the table.
"So we're just supposed to wait?"
"Wait for the Greens' fleet to reach Dragonstone, trap us inside the castle, and burn us alive one by one?"
"We're not waiting," Daemon said. "And we haven't been sitting idle either."
He walked to the opposite side of the stone table and drew a line across the map with his finger, starting from Dragonstone, crossing the Narrow Sea, and ending on the eastern continent.
"Tyrosh."
Rhaenyra looked up.
"What do you mean, Daemon?"
Daemon turned to face her.
"I mean we should retake Tyrosh first."
Rhaenyra narrowed her eyes.
"A fallback?"
"Exactly. A fallback."
Daemon took two steps toward her, closing the distance.
"After the Battle of the Gods Eye, our land forces are no longer a match for the Greens."
"Lord Tully is dead. The Riverlands army has scattered."
"The Stark has disappeared. The Winter Wolves from the North are leaderless."
His finger tapped the map again, this time on Dragonstone.
"If we lose the naval battle..."
"We won't be able to hold Dragonstone."
"We still have dragons," Rhaenyra said.
"Rhaenyra, the Greens have dragons too."
Rhaenyra rose to her feet.
She stood half a head shorter than Daemon, but as she looked up at him, her presence gave nothing away.
"So what you're saying..." she said, her voice low.
"...is that you want me to abandon Dragonstone?"
"Retreat to the eastern continent?"
"Hand my kingdom over to that drunkard Aegon and his mad brother?"
"Let everyone who supported me see that Rhaenyra fled—that Rhaenyra was afraid—that Rhaenyra ran across the Narrow Sea like a beaten dog?"
"You won't lose everything," Daemon replied, as calm as ever.
"You'll survive."
"And so will the children."