131-135

*Chapter 131: Destination—Tidehead Island*

“Elder sister, you don’t need to worry about me.”

Hearing her heartfelt advice, Rhaegar felt a surge of warmth. A deep sense of reassurance filled his heart.

“Ridiculous! You’re my younger brother. If I don’t worry about you, who will? Alicent?”

Rhaenyra’s expression turned stern as she tugged on his ear, scolding fiercely, “I’ve said so much—have you remembered it all?”

“Of course, I won’t forget,” he replied.

Feeling the familiar softness he hadn’t experienced in days, Rhaegar’s mind began to drift into a tranquil haze, and a drowsy warmth overtook him.

Just before he closed his eyes, his lips curved into a faint smile, and he murmured:

“Sister, we are born of fire, unyielding to schemes and deception…”

---

The night deepened.

In another chamber within the Red Keep, candlelight pierced through the darkness. A lavish meal adorned the round table in the sitting room, where two figures sat opposite each other.

“Your Grace, our crown prince is highly vigilant. I’m afraid I can be of no use,” Larys said helplessly, shaking his head as he wrestled with the food on his plate.

Across from him, Alicent sat expressionless, a glimmer of disdain in her eyes. She sipped her sweet wine from a goblet and said indifferently, “That’s fine. As long as he stays away from King’s Landing for a while, my father will have time to return.”

Larys cast her a furtive glance and smirked. “Pardon me for saying so, Your Grace, but Prince Rhaegar is the rightful heir to the throne. Even if your father is a master of strategy, he cannot overturn the king’s decree.”

“Rhaenyra was once the king’s chosen heir too, and yet she was toppled.”

Alicent’s tone was cold and firm. “Our current goal isn’t the throne but rather forming alliances—any alliances that can secure our survival.”

As she had once told Viserys:

Rhaegar’s position as heir was as unshakable as a mountain; no one could challenge it.

And that was precisely the source of her recurring nightmares and secret fears.

Rhaegar showed no closeness to her and even seemed to subtly reject her as his stepmother. His treatment of his half-brother Aegon was even harsher, crushing the boy’s confidence entirely.

If this continued, what would become of her and her children when Viserys eventually passed?

She had considered softening her stance, humbling herself to improve her relationship with Rhaegar.

But she had grown tired of bending to others’ wills, of living a life at the mercy of others.

She was the queen, the mother of several princes and princesses for the realm, and she deserved honor and respect.

She would not grovel beneath anyone’s feet or return to a life of subservience.

“Then you should ally with House Velaryon. That house is highly influential right now,” Larys suggested, his eyes darting around. “Lady Laena recently gave birth to twin daughters. Your youngest son, Daeron, is only four—perhaps a marriage alliance could be arranged.”

“Impossible,” Alicent rejected immediately, her brows furrowing. “The Sea Snake is a shrewd statesman. We don’t have enough leverage to sway him.”

“Well…” Larys was momentarily at a loss. Shrugging, he asked, “Then what should our next step be, Your Grace?”

Larys’s true skill lay in gathering intelligence. He was far less adept at devising grand strategies—unless the queen was willing to resort to more underhanded tactics.

“There is no next step,” Alicent said, finishing her wine in one gulp and rubbing her temple. “Viserys has promised to let my father return to King’s Landing. Once he’s back, we’ll secure the aid of House Hightower.”

“Very well. The Triarchy has been showing signs of invading the Narrow Sea. Perhaps that could lead to some unexpected opportunities,” Larys said with a sly smile, offering additional insights.

---

Outside the window, a tree’s thick branches swayed in the wind. A bird’s nest sat nestled in the foliage, where a sparrow hopped between the twigs. Its small, beady eyes observed the room’s interior without blinking.

In the Dragonpit, a man in coarse robes sat by a window. His eyes, void of pupils, glowed eerily white.

After a long moment, he blinked, his pupils reappearing.

Though his expression was blank, he etched every detail of what he had seen and heard into his memory.

Muttering to himself, he said, “The Triarchy has been sighted near the Narrow Sea…”

Rhaenyra was right.

In a city as vast as King’s Landing, no secret could escape the watchful eyes of the Dragonpit.

---

Seven days later.

“SCREEECH!”

A piercing dragon’s roar echoed across the skies of King’s Landing, drawing the attention of curious citizens.

Soon, three shadows soared over the city, heading toward the harbor.

The spectators tilted their heads to gaze at the sight: three dragons, one large and two smaller, flew through the clouds with their wings spread wide.

“Dragons! Three dragons!”

The scene left the people of King’s Landing in awe.

Though the residents were accustomed to occasional glimpses of dragons, it was still a rare and thrilling sight to behold all three of the king’s dragon-riding children taking to the skies together.

However, most of the time, there was only one dragon.

Occasionally, there were two dragons, usually when Prince Rhaegar and Princess Rhaenyra rode out together.

Seeing three dragons at once was a rare sight.

This time was no exception.

Due to Rhaenyra’s strong insistence, her father, King Viserys, couldn’t refuse her request to visit Driftmark together.

With Queen Alicent also speaking up on Rhaenyra’s behalf, Viserys decided, “If I’m herding one sheep, I might as well herd two.”

On a whim, he dragged Aegon out of bed, where the young prince had been napping.

He ordered Aegon to accompany Rhaegar to the banquet, showing off the royal family’s impressive dragonriders.

But it wasn’t just the three siblings making the trip. The Hand of the King, Lyonel Strong, was also part of the delegation.

The plump and affable Hand had already departed for Driftmark a day earlier, bringing a shipload of lavish gifts ahead of their arrival.

---

Above the azure skies.

Leading the way, Rhaegar rode on Cannibal, whose massive, dark wings sliced through the clouds like a black comet.

Trailing close behind were two golden dragons of similar size.

Rhaenyra, perched confidently atop Syrax, wore a bright smile and occasionally let out joyful cheers.

Meanwhile, Aegon, seated on Sunfyre, lagged far behind the other two, his face a picture of gloom and frustration, sighing heavily.

He had already resigned himself to his fate.

All he wanted was to stay in the Red Keep, flirting with the maids and enjoying the carefree life of a spoiled prince.

Instead, his father suddenly assigned him this task: to accompany his older brother on a trip to House Velaryon—a family he didn’t get along with.

The reluctance in his heart was immeasurable.

But if Aegon was displeased, Sunfyre was even more so.

The dragon’s vertical pupils were fixed nervously on Cannibal up ahead, and its usually graceful wings flapped stiffly, as if bracing for the moment Cannibal might turn around and devour it.

However, their fears were unfounded.

No one was paying them any attention.

Rhaegar spread his arms wide, balancing effortlessly on the stirrups of his saddle, relishing the cool, moist sensation of clouds breaking against him.

“Rhaenyra, you’re too slow!” he called back with a hearty laugh, taking pride in Cannibal’s unmatched speed.

Rhaenyra, securely fastened to her saddle by a chain around her waist, could only sit upright and watch him from a distance.

She shouted, “Slow down! Aegon is about to be left behind!”

Aegon (from the back): ...

Hearing her reminder, Rhaegar glanced back at his sulking younger brother and signaled Cannibal to slow its pace to keep the group together.

Before long, Rhaenyra caught up, guiding Syrax to circle playfully around Cannibal, soaring side by side.

She loved riding dragons, and she loved Rhaegar.

But what she loved most was riding dragons alongside Rhaegar, basking in the exhilarating sense of freedom.

Rhaegar responded with a knowing smile, indulging her playful mood.

Since this was an official outing, there was no harm in enjoying themselves along the way.

The three dragons flew at an astonishing speed, crossing Blackwater Bay and reaching Driftmark by early afternoon.

---

---

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 132: Vhagar

Noon.

Riding dragons all the way, they finally arrived at Tideshead Isle.

Located closer to King’s Landing than Dragonstone, Tideshead Isle tightly controls the Narrow Sea's bottleneck.

This large island is home to three settlements: High Tide City, Shell Town, and Spice Town.

From afar, Rhaegar and his companions flew their dragons over Tideshead Isle, gazing down at the settlements below.

To the west stood a castle built atop a cliff, offering a strong defensive position.

The other two towns were located on the opposite side of the island, closer to the Narrow Sea, making them ideal for navigation and trade.

Rhaegar scanned the area and noticed numerous ships docked at the towns’ harbors, the scene brimming with prosperity.

"Let’s head to High Tide City."

After circling twice in the air to survey the area, Rhaegar guided his dragon lower.

“Rooooar…”

As they neared High Tide City, a thunderous dragon roar echoed from below, reaching the ears of all three riders.

“Rooooar…”

Before Rhaegar could react, Devourer, his dragon, issued a warning snarl, its green slit pupils filled with caution.

Rhaegar immediately became alert, turning his gaze toward the source of the roar.

In an open field near the beach, surrounded by wild grass, lay an enormous green dragon sprawled on the ground. Its amber slit eyes were fixed on the skies above.

The moment Rhaegar saw the green dragon, his eyes lit up, and his heartbeat quickened slightly.

He recognized this dragon.

It was Vhagar, the last of the Targaryens’ great dragons.

Born on Dragonstone in 51 BC (Before Conquest), Vhagar’s first rider was Visenya Targaryen, sister and queen of Aegon the Conqueror.

Her second rider was Rhaegar’s grandfather, Baelon Targaryen, known as the Spring Prince.

The third was Laena Velaryon.

Today, this dragon had reached the advanced age of 169 years.

Studying the old dragon, Rhaegar thought to himself that Larys’s information was fairly accurate—Laena had indeed secretly returned to Tideshead Isle.

“That dragon is Vhagar? It’s huge!”

Aegon, who rarely ventured outdoors, stared wide-eyed in shock at his first sight of Vhagar.

“I told you to go out more. Staying in bed all day amusing yourself is turning you into a useless hermit,” Rhaenyra retorted with a look of disdain.

“Rooooar!”

Noticing the three dragons above, Vhagar shifted its massive body and roared again, a clear declaration of its territory.

“Rhaegar, let’s leave before we provoke this old dragon,” Rhaenyra urged, recognizing the warning in Vhagar’s roar.

It was common knowledge that Vhagar had a notoriously bad temper. Avoiding trouble was the best course of action.

Rhaegar nodded in agreement. “All right, we’ll keep our distance.”

“Grrr…”

Devourer growled low in its throat, its hostility toward Vhagar evident.

Though smaller and younger, Devourer was an imposing dragon with coal-black scales and a fearsome, demonic appearance.

In contrast, Vhagar’s age showed in its sagging skin and drooping jaw. The once-formidable crown of horns atop its head had also eroded with time.

Yet Vhagar exuded a commanding presence, its scar-covered body and tattered wings—pierced by scorpion bolts—telling of countless battles. Its amber eyes were cold and merciless, projecting the aura of a seasoned war machine.

Sensing Devourer’s eagerness for a fight, Rhaegar smiled wryly. “Easy, buddy. We’re not here to pick a fight.”

Even without considering size, Vhagar’s legendary history alone made Rhaegar cautious.

Though Devourer had seen its share of battles, defeating Vermithor and Silverwing in the past, Vhagar’s century of experience in countless wars far exceeded that of the younger dragon.

If a fight were to happen, it would have to wait until Devourer reached its peak, likely after its hundredth year.

“Huff…”

Heeding its rider, Devourer snorted before turning away and flying off.

It wasn’t foolish enough to provoke the old dragon.

---

After leaving the beach, Rhaegar and his companions flew their dragons to the skies above High Tide City.

The three dragons circled the city twice before descending slowly, announcing to those in the castle below that the Targaryen prince and princesses had arrived.

Boom—

Devourer landed first, its massive body stirring up a fierce wind as it touched down on a patch of open ground near the tides.

Syrax and Sunfyre followed, keeping a safe distance from the aggressive black dragon.

Both dragons could sense Devourer’s combative nature and wanted no part in its potential outbursts.

“We greet the prince and princesses…”

A group of guards stationed on the field stepped forward, led by a knight who bowed respectfully to the three.

“Lead the way, knight,” Rhaegar, as the crown prince, naturally took charge as the spokesperson for his siblings.

“This way, Your Highness,” the knight replied.

The captain of the guard had silver hair, a clear sign of Valyrian heritage.

Rhaegar called out to Rhaenyra and Aegon, signaling them to follow him.

High Tide Castle was located on a secluded, high-altitude island. To reach it, they had to traverse a narrow cobblestone path built above the tides.

While dragons could land directly in front of the castle, doing so was considered disrespectful to its lord.

They had come to celebrate a birthday and needed to observe proper etiquette.

After about ten minutes of walking along the cobblestone path and ascending the cliff, they arrived at a stone-arched gate.

“This way, please, Your Highnesses,” said the captain of the guard, leading them through the archway into a flourishing yet open garden.

The towering castle stood directly ahead, facing the stone gate.

“Ah...”

As soon as they entered, the clanging of metal on metal reached their ears.

Rhaegar glanced to the side and saw two men sparring in the garden, attacking and countering each other with swords.

One of them had dark skin and silver hair, his facial features somewhat familiar to Rhaegar.

He paused for a moment before realizing who it was—the eldest son of the Sea Snake and a cousin with a fondness for him: Laenor Velaryon.

The group walked further through the archway, catching Laenor’s attention.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Laenor signaled his sparring partner to pause, then approached them with a bright smile.

“Rhaegar, Rhaenyra, and Aegon, welcome to Driftmark.”

Laenor sheathed his sword and greeted them warmly.

“It’s been a while, cousin,” Rhaegar replied, smiling back as he returned the greeting.

At the same time, the castle’s grand doors opened, and two men emerged—one bore a striking resemblance to the Sea Snake, while the other was a silver-haired, dark-skinned steward.

Rhaenyra leaned closer to Rhaegar’s ear and whispered, “That’s Vaemond Velaryon, the Sea Snake’s younger brother.”

Rhaegar nodded subtly, keeping his expression composed as his gaze fell on Vaemond.

Vaemond, sporting neatly groomed dreadlocks and wearing formal attire, carried himself with an air of pride.

Approaching Rhaegar, he bowed respectfully and said solemnly, “Welcome, Your Highness.”

“Greetings, Lord Vaemond. I’ve heard much about your valor,” Rhaegar replied cordially, glancing at the castle with a feigned look of curiosity. “Where is Lord Corlys, the Sea Snake? We’ve come to celebrate Aunt Rhaenys’ birthday. Could it be he’s not here to welcome us?”

Vaemond’s reputation was nothing short of impressive.

As an experienced warrior and rider of the mighty dragon Vhagar, he was a formidable figure.

According to the lore, Vhagar—though aging—was larger and more battle-hardened.

By the book’s logic, even the fearsome Cannibal would only stand a chance in a one-on-one fight by sustaining significant injuries, likely leading to mutual devastation.

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 133: The Sea Snake’s Challenge*

He deliberately asked the question.

The Sea Snake held only the title of a count. Compared to Rhaegar's status as crown prince and Rhaenyra's title as Princess of Dragonstone, he was far outranked.

Even if it were Aegon, the king’s younger son, visiting, the Sea Snake should have led his entire family to greet them at the gates to show respect for the royal family.

But he didn’t.

The only ones sent to greet them were Vaemond and the steward, a clear display of disrespect toward Rhaegar and his siblings.

Facing the prince's inquiry, Vaemond remained calm and answered lightly, “My brother personally invited the guests and just returned home after a long journey.”

“He has already gone to the Hall of Nine to welcome Your Highness and the princess.”

Rhaegar's smile faded as he glanced at Laenor, who was exchanging greetings with Rhaenyra. His expression turned cold.

Resting his right hand on the hilt of the Dark Sister, he said calmly, “Lord Vaemond, do you understand the proper protocols for welcoming the crown prince?”

“Of course. It’s just that my brother has only just returned from his voyage. He hasn’t had the chance to change his attire and feared it would be inappropriate for such an occasion,” Vaemond replied smoothly, clearly prepared with excuses.

“Oh? That sounds somewhat reasonable,” Rhaegar chuckled, though his eyes grew sharp.

The Sea Snake clearly intended to put them in their place.

How arrogant.

Noticing Rhaegar's displeasure, Laenor hurriedly explained, “My father just returned from the Stepstones and meant no disrespect.”

“No. I haven’t felt the respect owed to me by Lord Corlys or the Velaryon family,” Rhaegar replied, shaking his head. He locked eyes with Vaemond and added, “Go summon Lord Corlys and have him personally welcome the crown prince to whom he swore fealty.”

“Your Highness, my brother…”

“Enough, Lord Vaemond. Your words are becoming increasingly inappropriate,” Rhaenyra interrupted, her tone carrying a hint of anger.

She had endured the disrespect of vassals when she was named heir to the throne. She would not allow her younger brother to suffer the same.

Her words brought an immediate chill to the atmosphere.

Laenor wanted to explain further, but the handsome knight at his side grabbed his hand, signaling him to stay silent.

Vaemond frowned slightly at the gesture and hesitated before saying, “Your Highness, Ser Laenor is also in the Hall of Nine. Perhaps you should—”

Shing!  

Before he could finish, a dark flash streaked through the air. The blade of the Dark Sister was already at Vaemond’s throat.

“Rhaegar…”

Rhaegar’s movements were so swift that by the time everyone realized what had happened, Rhaenyra and Laenor both gasped in alarm.

“Rhaegar, Uncle Vaemond meant no disrespect. What are you doing?”

As the heir to High Tide, Laenor couldn’t stand by and pleaded helplessly.

Rhaenyra grabbed Rhaegar’s sword arm, her expression tense. “Rhaegar, we came here seeking peace. Put away your sword.”

“Shh. You should be persuading Lord Vaemond, not me,” Rhaegar replied without budging, ignoring their pleas and keeping his sword raised.

In this situation, his only response was to draw his sword. He would not yield.

“Your Highness, there’s no need to act so rashly,” Vaemond said, his voice trembling slightly. The icy blade pressed against his neck, and he couldn’t help but swallow nervously.

To be held at sword point by a young crown prince—who knew if this boy might lose control and accidentally cut off his head?

Rhaegar’s face remained emotionless. “Summon Lord Corlys to greet us, or don’t make me repeat myself a third time.”

This visit was, indeed, intended to win over the Sea Snake.

But as the crown prince, every word and action represented the honor of the royal family. He could not allow even the slightest humiliation.

If the Sea Snake wanted to make a show of dominance, Rhaegar’s response was simple: *he would not accept it.*

The chill running down Vaemond’s spine made him pale. He quickly replied, “Please calm down, Your Highness. I’ll go fetch my brother immediately.”

As a seasoned warrior, Vaemond understood when to yield. The prince’s eyes carried a deadly seriousness, and if he pressed on, the outcome would not favor him.

Hearing this, Rhaegar smiled faintly, a cold and distant smile.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it, Lord Vaemond?”

He withdrew the Dark Sister, gently running his hand along the blade as he spoke in a measured tone.

“I’ll be back shortly,” Vaemond said curtly, his dark complexion masking any hint of a blush. Embarrassed and humiliated, he turned and strode back toward the castle.

Rumors had dubbed the crown prince the “Kind Prince,” a gentle boy akin to his father.

But having experienced this firsthand, Vaemond silently cursed in his heart.

Kind, my foot. He’s a completely different person.  

“Rhaegar, I’m truly sorry for the poor hospitality,” Laenor said, his face dark with frustration as he apologized to his cousin.

Laenor knew full well what his father was trying to do. Yet, though he despised political games, he couldn’t disobey his father’s orders.

“It’s fine. Just a minor inconvenience,” Rhaegar said casually, sheathing his sword and shaking his head indifferently.

He didn’t like these open and covert struggles either, but there were always people testing his limits.

At the end of the day, only a sharp enough sword could command respect.

“Wait a moment.”

The castle gates opened once again.

This time, it wasn’t Vaemond Velaryon who emerged but the more imposing Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake.

“Father.”

Seeing his father appear, Laenor quickly stepped forward, afraid a conflict might break out between the two sides.

Corlys waved his hand dismissively, his expression calm.

He approached Rhaegar, bowed respectfully, and suddenly smiled warmly, saying in a kind tone:

"Your Highness, I offer my sincerest apologies for the earlier misunderstanding. It’s entirely my fault for returning in such haste.”

“High Tide welcomes you. Please don’t hold a grudge and accept the Velaryon family’s apology.”

His words were perfectly balanced—expressing an apology while subtly emphasizing that the slight was unintentional.

Rhaegar gave Corlys a surprised look before smiling and saying, “I accept your apology, and I must admit I came here on rather short notice.”

This, of course, was a lie.

Laenor had arrived at Driftmark a day earlier.

Even if they used ravens for communication, the Sea Snake should have known they would arrive today.

Ultimately, it was deliberate—a test to see how Rhaegar would handle the situation.

Rhaegar responded directly and firmly.

No matter what Corlys thought about it, at least on the surface, he didn’t dare show further disrespect.

“Please come inside. I’ll take you to the Hall of Nine. Rhaenys and Laenor are both there.”

After explaining the situation, Corlys’ smile vanished, replaced by his usual stern and dignified demeanor.

Rhaegar naturally agreed and followed him.

He took a moment to glance at the dejected Aegon, glaring at him while scolding, “Straighten your back and show the bearing of royalty! Don’t let outsiders look down on us!”

These words weren’t just to admonish Aegon but also intended for anyone listening.

Corlys, however, paid no attention and led the way without a care.

Aegon didn’t quite understand but felt deeply aggrieved.

Still, out of fear of his elder brother, he reluctantly straightened his posture and managed his expression.

Rhaenyra found the scene amusing. Leaving the peacemaking Laenor behind, she naturally took Rhaegar’s arm, standing united with him.

Though Rhaegar’s approach was blunt, it was effective.

Rhaenyra rather liked his defiant demeanor.

They passed through the castle gates, climbed the winding stairs, and arrived at the so-called Hall of Nine.

Simply put—

It was a smaller version of a throne room.

The spacious hall had stone walls carved with the seahorse sigil of House Velaryon and a series of stained-glass depictions of ships braving the waves.

---

This chapter was inspired by the scene in the show where Viserys is disrespected while seeking a match for Rhaenyra.  

As I watched that moment, I couldn’t help but wonder how “I” would protect my family in a similar situation.  

(End of Chapter)  

*Chapter 134: The Uncrowned Queen*

The hall was adorned with exquisite crystal chandeliers and filled with various rare treasures.

At the center of the two rows of lamps stood a dilapidated wooden chair.

With a hint of pride, Lannino introduced it at the right moment, saying, "This is the Driftwood Throne, the symbol of the Lord of Tides in our family."

"Tch, it's just a pile of rotten wood, isn't it?"

Before Rhaegar could speak, Aegon clicked his tongue impatiently, his disdain evident.

Having endured a tiring journey on dragonback, he had no patience to listen to anyone recount family histories.

"Aegon, don’t speak out of turn," Rhaenyra quickly shot him a glare, signaling him to watch his words.

Aegon sneaked a glance at Rhaegar’s unchanged expression. Seeing that he didn’t seem to care, Aegon crossed his arms and snorted.

He wasn’t afraid of this sister of his.

If Rhaegar wasn’t going to say anything, what harm could come from a few jabs? The Driftwood Throne might sound impressive, but was it really more legendary than the Iron Throne of the Red Keep?

"It’s all right. Aside from the Driftwood Throne, this hall also houses many trophies from my father and ancestors, including the mask of the Crabfeeder," Lannino replied good-naturedly, trying to ease the awkwardness.

"Enough, Aegon. Show some respect," Rhaegar finally chimed in after the small interlude.

Why hadn’t he spoken up earlier?

Because not only did he look down on the Driftwood Throne, but he also despised the scheming Velaryon family.

Having someone to voice his thoughts on his behalf wasn’t such a bad thing.

Noticing Lannino’s face darkening, Rhaegar’s lips curled into a subtle smirk, silently approving of his father’s wise decision.

It seemed this foolish brother of his did serve some purpose when brought along.

"Prince!"

As they approached the center of the Nine Walls Hall, a familiar voice called out.

Rhaegar turned his head to see Laenor rise from the wine cabinet nearby, his face full of suppressed frustration and his gaze somewhat agitated.

Laenor strode forward briskly, his once portly figure now moving with determination, reaching Rhaegar without breaking a sweat.

Rhaegar glanced at the sea snake, whose expression remained impassive, and asked, "Lord Laenor, is something the matter?"

"Your Grace, Lord Corlys assigned me to the Nine Walls Hall. Forgive me for not personally greeting you," Laenor said, his words halfway softened, though he still shot a resentful glare at the sea snake’s back.

The meaning was clear.

The sea snake had deliberately withheld him, causing him this humiliation.

Piecing it all together, Rhaegar embraced the trembling Laenor and gently patted his back, murmuring, "You’ve been wronged, my lord."

He didn’t utter any words of revenge—such promises were unrealistic.

Rhaegar had already secured the respect and power he deserved. Laenor’s grievances could only be met with consolation.

"As long as Your Grace has not been insulted, my troubles are nothing," Laenor replied, a shrewd man who had already guessed the outcome when Vaemond had to plead for the sea snake’s intervention.

"You are a capable Hand of the King. The kingdom is fortunate to have you," Rhaegar said, releasing Laenor and offering him unreserved praise.

"Dear cousin, please wait a moment. Mother will be here shortly," Lannino interjected, attempting to change the subject by introducing the ancient relics in the hall.

Rhaegar cooperatively glanced around, patiently awaiting the arrival of Aunt Rhaenys.

Meanwhile, the sea snake seemed as though he existed in an entirely different realm.

Silent and self-possessed, he walked to the Driftwood Throne, his gaze landing on a cracked piece of the Crabfeeder’s mask, a look of calm satisfaction on his face.

He had expected the king himself to come, having planned out negotiations.

Unexpectedly, the visitors were the Hand of the King and the king’s three dragonriding children.

"Heh, ever since the heir was changed, our king has grown bolder," the sea snake chuckled, grasping the king’s stance.

But he didn’t care.

He was the greatest sailor in Westerosi history, having crossed the seas nine times and traded all over the world.

Most of House Velaryon’s wealth was his creation.

His wife was Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, the Uncrowned Queen.

Their family commanded three dragons, including Vhagar, the largest dragon alive.

Such a solid foundation allowed him to hold the continent in contempt.

*Bang!*

Before long, a side door of the hall opened, and a figure strode in briskly.

"Children, I’m sorry I’m late," Rhaenys said, her simple attire complemented by the joyful smile on her face.

"Aunt!"

Rhaegar greeted her with a smile, meeting her halfway for a warm embrace.

"My good boy, you’ve grown so much. You’re even stronger than your father," Rhaenys said, pinching his firm arm, her bright eyes gleaming with unabashed pride.

As a princess of House Targaryen, her estranged relationship with both her husband’s family and her own had kept her from seeing her blood relatives for years.

Now, on the occasion of her nameday, reuniting with her family brought her immense joy.

"Aunt…"

Rhaenyra approached with a smile, offering her greeting.

Rhaenys immediately let go of her nephew and embraced her niece instead. As she sized her up, she praised warmly, "You look great! Your complexion is glowing, and you've grown more curvaceous. It seems you've been living well these past years."

"You’re as radiant as ever, Aunt," Rhaenyra responded with a charming smile, perfectly aware of the kind of compliments her aunt liked.

Deep down, Rhaenyra admired this aunt of hers—known as the "queen who never was"—and genuinely wanted to grow closer to her.

Her siblings greeted Rhaenys one by one, while Aegon hesitated, mumbling his greetings awkwardly, looking a bit reserved.

"Such a fine young man," Rhaenys said, pulling Aegon into a side hug. Her words were both wise and affectionate. "You’ll be the best support your brother could ask for."

Aegon, at a loss for words, offered a polite but awkward smile, clearly feeling out of place.

"Alright, Rhaenys, we haven’t even properly welcomed our guests who’ve come all this way," the Sea Snake interrupted with a smile, his joy evident as he watched his wife reunite with her family.

Rhaenys chuckled softly and replied, "Of course. Go on and discuss your important matters—we won’t get in the way." She shot Rhaenyra a knowing look before walking to the wine cabinet to fetch a fine bottle.

Rhaenyra patted her brother on the shoulder and followed her aunt to pour the wine.

After all, they were merely the political losers. The truly important discussions were left to the men.

Laenor glanced at his father, then pulled Aegon aside to give the others space.

The room cleared, signaling the start of a conversation between the Sea Snake, Laenor, and Rhaegar.

Rhaegar exchanged a glance with Laenor before taking the lead. "Lord Corlys, my father has heard rumors that the Triarchy is making a comeback. I assume you’ve already received word of this?"

"Indeed, Prince," Corlys replied candidly. "The Triarchy’s pirates have re-emerged, and some of my family’s ships have already fallen prey to their attacks."

He continued, "The Triarchy has been dormant for years. Having learned from their past failures, they won’t back down easily this time."

"You’re absolutely right, my lord," Rhaegar said solemnly, recalling his father’s instructions. "Given the Triarchy’s aggressive resurgence, the kingdom must respond decisively."

"My visit here isn’t solely to celebrate Aunt Rhaenys’s birthday banquet. More importantly, I’ve come to invite you to King’s Landing for further discussions."

---

(End of Chapter)  

*Chapter 135: Laenor and the Twins*

The Velaryon family possessed the most powerful fleet and navy commanders in Westeros.

To defeat the Kingdom of the Three Daughters, the unwavering support of the Sea Snake was indispensable.

Having said that, Rhaegar quietly watched the Sea Snake, waiting for his response.

"Serving the realm is the duty of any loyal subject. It would be my honor."

Without hesitation, Corlys solemnly agreed, placing one hand over his chest.

He continued, "The Three Daughters plundering the shipping routes of the Stepstones also affects my family's interests. Your arrival has resolved my most pressing concern."

His words were sincere, without a trace of arrogance.

Rhaegar was slightly surprised—he hadn't expected the negotiations to go so smoothly.

Then, he thought it over.

Though the Stepstones were barren, they occupied an extremely strategic location.

With the Three Daughters controlling the islands, the entire trade route would be subject to raids, and ultimately, the ones who would suffer the most were the Velaryons, whose wealth came from maritime commerce.

Corlys' swift agreement demonstrated his keen understanding of the situation and his ability to see the bigger picture.

Seeing how smoothly the discussion had gone, Laenor's face lit up with joy. He said, "Lord Corlys, I hope that after Princess Rhaenys' banquet, you will accompany me back to King's Landing."

His mission was to invite the Sea Snake to the capital for a military discussion.

Now that everything was progressing smoothly, his task had become much easier.

"No problem. It has been a long time since I last saw His Majesty—I do miss him."

Corlys sighed with nostalgia.

He was a politician, and no matter how powerful his family was, they could not remain independent from the kingdom.

Only by aligning with the royal family to a certain extent could they maximize their benefits.

"It seems you’ve had a great conversation."

Their discussion was brief yet efficient. Rhaenys approached with a tray in hand, smiling warmly.

Seeing his wife's radiant smile, Corlys couldn't help but grin himself, boasting, "Conversations between intelligent people are always pleasant and easy."

"You’re right. Viserys has chosen an excellent heir."

Rhaenys kissed her husband's cheek and whispered in his ear, "Put away your little schemes. The Targaryens never lack for geniuses—or madmen."

"Just a small test."

Corlys murmured back before picking up a goblet from the tray and raising it toward Rhaegar in a toast.

He was not one to blindly trust rumors.

When evaluating whether someone was worth investing in, he preferred personal interaction.

And now, it was clear—the new heir was a firm and decisive leader. The upcoming war for the Stepstones would be much easier with him in command.

"Would you like a taste? Dornish red wine."

Pushing her ambitious husband aside, Rhaenys offered the tray to Rhaegar.

"Thank you, Aunt."

Rhaegar hesitated for a moment before reaching for the goblet, drawn in by its rich aroma.

"Drink this instead, Rhaegar."

A voice called from behind him. Rhaenyra approached gracefully, carrying a cup of sake.

Rhaegar flashed Rhaenys an apologetic smile and instead took the sake from Rhaenyra.

Hooking her arm around his, Rhaenyra explained, "Rhaegar is a lightweight. One drink, and he'll be in no shape for the banquet."

"Rhaenyra!"

Rhaegar quickly tried to stop her from exposing his secret.

It wasn’t that he couldn't hold his liquor—he simply disliked the taste of alcohol.

To the onlookers, the exchange was nothing short of amusing, and the room erupted into laughter.

Corlys downed his drink in one gulp, adopting the stance of a seasoned elder as he laughed heartily. "A man must learn to hold his liquor! Especially a Targaryen of blood and fire—alcohol is the best fuel."

"Exactly! How will a future king entertain his courtiers if he can’t drink?"

Rhaenys grinned, affectionately teasing her nephew.

The others, not daring to laugh too loudly, each took a goblet from the tray, raising them in a toast to Rhaegar before drinking.

Rhaegar could only shake his head with a wry smile.

---

As laughter filled the room, the tense atmosphere dissipated instantly, and the two families seemed to reconcile as if nothing had happened.

Rhaenys carried a tray and walked over to Aegon, her expression serious. "There is something I need to discuss with you in advance," she said.

"What is it, Aunt?" Aegon asked.

Despite the harmonious atmosphere, Aegon remained cautious. After all, Vhagar was still resting on Driftmark.

As expected, Rhaenys sighed and said straightforwardly, "I believe you’ve already seen Vhagar. She belongs to Laena."

"Vhagar is the last remaining first-generation dragon of House Targaryen. Of course, I recognize her," Aegon replied, his eyes flickering slightly as he emphasized Vhagar’s rightful ownership.

The old dragon had spent the first half of its life serving House Targaryen.

Just because someone managed to ride it didn’t mean it belonged to them.

"I understand your point, but I have no intention of arguing over this matter," Rhaenys said with a shake of her head. "Laena is my daughter. She has given birth to two children of Targaryen blood, and now she has returned to Driftmark."

"What are you trying to say?" Aegon asked, carefully withholding any reaction.

He had anticipated that Laena would come up.

After all, the royal family had allied itself with House Velaryon, and they couldn’t very well continue hunting down the Sea Snake’s daughter.

Showing leniency wasn’t a sign of weakness.

"Laena made mistakes, and I am not here to plead for her," Rhaenys said firmly, laying out her request. "However, her two daughters are of pure Targaryen blood. They should not have to bear the consequences of their parents’ actions and deserve their rightful royal inheritance."

"If you’re pleading on behalf of your daughter, I might be able to assist," Aegon said, frowning slightly. "But if it concerns her two children, Laena should come forward and make her case herself."

If Laena wanted her children to gain royal recognition, it would be inappropriate for her to remain absent entirely.

"She’s in the castle. I can summon her..."

"No need. I’m already here," a rich, magnetic voice interrupted before Rhaenys could finish her sentence.

The side door opened once more, and a striking woman with deep-toned skin and a graceful figure walked in.

"Laena!"

Rhaenyra gasped, her expression complicated.

Laena had been her closest childhood friend, aside from Alicent.

Years had passed, and now Laena was both a wife and a mother.

"Rhaenyra, it’s wonderful to see you again," Laena said warmly.

Laena’s features bore the strong, chiseled lines of her mother. Her tall, voluptuous figure and silver curls exuded elegance and confidence.

"Sister, why did you come out?" Laenor quickly stepped forward, looking a bit nervous.

"What’s there to fear? The room is full of family," Laena replied with a soft smile, taking two swaddled babies from the arms of the maid behind her.

Rhaenys sighed lightly at the sight. "Since you’re here, you might as well say it yourself," she said.

Aegon tilted his head slightly, his gaze falling on the two swaddled infants.

Noticing where his attention had shifted, Laena approached him and offered the babies generously. "Cousin, would you like to hold them?"

Aegon glanced at her, hesitated for a moment, then decided to take the infants.

"Our father named them," Laena explained softly. "The elder sister is Baela, and the younger one is Rhaena."

Holding one baby in each arm, Aegon’s posture stiffened slightly as he looked down at the two infants.

To be honest, they weren’t cute at all.

The two tiny babies had reddish skin, hadn’t opened their eyes, and looked thin and fragile.

"Ah-ga..."

As if sensing his distaste, the baby named Baela squirmed slightly, smacking her lips and letting out soft cooing sounds.

(End of Chapter)