41-45

Chapter 41: Sneaking Out

After leaving Laegor’s room, Rhaenyra felt her spirits sink even further.

She wanted nothing more than to return to her room, take a hot bath, and curl up in her warm bed for a good night’s sleep.

Today had been too oppressive for her.

Once she woke up, it would be a new day.

Cole was standing guard outside her door. Rhaenyra greeted him briefly before stepping into her room.

As she removed her earrings and other accessories, she instinctively poured herself a glass of mead from the table.

Out of the corner of her eye, she suddenly noticed a bundle placed conspicuously on the desk.

The unexpected package caught her attention. She glanced around the room.

After confirming there was no one else there, she cautiously pinched the corner of the package and tilted it upside down.

Out fell a set of coarse, patched-up clothing.

There was also a piece of white paper with a simple map drawn on it.

Rhaenyra picked up the paper and, to her surprise, discovered it was a guide to one of the secret passageways in the Red Keep.

The map’s markings pointed to a location right within her own room.

She walked over to the marked spot, which turned out to be a wall decorated with carvings.

She reached out and pushed firmly. The wall gave way, opening to reveal the night view outside the Red Keep.

Beyond the wall was a staircase enclosed by an iron railing, leading to an unknown destination.

Rhaenyra’s lips curled into a smile, intrigued.

She loved exploring—it gave her the same rush as flying on dragonback.

Returning to the desk, she removed her ornate gown and slipped into the patched-up coarse garments.

She gave the clothes a sniff. Thankfully, there wasn’t any strange odor.

After disguising herself, Rhaenyra stepped out through the secret passage.

The dark corridor stretched ahead. Along the way, she passed a chapel that housed the skull of Balerion the Black Dread...

Eventually, she arrived at a hidden corner of the Red Keep.

There, a cloaked figure had been waiting for quite some time.

As Rhaenyra studied the figure, the person turned around, revealing a familiar face.

“Daemon?”

Rhaenyra whispered in surprise.

Daemon smiled and suggested, “Shall we go out for a walk? See some sights you’ve never seen before?”

Glancing back hesitantly, Rhaenyra wavered.

She felt that sneaking out with her uncle in the middle of the night wasn’t exactly proper behavior.

Noticing her hesitation, Daemon teased, “What’s the matter? Are you afraid to leave? Do you want to go back and play the little princess instead?”

The subtle jab hit a nerve. Gritting her teeth, Rhaenyra declared, “I’m not going back. Let’s go.”

“Excellent.”

Daemon pulled his hood over his head, turned, and began leading her out of the Red Keep.

Rhaenyra followed closely behind. Her heart was uneasy but also thrumming with excitement.

---

Daemon led them to the infamous Silk Street, known far and wide.

Unlike the free trade atmosphere of the daytime, the nighttime Silk Street was bustling with noise and chaos, teeming with all sorts of people.

The two weaved through the crowded alleys, passing countless vendors and street performers.

Some couples were even engaging in acts of passion in plain sight, completely unbothered by onlookers.

Their positions were... quite eye-catching.

Rhaenyra, raised with royal decorum, was utterly shocked.

Her propriety prompted her to raise her hand, shielding her face to avoid sullying her eyes with such sights.

But her curiosity made her part her fingers, sneaking a peek through the gaps.

When else would she ever witness such scenes?

The pair strolled leisurely, stopping here and there, until they arrived at a crowded stage where many had gathered.

On the stage, actors were performing a play about the Targaryen royal family.

The performance had reached its most exciting part.

Two actors portrayed children, while a jester played a princess dressed in white.

The main actor moved comically, narrating the story in an exaggerated tone:

“Now let’s talk about the mighty Iron Throne and whose rear end will claim it!”

“Our benevolent king has named his daughter—a girl—as his heir.”

“The former queen gave birth to a son who sleeps the day away.”

“And the new queen? She gave birth to a son as well—a healthy boy!”

“So, which heir will claim the throne?”

“The king’s brother? His daughter? Or his two sons from different mothers?”

At this point, the two actors playing children began shoving each other, shouting their names.

“I am Aegon! I bear the name of the Conqueror and the strength of a man!”

“I am the sleeping dragon! The king is my father! Feel the wrath of the slumbering dragon!”

The scene reached its climax. The audience roared with laughter and applause at the ridiculous performance.

But Rhaenyra’s smile gradually faded as she stared at the play in confusion.

Soon, the actor playing Rhaegar pushed his opponent down, straddling him while swaying back and forth.

He shouted, “I am the king’s eldest son! No one can compete with me!”

The actor on the ground flailed and begged for mercy, rolling around dramatically.

The crowd’s enthusiasm only grew, their cheers louder than ever.

Rhaenyra’s expression turned grim as she silently observed the mockery on stage.

---

Rhaenyra's smile completely faded. She glared at Daemon in dissatisfaction and said indignantly, "A boring joke? You brought me here just to see this?"

Daemon replied calmly, "It is indeed a joke, but many commoners believe that as male heirs, Rhaegar and Aegon should be the successors."

"What they think doesn’t matter."

Rhaenyra retorted, unwilling to watch the dull performance any longer.

Daemon followed behind her and said casually, "If you plan to rule the realm one day, what they think becomes critically important."

"Ugh, sometimes I really want to just let go of the burden of being the heir," Rhaenyra said with a self-deprecating tone.

"Heh, if you give up that position, it’ll only benefit others," Daemon said, his tone carrying a hint of implication.

Rhaenyra shot him a glare and said unhappily, "Including you!"

Daemon curved his lips into a faint smile and didn’t deny it.

Seeing his shameless attitude, Rhaenyra grabbed a candied fruit from a nearby vendor and threw it at him before taking off at a run.

Amid the noisy clamor, the sound of the young woman’s exhilarated cheer could still be heard as if she were venting her emotions.

Daemon, expressionless, brushed past the protesting vendor and quickly followed her.

---

*The Red Keep.*

As night deepened, Helaena grew tired from playing and went to bed. Alone in his room, Rhaegar also turned off the lights and lay down to sleep.

As soon as he rested his head on the bed, Rhaegar once again found himself in a dream.

In the dream, he was wearing a white robe and holding a sword.

Looking around, he saw a battlefield littered with broken limbs and corpses—a sea of blood and mountains of dead.

Confused and overwhelmed, Rhaegar felt nauseated from the stench of blood.

He bent over to vomit, and as he did, the smooth white robe draped over his body, revealing a small, speckled bloodstain that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

Rhaegar noticed it immediately.

Before he could examine it further, the bloodstain, initially just a tiny dot, began spreading outward, growing larger and larger.

In the blink of an eye, it had soaked half the white robe, and drops of dirty blood began falling to the ground.

A cold wind suddenly swept through, lifting the white robe, which fluttered ominously over Rhaegar's head.

Witnessing this scene, an inexplicable fear gripped Rhaegar.

“When the wind stops, that blood-soaked robe will fall on me, covering my face and head with filthy blood.”

The thought flashed through his mind, and Rhaegar took off running, desperate to leave the robe behind.

He thought that if he ran far enough, the robe wouldn’t touch him when it fell.

However, the half-white, half-red robe seemed to have chosen him as its target.

No matter where he ran or how fast he went, the robe hovered above his head, waiting for the moment the wind would die down.

A feeling of helplessness filled his heart, and Rhaegar could no longer muster the strength to run.

The robe began to descend.

“No!”

A cry of alarm echoed through the room as Rhaegar jolted awake from the nightmare.

Trying to sit up, he accidentally pulled at the scabs on his back, and the sharp pain immediately brought him back to reality.

“Ugh, another nightmare!”

Tears welled up in his eyes as he pounded the pillow in frustration.

The pain was unbearable!

Coo-coo, coo-coo…  

As the pain finally began to subside, the sound of a cuckoo bird came from outside the window.

Rhaegar frowned in confusion. “It’s usually cicadas this time of year. Where did a cuckoo bird come from?”

Coo-coo, coo-coo…  

The birdcall continued, rhythmic and unbroken.

Something felt off.

Rhaegar suddenly realized: there were no cuckoo birds in the Red Keep—they had all been eaten by those useless cats.

---

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 42: The Peculiar Informant*

Driven by curiosity, Rhaegar slowly propped himself up.

Moving carefully to avoid aggravating his wounds, he shuffled toward the window at a deliberate pace.

Looking down, he realized it wasn’t a cuckoo calling after all.

Instead, it was a short swordsman with curly brown hair.

Ser Serwyn cupped his hands around his mouth, imitating a cuckoo’s call while standing in the garden, staring up at Rhaegar’s window.

Rhaegar opened the glass window and shouted down, “Hey! What’s with the racket in the middle of the night?”

Seeing Rhaegar appear, Serwyn bowed deeply, then walked away without saying a word.

“Weirdo!”

Rhaegar muttered under his breath before closing the window.

Still, he wondered if the nightmare he’d just experienced might have been prophetic. What could it have been trying to foretell?

“Wait, why is Serwyn even at the Red Keep?”

Suddenly recalling Serwyn’s background, Rhaegar hurriedly called out toward the door, “Eryc, I need you!”

Creak.  

Eryc entered the room respectfully. “What are your orders?”

Rhaegar described his recent encounter with Serwyn.

Eryc explained, “Serwyn won the champion's title in the melee tournament and requested permission from the king to remain at the Red Keep as a fencing instructor. He’s also sworn an oath to serve you.”

“Sworn an oath to me?”

Rhaegar was momentarily stunned. He hadn’t heard anything about the tournament.

Eryc explained further, and Rhaegar finally understood that Serwyn had stayed behind to offer his services as Rhaegar’s fencing instructor.

Confused, Rhaegar asked, “If he’s already achieved his goal, why disturb me in the middle of the night? Does he want to see me that badly?”

“That’s certainly possible, but it’s late, and meeting him alone might not be safe.”

Eryc had been explicitly instructed by the king to ensure Rhaegar didn’t meet with Serwyn alone and to remain vigilant at all times.

Rhaegar conceded that this made sense.

Yet, the lingering nightmare gnawed at him, as though it were somehow tied to Serwyn.

After some hesitation, Rhaegar decided he wanted to confront him.

“Ser, take me to the garden. Let’s see what he wants.”

Eryc rested a hand on the hilt of his sword and nodded. “Climb on my back, my prince.”

Rhaegar didn’t refuse and allowed Eryc to carry him.

Despite his quick recovery, three days wasn’t enough to heal completely.

For now, he relied on Eryc to get fresh air outside.

They descended the spiraling staircase, avoiding the bustling servants in the hall, and entered the small garden.

Underneath the heart tree, Serwyn was waiting.

As soon as they met, Rhaegar impatiently asked, “Serwyn, why are you seeking me in the dead of night?”

Serwyn smiled warmly. “I apologize for disturbing you at this hour, but I couldn’t ignore something that caught my attention by chance.”

“Go on. What did you see?”

Rhaegar’s unease grew stronger, convinced Serwyn’s account was connected to his nightmare.

Serwyn began, “After the feast ended, I was strolling in the garden when I saw two figures sneaking about.”

“Who were they? Did you see their faces clearly?”

Rhaegar was puzzled.

“One was wearing simple linen clothes and a worn hat, but her strikingly beautiful face was unmistakable—it was your sister, Princess Rhaenyra.”

Serwyn described the pair’s appearance before continuing, “The other was tall and carried an air of familiarity. If I’m not mistaken, Prince Daemon left the feast early...”

At this point, Serwyn stopped speaking, though his meaning was clear.

Rhaenyra and Daemon had slipped out of the Red Keep.

Rhaegar’s brows furrowed deeply as he scrutinized Serwyn.

The close relationship between Rhaenyra and Daemon was no secret in the Red Keep.

Since childhood, Rhaenyra had adored her uncle.

Daemon, in turn, doted on his niece, always bringing her gifts and showing her affection whenever he returned from his travels.

The two sneaking out together wasn’t particularly surprising.

Serwyn, with his hands clasped behind his back, nudged a small stone with his foot, looking as though there was more he couldn’t say.

Rhaegar sighed inwardly—his suspicions were confirmed. He spoke bluntly, “Go ahead. What else is there?”

Serwyn admitted, “I inquired with Prince Daemon’s attendants. He booked a suite at a brothel on Silk Street tonight.”

Rhaegar froze on the spot, staring at Serwyn in disbelief.

His mind reeled, replaying the latter half of Serwyn’s statement.

“Brothel... suite... Daemon and... Rhaenyra?”

For a moment, the young prince’s brain short-circuited, grappling with a possibility that defied moral norms.

Granted, for House Targaryen, such matters were hardly unprecedented.

But Daemon? Absolutely not!

That man was clearly up to no good.

Eryc interjected at just the right moment. “Your Highness, this is a grave matter. I believe we should inform the king immediately.”

--- .

This matter is far too vile.

Prince Daemon, as an uncle, lured Princess Rhaenyra, his niece, to a brothel for a private room. This is an act of treason.

"Wait, don't alarm my father just yet."

Rhaegar immediately objected, unwilling to let this matter reach their father right now.

An enraged father could easily cause an uproar.

Regardless of whether this incident happened or not, Rhaenyra's reputation would inevitably be tarnished.

At that point, a scandal would be unavoidable.

Thinking quickly, Rhaegar turned to Ser Xyryl and questioned, "How long have the two of them been gone?"

"About half an hour," Xyryl replied after thinking it over.

"Are you certain it was my sister you saw? It's fine to missee something with your eyes, but misspeaking could cost lives!"

Rhaegar still found it hard to believe.

Xyryl solemnly swore, "I swear by the Old Gods and the New, I did not see wrong."

"Good. Keep this matter quiet. Do you understand?"

Rhaegar’s words carried a heavy undertone of threat.

Xyryl nodded, bowed, and withdrew.

He had already achieved his purpose; staying longer was unnecessary.

Rhaegar stared at the weirwood tree before him. The eerie face carved into its trunk wept bloody tears, as if merging with the blood from his nightmares.

Xyryl’s sudden appearance was too abrupt.

But there was no time to dwell on his motives.

Rhaegar had to find Rhaenyra.

"Ser, we leave immediately to find my sister."

Rhaegar couldn’t wait another moment. He wanted to retrieve Rhaenyra before anyone else found out.

The Red Keep wasn’t close to Silk Street. With Rhaenyra slipping away only half an hour ago, there was still time.

Ser Erryk frowned and said, "This is a serious matter. Searching for her ourselves would be like finding a needle in a haystack."

"It doesn’t matter. I’ve heard Rhaenyra mention before that Daemon owns shares in the largest brothel on Silk Street. He’ll definitely go there."

Rhaegar’s tone was resolute. "Daemon has malicious intentions toward my sister. We must stop him in time."

"Yes, my prince. It seems we must solve this issue before it grows out of hand."

Erryk had Rhaegar mount up as he prepared to leave.

Hearing this, a flash of insight crossed Rhaegar’s mind, and he vaguely sensed something amiss.

"Wait, Ser!"

Rhaegar immediately halted their departure to organize his thoughts.

Xyryl was not someone to be trusted.

His sudden appearance and report seemed like a gesture of goodwill, but he likely had ulterior motives.

Rhaegar felt the need to think carefully and untangle the chaotic web of thoughts in his mind.

Daemon luring Rhaenyra was likely not fabricated.

Daemon had always coveted the throne. If he could win Rhaenyra’s heart and become her consort, he could return to the center of power and even sideline Rhaenyra as heir.

Xyryl’s act of informing on him could tentatively be seen as a bid for Rhaegar’s favor, hoping to gain his trust.

So, what role was Rhaegar supposed to play in all of this?

Would he act as an innocent child, inform his father, and provoke the fury of the dragon-sleeper king, ordering Daemon’s arrest?

Or would he sneak out of the Red Keep to protect his sister’s honor?

Perhaps he’d feign ignorance, hide the truth, and wait for the matter to escalate?

"Exactly, escalating the matter! Someone wants this to blow up as much as possible."

Rhaegar suddenly realized the sinister intention behind it.

Whether he informed his father or searched for Rhaenyra himself, as long as someone with ill intent spread the news, the incident would inevitably become a scandal that ruined Rhaenyra’s reputation.

If he turned a blind eye, it would play right into Daemon’s hands.

At that moment, Rhaegar felt as if a bell rang in his mind, sensing the whiff of a conspiracy.

He had to find Rhaenyra, but he couldn’t search for her openly.

"I need to come up with a way to divert everyone’s attention!"

---

(End of Chapter)  

Chapter 43: Winds Rising in King’s Landing

“Ser, do you have a trustworthy ally?”

Rhaegar, struck by an idea, decided to recruit someone.

Eryck nodded confidently. “My brother, Arryk. We trust each other completely.”

“Bring him along. We’ll need his help.”

“But, Your Grace, he’s currently guarding Prince Aegon. If the Queen finds out…”

“Then be careful and don’t get caught.”

Time was pressing, and Rhaegar couldn’t afford to waste it.

“Ser, take me to Rhaenyra’s chambers. Then go find Arryk.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Though he didn’t know what Rhaegar was planning, Eryck chose to support him regardless.

---

At the door to Rhaenyra’s chambers, Ser Criston Cole was on night watch.

Seeing Eryck approach carrying Rhaegar, Criston asked suspiciously, “Your Grace, why are you here so late at night?”

“I had a nightmare and wanted to speak with my sister,” Rhaegar replied, feigning fear and inventing an excuse.

Criston hesitated. “The Princess just retired for the night. I’m afraid…”

“Ser Criston, Rhaenyra is my sister. She will want to see me,” Rhaegar interrupted, his tone suddenly firm, catching Criston off guard.

“Open the door. Let me in.”

This command wasn’t directed at Criston but at Eryck, who carried him.

Eryck stepped forward and opened the door. Criston tried to stop him, but Eryck pushed him aside with ease.

Rhaegar’s royal status left Criston powerless to intervene.

Determined to see Rhaenyra, there was nothing Criston could do to stop him.

As soon as they entered, the door slammed shut behind them before Criston could get a good look inside.

Eryck carried Rhaegar to the empty bed and gently set him down.

As he passed the table, Eryck picked up an empty satchel and a sheet of paper with a map drawn on it.

Rhaegar carefully examined the room. He glanced at the formal gown casually discarded on the carpet and confirmed that Rhaenyra had indeed sneaked out.

Handing the map to Eryck, Rhaegar instructed, “Follow the plan I told you. If you find Rhaenyra, return through this secret passage.”

“Carrying out this plan could cause major consequences,” Eryck said, hesitant after hearing Rhaegar’s instructions on the way there.

“Ser, my sister is the heir to the Iron Throne. For her honor, some sacrifices are necessary,” Rhaegar said solemnly, placing a hand over his heart. “As I said, no matter the outcome, I will take full responsibility.”

Recalling an encounter with a white hart in the past, Eryck’s gaze grew resolute. “I promise to bring the Princess back safely!”

Under Rhaegar’s watchful eye, Eryck turned and left the room.

Before shutting the door, he blocked Criston’s view and sternly said, “Do not interrupt the Prince and Princess while they speak. Stand guard.”

As a newly appointed member of the Kingsguard, Criston held Eryck in high regard and nodded in understanding.

Eryck strode away purposefully.

---

*Silk Street*

Under the night sky, Rhaenyra ran through the bustling crowds, savoring this rare moment of freedom.

Now and then, she accidentally toppled a merchant’s goods, laughing playfully as if it were a game.

Daemon followed closely, handling any angry pursuers with ease.

Thud!  

Rhaenyra dashed into a dark alley and collided headlong with a Gold Cloak.

The Gold Cloak grabbed her arm and demanded sternly, “What mischief are you running away from?”

Through the helmet, Rhaenyra recognized him and blurted out his name.

“Ser Harwin!”

“Princess?”

Harwin Strong was startled but kept his composure, glancing subtly toward the alley’s entrance.

There, Daemon approached leisurely, having caught up.

Rhaenyra noticed her uncle and pleaded with Harwin, “Please, don’t.”

After a moment’s thought, Harwin guessed that the two had sneaked out to have some fun.

He released Rhaenyra’s arm and pretended not to know her. “Be careful, boy. Next time, you might not be so lucky.”

With that, he continued his patrol nonchalantly, brushing past Daemon as if nothing had happened.

Daemon smirked knowingly, unfazed by the Gold Cloak.

Before he was dismissed as Commander of the City Watch, every Gold Cloak had been his subordinate—loyal to the core.

---

"Running wild and making a mess—are you actually enjoying this?"

After the chase and scramble came to an end, Daemon and Rhaenyra walked side by side.

“Who knows when I'll taste freedom again?”

Rhaenyra panted softly, clearly relieved by the reckless antics that had helped her release some of her pent-up stress.

The uncle and niece continued talking as they strolled.

Before long, Rhaenyra noticed something was off.

The street vendors and performers became fewer and fewer, replaced by the seductive sounds of passion.

Daemon led her into a stone building she’d never seen before. The source of the provocative noises emanated from within.

The moment they stepped through the doorway, an atmosphere heavy with drunken debauchery and indulgence overwhelmed her senses.

Men were drinking and carousing, their language crude and vulgar.

Scantily clad women wandered freely through the hall, unbothered by prying eyes. They weaved through the groups of men, allowing wandering hands to touch them while flashing seductive smiles and eliciting lustful laughter.

Rhaenyra was stunned, letting Daemon lead her deeper into the hall as her wide eyes roamed over the hedonistic scene.

This was a place unlike anything she had ever witnessed.

“What is this place?”

Rhaenyra asked warily, her gaze darting around.

Daemon’s tone was calm. “A place where people come to satisfy their desires.”

“Are you out of your mind? How dare you bring me here?”

Rhaenyra’s face froze, the provocative scenes around her making her deeply uncomfortable and instinctively resistant.

She looked at her uncle, meeting his eyes filled with unmistakable desire.

Her heart sank, a sense of foreboding rising within her.

Rhaenyra’s expression shifted slightly as she glanced nervously back at the door.

If she ran now, she might still have time to escape.

---

Meanwhile, in the corner outside the brothel’s walls...

Two cloaked figures stood side by side, watching as Daemon led Rhaenyra into the establishment.

“Go on. I’ll handle things here,” one figure said first, their hood shadowing a serious face.

“Remember, the bigger the scene, the better. This is about the princess’s reputation—don’t mess it up.”

The face beneath the other hood was identical—it was Erryk, ready for action.

“Don’t worry. I won’t disappoint the prince.”

Arryk clapped his brother’s shoulder, holding a torch aloft and lighting a nearby pile of hay.

The dry grass caught fire immediately, smoke billowing alongside the flames.

Erryk wasted no words. He pulled his hood tight and headed for the brothel entrance.

Arryk moved quickly, scaling the wall to ignite the hay stored in the kitchen and stables.

The two brothers worked in seamless coordination.

Once inside the brothel’s main hall, Erryk remained silent, avoiding the women lingering around the room as he made his way toward the inner chambers.

Pushing aside the flimsy curtains, he immediately spotted his target.

Daemon had cornered Rhaenyra against the wall, his eyes predatory as he loomed over her.

Rhaenyra was pushing him away, her face filled with fear.

Perfect timing. Erryk strode forward and gripped Daemon’s shoulder, yanking him back before delivering a crushing left hook to his face.

“Ungh...”

The sudden attack left Daemon reeling, and he collapsed to the ground with a loud thud, stars dancing in his vision.

Everything had happened so fast that Rhaenyra only realized she was free from his grasp after hearing Daemon’s groan of pain.

“Princess, come with me immediately.”

Erryk picked up Daemon’s discarded cloak and threw it to Rhaenyra, then grabbed her arm without giving her a chance to argue.

Before leaving, Erryk shot Daemon a disdainful glance.

As a final parting gesture, he delivered a sharp kick between Daemon’s legs.

A sickening thud echoed as Daemon let out a shrill scream, clutching himself and curling up on the floor like a shrimp.

(End of Chapter)  

*Chapter 44: Blazing Flames*

“Who are you?!”

Rhaenyra gasped in a low voice, quickly pulling away.

Ser Erryk grabbed her, hurriedly draped a black cloak over her, and forcefully dragged her out through the back door.

“Who exactly are you? Where are you taking me?”

Rhaenyra struggled desperately, glaring at the faceless figure of Erryk.

With no other choice, Erryk revealed his face and warned, “Someone saw you sneaking around the Red Keep with Prince Daemon. Prince Rhaegar sent me to bring you back.”

“Rhaegar sent you?”

Rhaenyra froze at his words, her tense expression softening.

Erryk said urgently, “The situation is critical. You’d better stay quiet to avoid being recognized.”

Rhaenyra nodded repeatedly and followed his lead.

As they exited through the back door, they saw a beggar boy slumped weakly against the wall.

Erryk stepped in front of Rhaenyra, grabbed the boy by the hair, and slammed him hard against the wall.

Blood splattered, and the boy crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

“He was just a little beggar?” Rhaenyra said in a daze.

“Nine out of ten beggars near brothels or gambling dens are spies,” Erryk replied. Then, glancing back, he added, “He’s not dead, just unconscious.”

Relieved, Rhaenyra paid no further attention to the boy.

“Fire! Someone, put it out!”

“The backyard is burning! We need help!”

“…”

Before they had gone far, a roaring fire erupted from the brothel, spreading rapidly in the night wind.

The flames quickly engulfed nearby streets and homes. Panic spread as sleeping townsfolk rushed outside, barely dressed, grabbing buckets to join the firefighting efforts.

Amid the growing chaos, Erryk exhaled and led Rhaenyra through the alleys, avoiding the rescue crowds.

Elsewhere, Arryk threw a torch through the second-floor window of the brothel before vanishing into the night.

His mission that night was arson.

It wasn’t the most honorable task for a knight, but when his elder brother brought orders from Prince Rhaegar, he could not refuse.

Arryk had pledged his loyalty to the young heir to the throne.

The thought of Prince Aegon?

He was merely a royal duty, not someone worth his devotion.

The wind shifted.

…

Erryk and Rhaenyra sprinted through the streets, only to run into a squad of gold cloaks rushing to extinguish the flames.

“Avoid them,” Erryk whispered, steering them into a narrow alley.

As they turned, a lone gold cloak appeared ahead.

“Who’s there, sneaking around like that?”

The familiar voice drew Rhaenyra’s gaze, and she recognized Harwin Strong’s face.

Erryk instinctively positioned himself in front of Rhaenyra, warning, “Stand aside. This is none of your concern.”

Harwin unsheathed his sword, smirking coldly. “Big words for someone defying the City Watch.”

As a skilled knight, Harwin feared no challenge.

Erryk recognized him but knew that revealing his identity would compromise the mission. His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword under his cloak, ready to fight.

“Stop it! We’re friends!”

Before things escalated, Rhaenyra ignored Erryk’s protests and stepped between them to intervene.

The moment she spoke, Harwin froze, startled. “Princess? You again?”

Rhaenyra pulled back her hood, awkwardly saying, “There’s no time to explain. I got separated from Daemon, and thankfully, a Kingsguard found me.”

She wasn’t foolish enough to reveal the whole truth.

Harwin studied Erryk closely before offering Rhaenyra a faint smile. “If that’s the case, Princess, you should go. I need to help with the fire.”

“Thank you, Ser Harwin,” Rhaenyra said, wasting no time as she dragged the scowling Erryk away.

As he watched them disappear into the night, Harwin frowned in confusion. He glanced at the distant flames, his mind swirling with doubt.

…

The fire on Silk Street raged on, drawing the full attention of the City Watch.

Gold cloaks from all over the city rushed to join the effort, battling the inferno well into the night.

Only then was the blazing fire finally extinguished.

The brothel at the source of the fire was burned to the ground, leaving only charred stone frameworks.

Along with it, a dozen nearby residential houses were entirely consumed by the flames.

Fortunately, this area was densely populated, and the fire was quickly discovered, causing no casualties.

Before this, the arsonist, Aric, had already reunited with his brother in the Red Keep.

The two exchanged a knowing smile, saying nothing, but understanding everything.

They parted ways in opposite directions.

Erik led Rhaenyra back to her chamber through a secret passage.

Rhaegar, struggling to keep his composure, walked to the edge of the floor-to-ceiling window and gazed at the sea of flames engulfing King’s Landing.

He knew it was Erik and Aric’s doing.

This fire—he was the mastermind behind it.

Rhaenyra had fallen into Daemon’s trap, and there were people secretly spying on them.

Under normal circumstances, no matter how Rhaegar searched for Rhaenyra, he would leave himself vulnerable.

This was because wherever Rhaenyra went, there would be spies watching.

Especially that brothel.

Rhaenyra’s secret escapade couldn’t be hidden—too many people had seen her movements.

All Rhaegar had to do was sever the trail connecting Rhaenyra and Daemon’s visits to the brothel.

A massive fire that consumed everything would erase any trace of evidence.

Even if someone testified that Rhaenyra had been to the brothel, who could verify the truth from the ruins?

Rhaegar’s job was to arrive in Rhaenyra’s chamber ahead of time and provide her with an alibi.

When the time came, anyone who dared to accuse Rhaenyra without evidence would be silenced by their father, Viserys.

Creaaak—  

The wall at the secret passage’s entrance turned, and Rhaegar immediately turned his head.

There stood the much-anticipated Erik and Rhaenyra.

“Rhaenyra, you’re finally back,” Rhaegar said with a smile, the heavy weight in his heart lifted at last.

He had been worried that Rhaenyra would be swayed by Daemon and refuse to return with Erik.

It seemed Rhaenyra hadn’t let him down.

“Rhaegar, how did you know I snuck out?”

Rhaenyra looked at her brother in surprise, pulling off her black cloak as she asked curiously.

Rhaegar glanced toward Erik, who was closing the secret passage.

Erik said in a low voice, “There were too many prying eyes; I didn’t have a chance to explain to the princess.”

Rhaegar nodded. “Did everything go smoothly, Ser?”

“It went relatively well, though we did encounter Harwin Strong during a patrol. The princess’s identity was exposed.”

Erik’s tone carried a hint of guilt.

Rhaegar lowered his head, silently wondering if Harwin might speak out and whether he needed to issue a warning.

That man was the eldest son of Hand of the King Lyonel and the heir to Harrenhal.

In any case, given his father’s accomplishments and his own status, Rhaegar wasn’t ready to consider eliminating him just yet.

Watching their cryptic exchange, Rhaenyra whispered, “Harwin is Lyonel’s son. He respects me greatly and shouldn’t speak out of turn.”

“That’s for the best,” Rhaegar said with a faint smile.

Lyonel was indeed a trustworthy man, and his son should be equally sensible.

Rhaenyra stepped closer to Rhaegar, her bright eyes blinking as she pretended to adopt the authority of an elder sister. “Who tipped you off? And that fire—was it your doing?”

On her way back, Rhaenyra had been pondering these matters.

Erik’s sudden appearance and the perfectly timed fire…

Now, seeing Rhaegar in her chamber, she realized that all of this couldn’t be unrelated to him.

“The informant is someone I can’t reveal for now,” Rhaegar said, hiding the involvement of Syrio. This individual’s identity was too peculiar, and it wasn’t the right time to alert their enemies.

Then, with a serious expression, he added, “I was behind the fire—I was protecting you!”

(End of chapter)  

*Chapter 45: A Bond of Siblings*

A faint trace of pride hid within the voice.

“Rhaegar, was it you who set the fire to cover my tracks?”

Rhaenyra lowered her head guiltily, realizing the importance of the fire.

“Who else? Aside from me, your brother, who else would deal with your troubles in the middle of the night!?”

Rhaegar’s face was stern, and his voice rose.

“Shh! Who told you where I was?”

Rhaenyra quickly covered her brother’s mouth, trying to find out who had tipped him off.

Rhaegar shook his head to avoid her hand and widened his eyes. “There’s no such thing as a wall without cracks. You did something foolish, and you’re afraid of people finding out?”

“I didn’t expect this to happen. I just wanted… I just wanted to clear my mind.”

Her soft, trembling reply struck a chord in Rhaenyra, leaving her momentarily speechless.

“Did Daemon… hurt you?” Rhaegar asked worriedly.

“He didn’t succeed. Ser Erryk arrived just in time.”

Rhaenyra ruffled Rhaegar’s hair and forced a smile.

What happened tonight had been entirely unexpected.

In the past, she had admired and trusted Daemon deeply.

But now, knowing the fire’s true origin, she felt only fear and regret.

Rhaegar, angered by her naivety, scolded her mercilessly:

“If it weren’t for timely information, do you realize that by morning, everyone would be talking about you and Daemon wandering into a brothel together?”

“I snuck out through the secret passages; no one noticed me…”

Rhaenyra’s fingers fidgeted nervously.

Rhaegar didn’t mince words. “If no one noticed, then how did I get the tip-off?”

“Daemon… someone secretly watching you… the informant who warned me…”

“Think carefully—there are already three groups of people keeping tabs on you. Nothing that happened tonight is a secret anymore.”

Rhaenyra fell silent.

She wasn’t a fool—she had simply trusted Daemon too much.

She hadn’t expected her once-doting uncle to suddenly bare his fangs.

If Rhaegar hadn’t quietly intervened tonight, she dared not imagine what might have happened.

What rumors might circulate by morning?

“I’m sorry. I was just feeling overwhelmed and wanted to take a walk.”

After a long pause, Rhaenyra finally spoke, her voice trembling.

“You’d better mean it. Daemon has always coveted the throne, and you’re nothing but a tempting piece of bait to him!”

Rhaegar looked at her with frustration and pity.

This sister of his was too naïve—being manipulated like a puppet on strings was nothing short of humiliating.

“What’s with that look? I’m still your elder sister, after all.”

Rhaenyra flushed bright red, unable to bear the way her brother’s eyes seemed to view her as a fool.

Rhaegar simply watched her outburst quietly and shook his head.

“Pfft—”

Seeing his expression, Rhaenyra was both angry and amused.

Rhaegar turned to glance at her, and their eyes met.

In that instant, scenes from their past—moments of care and concern—flooded their minds, pulling at their heartstrings.

The next moment…

Rhaenyra’s eyes reddened. She slowly crouched down and gently hugged Rhaegar, her voice filled with guilt. “I’m so sorry… for all the foolish things I’ve done, for always leaving you to clean up my mess.”

“Your position is too important. You must learn to treasure yourself.” Rhaegar sighed softly.

“I’m sorry… truly sorry.” Rhaenyra’s voice trembled as she began to cry.

“I won’t always be able to come to your rescue in time.”

Rhaegar leaned his cheek against her hair, speaking in a gentle tone that reached deep into her heart.

“Sister, don’t let Father be disappointed again.”

“Rhaegar…”

Choking on her sobs, Rhaenyra couldn’t form complete words. She only wanted to hold her brother tightly, though she feared touching his wounds.

“Until the Stranger comes to take me, I’ll stay by your side.”

Rhaegar gently patted Rhaenyra’s back, his soft voice a soothing balm to her soul.

Reflecting on her reckless escapade tonight, Daemon’s sinister ambitions, and the embrace of her brother…

Rhaenyra felt a whirlwind of emotions. She realized she was nothing more than a pawn in others’ schemes. Tears streamed uncontrollably down her face.

Burying her head in Rhaegar’s shoulder, she wept quietly.

Her tears soon soaked through Rhaegar’s collar, and he gave Ser Erryk a helpless smile.

Ser Erryk bowed, turned, and silently left through the hidden passage.

It wouldn’t have been proper for him to linger.

Walking out the main door wasn’t an option either, as Ser Criston was still on duty.

The secret passage was the perfect choice.

Rhaenyra cried for a long time, until she was exhausted and Rhaegar’s collar was drenched.

The girl's sobs gradually subsided.

Rhaenyra wiped her nose on her younger brother’s collar, revealing a pair of red, swollen eyes from crying.

Rhaegar sighed in exasperation. “I think we both need to change into some clean clothes.”

“Huh?”

Rhaenyra looked up in confusion, first noticing Rhaegar’s shirt, smeared with tears and mucus. Then, she looked down at her own rough, patched linen dress.

“Turn around first. I’m going to change.”

Rhaenyra picked Rhaegar up and forced him to lie face-down on the bed. She then stepped out of his line of sight, removed her patched dress, and put on a nightgown. Afterward, she rummaged through the wardrobe and tossed a smaller nightgown toward Rhaegar.

“I don’t have pajamas in your size. You’ll have to wear this.”

Rhaegar pulled the pink nightgown off his head, his face darkening as he flatly refused. “I have an injury on my back. I don’t need to wear clothes to sleep.”

“No way. You’re sleeping with me tonight, so you have to wear something.”

Rhaenyra reached out, trying to strip him and force the nightgown on.

“No, no, no! I’d rather go back to my own bed than wear that.”

Rhaegar fought back with all his might.

“…”

After a bout of playful tussling, the room’s candles were finally extinguished.

Rhaenyra hugged Rhaegar, who was now wearing only his underwear, and peacefully closed her eyes.

Rhaegar, serving as an unwilling body pillow, shifted uncomfortably before finding a soft spot to rest his face.

Neither of them spoke, silently waiting for sleep to come.

---

The next morning.

At dawn, a spy entered the Red Keep to report to the Hand of the King.

Laenor, sensing trouble, immediately sought out Viserys, who was having breakfast.

He shared the news from the night before, his expression grim.

“A spy reported that Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon were seen wandering Silk Street last night. Later, they entered a brothel.”

“What’s strange is that the brothel caught fire that same night. Daemon was seen being helped out of the brothel, but there’s no sign of the princess.”

Viserys’s face darkened considerably.

He knew his brother’s character well—an unrepentant scoundrel, capable of any kind of depravity. Shaking his head, he forced a smile. “That’s a lie. Someone must be trying to deceive you.”

“I hope so too, Your Grace,” Laenor replied, his tone heavy.

Viserys immediately realized that the report was likely true. Laenor was not Otto Hightower; he wouldn’t accuse Rhaenyra, the heir to the throne, without cause or personal motive. His words were always impartial and devoid of self-interest.

“Daemon! He’s a ravenous wolf!” Viserys slammed his fist on the table, his fury erupting like a wild beast’s roar.

The thought of Daemon doing something scandalous with his daughter made him want to strangle his younger brother on the spot.

His remaining sense of reason calmed him slightly as he tried to rationalize. “This can’t be true. Rhaenyra might’ve just snuck out and left after Daemon entered the brothel.”

He refused to believe that his daughter would enter a brothel, let alone do anything improper with Daemon.

Laenor added, “That’s exactly what’s puzzling. The fire at the brothel seemed deliberate. I’ve heard it was an act of arson.”

“Daemon left the brothel just as the fire started, and many witnesses confirmed that he appeared to be injured.”

“As for the princess, she vanished without a trace. No one has seen her since.”

Viserys clung to this as if it were a lifeline, his mood lifting slightly. “Exactly. If no one saw Rhaenyra, then no one can prove she was there. All’s well that ends well.”

But beneath his forced smile lay a deep and simmering anger.

“Summon Rhaenyra,” he barked to the attendant outside the door. “Tell her that her father invites her to share breakfast.”

Viserys planned to test her. Regardless of the truth, his daughter’s reputation was paramount. As her father, he had to get to the bottom of this.

“No need. I was just about to come here.”

The door swung open, and Rhaenyra walked in gracefully, her face radiant with a bright, blooming smile.

Viserys was startled. “Rhaenyra, why are you here?”

“Didn’t you invite me to breakfast? What a strange question.”

She sat down on the round stool without hesitation, her demeanor calm and composed—showing no hint of guilt or unease.

Viserys exchanged a glance with Laenor, both men seeing the same doubt in each other’s eyes.

(End of Chapter)