36-40

*Chapter 36: The Curse of the Chains*

"Father, I’m fine..."

His back completely numb, Rhaegar forced himself to speak with some energy.

"Rhaegar, my child, did I disturb you?"

Viserys sat helplessly by the bedside, reaching out to touch his son but hesitating to actually do so.

"No, I wasn’t sleeping deeply anyway."

Rhaegar smiled faintly and grasped his father’s hand to offer some comfort. "I carry the blessing of the White Hart. I’ll live to be a hundred years old."

Viserys clasped his son’s hand tightly in return, nodding repeatedly. "You’re right. You are a child blessed by the Seven. Pain will not break you."

Trying to maintain a smile, Viserys asked cautiously, "Tell me, someone mentioned your injuries were the result of attempting to tame a dragon. Is that true?"

Rhaegar sighed with regret. "Yes, I nearly succeeded in taming Dreamfyre."

"The Seven Hells! How could you dare try to tame a dragon—Dreamfyre, no less, who’s notoriously temperamental—without telling your father?!"

Viserys nearly lost his composure, unable to believe his eldest son had been so reckless.

"But I truly almost gained Dreamfyre’s approval!" Rhaegar insisted.

"I didn’t see that! All I see is my beloved child lying injured, his back covered with blisters the size of beans!"

Viserys scolded in a low, anguished voice, expressing both his anger and his concern. He was careful not to raise his voice too much for fear of startling his severely injured son.

Hearing his father’s words felt like salt on a fresh wound. Rhaegar’s face flushed red as he retorted, "I’m not lying! I could feel Dreamfyre’s fury at being chained and imprisoned. She acknowledged me!"

"But Dreamfyre nearly killed you with dragonfire!" Viserys growled, his voice trembling with lingering fear.

"It wasn’t Dreamfyre’s fault!" Rhaegar blurted. "Someone tampered with her chains. At the final step of the bonding ritual, the chains enraged her, and that’s why she attacked me!"

"Chains?!"

Viserys froze, his expression darkening as his brows knit together in thought.

"The chains restraining Dreamfyre were unusual," Rhaegar explained immediately. "They forced her to stay grounded."

Viserys fell silent, pondering who might have swapped the chains and what their motives could have been.

Just then, Laenor’s voice called from behind. "Your Grace, Ser Erryk is waiting outside. Shall I summon him?"

Snapping out of his thoughts, Viserys scowled. "Bring him in. I want to know how he’s been protecting my son!"

Ser Erryk entered the room and instinctively knelt on one knee by the bed.

Viserys fixed him with a piercing gaze, his tone icy. "Give me a full account of today’s events, especially how Rhaegar ended up injured. Leave nothing out."

"Yes, Your Grace."

Under the watchful eyes of everyone in the room, Ser Erryk recounted the day’s events in painstaking detail:

From leaving the Red Keep for the blacksmith’s forge...

To entering the Dragonpit and encountering Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon...

To Rhaegar’s solitary attempt to tame a dragon and his narrow escape from Dreamfyre’s wrath...

Within minutes, Ser Erryk laid everything bare.

The more Viserys listened, the darker his expression grew. He glared furiously at Ser Erryk, blaming him for failing to shadow Rhaegar’s every move.

Sensing the tension, Laenor interjected, "Your Grace, the maester named Menas seems suspicious. We could start by investigating him thoroughly."

"That bastard? Where is he now?"

Viserys nodded in agreement, then snapped irritably at Ser Erryk.

Ser Erryk answered quietly, "I’ve detained Menas in the dungeons."

"Ser Harrold, I want you to handle this personally," Viserys ordered, assigning the seasoned knight to take charge.

With the suspect in custody, some of Viserys’s anger subsided, and his attention returned to Rhaegar.

Rhaegar hesitated. "Father, I don’t think Menas had the courage to harm me. Could we spare his life?"

Viserys scoffed coldly. "You’re still thinking of others at a time like this. I don’t know if that makes you kind or foolish."

Even so, he didn’t deny his son’s request and instructed Ser Harrold to leave the man alive—albeit barely.

Rhaegar turned to Ser Erryk and said softly, "Ser Erryk was loyal and dutiful. This was my arrogance..."

"Enough. I know what you’re about to say," Viserys interrupted, placing a hand on his son’s. "I won’t punish him. Does that satisfy you?"

"Thank you, Father."

Feeling a warmth in his heart, Rhaegar lay quietly on the bed.

For a while, father and son sat in silence.

Sensing the mood, Laenor gestured for Ser Erryk and Maester Melos to leave the room with him, giving them privacy.

After a long pause, Viserys gazed at the sunset outside the window and asked hesitantly, "You... really almost tamed Dreamfyre?"

"Yes. If it weren’t for those cursed chains, I would’ve succeeded," Rhaegar replied, his voice tinged with regret.

Hearing this, Viserys fell silent again. A flash of cold determination passed through his lowered gaze.

Dreamfyre was an adult dragon. While her size couldn’t compare to Vermithor, who had hatched in the same era, her ferocity far exceeded that of the younger dragons like Syrax or Seasmoke.

She was even stronger than the Red Queen Meleys or the Blood Wyrm Caraxes.

For his eldest son to have nearly tamed such a formidable dragon was an incredible loss, all because of a trivial chain. Worse still, Rhaegar had nearly lost his life.

The weight of that loss and the sting of such a near success were unbearable for Viserys.

Gently stroking Rhaegar’s disheveled hair, he spoke with a quiet intensity, "My dear child, your father will make this right for you."

---

Rhaegar said, "I recently had a dream about the Dragonpit. You once told me to trust my dreams, so I wanted to share it with you."

"Go ahead! You possess the gift of a dreamwalker. Whatever you say, I will listen attentively," replied Viserys.

At the mention of a prophetic dream, Viserys looked eager.

Rhaegar then recounted the same reasoning he had shared earlier with Rhaenyra.

He emphasized the dangers of the Dragonpit: "Dragons should not be bound by chains, or they will be cursed!"

Viserys pondered and asked, "Are you saying that Dreamfyre's recent rampage is the so-called curse?"

"No! Dreamfyre's rampage was mostly caused by human factors; it can't truly be considered a curse," Rhaegar replied.

However, he added with a hint of warning, "This might just be a reminder. If we continue to restrain dragons with chains, it will undoubtedly bring far more terrible consequences."

Rhaegar firmly believed that the ancient texts were not baseless.

Had Dreamfyre not been shackled, the injuries he suffered might have been avoided.

Viserys's expression was inscrutable, but after some thought, he made his decision: "Dreams don't lie. I will begin a thorough investigation of the Dragonpit and root out any hidden threats."

"However, the dragons belonging to the family must have a lair in King's Landing. The Dragonpit will remain, but we can consider removing the chains."

Rhaegar agreed with his father's decision and said, "As long as dragons are no longer restrained by chains, the curse will have no place to take effect."

As night fell, Viserys looked at his eldest son with concern and said, "Get some good rest. I'll come to see you tomorrow."

"Alright, see you tomorrow," Rhaegar replied obediently, watching his father leave the room.

Once the room was empty, silence fell.

Left alone, Rhaegar collapsed on the bed with a pained grimace.

How could such extensive burns be nothing? He had only been pretending to be strong in front of his father.

"Hiss... The power of dragonfire really isn't exaggerated. Just a few sparks nearly killed me," he muttered, gasping in pain and trembling with lingering fear.

If not for the effect of Blood of the Dragon, his frail body would never have survived the burns.

The fire would have likely burned straight through from his back to his chest.

"Thank you again, Balerion!"

Rhaegar thought of Balerion's skull, placed at the center of the Great Sept, and a trace of gratitude flickered in his eyes.

---

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 37: A Little Tantrum*

Knock, knock...  

As Rhaegar was deep in thought, he heard a soft knock at the door.

Frowning in confusion, he wondered who might be visiting at this hour.

“Big brother, I’m here to see you…”

A gentle, childlike voice belonging to Helena came through the door.

Recalling the promise he’d made last night, Rhaegar replied, “Come in. The door’s not locked.”

Creak—  

The door slowly opened, and Helena, dressed in a silky nightgown, cautiously peeked her small head inside.

After glancing around the room and confirming there was no one else there, she slipped in entirely and quickly shut the door behind her.

Her movements were fluid and swift, like a practiced little thief.

Rhaegar chuckled at the sight and teased, “What are you so afraid of? Do you think there’s a monster hiding in my room?”

Helena shook her head and placed a finger to her lips. “Shh, I snuck out. Mother hasn’t gone to bed yet.”

“Is Alyson in your room?” Rhaegar asked, puzzled.

Helena tiptoed to the side of the bed and replied, “She just went to find Father.”

A smirk tugged at Rhaegar’s lips. He figured Alyson must have been summoned by their father.

That worked out well. At least he didn’t have to deal with her insincere concern.

Looking up at Helena, who was staring at him with eager anticipation, Rhaegar pointed to the area near the fireplace. “I bought a ball and some other toys. Go check them out.”

“Okay!”

Helena nodded enthusiastically and excitedly dashed toward the pile of toys by the fireplace.

Erik, a meticulous man, had carried out Rhaegar’s instructions with precision.

The toys he’d bought were the latest and most popular items from various shops—sure to delight any child.

Helena first picked up a colorful ball, then grabbed a stuffed dragon made from goose feathers.

The little girl plopped herself onto the rug and began playing with her new toys.

Rhaegar smiled, choosing not to disturb her as she entertained herself. He lay on the bed, closing his eyes to rest.

He had promised Helena that she could come to his room to play, so there was no reason to refuse her now.

Besides, his half-sister seemed to have some kind of prophetic ability. Spending more time with her couldn’t hurt.

Perhaps it might even help him figure out the patterns of his Dreamer’s gift.

Although, truth be told, he wasn’t sure if there was any pattern to it at all.

The two siblings didn’t speak, and the room fell into a peaceful silence.

A handsome yet sickly-looking boy lay bedridden, while a rosy-cheeked little girl played by the fireplace.

The scene was both warm and harmonious, a picture of serenity.

That was, until Helena picked up a shiny silver bracelet and held it up. “Big brother, is this bracelet for me too?”

Hearing her voice, Rhaegar glanced over. It was a replica crafted by the blacksmith. He replied casually, “No, that’s my accessory.”

“Oh…”

Helena’s response trailed off as she quietly set the bracelet back down.

Seeing the little girl’s disappointed expression, Rhaegar couldn’t help but think of Rhaenyra’s rejection of him. His chest tightened with a dull ache.

After a moment’s hesitation, Rhaegar let out a soft chuckle and relented. “It’s yours now. If you like it, go ahead and wear it. Consider it a gift from me.”

He didn’t want to say no to Helena, just as he didn’t want his sister to say no to him.

The mood shifted, and Helena’s face lit up with joy. “Okay, thank you, big brother! I love it!”

“It’s nothing. If you like something, you should go for it. You deserve it,” Rhaegar said softly.

His chest rose and fell as his words aggravated the injury on his back, making him wince in pain.

Noticing something was off, Helena clutched the bracelet and returned to his bedside, tilting her head in confusion. “Big brother, why are you lying like that? Are you okay?”

“I got hurt, so I have to lie like this to heal for a while,” Rhaegar explained truthfully.

“Does it hurt a lot? When Aegon pinches me secretly, it really hurts,” Helena said innocently, assuming someone had pinched Rhaegar as well.

Standing on tiptoes, she climbed onto the bed and puffed out her cheeks. “I’ll blow on it for you! That always makes it stop hurting!”

Rhaegar couldn’t help but laugh at the silly little girl.

But the laughter tugged at his back muscles, intensifying the pain.

“Damn chains! Why don’t they just hurt me to death already!”

Overcome by the pain, Rhaegar cursed under his breath at whoever had been responsible for the chains that caused his injuries, venting his frustration.

Helena flinched at his outburst and shrank into a corner of the bed, afraid to get any closer.

“Don’t be scared. I was cursing the person who hurt me, not you,” Rhaegar said, realizing his mistake.

He forced a bitter smile to reassure his sister.

Life was truly hard for him.

His back ached again, and yet he had to comfort this silly little sister of his.

Helena couldn’t hear his thoughts, but she had her own unique way of thinking.

Tiptoeing carefully, she climbed to Rega’s side. Pursing her lips, she blew earnestly at the bandages wrapped around his back.

Watching her, Rega felt a strange sensation stir within him—something akin to an inexplicable comfort.

Reaching out, he gently ruffled Helena’s silver hair and smiled. “Alright, my wound doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Helena stopped blowing and stared blankly at him, her clear eyes filled with confusion.

It was as if she were asking, “Really?”

Noticing the bracelet in her hand, Rega suggested, “Want me to help you put it on?”

Helena tilted her little head, thinking it over, then nodded.

Taking the bracelet, Rega held one of his sister’s hands and slipped it onto her wrist.

Thanks to his frail health and overly slender frame, the bracelet that fit him perfectly also fit Helena’s slightly chubby wrist just right.

Rega admired his work with a satisfied smile. “Such a chubby little girl—it suits you perfectly.”

To his surprise, Helena’s flushed face immediately turned sour.

Her smile vanished as she pouted, turned away, and curled up into a ball, distancing herself from him.

Rega’s smile froze. He hadn’t expected a two-year-old girl to care about being called chubby.

He called Helena’s name several times, but she didn’t respond, remaining motionless in silent protest.

Seeing her reaction, Rega sighed helplessly and turned over to prepare for sleep.

As for apologizing?

Ha! A Targaryen man never apologizes!

Time ticked by, and night deepened.

Helena peeked at Rega, who appeared to be fast asleep.

Seeing no movement, she slipped off the bed and quietly left the room.

…

Elsewhere, Rhaenyra had just returned from Dragonstone.

As soon as she entered the Red Keep, a servant stopped her, informing her that the king had requested to speak with her.

“Alright, let me change first,” she replied.

After a full day of carefree fun, Rhaenyra was thoroughly satisfied. She freshened up, changed her clothes, and went to see her father.

Arriving at Viserys’ bedroom door, Rhaenyra was about to knock when the door opened from within.

Alicent, dressed in an elegant gown, stepped out.

Rhaenyra was in high spirits and took the initiative to greet her stepmother and former friend.

Alicent forced a smile and quietly reminded her, “Rega was injured. Your father is furious, so don’t argue with him.”

At this point in time, Alicent’s betrayal of their former deep friendship was already apparent.

However, without the influence of her father, Otto Hightower, things hadn’t yet escalated to the point of breaking completely with Rhaenyra.

Showing a timely gesture of goodwill, Alicent tried to maintain the fragile friendship between them.

Hearing that Rega was hurt, a buzzing noise filled Rhaenyra’s mind. She immediately pressed for details, “How did Rega get injured? Isn’t Ser Erryk protecting him?”

Alicent glanced back into the room, about to reveal more, when Viserys’ voice interrupted them.

“Rhaenyra, how much longer are you going to make your king wait?”

His tone was heavy with suppressed anger.

“Sorry, I need to go check on the children,” Alicent said apologetically, giving Rhaenyra a regretful look before lifting her skirts and brushing past her.

Rhaenyra frowned in confusion, hesitated for a moment, and then entered the room.

Viserys was sitting by the stone model of the realm in his bedroom, fiddling with a dragon-shaped stone carving.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 38: Father and Daughter's Quarrel

Rhaenyra approached with determined strides, her tone sharp and angry. “She said Rhaegar was injured—what happened?”

Viserys replied, displeased, “Rhaenyra, is this the way you speak to your father and your king?”

Momentarily at a loss for words, Rhaenyra sighed in frustration. “I’m sorry, I’m just worried about Rhaegar’s condition.”

“Rhaegar’s situation is grave. He suffered extensive burns, and the Grand Maester says he may not make it,” Viserys stated, repeating the grim prognosis.

But that wasn’t what he truly believed.

When he had spoken to Rhaegar, his son’s spirits had seemed relatively high—hardly the demeanor of someone at death’s door. Viserys was convinced that the Seven Gods had blessed and protected his eldest son.

Rhaenyra, unaware of her father’s true thoughts, stood frozen in shock at his words. She was so stunned she nearly lost her balance.

Her brother was her only full-blood sibling, her closest family member, born at the cost of her mother’s life.

“How could this happen? This morning Rhaegar seemed perfectly fine… No, this can’t be true,” she murmured, disoriented and unwilling to believe the tragic news.

“I need to see Rhaegar! Where is he?”

Rhaenyra snapped out of her daze, her urgency overwhelming her as she insisted on seeing her brother.

Viserys sneered coldly. “So you do care about your brother? I thought your heart had already been stolen by that scoundrel Daemon.”

“What are you talking about? What do you mean my heart has been ‘stolen’ by Uncle Daemon?”

Rhaenyra instinctively retorted, brushing aside the accusation. “I need to see Rhaegar. My brother needs me.”

“No, he doesn’t need anyone. What he needs is peace and quiet so he can recover!”

Viserys refused her request without any hesitation.

He had already learned everything about what had happened at the Dragonpit today, including the exchanges between Rhaenyra and Daemon.

His sharp instincts detected that Daemon harbored a certain... inappropriate interest in Rhaenyra.

The idea that his own brother would try to manipulate his daughter for power was something Viserys would never tolerate.

He resolved to stamp out the issue before it spiraled out of control.

Seeing her father’s unyielding stance, Rhaenyra, confused and frustrated, had no choice but to relent.

She said with a worried tone, “Father, I’m Rhaegar’s sister. At the very least, you should tell me how he got hurt.”

On this point, Viserys didn’t hold back. He openly explained the cause of Rhaegar’s injuries.

Rhaenyra gasped in shock. “Rhaegar tried to tame Dreamfyre on his own? Is he insane?”

Everyone knew that dragons were inherently temperamental creatures, and Dreamfyre, an adult female dragon long confined to her lair, was notoriously difficult.

Even when Rhaenyra had tamed a dragon as a child, she had done so with the careful guidance of dragonkeepers, taking small, deliberate steps.

Charging into a dragon’s lair to tame an isolated, adult dragon was nothing short of suicidal.

Every year on Dragonstone, there were always a few reckless youths with Valyrian blood who tried to tame wild dragons in secret.

Most of them ended up burned to ashes or swallowed whole by the dragons, with only a rare few surviving the ordeal.

The thought of Rhaegar being burned beyond recognition by dragonfire left Rhaenyra feeling anguished.

If only she hadn’t refused Rhaegar’s earlier request to fly together, he might not have put himself in danger.

Noticing his daughter’s guilt-stricken expression, Viserys softened his tone. He decided to stop frightening her.

He sighed and said, “Rhaegar was incredibly lucky. He was burned by dragonfire, but his injuries are treatable. With proper care, he should recover without major issues.”

“That’s a relief. As long as Rhaegar’s life isn’t in danger, that’s all that matters!”

Rhaenyra let out a long sigh of relief, her heart finally settling back into her chest.

Having made his point, Viserys set aside the carved stone figurine he had been holding and decided it was time to bring up the real reason for their conversation.

“Rhaenyra, is there someone you like? Someone you admire and feel a mutual affection with?”

As her father, Viserys felt awkward broaching this subject, but for the sake of his children’s futures, he pushed forward.

The abrupt shift in topic left Rhaenyra momentarily confused. She frowned in suspicion. “Why are you asking me this? Has someone come to you with another marriage proposal?”

“Ahem, no, of course not.”

Viserys coughed to mask his embarrassment before continuing confidently. “I just think you’re of an age where it’s time to consider betrothal. If there’s someone you genuinely like, you can tell me.”

“There isn’t,” Rhaenyra replied bluntly. “Most of the men I meet are fools, and the few clever ones are far too full of themselves.”

Her expression visibly soured as she mocked the peacocking men who constantly tried to impress her.

Rubbing his temples, Viserys hesitated before saying, “What if I were to choose a match for you? Someone who meets all the necessary qualifications—would you be open to that?”

“Father, we agreed not to discuss this until after the tourney!”

Rhaenyra’s irritation at being pressured into marriage was evident in her tone.

---

Viserys hurriedly said, “You should at least listen to the candidate; maybe you’ll find it satisfactory.”

“Do as you wish. It’s not like I can escape those few families anyway.”

Rhaenyra turned away angrily, unwilling to face her father at that moment.

Relieved to no longer be under his daughter’s gaze, Viserys felt a weight lifted and blurted out, “What do you think about following family traditions?”

Rhaenyra froze, turning back slowly with difficulty. Her face was filled with suspicion as she asked, “Follow traditions?”

She had already guessed who the candidate was.

Angrily, she said, “You’re willing to sacrifice my marriage for the Iron Throne, dragging others into it too!?”

Viserys, also provoked, raised his voice, “What do you mean by ‘sacrificing your marriage’? As a royal princess, forging alliances through marriage is your duty!”

“Even I, as king, cannot escape that obligation!”

Rhaenyra retorted defiantly, “If you’re so set on marriage alliances, why don’t you marry them yourself? I refuse to accept those carrion-feeding vultures, and I won’t let you involve Rhaegar in this!”

“Rhaenyra! Do you even realize the nonsense you’re spewing?”

Viserys slammed the table and pointed at his daughter, shouting angrily, “You are the princess of the realm, the heir to the Iron Throne! Your status grants you the highest honors in the entire continent, second only to me.”

“Yet now, look at how selfish you’ve become!”

“You only care about enjoying the privileges your status brings, unwilling to make any sacrifices for it!”

Viserys glared at Rhaenyra, his eyes wide with fury, as he demanded, “Is this what you call the sense of duty expected of the heir to the Iron Throne?”

Rhaenyra gritted her teeth, refusing to back down. “Power is not about compromising with others—it’s about fighting for what you want.”

“And what exactly have you fought for? Besides being named heir, what do you have to be proud of?”

Viserys pressed her sharply.

Rhaenyra gave a bitter smile, her tone indifferent. “So this is what you’ve been wanting to say all along, isn’t it?”

“You think I don’t deserve the right to inherit?”

“Now that you have sons—Aegon, Aemond…”

“And especially Rhaegar, who has regained his health—you no longer need a girl as your heir.”

Viserys immediately denied it. “No! I admit I’ve had moments of doubt, but I still recognize you as my heir right now.”

“A female heir is already unconventional. If you don’t choose a partner with a strong background, it will be incredibly difficult for you to secure the Iron Throne in the future.”

“I know you’re unwilling to marry the sons of those noble families you look down on, but he is a good choice.”

“He has a pure heart, carries Targaryen blood, and his status will help you consolidate your power.”

---

(End of chapter)

Chapter 39: Escalating Conflict

Viserys spoke with heartfelt sincerity, revealing his innermost thoughts without reservation.

When he finished speaking, he gazed at his daughter with hope, longing for his words to touch her heart. He wished that she might turn back from her wayward path.

Rhaenyra’s eyes reddened with emotion, but the look she returned to her father was filled with sadness and determination.

It was clear she had not truly listened.

Tears welled up and spilled over as Rhaenyra choked out, “I never wanted this. I just want someone who can protect me, someone who will treat me with sincerity.”

For the first time, she expressed her true feelings, albeit in a veiled way.

Since losing her mother, Rhaenyra’s heart had been consumed by emptiness and fear. She refused to marry a man she didn’t love, only to become a tool for producing heirs.

Though her father had loved her mother deeply, when faced with a difficult childbirth, he still chose to save her brother by cutting open her mother’s belly.

She could never forget the day she ordered Syrax to breathe dragonfire and cremate her mother’s body.

Rhaenyra dreaded the thought that history might repeat itself with her.

The husband she imagined was a tall, handsome, and gentle man who would cherish her above all else.

It was this longing that had caused her to develop a faint affection for the ever-kind Ser Criston Cole.

Viserys, unaware of his daughter’s inner turmoil, responded only to the surface of her words.

Believing he understood, he said, “You can take your time. Get to know him first. When he comes of age, you can marry. Both of you are young and have plenty of time to develop mutual affection.”

“Never! He doesn’t even understand what’s happening. We can’t decide his fate for him,” Rhaenyra protested, shaking her head vehemently.

Though she mentioned the fate of her younger brother, Rhaegar, in truth, her sorrow was for herself.

Viserys tried to continue persuading her, but Rhaenyra covered her ears and ran out of the chamber as if fleeing.

She didn’t want to hear any more because her father always found ways to force her to yield.

Watching her retreating, disheveled figure, Viserys angrily slammed his goblet down, muttering bitterly about her ingratitude.

Everything he did was for the sake of his daughter’s future.

---

Three days later, the bustling tournament grounds were filled with spectators.

Viserys sat in the place of honor, smiling as he listened to a report from his Hand, Lyonel.

“Your Grace, the Dragonpit has been thoroughly investigated. Based on the testimony of an elderly dragonkeeper, it was confirmed that the chains restraining Dreamfyre were secretly replaced by Maester Barth of Oldtown,” Lyonel reported.

“The reason given was that Dreamfyre had been displaying aggressive behavior toward the dragonkeepers when they delivered livestock for her. To ensure the dragonkeepers’ safety, shorter chains were used to limit Dreamfyre’s movements.”

Viserys turned his head and raised an eyebrow. “Do you believe such a flimsy excuse?”

Lyonel shook his head. “No, it’s far too far-fetched.”

“Does the bastard locked in the dungeons have any connection to this?” Viserys asked, recalling Rhaegar’s plea to spare the life of Meleys.

“As of now, there’s no evidence to suggest he had any motive to harm Prince Rhaegar. Maester Barth has also expressed disdain for his low birth,” Lyonel replied honestly.

After a moment of thought, Viserys waved a hand dismissively. “If he’s not involved, release him. The lad did well to administer timely aid for Rhaegar’s burns; without it, the recovery wouldn’t have been so swift.”

Lyonel smiled lightly. “The prince’s healing abilities are indeed remarkable. Word is that his wounds are mending quickly. Truly, a Targaryen blessed by the Seven.”

Pausing, he lowered his voice. “As for Maester Barth, his actions are highly suspect. What should we do?”

A cold glint flashed in Viserys’ eyes. “The maesters of Oldtown are servants of the people. When a servant tampers with their master’s belongings, what punishment is fitting?”

“Cutting off both hands should suffice,” Lyonel suggested promptly.

“So be it. If he wishes to take the black and join the Night’s Watch, do not stop him,” Viserys concluded.

---

Viserys gave his approval.

Laenor obeyed the order, bowed, and left.

He still had numerous state affairs to handle and could not stay longer.

Once the Hand of the King departed, only Daemon and Rhaenyra remained by Viserys's side.

Today was the final day of the tournament, and most of the royal family would attend.

Rhaenyra, who had been eavesdropping, turned her head and said irritably, “That damn Maester nearly killed Rhaegar, and you plan to forgive him so easily?”

Viserys frowned and replied, “The Maesters are of the Citadel in Oldtown. No one can judge them arbitrarily as they please. Having his hands cut off or being sent to the Wall as a Night's Watchman is already a severe punishment.”

“Rhaegar almost died because of him. He should pay with his life,” Rhaenyra stated firmly.

“We can’t do that. Power isn’t a butcher’s knife to wield at will. A king should act with justice and fairness,” Viserys said, unwilling to argue further. He silenced Rhaenyra’s retort with a stern look.

“Hmph!”

Frustrated that her suggestion was dismissed, Rhaenyra let out a cold snort and adjusted her posture in her seat.

Daemon, sitting to the side, silently observed the father-daughter dispute, a self-mocking smirk tugging at his lips.

He had long since come to understand his brother’s weak and indecisive nature.

Viserys, completely unaware of his brother’s disdain, continued watching the jousting tournament below with great interest.

In his mind, there was nothing wrong with how he handled things.

A king should restrain his desires.

He must not break the law for his own selfishness.

---

The fighting in the tournament arena was fierce.

Competitions like jousting, melees, and archery had already determined their winners.

Only the most important event—the duel—remained, with the champion yet to be crowned.

Under the gaze of thousands of spectators, the final two competitors stepped into the dueling arena.

One was a towering knight from Casterly Rock, clad in heavy armor and wielding a broad sword.

The other was the tournament’s dark horse—Syrio Forel, the Water Dancer.

Syrio’s swordsmanship was as extraordinary as ever. His body moved with the flexibility of a serpent and the agility of a rabbit.

Each strike evaded his opponent’s blows and pierced the weak points in the knight’s armor, drawing bright splashes of blood with his blade.

In less than half an hour, the duel was over.

As expected, Syrio defeated his opponent and was crowned champion of the duel.

Amid the cheers of nobles and commoners alike, it was time for the king to bestow the rewards.

The winners of the previous events stepped forward one by one to receive their prizes and earn the king’s praise.

Finally, it was Syrio’s turn.

Looking down at Syrio, who knelt on one knee before him, Viserys smiled warmly. “I remember you. You boasted that you would claim the championship, and it seems you were not exaggerating.”

Syrio responded respectfully, “Your Grace, I would never dare boast to the kingdom.”

“Very well. As I promised, I will grant you one request. Speak it now,” Viserys said, holding true to his word.

Syrio didn’t hesitate and said directly, “I come from the faraway city of Braavos. Here, I have no family, no home, and no honor…”

“I humbly ask Your Grace to let me stay at the Red Keep, even if only as a dance instructor.”

“Why do you wish to stay at the Red Keep? I would have thought you’d want to be knighted,” Viserys asked, puzzled and growing slightly wary.

A master swordsman skilled in lethal techniques was not someone he could easily trust to remain close to the royal family.

Without hesitation, Syrio replied, “Because of your eldest son, Prince Rhaegar!”

“Rhaegar?” Viserys was utterly confused.

Syrio explained, “Prince Rhaegar, as your firstborn son, possesses character and wisdom unlike any I’ve ever seen.”

“A kingdom blessed with such an exceptional prince is fortunate to have such a king.”

“I wish to remain at the Red Keep to teach the prince swordsmanship during my leisure. I want to ensure that, by the time he comes of age, he possesses formidable martial skills and becomes a brave and skillful knight.”

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 40: Breaking the Chains*

Hilary’s voice rang loud and clear, echoing throughout the entire tournament arena.

His words instantly drew countless curious gazes.

This was the first time someone had publicly revealed the identity of the king’s eldest son and openly declared their allegiance to him.

Faced with such a bold declaration, Viserys appeared contemplative but responded openly:

“Swordsman, I know your origins. If you truly wish to serve my son, you must first swear an oath with a heart free of shadows.”

Hilary drew his iron sword, held it aloft with both hands above his head, and solemnly declared, “I am willing to swear!”

Without hesitation, he made a loud and clear vow to support Rhaegar Targaryen’s growth and to safeguard his authority until he came of age.

This scene was keenly observed by many who turned to gauge Princess Rhaenyra’s reaction.

They were eager to see how the crown princess—the heir to the throne—would view someone pledging loyalty to her younger brother.

Rhaenyra maintained a serene smile, sitting gracefully in her chair.

She seemed genuinely happy for her brother, as if completely unbothered by the matter.

It was as though this was nothing more than an ordinary knight choosing to follow a lord.

No one noticed her hidden hand pinching her inner thigh beneath her sleeve.

Viserys, too, observed Rhaenyra’s demeanor. Seeing no outward reaction, he nodded silently.

Taking Hilary’s iron sword, he placed it on the man’s shoulder and announced loudly:

“I hereby appoint you as a Knight of the Royal Court, bestowing upon you the title of ‘Sir.’ May you never forget your oath.”

“Thank you for your grace, Your Majesty,” Hilary said respectfully.

Thus, the grand tournament celebrating the fifth wedding anniversary of the king and queen came to a close.

Nobles and knights descended from the stands to accompany the king back to the Red Keep for a banquet.

Rhaenyra wandered through the crowd. Though her composure remained impeccable, she could not entirely hide her inner disappointment.

Daemon followed behind her, silently observing his niece’s forlorn state.

A glimmer of satisfaction flickered in his eyes.

---

As night fell, the Red Keep was alive with music and dancing.

Rhaenyra, unable to enjoy the festivities, left early. Wandering up the staircase, she suddenly found herself standing before a familiar door.

It was her brother’s room.

Looking at the door, Rhaenyra snapped out of her daze and realized where she was.

Since Rhaegar’s injury, she had come here every night.

Partly to check on her brother, who had difficulty moving, but also because her father’s suggestion had left her conflicted.

Marrying a stranger felt far less appealing than forming an alliance with her brother.

Hesitating whether or not to knock, she suddenly heard the laughter of a young girl from inside.

Her expression changed slightly, and without thinking, she pushed the door open.

What she saw surprised her: Rhaegar and Helaena were lying face-to-face on the bed with a chessboard between them.

“Rhaenyra, you’re here?”

Seeing his sister, Rhaegar smiled and waved her over to join them.

Closing the door behind her, Rhaenyra walked over to Helaena and sat beside her, gently stroking her little sister’s head.

“When did you and Helaena become so close?” she asked curiously.

Helaena blinked her large eyes at Rhaenyra and called out softly, “Sister.”

Rhaenyra returned the smile. She had always been fond of this younger sister—she was far less troublesome than her brother.

Rhaegar grabbed a pillow to prop himself up and explained, “Helaena is often bullied by Aegon. I told her she could come here to play with toys whenever she wanted.”

He gestured to the pile of intricate toys by the fireplace.

Rhaenyra nodded in understanding. She had noticed the finely crafted toys before, assuming they were Rhaegar’s. She hadn’t realized they were for Helaena.

She didn’t dwell on it, instead focusing on guiding Helaena in the chess game while casually asking Rhaegar about his recovery.

Rhaegar, in good spirits, replied cheerfully, “It’s going well! The wound is starting to scab, and the Grand Maester says I’ll recover soon.”

“The Grand Maester also said your constitution is special,” Rhaenyra mused. “It seems you’re destined to become a formidable warrior.”

She spoke deliberately but didn’t mention Hilary. That was something she felt Rhaegar should decide for himself.

After some idle chatter, Rhaegar suddenly brought up the Dragonpit investigation. “Have they found out anything yet?”

He had been deeply concerned about the matter and had been seeking updates for days.

Rhaenyra brought good news this time: “The one who tampered with the shackles was Maester Barth. Father sentenced him to have both hands cut off or to take the black and join the Night’s Watch.”

“I knew those Oldtown maesters couldn’t be trusted!” Rhaegar fumed, clenching his fists. “Such a man deserves to be executed publicly. Letting him off like that is too kind.”

“I proposed a harsher punishment to Father, but he overruled me,” Rhaenyra said with a shrug.

Rega glanced at her sympathetically, saying nothing more.

He knew his sister's life wasn't easy either. Although she was the heir to the throne, their father had never given her any real power.

Her suggestions were often dismissed, falling on deaf ears.

Rega changed the subject, thinking of the light blue dragon. He asked seriously, "How is Dreamfire? Has the chain been removed?"

"Don't worry," Rhaenyra replied. "Father ordered the removal of all the shackles in the dragon's lair. The dragons' nests have been separated, giving them more space to move around."

When it came to this matter, Rhaenyra agreed wholeheartedly.

She didn't want Syrax to be chained up either, and it was best to allocate a separate area for the dragons to roam freely.

Rega sighed with relief and said, "Dreamfire is so pitiful, locked away in the dragon's lair for decades. I really hope it gets a new rider soon and returns to the sky."

After the recent danger, Viserys had witnessed his eldest son's recklessness.

During a royal meeting, it was decided that they would soon return to Dragonstone with the family to stay for a while.

Rega and his younger brother Aegon would tame the newly hatched dragons.

Two suitable young dragons were available on Dragonstone, perfect for the two sons to ride.

As a result, Rega gave up the idea of taming Dreamfire.

Instead, he looked forward to their upcoming trip to Dragonstone.

Watching her sentimental brother, Rhaenyra smiled knowingly and, out of nowhere, asked, "What would you do if Father decided to arrange a marriage for you?"

Rega paused his game and raised an eyebrow, saying, "If necessary, I would accept my responsibility."

He was still young, and many of life's questions had answers he learned from books.

Looking at the history of the Targaryen family, aside from a few foolish indulgent ones, both men and women were expected to accept arranged marriages.

Conqueror Aegon had two wives.

For duty, he married his sister Visenya; for desire, he married his sister Rhaenys.

Subsequent monarchs either married daughters of noble families to protect their houses or married close relatives.

Even their father Viserys and uncle Daemon followed this tradition.

They had arranged marriages to nobles of the Vale to ensure loyalty to the crown.

In such a tradition, Rega didn't think he could escape the fate of an arranged marriage.

He just hoped to marry a beautiful, gentle woman, within the bounds of what was allowed.

Any more desires would be too greedy.

After hearing her brother’s answer, Rhaenyra lowered her head and fell silent.

She knew her brother was right.

Perhaps she shouldn't be so headstrong and should shoulder the responsibility expected of her.

After a while, Rhaenyra smiled again, chatted briefly with Rega, and then left.

Staring at the closed door, Rega was silent for a long time.

He guessed Rhaenyra's purpose for visiting tonight.

She was probably urged by their father to marry and had come to seek some comfort.

But he couldn't give her the answer she was hoping for.

If he spoke falsely just to please her, it could lead to disastrous consequences.

Wearing the crown wasn’t about being superior.

It was about shining a light on everyone under the crown.

(End of chapter)