11-15

Chapter 11: The First Conflict with the King 

 "Thank you, Your Highness." 

With the young prince’s assurance, Arryk sincerely expressed his gratitude and led the two into the camp. 

Viserys was both furious and disappointed when he realized his son and daughter had been out all night. 

 Not only was he disappointed in them, but also in himself. 

 As a king, his vassals waging war without his command was a testament to his incompetence. 

As a father, his failure to discipline his children properly was proof of his inadequacy. 

After an entire night of Queen Alicent’s counsel, Viserys uncharacteristically opened up his heart and decided to take action. 

 When Rhaegar stepped into the royal tent, his eyes immediately landed on Viserys, seated at the head of the table. 

 He glanced around—none of the nobles who had been celebrating yesterday were present. 
 
Even the most trusted ministers were absent. 

"Father, I’ve returned."   

Facing his displeased father, Rhaegar took the initiative to greet him. 
 
Viserys ignored him, his cold gaze falling instead upon the knight who had accompanied him—Ser Erryk. 

"White Knight, tell your king—what is the punishment for leading a prince out of camp without permission?" 

Erryk immediately fell to his knees, his heart filled with unease. "Your Grace, the crime is treason!" 

"Good. So you do remember the laws of the realm. I had assumed you no longer cared." 

Viserys let out a cold, furious laugh. "Guards! Take this traitor away and cut off his head!" 

 He was truly enraged. 

 Daemon and the Sea Snake had waged war behind his back. 

His council refused to accept his chosen heir. 

His beloved daughter failed to understand his painstaking efforts. 

And now, even the Kingsguard, sworn to loyalty, dared to defy him. 

 Taking his frail heir deep into the Kingswood— 

What was he trying to do? 

What else did he dare attempt? 

If such disobedience went unpunished, what authority would the king have left? 

As Viserys gave the order, the sound of footsteps echoed outside the tent. 

 Erryk closed his eyes, resigned to his fate. 

 He knew—the guards at the entrance were coming for him. 

 Standing beside the king, Arryk's expression changed slightly, and he subtly signaled to Rhaegar. 

 

Though it was a disgrace to the honor of his white cloak, the young prince was the only lifeline his brother had left. 

 

Rhaegar did not break his promise. 

 

The moment Viserys issued the command, he immediately stepped in front of Erryk. 

 

Feigning confusion, he asked, "Father, why must Ser Erryk be punished? There must be some misunderstanding." 

 

Viserys shot him a glare, his tone sharp. "Silence! Don’t think you can remove yourself from blame just because I haven’t mentioned you yet." 

 

"I already learned the whole story from a stable hand. If Erryk is to face punishment, you bear an undeniable responsibility!" 

 Rhaegar's expression stiffened—he hadn’t expected his little trick to have already been exposed. 

 The guards entered the tent, swiftly stripping Erryk of his white cloak and confiscating his sword. 

 "Stop! You cannot treat him this way!" 

 Rhaegar could no longer stand idly by. He spread his arms, shielding the kneeling knight from the guards attempting to seize him. 

"Insolence! Do you dare defy your king and father as well?" 

 Viserys roared in anger and ordered the guards to take Rhaegar away. 

 "Let go of me! There's no need to restrain me before my own father!" 

 Rhaegar struggled free. The guards dared not harm the king’s son, so they instead focused on securing Erryk, who offered no resistance. 

 "Your Highness, please don’t provoke the king further," Erryk muttered solemnly, unwilling to be the cause of his prince’s downfall. 

He wasn’t foolish enough to believe a mere boy could save him. 

On the way back, he had already accepted his fate. 

 "I swore that I would take full responsibility. A Targaryen keeps their word!" 

 Rhaegar shoved aside the guards blocking his path and strode forward, facing his furious father head-on. 

 He declared loudly, "Father, my illness has been cured—thanks in no small part to Ser Erryk!" 

 Viserys scoffed. "I only know that Erryk is a knight. Since when was he also an expert in herbal medicine?" 

 "Believe me! There is a white stag in the Kingswood—it gifted me a fruit filled with blessings, restoring my health!" 

Rhaegar played his trump card, hoping to overturn Erryk’s sentence. 

At the mention of the white stag, Viserys’ eyes flickered with doubt. "A white stag… healed you with a single fruit?" 

Just yesterday, Hand of the King Lyonel Strong had reported that a white stag had been spotted in the Kingswood. 

 Ser Jason Lannister had even presented him with a golden spear, hoping the king would use it to hunt the beast. 

Viserys had indeed gone on the hunt, accompanied by his retinue— 

 But he had never found the white stag, only a common red deer. 

 His son had left the camp before this news was made known. 

 So, if Rhaegar claimed to have seen the white stag— 

 Perhaps he was telling the truth.

Rhaegar had no idea about the whirlwind of thoughts in his father’s mind at that moment. He firmly said, “Yes, a pure white stag. I gave it fruit, and in return, it gifted me a fruit that healed me.” 

He added as a reminder, “We’re friends!” 

 “Hahaha, that’s the best joke I’ve heard all year,” Viserys scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief at his eldest son’s increasingly far-fetched story. 

 But Rhaegar remained resolute. “Ser Elric can vouch for me, and you can also summon the maester traveling with us to examine me. I promise you—I’m recovering.” 

The confidence in Rhaegar’s voice moved Viserys, who shifted his gaze to the silent Elric and asked, uncertainly: 

“Elric, while you’re still in your armor, tell your king the truth.” 

Elric replied, “Every word the prince has said is true!” 

Viserys nodded slightly and fell silent, lowering his head.   

No one knew what he was thinking at that moment.   

The tent fell into a brief silence, the sound of everyone’s breathing clearly audible.   

After a while, Viserys turned to Aeryk and asked, “What do you think? Do you believe what Rhaegar and your brother have said?” 

“I trust my brother, just as you trust your own child, Your Majesty,” Aeryk replied without hesitation, firmly standing by his brother. 

Viserys said no more and gave the order, “Summon the maester traveling with us, along with all the other doctors and healers brought by the nobles and knights. Not one is to be left out.” 

“As you command!” 

Aeryk’s voice boomed as he lifted the tent flap and strode out. 

This sudden turn of events eased the previously tense atmosphere. 

 The guards exchanged glances, then instinctively straightened into two orderly lines.   

Rhaegar turned to Viserys and asked, “Father, do you believe me?” 

“If it restores your health, then I hope what you say is true,” Viserys replied. 

 For now, Viserys managed to restrain his emotions as he scrutinized his young son. 

 In truth, he was beginning to believe Rhaegar. 

Two months earlier, after Rhaegar’s routine examination, the Grand Maester had informed him:   

“The prince’s heart failure is severe. If it worsens further, he likely won’t live past the age of ten.”   

Viserys had asked if there was any way to treat it. 

Regretfully, organ failure was a death sentence in this era. 

Not only was it incurable, but there was no way to even slow its progress. 

 He had resigned himself to the belief that his eldest son’s days were numbered and had begun avoiding meeting with him. 

As the boy’s father—even as king—Viserys hadn’t the courage to face him. 

 And yet. 

 Just now, the way Rhaegar stood his ground and argued his case had astonished him. 

 Though his son’s pale, familiar face remained unchanged, 

His voice carried strength and vitality.   

The aura he exuded, the conviction in his words— 

Truly worthy of a descendant of Old Valyria.   

(End of Chapter) 

Chapter 12: A Song of Ice and Fire

Aerys, eager to save his brother, did not keep the king waiting long.

Within just over ten minutes, he had gathered a large group of people and brought them to the main tent.

Viserys reassured the anxious maesters and healers, ordering them to examine Rhaegar thoroughly.

From head to toe, not a single strand of hair was to be overlooked in the full-body inspection.

The maesters who were familiar with Rhaegar found this process nothing new.

Some of them had assisted the Grand Maester in examining this frail prince on occasion.

After preparing the necessary tools, the maesters took the lead and began the examination.

The process was simple yet crude.

First, they drew blood, observing its color and viscosity.

They even used a leech to taste the blood and check for any toxins.

Beyond that, they employed various other methods.

Large hands massaged his entire body, inspecting his skin, teeth, and hair roots…

There was nothing these medical scholars wouldn’t do.

One particularly scrawny old man even suggested removing Rhaegar’s pants to examine his anus.

As Rhaegar’s father, Viserys did not object to this proposal.

Rhaegar, however, was utterly horrified, immediately regretting his rash decision to agree to the examination.

Fortunately, before things went too far, Aerys intervened.

With a single punch, he broke the scrawny old man’s nose and pleaded with the king not to allow such an indignity to befall the prince.

“Even if I am to be hanged, the prince should not suffer such humiliation!”

Rhaegar nearly wet himself, trembling as he hid behind Aerys.

Viserys did not reprimand Aerys for his actions. Instead, he waved his hand, dismissing the less capable healers.

Only a few credible maesters remained to provide a unified report on Rhaegar’s condition.

The royal maester spoke first, his tone filled with astonishment. “Your Grace, the prince’s health has indeed improved significantly. His blood is far more vibrant than usual.”

The other maesters quickly followed with their assessments.

“The prince previously suffered from shortness of breath, but his deep breathing test was completely normal this time—no irregular sounds in his chest.”

“His urine is a healthy color—light yellow but clear. There is a slight musky odor, indicating rapid kidney recovery…”

“…”

A series of positive reports left Viserys momentarily stunned.

He ordered his guards to escort the maesters out and rewarded them all with gold.

Soon, only Viserys, his sons, and the Cargyll brothers remained in the tent.

Rhaegar spoke first. “As the maesters said, my illness has been cured, thanks to Ser Aerys’s help.”

“He helped you, so I will be lenient in my judgment of him.”

Viserys was genuinely happy for his eldest son, his voice filled with emotion. “I’m glad you are in good health. When I see your mother in the afterlife, I will no longer be ashamed.”

“Father, I cannot speak on Mother’s behalf, but I hope you can look forward instead of dwelling on the past.”

At the mention of his mother, who had died in childbirth, Rhaegar felt a pang of sadness.

Rumors and whispers were like the cold wind in the depths of winter.

Not only could they cut like knives, but they also found their way into every crack, reaching even those who wished not to hear them.

Viserys carried guilt for forcing his wife to bear children, ultimately leading to her death.

And as the newborn who had survived her passing, Rhaegar, too, felt like he had played a part in her fate.

As a child, he had overheard countless embellished stories, each one feeding his own sense of guilt.

Noticing his son’s downcast expression, Viserys felt a sharp ache in his heart, realizing he had stirred painful memories.

“Aerys, I wish to speak privately with my son. Take your brother and stand guard outside. Let no one approach the tent.”

Viserys dismissed the Cargyll brothers.

“Understood!”

Aerys’s face was solemn as he dragged his brother outside to stand watch.

With no one else around, Viserys approached Rhaegar and gently stroked his head.

“You were quite frightened just now, weren’t you?”

“What?”

Rhaegar looked confused.

Viserys smirked. “Doctor Boros—the old man who wanted to pull down your pants.”

Rhaegar’s face turned pale. “I’ll remember that name.”

“A ruler must have a generous heart, especially toward the healers who prepare his medicine.”

Viserys half-joked, half-advised.

“That’s your kind of political scheming, not mine. I just want to smash his damn head in.”

Rhaegar had no interest in the so-called virtue of tolerance.

It wasn’t as if the king had been the one pinned down and stripped.

“For now, let’s assume the story of the White Hart is true. Did you really recover because of a miraculous fruit?”

Shifting the topic, Viserys recalled the fruit his son had mentioned.

He himself had been wounded by the Iron Throne, and no matter what treatments were used, his wounds never fully healed.

For nearly a decade, his body had been covered in scars, with many turning into festering sores.

The pain ceaselessly tormented his nerves.

If…

If the white stag truly possessed that miraculous fruit, perhaps it could heal his body.

Rhaegar naturally understood why his father asked such a question.

“I am not lying. The white stag willingly approached me and offered me a fruit that restored my health.”

Viserys’s face lit up with joy. “Can you find the white stag again?”

Rhaegar replied directly, “That miraculous fruit is incredibly rare. It’s unlikely there will be a second one, even if I find the white stag.”

“How do you know unless you try?”

Viserys was unwilling to abandon hope for a cure.

Rhaegar, unwilling to betray his friend, firmly stated, “The white stag is an auspicious creature. Those it befriends will receive blessings.”

“Conversely, anyone who dares to harm it will be cursed.”

Viserys scrutinized Rhaegar suspiciously, searching his expression for any sign of deception.

Rhaegar remained composed, calmly meeting his father’s gaze.

After a long moment, Viserys relented, sighing. “You’re right. I went hunting for the white stag yesterday but didn’t catch so much as a glimpse of it.”

Rhaegar was quite surprised, not expecting such a revelation.

Viserys patted his head. “You are luckier than I am, having gained the white stag’s friendship.”

Rhaegar said nothing.

He didn’t know what to say.

The white stag was his friend, and he couldn’t betray it.

Moreover, the fruit had been a reward granted by the Explorer, not something the white stag owned.

Even if he helped his father capture the white stag, there wouldn’t be a second fruit to cure him.

Viserys appeared comforted, though his mind held another thought.

The white stag symbolized kingship, yet as king, he had not been graced with its presence.

That Rhaegar had encountered it was no mere stroke of luck.

Despite the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind, Viserys reminded himself:
His son’s fortuitous encounter was a rare blessing!

With this realization, a new idea arose in Viserys’s mind.

He took Rhaegar’s hand and led him to the brazier in the tent.

Under Rhaegar’s puzzled gaze, Viserys drew the dragonbone-handled dagger from his belt and held the blade over the fire.

Once the Valyrian steel blade was thoroughly heated and glowing red, he gripped the dragonbone hilt and withdrew it from the flames.

He held it before Rhaegar.

“Look closely. What do you see?”

Viserys encouraged him.

Rhaegar examined the glowing blade and noticed tiny inscriptions emerging under the heat of the flame.

“Is it written in High Valyrian?”

Fluent in High Valyrian, Rhaegar quickly discerned its meaning.

Realizing he hadn’t officially studied High Valyrian yet, Rhaegar hesitated to reveal too much.

He stumbled over his words as he read aloud, “Prophecy… bloodline… the Song of Ice and Fire…”

Beyond that, Rhaegar pretended to struggle, looking helplessly at Viserys.

Viserys was not surprised but rather delighted that Rhaegar could recognize even part of the ancient language.

It seemed the rumors were true: Rhaegar truly loved books.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 13: A Seemingly Right Yet Wrong Answer

"This is the prophecy of A Song of Ice and Fire."

Viserys patiently explained, "Before Aegon died, the last fire mage of Valyria hid his song within the dagger."

"Knowing this is both a responsibility and a heavy burden."

"It is more important than the throne and the king!"

As he spoke, he watched Rhaegar’s every move.

Under the bright firelight, the shadows of father and son stretched long and distorted.

As the wind blew, the flames flickered, twisting their forms.

Rhaegar blinked, bewildered. "A Song of Ice and Fire? I thought that was just superstitious nonsense from books."

He did know of A Song of Ice and Fire.

When he had previously examined the dragonbone dagger, the system prompt had mentioned that the prophecy was recorded within it.

Moreover, the relic he had obtained was called **"The Warning of the Ancestors."**

Looking back now, it seemed to carry great significance.

Viserys spoke gravely, "The prophecy is real. I want you to remember it in your heart and always remain vigilant against the unknown darkness and the coming winter."

"I will, Father."

Though Rhaegar didn't fully understand, he sensed the gravity of the matter.

Viserys paced around the brazier, hesitating before saying, "I once asked Rhaenyra a question. Do you want to know what it was?"

"What was it?"

His father’s words were growing more cryptic, and Rhaegar couldn’t grasp their meaning, instinctively asking.

"It was about dragons—the way one perceives them."

Having come this far, Viserys saw no reason to stop and continued, "Dragons have been with House Targaryen since ancient Valyria. They are magnificent yet flawed creatures."

"What do you think of them?"

Rhaegar shook his head. "My dragon egg has yet to hatch, and my sister refuses to let me ride hers. The closest I’ve been to a dragon was Balerion’s skull."

As a Targaryen, he had his own dragon egg.

It came from a great dragon named **Dreamfyre.**

Before he was born, Rhaenyra had personally chosen it from the Dragonpit.

Yet, after all these years, the egg showed no signs of hatching.

Viserys didn’t seem to mind and simply pressed, "That doesn’t matter. I just need you to tell me what you think of dragons."

Seeing his father’s serious expression, Rhaegar knew this was important.

He recalled Balerion’s enormous skull.

Even without scales and flesh, the sheer presence of the skull was overwhelming.

Then there was his own dragon egg, kept in a specially designed furnace. It was resistant to extreme heat, its texture unyielding.

It was nothing like the bird or chicken eggs he had seen before.

And finally, Rhaenyra.

At the age of seven, she had already mastered dragon-riding and become a dragonrider.

Whenever he saw her or was close to her, he could always catch a faint whiff of sulfur.

He knew—that was the scent of dragons.

After a moment of thought, Rhaegar composed his answer:

"Dragons are the most powerful controllable weapon in the world today. Even though Aegon the Conqueror possessed incredible wisdom and courage, it was only by riding a dragon that he unified the Seven Kingdoms."

"Dragons are dangerous, but only by mastering them can House Targaryen stand above ordinary men."

"Otherwise, we will surely fall from the Iron Throne."

This was his true belief.

And the most objective view he could currently express.

Viserys listened carefully, a trace of satisfaction appearing on his face, before asking again, "If one day you ride a great dragon and face a rebellion, how would you respond?"

"Burn them!"

Rhaegar answered without hesitation.

"You said dragons are dangerous?"

Viserys frowned.

Rhaegar saw nothing wrong with his response. "But without dragons, House Targaryen loses its power to intimidate the unruly."

"If necessary, dragonfire will eradicate those who refuse to submit, ensuring that Westeros speaks with one voice."

Upon hearing his eldest son’s conviction, Viserys fell into silence.

Subjectively, Rhaegar wasn’t wrong.

The Targaryens had become kings of the Seven Kingdoms largely thanks to their dragons.

But when Viserys thought of the prophecy of A Song of Ice and Fire…

He could not bring himself to rely on dragons too much.

Ghavaleria was consumed by the belief that mastering dragons could fulfill endless greed and desires, leading to a catastrophic disaster.

He recalled the evening years ago, just before naming Rhaenyra as his heir.

He had asked the same question then.

Rhaenyra’s answer was almost identical to Rhaegar's initial response, but she had a deeper understanding of the bond between dragons and the Targaryens.

She didn’t believe that mastering dragons meant gaining everything.

Her personality was much like her father, Viserys—averse to war and holding herself to strict standards.

In contrast, Rhaegar’s response reminded him of someone else.

Daemon Targaryen.

His younger brother.

To be honest, there was a time when he had considered naming Daemon as his heir, despite all the dishonorable and disloyal acts Daemon had committed.

Daemon’s view of dragons was extremely radical.

To him, dragons were merely swords in his hands.

And as the saying goes, “When one holds a weapon, the desire to kill arises.”

With such a matchless weapon in his grasp, it was only a matter of time before Daemon would succumb to his desires and initiate war.

For some reason, jealousy welled up in Viserys’ heart.

Amid Rhaegar’s confused expression, he calmly said, “I understand your point. Don’t forget the prophecy of the Song of Ice and Fire. Go and rest for now.”

Rhaegar, without questioning further, responded respectfully, “All right. You should drink less wine, Father.”

Viserys smiled kindly and watched as his son left the tent.

Under the dim light of the fire, his face appeared blurred.

---

Outside the tent, the midday sun shone on Rhaegar’s face, forcing him to squint his eyes against the glare.

A shadow fell over him, shielding him from the blinding light.

“Ser Arryk.”

Rhaegar tilted his head and saw the one blocking the sun.

Ser Arryk held up part of his white cloak to shield the young prince’s head. With genuine sincerity, he said, “Thank you for pleading on my brother’s behalf, Your Highness.”

Rhaegar gently shook his head. “Don’t say that. It was I who forced Erryk to take me out of the camp. He shouldn’t have to bear the blame.”

“The Kingsguard obeys the king’s commands. My brother’s failure to uphold his duty was a grave mistake,” Arryk replied, keenly aware of the prince’s importance in the king’s eyes and treating him with great respect.

“Where is Ser Erryk?” Rhaegar changed the subject.

Arryk replied, “There was some commotion near the camp’s entrance just now, so he went to investigate.”

“A commotion? Then I’ll go take a look too.”

Rhaegar seemed intrigued but still reminded him, “My father is still inside the tent. Please keep an eye out, Ser Arryk.”

“It is my duty.”

Arryk raised his hand in salute.

---

Away from the royal tent, Rhaegar didn’t immediately head toward the commotion.

Instead, he wandered over to the dessert and roasted meat tables, picking and choosing until he was about 70% full.

Having traveled all morning, he had only managed a few sips of water.

Poor kid—motherless and often neglected.

“Rhaegar!”

While waiting at a grill, a familiar voice called out from behind him.

Rhaegar turned around and was startled.

Rhaenyra stood there, covered in blood. Her silver hair was stained dark by the dried blood, as though she had just come back from a fierce battle.

“Rhaenyra! What happened to you?”

Rhaegar forgot all about his roasted meat and ran over on his short legs.

“I came looking for you yesterday but couldn’t find you,” Rhaenyra said, flicking him on the forehead as she scolded, “You should call me ‘Sister.’ Rhaenyra is not how you should address me, and you shouldn’t be running around unsupervised.”

“Now’s not the time to worry about formalities! Are you hurt? Is it serious?”

Rhaegar anxiously checked her for injuries.

Rhaenyra lifted his chin proudly and said, “This isn’t my blood. I’m not hurt.”

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 14: The Bonebreaker – Harwin Strong

"A wild boar attacked me, and I killed it."

Rhaenyra stroked Rhaegar's head, her tone carrying a hint of pride.

"Wow, the brave lady boar hunter."

Rhaegar blurted out the words without thinking.

Rhaenyra’s face instantly darkened.

Just as Rhaegar was about to face his sister’s wrath, a voice interrupted their moment.

"Princess, I heard you took down a wild boar on your own?"

The voice came from near the roasting pit.

The siblings turned at the same time and saw a burly man with curly brown hair and a thick beard.

Something about his features felt familiar to Rhaegar.

Yet, they had never met before.

Rhaenyra, however, recognized him and smiled politely. "It was just luck, Ser Harwin Strong."

Hearing the surname *Strong*, Rhaegar suddenly understood where the familiarity came from.

It was *that* Strong—Larys Strong, the man who made him uncomfortable.

Noticing his expression, Rhaenyra whispered, "He’s the eldest son of the Hand, Lyonel Strong. A famous knight, known as the Bonebreaker."

"*Bonebreaker?* Does he crush his enemies' bones?"

Rhaegar half-joked.

Harwin, while skinning a pigeon, chuckled and replied, "That’s right. In one battle, I smashed a poor fellow’s skull with my war hammer. The survivors gave me the nickname *Bonebreaker*."

"Impressive. Seems like you really are a formidable warrior."

Rhaegar responded coolly, easily hearing the pride in the man’s voice.

A knight with a title as fearsome as *Bonebreaker* certainly had reason to be proud.

After efficiently cleaning the pigeon, Harwin grabbed a cloth to wipe his hands and stepped forward with a grin.

"I'm quite good at roasting meat. I saw the prince enjoying his meal—perhaps the princess would do me the honor of trying some?"

Despite his towering physique, Harwin's demeanor was lighthearted and easygoing.

It was hard to imagine that this man had once crushed a skull on the battlefield.

Faced with the offer from the rather handsome knight, Rhaenyra gave an apologetic smile and declined. "No, thank you. My father is waiting for me, and no one says no to the King."

"No problem. I’ll be staying in King’s Landing for quite some time. If the princess ever wishes to try my cooking, you’re always welcome."

Harwin was tactful—he expressed friendliness without being overly eager.

Rhaegar saw something in him.

*Respect.*

Rhaenyra, being older, saw it too.

A bit unused to it, she clasped her hands behind her back, her smile becoming more genuine. "I will, Ser."

Harwin smiled, gave a respectful bow, and withdrew.

This only increased Rhaenyra’s impression of him.

Watching his sister seem unusually pleased, Rhaegar was baffled and pursed his lips.

"I'm going. Father is expecting me. You can wander around."

Rhaenyra still had to meet with Viserys and didn’t have time to chat. She left in a hurry.

By now, many nobles were gathered at the camp, and all eyes turned to the princess, who was still stained with blood.

The once lively scene fell into sudden silence as everyone instinctively quieted.

Rhaenyra loathed such scrutiny.

With a cold expression, she walked forward, occasionally meeting someone’s gaze.

Most of the time, her presence was enough to make them avert their eyes.

Those who felt guilty looked away, unwilling to meet her stare.

Rhaenyra smirked, despising their cowardice.

Watching his sister command attention, Rhaegar pressed his lips together.

For a moment, he thought he glimpsed loneliness in her.

---

### The Royal Hunt Concludes

As soon as the royal hunt ended, Viserys immediately boarded his carriage and returned to King’s Landing with his family.

Due to Rhaenyra and Rhaegar’s unsanctioned departure from the camp, their father decided on separate punishments.

The princess had reached the age for marriage but disliked the suitors her father had chosen.

Viserys went to great lengths, arranging a grand tour across the realm specifically for Rhaenyra.

Officially, this was to allow his heir to visit lords across the kingdom and strengthen ties with her vassals.

It was meant to showcase the power of House Targaryen.

And, to an extent, that was true.

Since becoming heir, Rhaenyra had only observed council meetings.

She had no real authority.

The boy was unfamiliar with the lords who had sworn fealty to her.

This time, Viserys sought to raise Rhaenyra’s prominence and help the vassals better accept her as the heir.

To achieve this goal, tournaments and feasts were held across the various regions.

At the same time, this allowed Viserys to scout potential marriage matches for Rhaenyra.

In Viserys’s view, if Rhaenyra didn’t favor the suitors he selected, she could simply choose one herself.

“You have all the fine young men of the realm to pick from,” he thought.
Surely, there must be someone who catches her eye.

This showed just how much the father valued his daughter’s marriage.

Once the issue with his eldest daughter was addressed, dealing with his eldest son, Rhaegar, became simpler.

Using illness as an excuse, Viserys ordered Rhaegar to remain confined to the Red Keep, forbidding him from stepping beyond its gates.

To enforce this, several maesters were assigned to check on him regularly, ensuring his physical weakness was fully cured.

Having his personal freedom restricted, Rhaegar naturally rebelled.

After a heated argument, Viserys determined that Rhaegar was old enough to begin formal education.

He then appointed two elderly maesters to teach him reading and writing.

Rhaegar was overwhelmed.

Forced to wake up at 6 AM daily, endure eight hours of lessons, and face homework checks the following day, Rhaegar quickly grew resentful of the grueling routine.

Viserys showed no concern for the fact that Rhaegar was a child recovering from a serious illness.

Instead, he firmly believed in the principle of “if studying doesn’t kill you, study harder.”

Under this intensive, drill-like education, Rhaegar’s once pale complexion improved slightly, but the dark circles under his eyes worsened day by day.

“Damn those maesters! Damn the Citadel of Oldtown! One day, I’ll reclaim what I’ve lost!”

While practicing his handwriting under the strict guidance of the two elderly maesters, Rhaegar secretly made a vow.

When Rhaegar asked Viserys when his freedom would be restored, the answer he received was:
“When your sister returns to King’s Landing, you may leave the Red Keep.”

As a result, Rhaegar’s longing for Rhaenyra became even more intense.

He missed his sister deeply!
“Please come back soon!”

...

Half a year passed in the blink of an eye.

Autumn deepened in King’s Landing as the leaves turned yellow.

As a coastal city, King’s Landing experienced minimal seasonal variation, but farmers in the surrounding lands grew busier with their harvests.

Meanwhile, Rhaegar, still confined to the Red Keep, received good news.

The sister he longed for day and night was finally returning.

Rhaenyra had decided to end her journey early. Boarding a ship from Storm’s End, she was only a few days away from reaching King’s Landing.

Regardless of what others thought, Rhaegar was overjoyed.

As soon as his lessons ended each day, he would climb to the tower’s glass-paneled windows and gaze out at the sea, hoping to spot Rhaenyra’s returning ship.

“This is wonderful. Sister is finally coming back! My suffering is about to end.”

Reflecting on the past six months, Rhaegar felt a pang of sorrow for himself.

He did enjoy reading, but only as a way to pass the time when he was too weak to engage in other activities.

It was never meant to feel like imprisonment, forced into endless study behind closed doors.

“Your Highness, it’s best not to say things like that. The King was quite angry when he heard about the Princess deciding to return on her own,” a voice interrupted from within the tower.

Without looking, Rhaegar knew who it was.

Standing by another window, clad in silver armor and a white cloak, Ser Erryk stood tall and upright, resembling a spear.

“Ser, you know my daily life well enough. Don’t you feel sorry for me?” Rhaegar asked bitterly.

Ser Erryk couldn’t help but laugh.
“The King does want you to gain knowledge, Your Highness, but eight hours of lessons plus homework is a bit... excessive.”

(End of Chapter)

**Chapter 15: The Egg of Dreamfyre**

"Those two old fools are practically murdering a young prince."

Every time this topic came up, Rhaegar felt a pounding headache, wishing he could smash the shriveled brains of those old maesters to see if they contained anything besides knowledge—perhaps just mush.

Ser Erryk only smiled silently, showing no interest in commenting on the king's teaching arrangements for his son.

Since the royal hunt six months ago, the two hadn't interacted much.

That changed a few days ago when Viserys heard that Rhaenyra had concluded her travels.

He assigned Ser Erryk to Rhaegar’s side, swearing him to protect the king’s eldest son and carry out all tasks assigned to him.

Rhaegar couldn’t figure out his father’s motives.

Still, having a reliable member of the Kingsguard around wasn’t something to complain about.

Considering their shared trials in the past, the two got along rather well.

Even a strict knight like Ser Erryk occasionally exchanged harmless jokes with Rhaegar.

"I'm tired, Ser."

After sitting for a while, Rhaegar grew impatient. With Erryk following closely, he returned to his chambers.

The Kingsguard’s duty was solely to protect the king and those he designated. There was no reason for them to enter the prince’s quarters; they merely stood guard outside.

Once back in his room, Rhaegar went straight to the hearth.

There, a container resembling a small furnace rested.

Opening its lid, a wave of heat hit him.

Rhaegar faced the scorching air without flinching, leaning forward to peer inside.

Within lay a dragon egg—pitch black with scales that shimmered like diamonds.

It was his dragon egg.

He touched the egg’s searing surface, his eyes dimming with disappointment as he sighed, "Still no movement. When will you hatch?"

Perhaps he was just unlucky.

Rhaegar’s dragon egg showed no signs of hatching, sitting in the container like a stone for six years.

It had become a habit for him to stroke the egg, talking to it as though it could hear him.

Rhaegar believed this might encourage the egg to hatch.

When his throat grew parched from speaking, he closed the container’s lid, ending that day’s “conversation” with the egg.

Pouring himself a cup of hot water, Rhaegar muttered to himself, "At least Aegon’s egg hasn’t hatched either. Otherwise, that’d be embarrassing."

The thought of his foolish younger brother failing to hatch his dragon egg brought Rhaegar a sense of comfort.

Sure, it was disappointing that his own egg hadn’t hatched.

But if his brother’s egg had, it would have been far more upsetting.

...

Days turned into weeks, and time passed as usual.

At last, Rhaenyra returned to King’s Landing.

Ever conscious of appearances, Viserys did not personally welcome her. Instead, Queen Alicent led the nobles in an official reception outside the city gates.

The two women, like long-lost friends, walked arm in arm, laughing and chatting under the watchful eyes of the crowd.

The display of harmony naturally drew cheers from the citizens.

Rhaegar, whose confinement had been lifted, joined the welcoming procession.

Walking behind the two women, observing their cordial interaction, he couldn’t shake a strange unease.

Tugging on Erryk’s white cloak, Rhaegar whispered, "Do women always act like this with each other?"

Erryk glanced around, ensuring no one was paying attention, then lowered his voice, "Most of the time, yes. But the Queen and the Princess are leaders among women, so they’re even more formidable."

"Because of power? But my sister’s already the heir," Rhaegar replied, puzzled.

Erryk shook his head. "Speaking ill of royal family members is forbidden. All I can say is: be cautious."

"Will I be harmed? I have no intention of involving myself in the throne business," Rhaegar asked.

"I can’t say for sure. But as the saying goes, ‘One can never be too careful.’" Erryk’s tone carried weight.

Rhaegar chuckled. "Then I’ll rely on you to keep me safe, Ser."

"That is my duty."

With so many eyes on them, the two refrained from further discussion, accompanying the reception party until the procession reached its end.

By nightfall, the group finally entered the Red Keep.

Though clearly furious about Rhaenyra’s unauthorized return voyage, Viserys refrained from embarrassing her publicly.

Instead, he hosted a grand banquet to celebrate her return.

Rhaegar disliked the loud and chaotic atmosphere. After nibbling on a few pastries and dishes, he excused himself, taking the gift Rhaenyra had prepared for him as he left.

...

Rhaenyra’s return brought the most benefit to Rhaegar.

Not only was he free to roam beyond the Red Keep, but his daily lessons were also drastically reduced.

Rather than enduring eight hours of study, he now only needed to attend three hours in the morning, with the rest of the day for leisure.

Even his homework was canceled.

Rhaegar celebrated the changes with a cheer, feeling utterly elated.

When Rhaenyra came to visit him, he kissed her twice in delight.

These carefree days continued for some time.

**And Then, the Red Keep Bustled Once More.**

It was the fifth wedding anniversary of King Viserys and Queen Alicent.

To express his gratitude for Alicent’s companionship over the past five years, Viserys made a grand gesture—he decided to host a grand tournament.

He planned to invite nobles and knights from all over the realm to participate.

A generous reward was also prepared for the champion, encouraging the passionate young warriors to sign up and provide him with a spectacular clash of blood and steel.

Whether Alicent liked it or not, Viserys absolutely adored such tournaments.

Thanks to his good grandfather, the former King Jaehaerys, who had accumulated vast wealth for the royal treasury, Viserys could afford to host lavish feasts and tournaments.

The servants of the Red Keep were already accustomed to such events, and under Alicent’s meticulous management, the tournament was organized beautifully.

Before long, the king and queen’s fifth anniversary arrived.

As expected, the tournament was a grand success, drawing an enormous crowd to King’s Landing.

It was rumored that even the city's brothels saw a surge in business.

The prostitutes could barely keep up with the demand, and many noble lords were eager to shed blood on the battlefield—perhaps just to work up a sweat.

---

On the day of the event, Alicent prepared a lavish feast.

The guests dined and drank to their hearts’ content while watching the brutal matches with Viserys. When they grew tired of the combat, they simply indulged in the festivities nearby.

Rhaegar and Rhaenyra sat just below Viserys’ main seat, watching the battles unfold in the arena.

At that moment, the jousting event was taking place.

Two knights, clad in armor and armed with sharp lances, charged at each other atop their warhorses.

As they crossed paths, a knight in black armor raised his lance and struck his opponent precisely in the shoulder.

**Bang!**

The sheer force of the impact sent the opposing knight flying. His body traced an arc through the air before crashing heavily into the muddy ground.

A pained scream rang out from beneath the armor as he landed, his leg twisted unnaturally beneath him.

As he writhed and howled, Rhaegar noticed that he was only moving one arm.

The other hung limply at his side.

“He’s most likely shattered his shoulder blade. If he doesn’t receive immediate treatment, he’ll be permanently disabled,” whispered Ser Erryk, who was standing behind him.

Rhaegar, unfamiliar with such violent scenes, couldn’t help but feel sympathy. “Even if they treat him in time, he’ll still be crippled. That leg is ruined.”

“Tournaments are like this,” Erryk said, attempting to help Rhaegar accept the harsh reality. “What matters is winning or losing.”

“I can’t understand why so many skilled young warriors would willingly participate in something like this. How many of them will return unscathed?” Rhaegar said, clearly disturbed.

Erryk patiently explained, “The kingdom is at peace, and young men full of passion have no outlet for their energy. Many also seek the king’s attention.”

Rhaegar had yet to hatch a dragon egg, so he was considering the path of dragon-riding instead.

**Guess which dragon the author has chosen for him?**

**The work was officially signed yesterday, so here's an extra chapter!**

*(End of Chapter)*