Chapter 544: Pampering Maekar

One day and night later.

Rhaegar held the letter in his hands, barely recognizing the High Valyrian script on it. "A letter from Aegon?" he murmured.

Rhaenyra leaned closer, her fragrant presence enveloping him. "Who else could write such terrible handwriting?" she teased.

Rhaegar's face darkened. He handed the letter to Maekar, who was nestled in his arms, and threatened, "If you write like this, I'll chop off your paws."

Maekar withdrew his hand quickly and replied, "Grand Maester Munkun said that my handwriting is quite good."

Rhaegar rolled his eyes and tried to decipher the contents of the letter. It could be summarized in one sentence: Astapor's defenses are weak. Can we attack the city quickly?

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, leaned over Rhaegar's back, and hugged his neck. Biting his ear lightly, she whispered, "Do you want to?"

"The child is still here," Rhaegar replied, pursing his lips in mock annoyance.

Maekar silently turned his head to look out at the bustling city below the Black Wall.

The family of three was in Volantis. Aegon, who was far away on the Stepstones, was now the main force attacking Slaver's Bay.

Rhaenyra smiled and asked, "I said, should we attack Astapor?" She paused deliberately, adding to the tension.

As the Queen of Lys and Queen of the Realm, Rhaenyra was always under high pressure. Not only was she busy with government affairs, but she also had to guard against any rivals who dared to climb into her husband's bed. The duty of bearing children almost deprived her of her freedom.

Not to mention the long-established Slaver's Bay, even the newly conquered Volantis was her first step. She couldn't wait to fight and repeat the feats of Queen Visenya.

Rhaegar broke free from her soft embrace and leaned against the parapet. He had already made up his mind. "Wait a little longer. Astapor will be ours."

The sky above was blue and white, and the Black Wall towered beneath their feet. Rhaenyra looked up and down at Rhaegar, enchanted by his commanding presence, and whispered, "Oh?"

In her heart, she whispered to herself. She was already thirty years old. Even though she had received some kind of blessing, her appearance still remained around twenty, and her figure was still slender and graceful. But she still had to deal with anxiety.

After all, Helaena, who had fought many battles with Rhaegar, was younger and more beautiful, and had more achievements than she did.

In contrast, Rhaegar was only twenty-two years old, in the prime of his life. His good looks were celebrated throughout the Seven Kingdoms and beyond. Of course, the tales of the ruin maker may have spread even further.

Rhaegar did not know what she was thinking. He placed Maekar on the parapet, where his small body could be overturned by a gust of wind.

Rhaenyra's expression tightened, but she chose to trust him.

Maekar sat on the cold black stone, his legs dangling over the edge of the wall, his pale face taut with anxiety.

Rhaegar leaned over the parapet, his elbows resting on the stone, and asked his young son, "Are you afraid?"

"No," Maekar replied, leaning back slightly, though his voice lacked conviction.

Rhaegar chuckled, "Anyone who isn't afraid is a fool. Only your brother Baelon would dare to do this."

Maekar remained silent, thinking that father could be hard to understand at times.

Rhaegar's expression turned serious. "Look down below. There are all kinds of people, some dressed in fancy clothes, others carrying baskets."

"Mm." Maekar nodded emphatically and stared intently.

Under the Black Wall, the wealthy district sprawled out. The streets were wide, with all kinds of shops, inns, and brothels, bustling with people of all classes. Luxurious slave owners walked alongside ragged slaves. In a few secluded alleys, clients could be seen slapping the round, perky breasts of prostitutes.

Rhaegar pointed at a greasy merchant sitting on a low elephant cart, along with the old slave who was driving it, and said coldly, "Remember, these are mine for the time being, and one day in the future, they will be yours."

"Mine?" Maekar pointed to himself, wide-eyed.

"Yes." Rhaegar made a sweeping gesture, including the blue sky above and the gray tiles below. "You are my son, the future prince of Volantis, and everything here will be yours." Then, in High Valyrian, he said solemnly, "Zaldrīzo ānogar iksan. (You are the blood of the  dragon.)"

Maekar was stunned, half-comprehending. The sudden bestowal of a fiefdom and title left his quick mind a bit overwhelmed.

After a moment, Rhaegar smiled and said, "Don't worry, your brothers all have their own territories. You're not the only one."

"Isn't it a bit early to talk about this with him?" Rhaenyra asked in surprise.

"Too early?" Rhaegar repeated, unfazed. "When you were heir to the Iron Throne, I had no interest in it." He paused, then added sternly, "Even now, it's still the same."

Power is scary? Yes and no. To guide his children down the right path, Rhaegar believed they first needed strong minds. They were Targaryens, the last dragonlords of ancient Valyria. From the moment they were born to the moment they rode their dragons into the sky, power was within their grasp.

Rhaegar wasn't worried about his children fighting for power. What could be more important than family and dragons? Whether it was Baelon or Aemon, Maekar or Lyanna... when they rode their dragons, the world was at their feet. Power was nothing more than an ignorant desire when the heart was broken.

Like Daemon, Aegon, Aemond, and even the submissive little Daeron, all were troubled by what they lacked in their youth. If they didn't break free, they would never be at peace.

Rhaenyra heard this and said nothing. In a way, she too was troubled by being abandoned by her father and losing her status as heir. Proving herself was the fate of every generation of Targaryens.

Rhaegar patted Maekar on the head, confident that he wouldn't fall from the wall. "Enjoy yourself. This is your birthright," he said. "But never forget to have a healthy respect for life. Cruel people don't necessarily go to hell, but those who kill innocents for no reason will not have a good ending."

Maekar was puzzled. Looking at the people below the Black Wall, he asked, "How do I rule them?"

The question was straightforward, showing no hint of indecision. Rhaegar admired this about his youngest son. He was decisive and unembarrassed, unlike his eldest and second sons. He laughed and said, "The best way to manage them is to set rules and let them fight among themselves."

Maekar tilted his head, indicating that he didn't understand.

Rhaegar explained patiently, "What is the system of Myr and Lys?"

Maekar squinted, trying to understand.

"Myr has a three-chamber parliament, with representatives elected by the old nobility, the commoners, and the slaves," Rhaegar began. "After the identity cards were issued, new factions, such as the Artisans' Guild, the Healers' Guild, and the Maesters' Guild, gradually emerged. Each layer is divided and controlled by another. Even if I don't live in Myr, the Free Cities function effectively under this vast system."

He continued, "Lys has a Topless Tower system, with a queen and three councilors. Rhaenyra is a hands-off leader, and Johanna and Laena, one inside and one outside, manage the city well. Johanna is a native of Lys, and Laena is a noble from outside. The two sides counterbalancing each other is the best check and balance."

Maekar still looked confused, his thoughts not quite coming together.

Rhaegar smiled and said, "Think about it slowly. You'll understand later." He decided to keep Maekar in Volantis for a while to observe the cruel rules of the Free Cities. Baelon and Aemon's personalities were already set, with no major changes expected in the future. Maekar was still young and more malleable.

"Okay," Maekar agreed, even though he didn't fully understand.

The child didn't grasp it, but Rhaenyra, who was listening, did. Thinking of Johanna's struggle with the foreign powers and the three Free Cities of Slaver's Bay, Rhaenyra suddenly realized, "The three Free Cities will attack each other?"

"They won't have a chance," Rhaegar shook his head. "Aegon harasses Astapor, and Daemon holds Yunkai in check. With two of the three cities under attack, Meereen is alone and cannot risk sending help. Slaver's Bay has no chance to unite and fight against the enemy together."

Rhaenyra frowned slightly and guessed, "There will be problems within Astapor?"

"Aegon's dragon harassment has already established an implicit rule of oppression. The Good Masters in the city won't be able to withstand the pressure for long," Rhaegar smiled, not denying her assumption.

According to the Red Priestess's intelligence, Meereen is the main force that worships the bastard Dragonlord. Just like the Triarchy in the past, when Lys controlled Morghul.

The other two Free Cities are just taking advantage of the situation. A group of despicable slave traders, without any sense of honor or decency. Without the substantial benefits brought by the bastards Dragonlords and the Smoking Sea young dragon, how could they be willing to die?

At that moment, footsteps approached from behind. Rhaenys, dressed in red armor and looking exhausted, walked over quickly and said in surprise, "I just returned from patrol and heard the news of your visit."

"Aunt," Rhaenyra said, smiling. The three of them had first traveled to the Worm River to see Aegon and then returned to Volantis. In total, they had only been there for a day.

Rhaenys was happy to see her family and asked, "How is Laena?"

"She's fine. Daemon has already named Baela as his successor." Rhaenyra's expression was mixed, and she said it with some reluctance. She had thought Laena would break off the relationship, but she had blossomed. Mysaria, the White Worm, was in an awkward position, and Daemon had not said when he would marry her. Rhaenyra was not happy about being involved in this.

Rhaegar glanced at her and took her hand. Rhaenyra was taken aback for a moment, but then she smiled.

"Your Grace, Your Grace!" A voice called out urgently, and a blond figure came running. Tyland, with his back hair combed and stubble visible, panted, "The finances of Volantis have been handled properly, and the Tiger and Elephant parties have confiscated a lot of money."

"Thank you, Tyland." Rhaegar noticed the redness in the other's eyes and gave him proper encouragement: "I plan to let you stay in Volantis and serve as the chief advisor."

"Really?" Tyland was both surprised and delighted, and quickly said, "Sorry, I'm just too excited."

With the Tiger and Elephant parties out of power in Volantis, the management was left with only low-level officials. If he becomes the chief advisor, he will be comparable to the Hand of the King in Westeros. It's much more valuable than being a Master of Ships with no real power.

Rhaegar nodded slightly in agreement. "You are the right man."

He then grabbed Maekar by the collar, placing him at Tyland's feet, and said solemnly, "He's yours. From now on, you'll be his teacher."

"Huh?" Maekar was stunned. Tyland also reacted similarly, dumbfounded as he pointed at the little prince, who was no taller than his knees. "Isn't the Prince too young?" he asked helplessly.

"He is just a bit small," Rhaegar admitted, his tone calm.

Tyland's heart sank. He didn't want to be a nanny for a child, no matter how noble. But before he could voice his thoughts, Rhaegar continued, "But Maekar is a little genius, and he won't give you too much trouble."

Rhaegar's confident demeanor reminded Tyland of stereotypical parents who believe their children are prodigies. Tyland wanted to refuse but dared not speak up. He forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. "Your Grace trusts me, so I... I'll give it a try."

"I'll try too," Maekar said, his voice sullen as he grabbed Tyland's pant leg. He could sense the other man's reluctance. He was a flatterer who always had to be on his best behavior in front of his father.

(Word count: 2,035)