Chapter 290: Alicent Trains Her Son

In the blink of an eye, three days passed.

King's Landing

The early spring snow had melted, and the streets were abuzz with activity. Septage workers, driving worn-out horses and hauling carts, diligently cleaned the public toilets in every nook and cranny. Even the notoriously filthy flea dens had lost much of their stench. Crowds thronged Silk Street, where money flowed freely, and revelry was in full swing.

Suddenly, a deep dragon roar echoed through the city. A shadow as dark as night rose from Blackwater Bay, soaring above King's Landing. The dragon's scales were as black as charcoal, with piercing green eyes and wings that blotted out the sun. Its presence was as menacing as a dark god's.

After a slow, deliberate circle over the city, the dragon descended over Rhaenys's Hill and landed in the Dragonpit.

Inside the Dragonpit, Cannibal lowered its massive spine, folded its wings, and lay down, feigning sleep.

"Good, rest well," Rhaegar said, standing before the formidable dragon's head, his hands gently stroking the black scales.

"Prince, you have finally returned," greeted Maester Maynard, his eyes brimming with joy. He was thin and pale but wore a smile. Beside him stood Syrio, his fluffy curls bobbing as he walked.

Rhaegar smiled at Maynard. "Thank you for your hard work," he said, his gaze shifting to Syrio.

The water dancer from Braavos wore a loose black robe, his thin sword at his side. "Ready?" Rhaegar asked.

Before returning to King's Landing, Rhaegar had sent two letters ahead, detailing several instructions.

Syrio raised his hand in greeting and smiled confidently. "The ship is at the docks, ready to sail."

"Excellent," Rhaegar nodded. "Stop at the Temple of R'hllor and gather as much information as you can."

"As you wish," Syrio said, pulling on his hood and disappearing into the shadows of the Dragonpit.

Rhaegar shook his head with a smile, exchanged a few words with Maynard, and rode back to the Red Keep. Syrio was to be his shadow in Volantis, tasked with gathering intelligence and preparing for future endeavors. Even if they couldn't control the city-state, they aimed to be well-informed and ready.

...

The Gates of the Red Keep

"Welcome, Rhaegar of House Targaryen, Heir to the Iron Throne!" The booming proclamation of the Kingsguard echoed through the courtyard as the carriage slowly entered the forecourt of the Red Keep.

Lifting the carriage curtain, Rhaegar stepped out just as a familiar, thoughtful voice rang out.

"Rhaegar!"

Rhaenyra, who had been waiting at the doorway, ran towards him, her excitement palpable. Rhaegar turned at the sound of her voice, his eyes lighting up. Rhaenyra looked radiant, her long silver hair braided and coiled behind her head. Her gentle demeanor, bright purple eyes, and the smile on her white face made her look more beautiful than ever. Her purple gown swayed as she moved, and her black stockings peeked out from under her deerskin boots, covering her slender calves.

The moment Rhaegar stepped out, Rhaenyra leaped into his arms, her eyes scanning him worriedly. "You're finally back! Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," Rhaegar replied, smiling. "But I missed you."

Rhaegar's words brought a smile to Rhaenyra's face. He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her neck. They had both missed each other deeply.

Rhaenyra, pretending to be aggrieved, tilted her head and gently bumped his. "No wonder you didn't take me to Volantis. You even ventured to the Smoking Sea alone."

She lifted his chin and studied his face closely. In the nearly month-long absence, Rhaegar had grown. His once youthful face had gained a touch of strength, and his silver-gold hair framed purple eyes that held a hint of unresolved melancholy. An eternal smile played at the corners of his mouth.

"I'm sorry," Rhaegar said, his voice sincere. "Next time I'll take you with me wherever I go."

"Not a chance," Rhaenyra laughed, pinching his cheeks. "I wouldn't dare go to the Smoking Sea."

She stood on her tiptoes to compare their heights. Though she was taller than most women at 162 centimeters, Rhaegar towered over her at over 180 centimeters. His frame, broad-shouldered and slender-waisted, was a testament to the strength of the Targaryen bloodline.

Rhaegar shook his head, breaking away from her playful hands. "I'll teach you a lesson later," he teased, resting his chin on her shoulder.

Rhaenyra grunted in mock annoyance and began to check Rhaegar for injuries. Her hands roamed over his body, and when she touched his right waist, she noticed something amiss.

"Rhaegar, where is your sword?" she asked, her eyes serious. She pushed him away slightly, searching his face for an answer.

Rhaegar hesitated before admitting, "I left it in the Smoking Sea."

"You really took on danger, didn't you? You even lost your sword!" Rhaenyra's eyes widened with worry, her voice tinged with anger. She knew that Rhaegar's trip to the Smoking Sea had been far from safe.

Fury and concern mixed in her heart. Rhaenyra gritted her teeth and slapped Rhaegar's chest a few times, her frustration evident.

"Wait, I didn't lose it. Listen to me first," Rhaegar said, capturing Rhaenyra's hand as she tried to express her frustration.

Rhaegar took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "Dragon claw is temporarily out of my hands. It's in the possession of a... new friend."

"A new friend? Where did you find a new friend?" Rhaenyra's eyes widened with disbelief.

Rhaegar hesitated for a moment before affirming, "A wild dragon."

Rhaenyra's expression shifted from skepticism to one of bewildered curiosity, prompting Rhaegar to offer a detailed explanation.

The dragon claw was lost during THE battle with the sea monster. He thought it had fallen near the ruins of the stone bridge and planned to salvage it later.

But then, the mysterious scroll in his bracelet started glowing, pinpointing the exact location of Dragon Claw. It was moving rapidly within a dozen miles of the sailboat.

The visibility was terrible, but he realized that a wild dragon from the Smoking Sea had picked up Dragon Claw and was following the sailboat. This continued until he left the Smoking Sea. It seems the wild dragon there have never ventured far from his territory.

Rhaegar finished with a helpless smile, "The dragon probably took a liking to Dragon Claw because it was shiny, treating it as a collectible."

Rhaenyra listened intently, her mouth slightly agape. "There are wild dragons in the Smoking Sea?"

"Yes," Rhaegar confirmed with a nod, then added with a laugh, "But don't worry, I managed to find a substitute. The trip wasn't a complete loss."

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, a hint of amusement in her exasperation. "Let's get back to the castle so you can rest. And you might want to clean up—you're starting to smell, and your hair is a mess."

Rhaegar chuckled, grateful for Rhaenyra's concern. Together, they made their way back to the Red Keep.

...

The Queen's Bedchamber

Alicent paced back and forth, her face twisted with anger. Aegon sat on a round stool by the table, his head hung low. His silver hair was disheveled, and he was shirtless, wearing only white pajama pants.

Not far away, Aemond stood watching, his expression helpless.

Helaena knelt on the floor, her light purple eyes unfocused as she muttered to herself, "Green spools, black spools..." She fiddled with two balls of thread, the only sound in the room besides Aegon's irritated head-scratching.

Alicent spun around, pointing an accusing finger at Aegon. "She is my personal maid, and you dare molest her?"

"I didn't! I was just teasing her," Aegon retorted, bristling.

Splat!

Alicent slapped him, her voice filled with fury. "The evidence is there, and you're still making excuses."

Aegon clutched his face in annoyance. "She was the one who bent over in front of me, and I just slapped her!"

Slap!

Alicent slapped him again. "Will you grow up? All you do is drink and waste your time with prostitutes. What else are you good for?"

"What future do you expect for me?" Aegon shouted back. "The heir is Rhaegar. What's wrong with me being a hedonistic prince?"

Alicent's chest heaved with frustration. "Even if you don't want the throne, you should still protect your family."

Aegon grimaced and pointed at Helaena. "Your idea of protection is marrying me to her, right?"

After the Small's Council meeting, his parents had approached him separately. Viserys asked if he was interested in marrying into the Baratheon House. Alicent wanted him to marry Helaena and strengthen the Hightower House's influence. But no one asked what he wanted.

Seeing Aegon's disdain for Helaena, Alicent felt a wave of disappointment. "You should protect her, just like Rhaenyra protects Rhaegar."

"She's just a silly girl," Aegon muttered dismissively.

"So, you'd rather marry Lord Borros' daughter?" Alicent's eyes reddened as she sat on a stool, holding her forehead.

Aegon felt a pang of guilt at his mother's sadness but responded with even more annoyance. "Who said I wanted to marry those ugly bastards?"

Lord Borros had a rugged face, and his daughters had inherited his looks. Even Aegon, with his lax standards, found them unappealing.

Alicent sighed deeply, fatigue washing over her. She glanced at Helaena and held back her words. The thought of marrying off her children depressed her.

Aegon had never liked Helaena. Growing up, they bickered constantly. Helaena, absorbed in her spools of thread, was no different.

"Never mind, all of you, get out," Alicent waved them away, distracted.

The solution for the Small Council's opposition to the Baratheon House had yet to be found. She needed to join forces with Rhaegar to block the marriage. Eventually, Aegon would have to unite with Helaena.

"Oh, you rest," Aegon muttered, leaving without a backward glance.

"Sister, let's go," Aemond said, taking the spool from Helaena and leading her by the hand.

As they passed the table, Alicent took Helaena's small hand. Ignoring Aemond's envious look, she cupped Helaena's cheek and kissed it. "Don't be afraid, Mother will not blame you."

Helaena's eyes lowered, her small hands fidgeting in front of her.

(Word count: 1,693)