Chapter 391: Return to King’s Landing
August, under a scorching sun.
King's Landing, River Gate.
In the sweltering heat of the afternoon, fishermen gathered their sails and huddled with their small catches at the foot of the city walls, feeling unspeakably satisfied.
Thanks to the king's benevolence, many of the city's rogues had been arrested and sent outside the city to cultivate the wasteland. As a result, the River Gate no longer reeked of urine from vagrants, replaced only by the fishy odor of fish and shrimp.
An old fisherman with a waxy face and bare feet lay on the dry, cracked mud, speaking in a thick accent, "Have you heard? The Heir Prince is returning to King's Landing after subduing the Triarchy?"
"Nonsense, such big news has spread all over the Flea Bottom. You don't need to repeat it!"
"Old Henry, you're just repeating what everyone already knows."
His statement was like a stone thrown into a calm lake, provoking teasing and ridicule from the fishermen around him.
Old Henry held up two sea fish and said eagerly, "What do you know? The prince is back, and the Triarchy Kingdom is now our territory."
"Che, this is the noble lord's territory. It doesn't have a single copper to do with you, a poor old man."
A cynical youth immediately scoffed.
"But the prince is quite good to us poor old people..."
Old Henry retorted angrily.
King's Landing had fewer hooligans lying about, the streets were cleaner, and the gangs that collected bail money had been cleaned out. The fishermen living under the city walls no longer smelled the stench of human waste, nor did they fear being captured in the city.
Another fisherman, crossing his legs, said with newfound curiosity, "But I heard the prince is really coming back soon. They might even recruit a group of soldiers."
"You want to go to war?"
"A bit. After the battle is won, there will definitely be a shortage of men."
"That's right, maybe I can even become a squad leader."
The fishermen laughed and joked, discussing their own little schemes.
Wooooo~
The sun grew hotter, and an exhilarating horn sounded far and wide. On the surface of Blackwater Bay, reflecting light, a dozen magnificent three-masted sailing ships crossed the harbor. At the head was a large flag, painted and engraved with a majestic three-headed red dragon.
"Roar--"
A dragon roar resounded like a loud bell. The pitch-black dragon spread its wings and soared, its huge body like ten thousand miles of dark clouds covering the blazing sun.
"The Prince is back!"
The fishermen rolled and crawled to their feet, tilting their heads back under the shadows. The black dragon was cold and lonely, flying leisurely into King's Landing, shielding the summer sun from the scorching light.
"Roar!"
Another dragon roar, as loud as muffled thunder, followed closely behind, carrying a strong sense of oppression. A huge green dragon cut through the sky, its massive wings creating gusty winds as imposing as a giant mountain.
The old residents of King's Landing recognized it as the previous dragon of Prince "Baelon" The Spring Prince - Vhagar.
With the help of the gusty wind created by the dragon, the ships traveled faster and smoothly entered the dock of the River Gate.
A large flag fluttered in the wind, symbolizing each ancient power that had fought on the battlefield. Seahorses, high towers, purple grapes... and even foreign flags like that of Pentos ans Volantis.
...
The Red Keep, the Godswood.
The two giant dragons circled the vast garden twice, each choosing a clear space to land slowly.
Boom!
As soon as their massive bodies touched down, a fierce wind whipped through the garden, sending blades of grass and petals fluttering.
"Roar..."
Rhaegar stepped off the soft ladder and leapt onto the lawn. The silver and black young dragon on his shoulder chirped excitedly, flapping its wings and flying around.
Rhaegar smoothed back his blown-out silver hair and glanced at Tyraxes, the corner of his mouth curling into a smile. The little one had been cowering in his arms all the way, finally free of the Cannibal's intimidating presence.
"Brother!"
A clear cry rang out from the direction of the castle.
Helaena was all smiles as she trotted up to him. The little girl wore a long white dress, the hem of which she lifted awkwardly as she ran.
"Helaena."
Rhaegar smiled, his gaze shifting to the figure behind her.
Rhaenyra, in a white halter dress, cradled her bulging belly in her hands and smiled warmly.
After dealing with the cheerful little girl, Rhaegar walked over to Rhaenyra and gently hugged her.
Rhaenyra responded carefully, her head resting against his chest as she whispered, "Go and get dressed, Father is waiting."
"Fine, but let me hear the sound first."
Rhaegar half-squatted, wrapped his arms around her soft waist, and pressed his ear to her large belly. As soon as his cheek was close, he felt a slight nudge.
Four months and there was already movement.
Rhaegar's eyes widened in delight and he pressed in a little closer.
Suddenly, another faint push touched his chin.
Rhaegar raised his head, eyes full of laughter, "It seems like someone gave me a punch. It's really lawless."
Rhaenyra's heart swelled with affection, and the corners of her mouth lifted into a smile, "I'm afraid this kind of arrogance is hereditary."
As she spoke, her small greenish-white hand rubbed her brother's head, her eyes brimming with tenderness.
Rhaegar closed his eyes in enjoyment, slyly saying, "I'm the most easygoing one; you're slandering me."
"You wish, get out of here."
With those words, Rhaenyra tugged at his ear, her own footsteps light and playful.
It had been more than a month since they had seen each other, and they had missed each other dearly.
The two siblings shared a few moments of warm, fond affection.
...
Later that evening, a grand banquet was held in the Red Keep.
The return of the hero who had conquered the disputed lands was warmly welcomed by a gathering of princes and advisors.
Inside the great hall, sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows, filling the room with the aroma of wine. The sounds of celebration could be heard faintly from below.
A dozen figures sat around the large conference table: King Viserys, several royal advisors, and Rhaegar, seated to the right of his father, the green-patterned stone ball on a black background placed in the alcove.
Rhaenyra sat next to Rhaegar, her smile reflecting her sense of honor. Laena and Helaena, their faces calm, stood quietly behind them.
Opposite them sat the Sea Snake Corlys, his face haughty, alongside two ambassadors from Pentos and Volantis.
With the destruction of the Triarchy, the disputed lands were initially pacified, and the Iron Throne's allies eagerly awaited their share of the spoils of war.
"Viserys, drink less wine," Alicent said helplessly, pressing her husband's hand as he poured another glass.
The queen, dressed in a dignified and unobtrusive green gown, attended the council under the pretense of attending to the king.
"Ahem, I'm happy today. It's okay to drink a little more," Viserys replied, slightly embarrassed as he coughed lightly to hide it.
"Promise me, just one last drink," Alicent persuaded gently, pouring the wine for him personally.
She finished with a small reminder, "You have not been well lately, and Orwyle warned you."
Viserys forced a smile, his interest in drinking fading.
Rhaegar heard it all and gave his father two subtle glances. On the outside, Viserys looked no different - wearing the crown that symbolized his power, the solemn black robes, and maintaining the same majesty and benevolence as always.
But upon closer inspection, there were differences. His lips were bloodless, dark circles were heavy under his eyes, and his gaze was drooping with fatigue.
Rhaegar's nostrils twitched slightly, catching a faint stench of hair oil and tonics.
"The war seems to have taken its toll on Father," Rhaegar thought darkly.
Viserys was in bad shape, like an overindulged addict.
Rhaegar also wondered how the cuts on his father's body were healing and decided to take the time to help treat them once more.
(Word count: 1,363)