Chapter 245: The Storm in King’s Landing

After discussing the training program, Rhaegar outlined Grey Worm's new duties.

He tasked Grey Worm with relocating thousands of slaves from outside King's Landing to Harrenhal. Additionally, Grey Worm was to oversee the selection of new soldiers from Flea Bottom. True to his nature, Grey Worm was swift and efficient, leaving the hall immediately to begin his assignments.

Now, only Tru, the disgraced maester, remained. Rhaegar had not interacted much with him but knew Tru was an introverted and timid man. Despite his demeanor, Tru possessed an impressive array of knowledge, earning chains of Black Iron, Bronze, Silver, and the rare Valyrian Steel—signifying expertise in Ravenology, Astronomy, Medicine, and Magic and Occultism, respectively.

The Valyrian Steel link was particularly prestigious, awarded to only one in a hundred students. Tru's fascination with magic and the occult led him to secretly develop wildfire, resulting in his expulsion from the Citadel.

When Rhaegar inquired about his aspirations, Tru revealed he had no grand ambitions. Instead, he preferred a quiet life, focused on scientific research. His current goal was simply to find a stable place to live and work.

Recognizing Tru's potential, Rhaegar decided to utilize his talents. He assigned Tru to stay at Harrenhal, starting with the smelting of black dragonstone. Rhaegar handed over the necessary spells to Tru, trusting him with the task.

To motivate Tru further, Rhaegar made a solemn promise, "When Harrenhal and the Dragon's Nest are completed, I will write to the Hightower House and help you regain your position at the Citadel, restoring your status as a maester."

The Hightowers, who controlled Oldtown where the Citadel was located, would likely honor such a request. Helping a disgraced maester was a minor favor for them.

"Yes, Prince. I promise to complete the mission," Tru replied, his excitement palpable as his belly trembled.

For Tru, a commoner who had risen to become a maester, regaining his diploma was the highest honor. It was more important to him than anything else.

...

Nightfall

Bonfires blazed along the walls of Harrenhal, pushing back the encroaching darkness.

Rhaegar rode his dragon, Cannibal, towards the north shore of Lake God's Eye. The shore was illuminated by firelight, where a makeshift lumber mill had been set up. Strong laborers carried timber to the carpenters, their silhouettes flickering in the firelight.

"Come on, Cannibal," Rhaegar murmured, his gaze lingering on the bustling scene for a moment before he directed his dragon to take flight towards the Isle of Faces.

The Dragon's Nest had been a childhood dream of his. Now, the geothermal heat of the Isle of Faces made it the ideal location to bring this dream to life. However, transporting the necessary materials required ships.

The timber mill was the first step in this process, with plans for a shipyard and dock to follow. During the reign of Harren the Black, shipyards and docks had been constructed on the north shore of God's Eye, used to repel enemies approaching from both sides of the lake. These defenses had caused significant losses to Aegon the Conqueror's forces. But Rhaegar had no intention of building a navy. His sole aim was to secure ships for transporting materials to the Isle of Faces.

Cannibal soared over the expansive waters of Lake God's Eye, eventually descending above the Isle of Faces. With a powerful flap of its wings, the dragon landed gently. Rhaegar dismounted and made his way directly to the Hot Spring.

Over the past month, the Hot Spring had undergone a remarkable transformation. Once the size of a small basin, it had expanded to several meters in diameter. A fishbeam tree had been engulfed by the spring's range, its entire root system submerged, turning it into a tree in the water.

The spring's water was crystal clear, steaming with white vapor. The roots of the fishbeam tree clung to the ground, while the human-like face carved into its trunk twisted in a hauntingly beautiful manner.

"Ah, the underground temperature keeps rising. A dragon's nest here is definitely feasible," Rhaegar breathed out, taking off his clothes as he approached the hot spring.

With a splash, he jumped into the water, leaning against the tree's rhizome and closing his eyes in contentment.

"Ahhh..." he sighed, the hot water soothing his muscles as he stretched out his legs. The spring's heat was perfect for him, gradually lulling him into a drowsy state.

...

King's Landing

The Red Keep, the King's Chambers

After a round of passionate exertion, the room was filled only with the sound of ragged breathing. Viserys lay on his back, chest heaving, too exhausted to open his eyes. He often found himself grateful to his eldest son, feeling as if his body were twenty years younger since the festering wounds had healed.

"Viserys, I've lost my voice. Get me a glass of water..." Alicent murmured, nestled in her husband's arms. Her skin, even more radiant than that of a young girl, flushed a delicate pink. Her voice was hoarse, a soft request escaping her lips.

Despite her distaste for her husband's often sullen demeanor, she couldn't ignore the feeling that she was destined to bear him five children.

"Drink slowly, Alicent," Viserys gasped, lovingly supporting her as he poured a glass of water and brought it to her lips.

Alicent drained the glass in one gulp, the tip of her tongue lingering around the rim.

Viserys watched, his heart swelling and his vigor returning.

"Viserys, there's something I want to talk to you about," Alicent said, her breathing steadying as she prepared to broach the subject.

Gathering her closer, Viserys replied contentedly, "Tell me."

He had sensed this conversation was imminent, given Alicent's initiation of it.

"The children are getting older, and I want you to think about their futures," Alicent began, her delicate face looking up at him imploringly. "Rhaegar, as the eldest, has the Prince's Palace and Harrenhal, and Rhaenyra has Dragonstone as a fiefdom. The other children have nothing."

Her fear was palpable. The first two heirs enjoyed the privileges of the court, while her children were left without.

Well, almost nothing. Aegon had been appointed as a commander at the Stepstones, but it wasn't enough.

Viserys lowered his eyes and tried to remain calm. Reason prevailed. He understood Alicent's concern and acknowledged the imbalance in the treatment of their children.

As a father, he had failed to be fair. As king, the balance was even more skewed.

Rhaenyra and Rhaegar were the offspring of his late wife Aemma Arryn and held a special place in his heart. Emotionally, they eclipsed his other children.

Rhaenyra's abdication as heir had been a significant sacrifice, one he had tried to make up for.

Rhaegar, the eldest son, was the heir to the kingdom. He was also the Targaryen dynasty's most capable heir at the moment.

At the age of thirteen, he had led a successful campaign against the Triarchy and crushed the rebellion in the Riverlands.

Such achievements marked him as one of the greatest prodigies in the history of House Targaryen. If he didn't die young or succumb to madness, he would undoubtedly be a brilliant ruler.

Viserys was willing to use all his resources to support such a promising pair of children.

Seeing his hesitation, Alicent reached out, rubbed his beard, and spoke softly, "Aegon's working hard in the Stepstones, and he's almost the same age as Rhaegar, isn't he?"

Helaena and her two young sons were too young to consider, leaving Aegon as the only viable son. Despite his usual profligacy and unruly behavior, Alicent didn't see Aegon as useless.

After all, both Viserys and Daemon had indulged in the pleasures of King's Landing's brothels in their youth and turned out reasonably well. Aegon, after all, had been to war and ridden a dragon.

In terms of ability, he was several times better than the heirs of many great families.

Viserys hesitated, thinking deeply. To him, Aegon didn't seem fit to be king. As a prince and lieutenant, he might be a better choice.

"Do you think Aegon deserves a feud?" Viserys asked directly, his eyes piercing.

Alicent's face lit up as she nodded gently.

Viserys rubbed his brow and sighed, "If you had told me earlier, I might have kept the Stepstones for him. As it is, the realm has no suitable castle for Aegon."

A fief was not easily granted. As a prince, Aegon needed a castle, a palace, and enough servants and lords to maintain royal dignity.

If there was no spare castle, he'd have to grant an undeveloped piece of land, requiring extensive work to make it livable. It seemed easier for Aegon to stay in King's Landing as a prince in leisure.

Alicent understood this and had a plan. Sitting up, she looked him in the eye and said seriously, "The Battle of the Stepstones is nearly over, and Aegon can remain there."

She always remembered Jeyne's analysis: the Stepstones were crucial, situated between two continents and a major shipping route. With the Triarchy in decline, the danger had significantly decreased.

With Aegon in the Stepstones, the treasury would naturally fund the construction of a fortress and maintain a strong presence. It was a perfect fiefdom.

Viserys was momentarily stunned. "The Stepstones!" he murmured.

It was a place rife with disputes, but he had someone in mind who was more suited for it. It could be a form of mutual compensation.

Alicent gently shook his shoulder and urged, "Viserys, what do you think?"

"It's a good suggestion. Let me think about it," Viserys replied, rolling over to cuddle his wife and closing his eyes.

Viserys was not a man of swift decisions but rather one prone to delay.

...

Flea Bottom

Inside a Brothel

Several black-robed figures entered the dimly lit brothel, moving quickly toward a secluded room on the second floor.

The door creaked open to reveal an elegant woman with a delicate figure, draped in a thin veil. She sat gracefully, exuding an air of quiet authority.

"White Worm, I've heard much about you," said the lead figure, lifting his hood to reveal Otto's stern face.

Mysaria placed her hands on her lap, her gaze unwavering. Her voice, both magnetic and hoarse, replied, "Lord Otto, your reputation precedes you as well."

Otto's reputation had suffered greatly as a result of the street-cleaning program, and his name had become synonymous with controversy throughout King's Landing.

"Heh, I'll take that as a compliment," Otto said, his eyes twinkling as he took a seat across from Mysaria.

Her expression remained unchanged, calm and impassive. "Lord Otto, what brings you here?" she asked.

"White Worm Mysaria, the most elusive figure in Flea Bottom, yet privy to the city's secrets," Otto began, his tone candid. "I need a spymaster. Will you work for me?"

"I'm afraid I cannot," Mysaria replied without hesitation. "I have my own allegiances."

Otto's eyes narrowed as he responded frankly, "Prince Daemon is in jail and won't be coming out anytime soon."

The upper echelons of the court knew that Mysaria had once been Daemon's mistress. In 105 AC, shortly after Queen Aemma Arryn died giving birth to Rhaegar, Daemon had famously referred to Rhaegar as the "Heir for a day" while celebrating in a brothel with Mysaria and others.

Mysaria had been pregnant with Daemon's child at the time, and he had been overjoyed, going so far as to find a dragon's egg to place in the cradle of his unborn child.

The egg had originally been intended for Rhaegar, and Rhaenyra had ridden Syrax to Dragonstone to retrieve it from Daemon. This incident had infuriated King Viserys, who valued the egg deeply. As a result, Viserys had not only banished Daemon from King's Landing but also ordered him to send Mysaria back to Lys.

Daemon, unable to withstand the pressure, had complied. Tragically, during her sea voyage, Mysaria's ship encountered a storm, resulting in the miscarriage of her unborn child. This incident had been a significant factor in the first major rift between Viserys and Daemon.

(Word count: 2,012)