After discussing the military training plan, Rhaegar assigned a new task:
Relocating the thousands of slaves outside King's Landing to Harrenhal.
This, along with recruiting soldiers from Flea Bottom, was entrusted to Grey Worm.
Grey Worm was a man of few words, but his efficiency was like wildfire.
Once given his orders, he left the hall without hesitation.
Now, only the expelled maester, Trystane, remained.
Rhaegar hadn't spoken much with him before, only knowing that he was an introverted and timid giant of a man.
Trystane was highly knowledgeable, having earned chain links in black iron, bronze, silver, and Valyrian steel—
Each representing expertise in ravenry, astronomy, medicine, and magic & the arcane, respectively.
Valyrian steel links were exceptionally rare.
Only one in a hundred maesters ever managed to obtain one.
It was Trystane's interest in magic and the arcane that led him to secretly experiment with wildfire, ultimately resulting in his expulsion from the Citadel.
When Rhaegar asked about his aspirations, he found that Trystane had no grand ambitions.
Instead, he was a bookworm, a recluse who enjoyed research.
His greatest wish at the moment was simply to find a place to settle and make a living.
Rhaegar wasn't about to let such talent slip away.
With a decisive wave of his hand, he permitted Trystane to stay at Harrenhal.
His first task: refining black dragonglass.
Rhaegar had no time for such work, so he handed Trystane the incantations needed and let him handle it.
To seal the deal, he made a promise.
Rhaegar's expression was serious. "When Harrenhal and Dragon's Roost are completed, I'll write to House Hightower and help you regain your maester status at the Citadel."
House Hightower ruled Oldtown, where the Citadel was located, and they held considerable influence there.
Helping a disgraced maester return to the Citadel? A trivial favor.
"Yes, Your Highness. I will complete the task," Trystane replied, his excitement causing his large belly to tremble.
For a maester of common birth, their title was their highest honor.
Regaining that title meant more than anything.
---
### Nightfall
Bonfires burned along Harrenhal's walls, pushing back the darkness.
Rhaegar rode his dragon to the northern shore of the Gods Eye.
There, firelight illuminated a newly constructed lumber mill.
Strong laborers carried logs to the carpenters for processing.
"Let's go, Glutton."
After a brief glance, Rhaegar urged his dragon skyward, flying toward the Isle of Faces.
Building a dragon roost had been his childhood dream.
Now, the Isle of Faces—with its geothermal activity—was the perfect location.
But transporting materials required ships.
Once the lumber mill was fully operational, he would follow up with a shipyard and docks.
During King Harren the Black's reign, the northern shore of the Gods Eye had both shipyards and docks—
Used to fend off enemies advancing along the lake's shores.
They had once dealt significant losses to Aegon the Conqueror's army.
But Rhaegar had no intention of building a navy.
He only needed enough ships to ferry materials to the Isle of Faces.
Glutton soared over the vast waters of the Gods Eye, finally reaching the island.
With a powerful flap of its wings, the dragon descended.
Rhaegar dismounted and headed straight for the hot spring.
In the month since he had last visited, the hot spring had undergone a dramatic transformation.
What was once a basin-sized pool had expanded to several meters wide.
A weirwood tree had grown directly within the spring, its roots submerged in the steaming water—
A hauntingly beautiful sight.
The water was crystal clear, sending white mist into the night air.
The weirwood's roots coiled beneath the surface, its face twisted, exuding a strange, broken beauty.
"Phew… The underground heat is rising. A dragon roost here is definitely feasible."
Rhaegar exhaled, stepping forward while shedding his clothes.
With a splash, he sank into the hot water, leaning against the weirwood's roots, eyes closed in relaxation.
"Hmm…"
The scalding temperature suited his heat resistance perfectly.
Gradually, drowsiness crept over him.
---
### King's Landing
**Red Keep, Royal Chambers**
After a round of passionate applause, the only sound left in the bedroom was heavy breathing.
Viserys lay flat on his back, chest heaving, too exhausted to open his eyes.
Moments like this made him grateful for his eldest son.
Ever since his wounds had been healed, his body felt twenty years younger.
"Viserys, my throat is dry. Get me some water…"
Alicent lay in her husband's arms, her fair skin flushed red, her voice soft and hoarse with exhaustion.
She didn't particularly enjoy her husband's single-minded approach to intimacy—
It was rather dull.
But she had a nagging suspicion…
That she was about to have a fifth child.
"Drink slowly, Alicent."
Viserys, still panting, tenderly helped his wife up and brought a cup of water to her lips.
Alicent drained it in one go, her tongue lingering along the rim of the cup.
*Gulp…*
Viserys felt a surge of warmth in his chest—his vigor returning.
"Viserys, I have something to discuss with you."
Alicent took a deep breath, preparing to speak.
Viserys, satisfied, pulled her closer. "I'm listening."
She had been the one to initiate tonight, so he had been expecting this.
"The children are growing older," Alicent said gently.
"I want you to consider their future."
Allicent lifted her delicate face, looking pitiful. "Rhaegar, as the eldest son, has both the Prince's Palace and Harrenhal. Rhaenyra has Dragonstone as her fief. But the other children have nothing."
It wasn't surprising that she was anxious—both children of the late queen had secured power at court and enjoyed the most privileged status.
Meanwhile, her own children had nothing.
Oh, wait.
Not exactly nothing—Aegon had managed to get himself a position as a military advisor in the Stepstones.
Viserys lowered his gaze at her words, calming himself.
Reason took over.
He understood Allicent's concerns—she felt her children were being treated unfairly.
As a father, he had indeed failed to treat them equally.
But as a king, equality was impossible to maintain.
Rhaenyra and Rhaegar were the children of his late wife, Aemma Arryn—their births were the product of love.
Emotionally, he had always felt closer to them than to his other children.
Besides, Rhaenyra had given up her claim to the throne—a significant sacrifice. He had always felt the need to make it up to her.
And Rhaegar… he was his eldest son, the heir to the kingdom.
More importantly, he was the most talented warrior of House Targaryen.
At just thirteen, he had led a daring two-dragon assault against the Three Daughters and quelled the Riverlands rebellion.
Such a military feat was almost unprecedented, even among the greatest Targaryens.
As long as he didn't die young or succumb to madness, he was destined to be a great king.
For such a son and daughter, Viserys was willing to pour in resources without hesitation.
Seeing him remain silent, Allicent reached out and gently stroked his chin, brushing against his beard. In a soft voice, she murmured, "Aegon has been working diligently in the Stepstones. He's around the same age as Rhaegar, so… shouldn't he also…"
With Helaena and her two younger sons still too young, Aegon was the only one she could push forward.
Yes, Aegon was reckless and undisciplined.
But Allicent refused to believe he was useless.
After all, both Viserys and Daemon had spent their youth whoring their way through King's Landing's brothels—they were hardly paragons of virtue themselves.
At least Aegon had been on a battlefield. He had fought atop Sunfyre and earned his merits.
And if seniority were set aside, he was far more capable than the heirs of many noble houses.
Viserys hesitated, lost in thought.
In his heart, Aegon did not have the qualities of a ruler.
But as a prince and a royal assistant, he could still be useful.
"You think Aegon deserves a fief?"
Viserys' gaze flickered as he got straight to the point.
Allicent's expression brightened, and she nodded lightly.
Viserys rubbed his temples, sighing. "If you had mentioned this earlier, I could have saved Stone Hedge for him. But right now, there are no suitable castles left in the kingdom."
Granting a fief was not something that could be done on a whim.
Aegon was a prince—any land given to him would have to be a principality.
That meant a castle, a palace, servants, subjects—everything required to uphold the dignity of the royal family.
If there was no available castle, the only alternative was to grant him undeveloped land, forcing him to carve out his own domain.
And that was hardly better than remaining in King's Landing as a carefree prince.
Allicent understood this well—she had already thought of a solution.
Sitting up, she locked eyes with her husband and said seriously, "The Stepstones War is almost over. Aegon can stay there."
She still remembered Janyce's analysis.
The Stepstones were a vital maritime passageway between two continents—a key trade route.
With the Three Daughters in decline, the region was far less dangerous than before.
If Aegon were granted the Stepstones, the royal treasury would have to fund the construction of a fortress and station troops there.
It was the perfect fief.
Viserys paused, murmuring, "The Stepstones…"
A land of endless strife, always embroiled in conflict.
In his mind, there was someone far more suited to rule there.
Someone he owed a debt to.
Allicent gently shook his shoulder, urging him, "Viserys, what do you think?"
"It's a good proposal. Let me think it over."
As was his habit, Viserys dodged the decision.
Instead, he turned over, pulled his wife into his arms, and closed his eyes.
When faced with difficult choices, he preferred to stall for time.
---
**Flea Bottom.**
Inside a brothel.
A few figures in black cloaks entered through the doors and made their way to a private room on the second floor.
*Creak—*
The door opened, revealing a slender woman wrapped in sheer silk, exuding an air of quiet elegance.
"White Worm. I've heard much about you."
The leader of the cloaked figures pulled back his hood, revealing Otto Hightower's calculating face.
Mysaria, seated gracefully with her hands resting on her lap, met his gaze. Her voice was husky and magnetic. "And your name, Lord Otto, is even more well-known."
Because of the city's street-cleaning initiative, Otto's reputation had taken a severe hit.
His name was cursed throughout King's Landing.
"Heh, I'll take that as a compliment," Otto said, his eyes sharp as he settled into a chair opposite Mysaria.
Her expression remained serene, as if she were beyond desire or ambition. "So, Lord Otto, what have you gone through such trouble to find me for?"
"White Worm, Little Mysaria—the most elusive figure in Flea Bottom, yet privy to nearly every secret in this city."
Otto revealed what he knew of her background, then got straight to the point. "I need a master of whispers. Would you serve me?"
"I'm afraid not. I already have someone I serve."
Mysaria refused him without hesitation.
Otto narrowed his eyes but remained composed. "Prince Daemon is locked in the dungeons. He won't be getting out anytime soon."
Everyone in court knew that Mysaria had once been Daemon's mistress.
Back in 105 AC, when Rhaegar was just born and Queen Aemma Arryn had died, Daemon had drunkenly mocked his nephew in a brothel, calling him "The Heir for a Day."
At the time, Mysaria had been pregnant with his child.
Daemon had been ecstatic—so much so that he stole a dragon egg and planned to place it in the unborn child's cradle.
That egg had originally belonged to Rhaegar, resting beside him while he lay unconscious in his crib.
Later, Rhaenyra had ridden Syrax to Dragonstone, confronting Daemon to reclaim her baby brother's dragon egg.
After that incident, Viserys, who held dragon eggs in high regard, was furious.
Not only did he banish Daemon from King's Landing, but he also ordered him to send Mysaria back to Lys.
Under pressure, Daemon had obeyed.
But during her voyage across the sea, Mysaria's ship had been caught in a storm.
She lost the child.
That tragedy was one of the many reasons behind the first great rift between Viserys and Daemon.
(End of Chapter)