Time passed like a fleeting horse.
Year 121 AC.
Early spring, morning.
High above the Gods Eye, a golden dragon soared through the sky, its shimmering scales gleaming brilliantly under the sunlight.
"Hiss—Screech—"
The golden dragon let out a roar, its well-proportioned body cutting through layers of mist, flapping its wings to adjust its course.
At the center of the Gods Eye lay the Isle of Faces.
After three years, the once lush and verdant island had undergone a dramatic transformation.
On the northern side of the island stood a towering black structure—neither mountain nor tower, yet possessing qualities of both.
The structure reached an impressive height of five hundred feet, featuring four massive openings running through it from top to bottom.
When the wind blew, a deep, horn-like wail echoed from within.
The golden dragon circled the dark structure once before gliding toward the northern shore of the Gods Eye.
Its belly skimmed the lake's shimmering surface, its long tail swaying through the water, sending up cascading ripples.
**Harrenhal.**
The thick and steep castle walls had been fully restored, and patrols of soldiers clad in black armor marched in disciplined strides.
**Whoosh—**
A sudden gust of wind swept through, causing the soldiers to stumble slightly.
"Stay alert!"
Looking up, they saw the golden dragon soaring over the castle walls, entering the stronghold.
"Stand down! It's the princess and her dragon."
Recognizing the golden dragon and the figure on its back, the captain of the guards showed a respectful expression and resumed his patrol.
---
### In Front of the Tower of the King's Pyre – Formerly Known as "The Bear Pit"
Fresh sprouts emerged from the soil, while the lone willow tree bore a delicate layer of lingering snow on its drooping branches.
Against one wall of the tower stood a spacious wooden shelter, furnished with simple tables and benches.
Dozens of children, around ten years old, sat with disciplined posture, listening intently to their tall and rotund teacher.
**Strum… Strum…**
The gentle plucking of harp strings drifted through the air. Though the melody was meant to be cheerful, a faint sorrow lingered in its notes.
Following the sound led to a stone-built pavilion at the corner of the tower.
Within the pavilion, the music played on.
A young man with silver-gold hair sat cross-legged on a red carpet, a harp cradled in his arms, his fingers delicately grazing the strings.
His complexion was pale, his features strikingly handsome. His deep violet eyes held an enigmatic depth, and his thin, crimson lips exuded an effortless allure.
The only imperfection was the dark circles beneath his eyes, casting a shadow of melancholy over his appearance.
"Black Threads, Dragon, Rose…"
Alongside the music, a girl's soft murmuring could be heard from within the pavilion.
A young girl with similarly silver-gold, slightly wavy hair lay sprawled behind the boy. Propping herself up on her elbows, she idly kicked her legs back and forth.
**Whoosh—**
A powerful gust of wind swept through as the golden dragon glided over the castle's vast courtyard, landing just outside the pavilion.
On its back, Rhaenyra—dressed in a flowing red gown with her long hair neatly pinned up—unfastened the chains around her waist and swiftly climbed down the soft ladder.
With a soft **thud**, she landed on the ground. Running her hand over the dragon's golden scales, she smiled. "Go have some fun, Syrax."
**"Hiss—Screech—"**
Syrax let out a low growl, nudging its rider affectionately before spreading its wings and taking off again.
Above Harrenhal, a black dragon and a blue dragon circled slowly, chasing each other playfully.
With Syrax joining in, the dragons engaged in a lively aerial dance.
"Rhaegar, aren't you going to come and welcome me?"
Rhaenyra clasped her hands behind her back and gracefully stepped into the pavilion.
She was as beautiful as ever, as if time had left no mark on her.
**Strum—**
The harp's melody came to an abrupt halt. Slender fingers stilled the trembling strings, soothing the lingering notes.
The young man lifted his gaze, his violet eyes brightening slightly as he looked at Rhaenyra. He smirked teasingly. "Do we really need formalities between us, sister~?"
The last word was deliberately drawn out with a hint of mischief.
A faint blush crept onto Rhaenyra's face as she shot him an annoyed glance. "Can't you at least pretend?"
Half a year ago, Rhaegar had chosen to follow family tradition.
Under the witness of their father, Viserys, a preliminary arrangement had been made.
In public, she and Rhaegar addressed each other by name. Only in private would they acknowledge their relationship.
By calling her that now, he was clearly being cheeky.
"Rhaenyra, you just left two days ago. Why are you back so soon?"
Rhaegar smirked but couldn't hide his curiosity.
Rhaenyra was now the adoptive mother of two girls, responsible for managing affairs in both King's Landing and Dragonstone. Every day, she was so busy that it seemed like she was running in circles.
Even when she visited Harrenhal, it was never too frequent.
"Why else? Of course, it's because I have a mission."
Rhaenyra pursed her lips in exasperation. "Rhaegar, you haven't returned to King's Landing in over six months. Father misses you very much."
At her words, Rhaegar's smile faded.
He lowered his head and idly plucked at the harp strings, his interest in the conversation waning.
Three years ago, after Vaemond Velaryon's funeral,
Upon returning to King's Landing, Viserys had frequently sought out Rhaegar for discussions.
But it wasn't to talk about the city's reforms, nor to inquire about Harrenhal or the dragon roosts.
Instead, their conversations revolved around the Stepstones—where Viserys had proposed two strategies that directly opposed Rhaegar's views.
Viserys remained adamant, while Rhaegar stubbornly refused to agree.
Their disagreements eventually escalated into two heated arguments, ending in bitter discord.
Frustrated, Rhaegar left King's Landing and moved into Harrenhal, throwing himself into restoring the castle and constructing new dragon roosts.
"Rhaegar, you've been away from King's Landing for too long. The kingdom needs a crown prince who is present."
Rhaenyra stepped closer, sitting beside Rhaegar in the pavilion, her voice gentle and coaxing.
It had been three years.
Rhaegar had returned to King's Landing so few times that they could be counted on one hand.
---
Many courtiers in the royal court privately speculated about the strained relationship between the king and the crown prince.
"Rhaenyra, are you afraid someone might take advantage of this and seize power?"
Rhaegar's gaze remained calm and unaffected.
Although he was furious at his father's muddled decisions, he had not lost his senses.
At first glance, it seemed like he had distanced himself from King's Landing and the heart of political affairs.
In reality, however, his influence was steadily growing stronger and more secure.
After settling in Harrenhal, he closely monitored the old Tully in Riverrun.
Using the old Tully as an intermediary, he rode Devourer to personally visit the various lords of the Riverlands.
The Blackwoods were the first to pledge their allegiance.
Soon after, other Riverlands nobles followed suit, privately swearing loyalty to him.
In the Vale, he had maintained contact with Jeyne for years.
House Royce of Runestone and House Grafton of Gulltown were among his staunchest supporters.
In the Crownlands and the Reach—
Through the ever-expanding network of mushroom traders, he had cultivated personal ties with the local nobility, winning widespread favor.
Though he remained absent from King's Landing, his influence stretched across the Seven Kingdoms.
Rhaenyra studied Rhaegar intently before sighing. "Your name day is in a few days. Father is hosting a family feast and asked me to make sure you attend."
"You know I've never liked name days," Rhaegar said, lowering his voice.
Rhaenyra scooted closer, speaking softly. "Come back, Rhaegar. Father has been dreaming about you a lot lately. Even Alicent mentioned it to me."
*Zheng—*
Rhaegar plucked a string on the harp, producing an abrupt note.
He had no desire to attend a family feast.
Since leaving King's Landing, he had enjoyed life free from political strife, without anyone restricting his power.
With the restoration of Black Harren's stronghold, Harrenhal had been revitalized, and the Isle of Faces now housed a new dragon lair.
Life had never been more comfortable.
"Rhaegar…"
Rhaenyra's expression hardened, shifting from persuasion to pressure.
"Hmm? What is it?"
Helena, startled by the harp's sound, lifted her head in a daze, revealing a fair and delicate face.
Rhaenyra turned to look at her.
Helena, now twelve years old, had already experienced her first moonblood.
She still carried an air of innocence, her fluffy, curly hair tied into a bun. She wore a long, down-feathered gown, her figure inheriting Alicent's slender grace.
She lay on the red carpet, surrounded by carved stone toys and balls of yarn.
At that moment, she held a loosely wound green yarn ball in one hand and a dragon-shaped stone carving in the other.
Rhaenyra shook her head helplessly. "Never mind. Keep playing."
"Oh, okay."
Helena nodded obediently.
Then, suddenly, she raised her head again and stared at Rhaenyra in confusion. "Sister, didn't you leave two days ago?"
"I came back," Rhaenyra replied, exasperated, her eye twitching slightly.
Ever since Rhaegar had begun spoiling her, Helena's personality had grown increasingly peculiar.
Not only did she have prophetic visions, but she also carried an air of dreamy detachment.
At Rhaenyra's words, Helena simply muttered an "Oh" before lowering her head again, quietly playing with the stone carving.
She had been staying at Harrenhal for several months now.
Winters in King's Landing were damp and chilly.
Uncomfortable in the cold, she had moved to Harrenhal, where there were no strict rules, and the castle remained warm at all times.
*Thud—*
As they spoke, the dragon-shaped stone carving slipped from Helena's fingers and fell onto a vibrant red rose.
The rose tumbled a few times, its petals scattering, losing its former beauty.
Helena pursed her lips and sulked in silence.
With Helena no longer interrupting, Rhaenyra returned to their previous conversation.
"Rhaegar, this is your sixteenth name day—your coming-of-age ceremony. You must return to King's Landing with me!"
Her expression grew firm, allowing no refusal.
In Westeros, men were considered adults at sixteen.
Rhaegar's name day was approaching. No matter how unwilling he was, he had to accept the coming-of-age ceremony his father had arranged.
Rhaegar glanced at her, his eyes flickering with thought.
Rhaenyra's gaze darkened as she reached for his waist, aiming for a sensitive spot.
It had been too long since she had disciplined him. He was getting too unruly.
"Alright, alright, I'll go with you."
Rhaegar quickly caught her mischievous hand, forcing a sheepish smile.
Rhaenyra frowned. "Really?"
"Of course. A Targaryen always keeps their word," Rhaegar said confidently.
He had indeed been away from King's Landing for quite some time.
Many matters had been delayed.
For instance, his knighting ceremony, which should have happened at thirteen, had been postponed until now.
"That's more like it."
Rhaenyra huffed and took the harp from his arms, placing it on a nearby stand.
Rhaegar stretched lazily, intending to stand up and move around.
"Sit down. We're not leaving just yet."
Rhaenyra moved behind him and pulled him into an embrace, pressing close.
Three years had passed in a flash.
Rhaegar had changed significantly.
The youthful softness of his face had given way to sharper, more mature features. He had grown taller, his body lean yet muscular.
He was the type to look slender in clothes but strong underneath.
His strikingly handsome face was captivating, his deep eyes carrying a dangerous allure.
Burdened by nightmares, he had sought out masters to teach him the harp, using music to strengthen his mind and soothe his tense nerves.
"What are your plans after the name day?"
Rhaenyra's voice was gentle, her chin resting on his shoulder, lips near his ear.
The agreement had already been made.
Now that Rhaegar was coming of age, important matters needed to be addressed.
"Father will likely arrange for us to tour the realm, visiting the noble houses," Rhaegar murmured, inhaling the faint fragrance of her hair.
"Once I am formally knighted, everything will fall into place."
(End of Chapter)