*Gurgle, gurgle~*
Riding in a carriage away from the Dragonpit, passing through the bustling Silk Street, they headed toward the Red Keep.
Along the way, Rhaegar lifted a corner of the curtain, observing the changes on the streets.
"What are you looking at?"
Rhaenyra sat across from him, one leg crossed beneath the hem of her black dress.
Rhaegar glanced at the fair skin beneath her skirt and remarked indifferently, "King's Landing has changed a lot. What used to be a rat-infested cesspool is much cleaner now."
As he spoke, he continued looking out at the city.
"All thanks to you. It's been a year now since we could walk the streets without worrying about dirtying our boots."
Rhaenyra smiled proudly, a sense of honor filling her gaze.
Building public restrooms, hiring sanitation workers, cleaning out the Flea Bottom slums...
Every single improvement had been Rhaegar's suggestion.
She knew that well.
Rhaegar shook his head, refusing to take credit, though he couldn't suppress the slight upward curve of his lips. "Lord Otto deserves the praise. He's the one who made the biggest sacrifices."
"Hmph, as if it wasn't your scheming that got us here."
Thinking about the insults and attacks Otto had endured in the past two years, Rhaenyra couldn't help but laugh.
His residence had been pelted with filth daily, his courtyard littered with dead rats and birds meant as threats.
That had been Otto's monotonous and miserable routine.
A drowsy Helaena forced herself to stay awake and mumbled, "Grandfather... what happened?"
"Nothing, we'll be back at the Red Keep soon. Don't fall asleep just yet."
Rhaenyra brushed off the topic, playfully pinching Helaena's cheeks, unable to hide her amusement.
Otto had endured two years of humiliation. Then, when the results of his efforts finally started showing in the third year, Rhaegar swooped in and took most of the credit.
By rallying women and the common folk, as well as manipulating public opinion through his network, he claimed the majority of the achievements for himself.
Otto, who thought he had finally weathered the storm, was left empty-handed—a mere workhorse with little reward.
This led to him bringing the issue up in the Small Council, seeking official recognition for his contributions.
However, since the ideas had indeed originated from Rhaegar, the matter was ultimately left unresolved.
---
**The Red Keep**
The carriage slowly approached. Seeing it from afar, the guards opened the tightly shut gates.
Rhaenyra held Rhaegar's hand and said softly, "We're home."
Rhaegar nodded, silently feeling the carriage's gentle swaying.
As they entered the Red Keep's courtyard, the driver pulled the reins, bringing the carriage to a stop.
Ser Steffon of the Kingsguard stood waiting at the side, announcing in a loud, authoritative voice:
"Welcoming Prince Rhaegar of House Targaryen—the Breaker of Chains, the Maker of Ashes, Prince of Harrenhal, and Heir to the Iron Throne."
"And his esteemed sisters, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Princess Helaena Targaryen."
As the proclamation ended, the carriage door opened from within.
Rhaegar adjusted his position and surveyed the courtyard of the Red Keep.
It was eerily quiet.
The nobles who usually gathered to watch duels or idly gossip were nowhere to be seen.
The carriage faced the grand doors of the keep.
They were tightly shut.
Rhaegar smirked. "Heh, how peaceful."
After six months away, returning to the place where he had grown up felt strangely different.
Just... a little too quiet.
Stepping down from the carriage, he noticed the royal guards stationed in the courtyard, standing at attention with solemn expressions.
Turning back, Rhaenyra and Helaena peeked their heads out, one slightly higher than the other, looking around curiously.
Helaena, still innocent, asked in a small voice, "Where did all the nobles go?"
In her memory, the courtyard had always been lively, filled with idlers wandering about.
"Shh, don't ask," Rhaenyra whispered, pressing down on Helaena's head with a displeased look.
There were those in the Red Keep who did not welcome her brother.
Rhaegar spread his arms with an unconcerned smile. "Come on down, ladies."
"Mm! Brother, catch me!"
Helaena bent her knees and leaped forward, happily throwing herself into Rhaegar's embrace.
He caught her steadily, taking a step back to balance himself before setting her down gently.
Turning, he extended a hand toward Rhaenyra.
She frowned and muttered, "I'll demand an explanation from Father on your behalf."
"Don't overthink it."
Rhaegar's smile didn't waver as he grasped her hand, then slipped an arm under her knees, effortlessly lifting her from the carriage.
He didn't care for trivialities.
He would have his answer soon enough when he met with their father.
*Creak—*
The Red Keep's great doors swung open.
A tall, gaunt man in a black formal robe, his head completely bald, stepped forward.
Hearing the sound, Rhaegar turned his gaze, his expression unchanged.
The man's eyes lit up the moment he saw the tall and imposing prince.
He quickly descended the steps, stopping before Rhaegar.
He hesitated, extending his hand slightly as if to offer a greeting, then reconsidered and left it hanging awkwardly in midair.
After a brief pause, he instead gave a deep nod and said solemnly, "Welcome back, Your Highness."
*Smack!*
Rhaegar extended his hand and shook the man's firmly, looking him up and down before smiling. "Lord Caswell."
"Please, Your Highness. His Grace awaits you in the throne room."
Caswell's excitement was evident, his voice slightly raised.
Rhaegar leaned in slightly, his shoulder nearly brushing Caswell's, and said softly, "Thank you, my lord."
With that, he led Rhaenyra and Helaena through the great doors under Caswell's joyful gaze.
"Lord Caswell is an honorable man," Rhaenyra remarked after they had walked some distance.
Rhaegar considered it for a moment before agreeing. "House Caswell of Bitterbridge—an old and loyal noble house of the Reach. They'll make for a dependable ally."
Caswell had tried to gain his favor long ago.
His family had close ties to the Hightowers of Oldtown, so Rhaegar hadn't paid much attention before.
But today's meeting had slightly changed his impression.
---
They passed through the empty feast hall and walked beneath the grand hallway adorned with three-headed red dragon banners.
"Your Grace, the prince's name day is approaching. A coming-of-age ceremony should be announced across the realm."
"The prince has been residing in Harrenhal, preoccupied with affairs of state…"
"If the princess personally extends an invitation, no matter how busy the prince is, he will surely make time…"
The throne room was just ahead, and the voices of a familiar discussion drifted through.
One woman, two men.
Rhaegar continued forward at an unhurried pace until the grand wooden doors came into view.
At the entrance, Ser Arryk Cargyll of the Kingsguard stood vigil.
Noticing the prince's arrival, he immediately straightened.
"Ser Arryk, it has been a while."
Rhaegar's eyes burned with intensity as he was the first to call out the other person's name.
Aeryk, less adept than his brother at controlling his emotions, lit up with joy. "Prince, you're back!"
"Open the door. I can already hear you all talking about me inside."
Rhaegar lifted his chin slightly, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Yes, Your Highness."
Aeryk grasped the door handle and pulled it open forcefully.
The large doors swung wide, their noise startling the people gathered in the great hall.
Atop the Iron Throne, its mass of jagged swords gleaming, Viserys sat with rigid posture, his expression unreadable.
Seated to his left and right in positions of importance were Lyonel and Otto.
Several other members of the Small Council were also present:
Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, Lord Jasper, the Master of Laws, and Grand Maester Mellos.
Standing at the entrance, Rhaegar swept his gaze across the room, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
A heavy silence filled the hall as the council members exchanged glances, none daring to speak first.
"My lords, it has been a long time," Rhaegar greeted them with an air of calm indifference.
Then, he strode forward into the hall.
As he passed each council member, he acknowledged them with a slight nod.
Rhaenys lifted her chin haughtily, her gaze carrying a silent message of caution.
When he finally reached the Iron Throne, Rhaegar looked up at his father—
The King of the Seven Kingdoms.
Viserys regarded his eldest son with a stern expression, radiating the authority befitting a monarch.
After a brief pause, Rhaegar's lips curled slightly as he spoke. "Father, I've returned."
Viserys's eyes flashed with indignation, his voice low and cold. "Rhaegar, I thought you'd spend your whole life sulking."
"A lifetime is too long—I'm more magnanimous than that."
Rhaegar made a joke, then sighed. "If I had stayed away any longer, I fear the gates of the Red Keep would no longer open for me."
Viserys's expression darkened. "There will be no next time. If you leave again, don't bother coming near the Red Keep at all."
This insolent boy—every time something displeased him, he abandoned King's Landing and hid away in his lands for years.
If not for his visits every six months, Viserys might have thought war had broken out and his eldest had gone to battle again.
"I'm back for good this time," Rhaegar said with a sigh, his sharp eyes scanning the faces around him.
Lyonel's joy, Rhaenys's relief—
And Otto's calm indifference, Jasper and Mellos's silence.
One glance was enough to gauge where they all stood.
Viserys and Lyonel exchanged a look before the latter nodded slightly.
Lyonel, his large belly shaking with movement, spoke in a booming voice. "Your Highness, His Majesty has arranged a banquet in your honor—to welcome you home."
"Wonderful," Rhaegar replied offhandedly.
"Hmph!"
Viserys scoffed, feigning displeasure. "Go now—since you're back, get some proper rest. The banquet is important, so make yourself presentable."
"Yes, Father."
Rhaegar smiled, nodding to the gathered council members before exiting the hall.
Now that the initial encounter was over and their father-son relationship remained intact, there was no need to linger.
Rhaenyra and Helaena were still waiting outside.
As soon as Rhaegar left, the hall erupted in discussion again.
Their earlier speculations about whether the prince would return shifted—
Now, they debated how his coming-of-age ceremony should be conducted.
A grand feast? A tourney?
…
As the evening deepened—
In a secluded tower of the Red Keep—
*Creaaak—*
The door to the tower opened, and Alicent stepped out, dressed in a flowing green gown, her face clouded with frustration.
"The banquet is starting soon. I must go and keep things in order," she said coolly before vanishing down the staircase.
Inside the dimly lit room, a single chair faced the wooden door.
Larys sat there with a small smile, his forehead dotted with sweat. He reached for a handkerchief and wiped it away.
News of the prince's return had spread through the Red Keep like wildfire.
As expected, the Queen could not sit still and had already begun seeking ways to reconcile.
Thinking of this, Larys leaned back against the chair, muttering to himself,
"If you want something, you must fight for it. Hesitation is a fool's game…"
A shiver ran through him, and he let out a contented sigh as he closed his eyes.
…
**The Prince's Chambers.**
The familiar layout, the warmth of the crackling hearth—
Rhaegar sat before the dressing table, forcibly held in place as a pair of delicate hands worked through his long hair.
"Rhaenyra, just leave it loose. No need to tie it into anything fancy."
His scalp stung as she pulled too hard, and he muttered a quiet protest.
"Oh, did I hurt you? Sorry," Rhaenyra said, easing her grip as she gathered his long locks in her hands and tied them into a simple low ponytail with a thin ribbon.
"Do as you wish—the banquet is about to begin," Rhaegar sighed, resigning himself to his fate.
He scooted back slightly on the stool, resting the back of his head against something soft and warm.
The warmth was just right—cozier than the hearth's glow.
Rhaegar reveled in it, rubbing his cheek against the comforting presence behind him.
"Rhaegar, behave yourself," Rhaenyra scolded, reaching up to pinch his ear.
If he kept this up, how was he supposed to face anyone at the banquet?
(End of Chapter)