The sudden arrival of Viserys left the three men surprised.
Back when they were still at the court of King's Landing, they had seen Viserys more than once. They had a fair understanding of the second prince.
By the standards of his peers, he was quite clever. But to say he had any extraordinary talents would be an overstatement.
"Your Highness, may I ask what it is you wish to know?"
Though Aerys's character was despicable, his Kingsguard lineup was exceptionally prestigious.
Viserys knew that if he wanted these three to truly swear loyalty to him, it would not happen overnight. It would have to be a gradual process.
"I want to know why you chose to protect Lady Stark at the Tower of Joy instead of joining my brother Rhaegar in battle."
Ser Gerold exchanged glances with his companions, remaining calm. They thought Viserys had come to accuse them.
Perhaps he believed that if they had been on the battlefield, Rhaegar might not have died. Yet upon closer observation, there was no trace of blame in Viserys's eyes.
After a moment's thought, Gerold said, "Forgive us, Your Highness, but we cannot tell you that at this time."
"Not even if I become king?"
Viserys's words stirred up some unpleasant memories in Gerold's heart.
He remembered standing in the throne room, watching helplessly as the Mad King burned Rickard and Brandon Stark alive.
If Viserys were to use his authority as king to force their hand, what would they do then?
Off to the side, Arthur Dayne pressed his lips together, sensing the atmosphere growing tense.
Before anyone could respond, Viserys waved his hand and said, "I understand. I swear I will not use my title to force you. Since my brother gave you such orders, he must have had his reasons. I trust him."
Hearing this, the three Kingsguard visibly relaxed.
Their opinion of Viserys improved as well.
Not for any particular political reason, but simply because of those words: "I trust him."
Viserys understood that if he wished to win their genuine loyalty, he needed to display traits reminiscent of Rhaegar — or at least express admiration and recognition of his brother.
It was much like the tradition of the Land of Light where three generations of rulers kept the same hairstyle to honor their predecessors.
Viserys continued to converse with the three, citing ancient texts and speaking with intelligence. To them, he increasingly resembled a miniature version of Rhaegar.
The more they talked, the more the conversation flowed, until they almost forgot about Lyanna still struggling in childbirth upstairs.
"Arthur, you three go patrol for now. I will accompany His Highness Viserys to check on Lady Stark's condition."
Though they were enjoying the conversation, the well-being of Lyanna weighed heavily on their hearts. In those days, the maternal mortality rate among noble ladies was no better than that of common villagers.
In their view, a savior raised by a living mother would be a very different person than one raised without.
They were deeply concerned about Lyanna's safety.
Viserys noticed the slip of the tongue from the captain of the Kingsguard. It seemed their relationship with Lyanna was quite close.
He and Gerold passed through an archway carved to resemble a dragon's tail.
At first, Viserys felt nothing unusual, but the moment he heard Lyanna's anguished cries from upstairs, along with the frantic movements of the maids downstairs, his heart tightened.
Seeing a maid carrying a basin of bloody water, Viserys stepped forward and stopped her.
"What is happening upstairs? Is Lady Stark's labor going poorly?"
The maid glanced nervously at Gerold before lowering her head to reply, "Lady Stark appears to be suffering from heavy bleeding, and she keeps saying she sees Prince Rhaegar and that she wishes to leave this place."
After speaking, the maid hurried away.
"Sees Rhaegar? Wishes to leave?"
Viserys was puzzled. Then, a thought struck him, and he quickly sprinted away.
"Your Highness, where are you going?"
Gerold called out after him but received no answer and had to chase after him.
To his astonishment, Viserys ran with a speed far beyond what he had expected.
Following closely behind, Gerold watched as Viserys dashed into a room and quickly reemerged, holding a glass candle in his hand.
"Your Highness?"
"To the birthing chamber!"
Gerold had no idea what Viserys intended, but after their earlier conversation, he was certain this young prince was not someone who acted without reason.
He hurried to keep pace.
They had nearly reached the tower where the birthing chamber was located, just ten meters away, when Viserys abruptly stopped.
"What is it?" Gerold asked.
Viserys turned slowly, and the glass candle in his hand suddenly flared to life with a purple flame.
Gerold could not hide his astonishment.
"Ser Hightower," Viserys said gravely, "you are the fastest among us. Please find Princess Elia and ask her to lend me the Valyrian steel pendant that my brother left her. Quickly!"
Gerold was already swept up in Viserys's conviction and obeyed without hesitation.
It might have been partly due to his own character, but without the bond they had just established, such obedience would have been unlikely.
Just as Gerold was about to leave, the midwife's urgent cry rang out from above:
"Quickly! I need more hot water!"
It was clear that Lyanna's condition was worsening rapidly.
Gripping the hilt of his sword, Gerold sprinted toward Princess Elia's quarters. Meanwhile, the purple flame from the glass candle in Viserys's hand danced wildly.
There was no doubt now — the one about to be born was that clueless boy, Jon.
As someone educated in modern knowledge, and having worked in education himself, Viserys believed that everything happened for a reason.
Back when the glass candle first lit up in the Round Hall, Viserys suspected that Jon's birth must be linked to magic.
Prophecies, magic, dragons, mysticism...
At first, Viserys could not connect these threads. But when the maid told him that Lyanna was hallucinating, it became clear that something was wrong.
Perhaps something was influencing Lyanna's mind.
And stress during childbirth was a known cause of complications and even hemorrhaging.
What exactly was causing it, Viserys wasn't sure.
All he could do was try.
If the Valyrian steel pendant couldn't save Lyanna, it would mean that magic was not deeply involved.
But if she survived...
Viserys looked up at the sky.
He could sense an eye high above the heavens, gazing down at the earth.
And the owner of that eye was not content to be a mere observer — he had stepped onto the stage himself, pulling the strings of fate.
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