Evening.
Dark clouds obscured the bright moon, and the sea breeze battered the walls of the Stone Drum Tower, echoing like the sound of war drums.
*Creak—*
A door slowly opened, and Rhaegar, clad in black, stepped out.
He glanced back and sighed softly. "Father, please rest well."
After having his decision rejected and witnessing the Grand Maester reveal his true colors, Viserys was in an extremely foul mood, drowning himself in alcohol in his chambers.
In just one afternoon, he had fallen into a state of utter despair.
It was uncertain whether he would ever regain the resolve to tame a dragon.
…
Descending from the top floor of the Stone Drum Tower, Rhaegar made his way down the stairs, intending to return to his room and rest.
He shared a room with Rhaenyra.
The siblings often confided in each other, sharing secrets and opening their hearts.
As he turned a corner, he noticed a maid waiting cautiously.
Rhaegar stopped and cast his gaze upon her.
The maid kept her head lowered and nervously handed him a folded letter. In a hushed voice, she said, "A letter from Lady Sara."
"I see." Rhaegar took the letter and waved a hand, dismissing her.
As if granted amnesty, the maid scurried down the stairs.
Sara had a knack for training subordinates. Under her influence, the maids of the castle were exceptionally well-disciplined.
Finding a secluded corner, Rhaegar unfolded the letter and began to read.
*"Borros is dead… suspected poisoning… Rhaenys…"*
The more he read, the more his heart pounded, his brows knitting into a deep furrow.
First, Borros' death on the way back to Storm's End confirmed the prophecy he had discussed with Helaena.
According to Sara's assessment, Borros seemed to have been poisoned. However, the toxin was of such high quality that the maesters were unable to detect any signs of poisoning.
Rhaenys, who had been invited to Storm's End, personally witnessed the death of her cousin Borros. She was now staying at Storm's End to support Borros' widow, Lady Elenna, while investigating the cause of death.
Rhaegar clenched his fists, gripping the letter tightly as beads of cold sweat formed on his back.
"Borros is actually dead!"
He murmured, his expression dazed.
A high lord of an entire region had perished just like that. If this was truly an assassination, the culprit had to be unimaginably bold.
Such a menace needed to be eradicated completely!
Rhaegar considered whether to present the letter to his father.
Rhaenys had sent word to King's Landing the moment she returned to Storm's End, reporting Borros' death.
However, the raven had to reach King's Landing first before being forwarded to Dragonstone, which would cause delays.
Sara, on the other hand, had traveled through the night to Storm's End and sent the raven directly to Dragonstone, ensuring much faster delivery.
Just as he was about to move, Rhaegar changed his mind.
Their journey to Dragonstone was meant for dragon taming.
Not only was Aemond supposed to claim a dragon, but it was also crucial to encourage their father to tame one as well.
Revealing this news would undoubtedly cause a major disturbance.
Given his father's fragile state, this revelation might shatter his already wavering determination to tame a dragon.
Besides…
A thought surfaced in Rhaegar's mind, and he muttered, "Borros' death was most likely unnatural. Someone is plotting something."
Using the simplest logic—
Who stood to gain the most from Borros' death?
His widow, Lady Elenna? Some distant relative with a claim to the title? The ambitious in-laws of House Caron?
Rhaegar systematically examined all those connected to House Baratheon, analyzing their possible motives.
After a while, he shook his head and murmured, "No, the gains aren't significant enough to justify such a risk."
There was something else.
These people lacked the capability to acquire a poison so potent that it could kill without a trace.
Lady Elenna had a fairly decent relationship with Borros—they had four daughters together, which spoke volumes.
Borros had no brothers, and his distant relatives were too far removed to have maintained any real connection with him.
House Caron was based in Nightsong and had long defended the Dornish Marches. Its lord, Royce Caron, was Borros' father-in-law. There was no reason for him to kill his liege lord.
Turning around, Rhaegar leaned against the staircase railing, lost in thought.
Suddenly, from the corner of his eye, he spotted a green potted plant resting on the railing.
That flash of green triggered a realization, and he muttered, "Marriage."
With Borros dead, and no brothers or sons to inherit, the position of heir was left vacant.
There were only two possible categories of heirs:
1. Borros' four daughters.
2. Distant relatives with thin Baratheon blood.
Westeros followed the Andal tradition of male-preference primogeniture.
However, there was precedent for women inheriting lordships and lands—Jeyne of the Vale was a prime example.
Jeyne inherited the Eyrie at the age of three and became the Lady of the Vale.
The Baratheon bloodline among distant kin was weak, scattered, and disorganized, making them unfit to inherit.
This meant Lady Elenna, as the de facto ruler of Storm's End, had the power to influence the succession.
With her cousin Rhaenys by her side, she would never allow a distant male relative to take Storm's End. Instead, she would likely follow Jeyne's example and push one of her daughters into the role of ruling lady.
That, in turn, created a critical issue.
Women eventually had to marry.
Jeyne had delayed marriage for years, fearing that a husband might seize control of her lands.
If Cassandra, one of the "Four Storms," inherited Storm's End, she would become the next Jeyne.
Currently, the Four Storms were being considered as potential brides for Aemond.
If Aemond married Cassandra and she inherited Storm's End, he would gain control of the stronghold.
Through this, he could seize dominion over the entire Stormlands.
A storm raged in Rhaegar's mind as he finally realized the truth. His eyes widened in shock as he exclaimed, "Alicent… Larys!"
Using marriage as a means to seize control of Storm's End, the biggest beneficiary—aside from the chosen groom, Aemond—was undoubtedly the key figures of the so-called Green faction: Alicent and Otto.
Otto, being aloof and extremely cautious in his actions, would never dare to conspire against a noble duke.
Larys, however, was different.
From their brief encounters, Rhaegar had discerned that Larys was a man long accustomed to the shadows, someone deeply repressed.
As the King's Confessor, Larys assisted the Master of Laws, Jasper, in interrogating prisoners.
No prisoner subjected to Larys's interrogation ever left without confessing.
Rumors claimed his methods of torture were exceptionally cruel.
Meanwhile, Alicent had a complicated personality—submissive to her father and husband, diligently playing the role of a virtuous wife and mother.
Yet deep down, she was proud, unwilling to be beneath others, and fiercely protective of her own.
Years of inner turmoil had left Alicent restless, yearning for change.
And Larys was her perfect accomplice.
Thinking back to that night of the royal hunt, Rhaegar had witnessed Alicent and Larys meeting in secret, plotting.
The thought crossed his mind: *Was that when the idea to poison Borros was born?*
It was around the same time his dreams had foretold the white hart's death.
Comparing it with the date of Borros's death as mentioned in Sara's letter, it almost perfectly aligned with Helaena's prophecy.
*"There are many coincidences in this world."*
Rhaegar's eyes flickered before he murmured, "Too many coincidences aren't normal."
Regardless of the truth, he had already marked Alicent and Larys as dangerous figures.
After some thought, he decided to take action.
---
The next day.
In the town of Dragonstone.
Draped in a black cloak, Rhaegar led a squad of Dragon Knights through the streets.
Following closely behind him were Aemond, Helaena, and two of the Four Storms—Cassandra and Marisanne.
The other two sisters were deemed too young and had been eliminated from consideration by their elder siblings.
They walked along a dirt road lined with stone-and-wood houses, some with merchants loitering nearby.
From the town, the towering Dragonmount was visible in the distance, piercing the sky.
An ancient, active volcano, it stood firm through the ages, surrounded by rugged mountains and dense forests.
Excited, Aemond dashed ahead, eager. "Big Brother, when can we tame the dragons?"
Beneath his hood, Rhaegar smiled faintly. "Impatient, are you?"
"Mm-hmm!"
Aemond nodded vigorously. "I want to go to the Dragonmount. Vermithor is sleeping there!"
Ever since he had seen the rogue dragon Sheepstealer, his desire to claim the strongest dragon had only intensified.
He had completely dismissed the likes of Grey Ghost and Stormcloud from his mind.
All he could think about was his great-grandfather Jaehaerys's dragon—the Bronze Fury, Vermithor.
Rhaegar ruffled his younger brother's hair and asked curiously, "Why not choose Silverwing?"
He didn't even mention Sheepstealer—after all, no one wanted an ugly, filthy dragon.
"Because Vermithor is stronger! He's second only to Vhagar and Cannibal!"
Aemond answered without hesitation.
Rhaegar raised an eyebrow, scrutinizing him.
It was good to have ambition—but Aemond's was a little *too* strong.
It reminded him of the ruthless Maegor the Cruel.
When Maegor was young, he had refused to hatch a dragon egg or bond with a hatchling, earning the scorn of his sister-in-law, Alyssa Velaryon.
His reply? *"Only the strongest dragon is worthy of me."*
Later, he seized the throne from his nephew Aegon.
Sensing his brother's scrutinizing gaze, Aemond shivered. He realized he had displeased Rhaegar.
Thinking quickly, he added, "Father needs a dragon too. Silverwing is gentler and more suited for him."
At that, Rhaegar smirked. "At least you're honest."
He didn't mind Aemond's ambition.
Most Targaryens had the same arrogance.
But in his brother, he had glimpsed a rare quality—
Honesty.
Perhaps because of their bond as brothers, or maybe because Rhaegar had always treated him kindly, Aemond was more open with him than with anyone else. He spoke his mind without fear.
That was good.
At least he was better than Aegon, who did nothing but drink and chase whores.
Throwing an arm around Aemond's shoulder, Rhaegar turned to Cassandra and said in a refined tone, "I'd like to speak privately with my brother. I hope you don't mind."
Looking at the handsome and graceful Rhaegar, Cassandra fidgeted nervously and whispered, "Your Highness, please, go ahead."
"Thank you." Rhaegar smiled politely and led Aemond toward a nearby well.
Cassandra watched him go, hands clasped over her heart, murmuring in a voice as soft as a mosquito's hum, "You're welcome."
*He's the Crown Prince!*
Handsome, a skilled warrior, a dragonrider who had conquered the Stepstones…
One thing after another—he was the perfect candidate for marriage in her eyes.
Seeing her sister's lovestruck expression, Marisanne's face darkened, and she quickly elbowed her. "Don't forget why we're here! Rhaegar is already engaged."
She, too, admired the capable prince and fantasized about becoming queen.
But she wasn't as beautiful as any of her sisters and understood her place.
At the back of the group, Helaena watched her two sisters whispering, suspicion flashing in her eyes.
Of course, no one cared what they were thinking.
Rhaegar and Aemond sat on the well's stone edge, arms still around each other.
"Big Brother, what did you want to talk about?"
Aemond leaned into his brother's embrace, his eyes full of curiosity.
*(End of Chapter.)*