Rhaenyra had secured the promise of “choosing her own husband,” but the matter did not end there.
Because over the next few days, she discovered that she had only won a battle, and the war was far from over.
Viserys indeed stopped mentioning the Oakheart, Lannister, or Dorne proposals, but in their place came a series of “gentle suggestions” and “paternal concerns”—suggestions and concerns that all ultimately pointed in the same direction: restriction.
“You may choose your own route,” Viserys said to her at breakfast the next day, his tone as if he were announcing a generous reward, “but you must take a retinue of guards and attendants.
You are the heir to the kingdom; you cannot run about like a wild girl.”
Rhaenyra bit into her bread and glanced at Aegon in her lap.
The three-year-old boy was scooping honey porridge with a spoon, a ring of gold staining the corners of his mouth.
This had been sent by Master of Coin Lyman Beesbury from his seat at Honeyholt.
It had to be said that as the Count of Honeyholt, the honey from the Beesbury family was indeed exceptional.
“I must bring Aegon.” Rhaenyra said, shifting her gaze away from Aegon’s mouth.
Viserys looked at his son.
Aegon raised his head, his purple eyes looking up at him imploringly, his little face filled with “take me, take me, take me.”
He was all too familiar with this expression—it was exactly the same as when Rhaenyra wanted something as a child.
However, come to think of it, Aegon had really never asked him for much since he was little…
“…Fine.” Viserys nodded.
“And we must ride our dragons.” Rhaenyra pressed her advantage.
Viserys frowned and was about to refuse, but he saw his daughter and son looking at him simultaneously.
Two pairs of purple eyes, one large and one small, both looked at him with the same expression—anticipation, pleading, and a hint of stubbornness that brooked no refusal.
He sighed: “You may ride Syrax.
But you must accommodate the speed of your retinue; you cannot fly too fast.
And you must have someone with you to look after you.”
The corners of Rhaenyra’s mouth turned up, and before she could say “good,” Aegon had already leaned out of her arms, wrapping his hands around Viserys’s neck.
“Father is the best!” The boy kissed his face, smearing honey porridge all over his neck.
Viserys was left between laughter and tears, but he could not suppress the smile at the corners of his mouth.
He patted his son’s back: “Alright, alright, you’re making a mess.
Take Sunfyre too, is that alright?”
Aegon immediately retreated into Rhaenyra’s arms and winked at his sister.
Sunfyre was lying beside the dining table.
Hearing his name, he raised his head, his golden eyes looking around in confusion, before burying his head back into his front paws.
He had long since grown accustomed to being used as a bargaining chip by his “black-hearted” rider and his sister.
Alicent sat on the other side of Viserys, watching this scene, her fork poking at the fried egg on her plate without breaking the yolk.
Her gaze shifted back and forth between Aegon and Rhaenyra, eventually falling back onto the plate in front of her.
Helaena sat beside her, eating her own breakfast quietly under the care of a handmaiden.
The little girl, barely over a year old, was very dainty in her movements, forming a sharp contrast with the three-year-old Aegon.
Aemond was still in the nursery being looked after by a wet nurse; he was too young to sit at the table.
“What about the choice of guards?” Alicent put down her fork, her voice flat.
“Rhaenyra, which member of the Kingsguard do you wish to take?”
Rhaenyra almost blurted out: “Criston Cole—”
“Sister.” Aegon tugged at her lapel, drawing her attention down.
He lowered his voice to a whisper, audible only to the two of them: “Choose the Cagell Brothers.”
Rhaenyra was taken aback and looked down at him.
Aegon’s expression was so serious it didn’t seem like that of a three-year-old child.
“Why?”
“They didn’t stop us yesterday.” Aegon’s voice was even lower.
“If we don’t choose them, they will surely be punished.”
Rhaenyra blinked, the corners of her mouth slowly curling up.
This little guy, he was only three, how did he understand everything?
She raised her head and cleared her throat: “Ser Arryk Cargyle and Ser Ilic Cargyle.
Aegon and I are two people, we need two members of the Kingsguard.
The brothers work well together; they are perfect.”
Alicent frowned slightly, clearly surprised by this choice.
Viserys, however, nodded: “The Cargyle brothers are indeed excellent.
Loyal, steady.”
“And what of the accompanying attendants?” Alicent asked again.
“Someone must look after your daily needs.”
Rhaenyra glanced at Aegon.
The boy leaned into her ear again: “Floris.”
This time Rhaenyra did not hesitate: “Floris Strong.
She has always taken care of me and is familiar with my habits.”
Viserys nodded and was about to speak, but Aegon poked his head out from his arms and shouted to Larys Strong, who was among the families of the Small Council members invited to dine, at the other end of the table: “Ser Larys, you come too!”
The dining table went quiet for a moment.
Larys Strong was sitting beside his father, Lyonel Strong, eating quietly.
Hearing Aegon’s call, he put down his fork, his grey eyes narrowing slightly—that extremely fast, almost imperceptible flicker was caught only by Aegon, who was sitting opposite him.
“Your Grace,” Larys’s voice was steady, with just the right amount of humility, “I have a crippled foot; I fear I would only slow down the journey—”
“You won’t.” Aegon shook his head, his tone resolute.
He was returning the favor for yesterday’s events, and this guy was actually being modest.
“You are smart.”
The dining table fell silent again.
Then Viserys laughed: “This lad, he has a good eye for people.” He looked at Larys: “Then go; take good care of the Prince and the Princess.”
Larys bowed slightly: “As you command, Your Grace.”
Lyonel Strong sat to one side, watching both his second son and daughter being chosen for the retinue, a complex expression flashing across his face.
He hesitated for a moment, then spoke: “Your Grace, my eldest son Harwin is quite skilled in martial arts; if he could guard alongside the Cargyle brothers—”
“No.”
It was Aegon who interrupted him.
The boy sat in Rhaenyra’s arms, his little face filled with seriousness, and said in a tone completely unlike that of a young child: “Ser Harwin is the Captain of the City Watch.
He should remain in King’s Landing to fulfill his duties as a Gold Cloak and ensure the safety of Father and Mother.”
He paused, seemingly organizing his words, then continued: “My sister and I have already drawn two of the seven members of the Kingsguard.
As children, we cannot place our own safety above that of our parents.
As members of the Royal Family, we cannot place ourselves above the lords of the Small Council.
As the Prince and Princess of the Kingdom—”
He glanced at Rhaenyra, who was looking at him with an expression mixed with surprise and pride.
“And we certainly cannot place ourselves above the Kingdom.”
The dining table was deathly silent.
Afterward, the noble ministers invited to participate in the royal breakfast began to praise Aegon’s “deeds” to date: “Born on Midsummer,” “Accompanied by a Golden Dragon,” “Baptized by the Seven,” “Blessed by the White Stag”…
Viserys’s hand, holding his wine goblet, paused in mid-air.
He stared at his son for a good while, then burst into laughter: “Good!
Well said!
Worthy of being my son!”
Alicent also smiled, a smile containing pride, relief, and a trace of something Aegon could not understand.
She looked at her son as if truly recognizing him for the first time.
Lyonel Strong was stunned for a moment, then nodded: “The Prince is right.
It was my lack of consideration.”
He glanced at Harwin—the burly eldest son was standing guard at the entrance of the dining hall, clearly having heard Aegon’s words.
Harwin nodded slightly, with no displeasure on his face, but rather a touch of respect.
The Cargyle brothers stood by the door, having seen the Prince whispering advice in the Princess’s ear earlier, and exchanged a glance.
Yesterday they had not stopped the Princess from barging into the Small Council, and they had expected to be punished; they had not expected the Prince to clear them in this way.
Ilic whispered to Arryk: “We owe the Prince a favor.”
Arryk nodded slightly.
Larys Strong stood to one side, leaning on his cane.
His gaze lingered on Aegon for a moment before shifting away, a faint, imperceptible smile on his lips.
Alicent looked at Aegon, the complex emotions in her heart surging up again.
She opened her mouth: “Since you are going out, why not take Helaena?
She is already able to be with her brother—”
“Helaena is still young.” Viserys shook his head.
“The journey is bumpy, and she won’t be able to handle it.
We’ll talk about it when she’s older.”
Alicent’s fingers tightened on the tablecloth, but she said nothing more.
She was silent for a moment, then changed her approach: “What about Galvin?
He has always wanted to go out and see the world too.
Let him come along; it will be good for him to look after Aegon.”
Viserys glanced at his wife, hearing a certain persistence in her tone.
He thought for a moment and nodded: “Very well, Galvin can go along.
It’s good for young people to see more of the world.”
Alicent breathed a slight sigh of relief.
As her full brother, Galwein was not as farsighted as their father, Otto, but at least he was of House Hightower.
With him by Aegon’s side, she could be somewhat more at ease.
Viserys looked toward the other end of the table at Tyland Lannister: “Ser Tyland, you are most familiar with the shipping routes, so you should come along as well.
I entrust the safety of the Princess and the Prince to you.”
Tyland stood up and bowed: “As you command, Your Grace.” His voice was steady, but Aegon noticed his earlobes flushed slightly—
Ever since that day in the Small Council when Rhaenyra had caught him in a “joke,” Tyland had always felt somewhat uncomfortable when facing Rhaenyra.
Rhaenyra, however, looked as composed as ever.
She stood up, holding Aegon, and surveyed the people dining in the hall like a victor: “Then it is settled.
We depart in a few days.”
She looked down at Aegon in her arms, and the boy was giving her a smug smile.
She smiled.
Aegon smiled too.
Everything was going according to Aegon’s plan.
Criston Cole was not chosen, and neither was Harwin.
The two men most likely to become entangled with Rhaenyra were cleverly excluded by Aegon.
And Rhaenyra was also wondering to herself whether this little one was truly clever, or if it was just a lucky coincidence.
She looked at Aegon’s sparkling purple eyes and decided not to delve into it too deeply.
A few days later, outside King’s Landing, at the docks of the Blackwater Rush.
The setting sun dyed the entire river a golden red.
A crowd had gathered at the docks to see them off—
Viserys and Alicent stood at the very front, with the lords of the Small Council behind them, and the guards and servants further back.
A large three-masted ship was anchored on the river, with a dragon with spread wings carved on the prow; it was the royal vessel.
The sailors were making final checks, and the rigging tapped softly against the masts in the evening breeze.
Aegon stood beside Rhaenyra—or, to be precise, between her and Sunfyre—clutching his sister’s skirt with one hand and resting the other on Sunfyre’s wing.
He wore a small, deep black coat, and his silver hair was slightly tousled by the wind, but he was in high spirits.
Rhaenyra was wearing riding leathers, her long hair braided and hanging behind her shoulder—just like her idol, Queen Visenya.
However, she kept looking toward the city from time to time, as if waiting for something.
The crowd seeing them off gradually quieted down.
Viserys walked up to his daughter and reached out to adjust her collar.
“Stay safe,” he said, his voice lower than usual.
“Don’t fly too fast, don’t take risks, don’t—”
“Father,” Rhaenyra interrupted him.
“You’ve already said that three times.” The source of this chapter is g.com.
Viserys smiled, feeling a bit awkward.
He turned to Aegon, crouched down, and looked him in the eye.
“Take good care of your sister,” he said, his tone serious.
Aegon nodded and patted the dagger at his waist with his small hand—a gift from Rhaenyra, perfectly sized for him.
“I will, Father.”
Viserys smiled, ruffled his hair, and stood up.
Alicent stepped forward.
She looked at Rhaenyra first, wanting to say something but stopping herself, and ultimately just nodded.
Then she crouched down and pulled Aegon into her arms.
“Listen to your sister,” she said in his ear, her voice tight.
“Don’t run off, don’t take risks.”
Aegon wrapped his arms around her neck and kissed her on the cheek.
“I will miss you, Mother.”
Alicent’s eyes reddened for a moment, but she quickly stood up and retreated to Viserys’s side.
Galwin Hightower stepped forward, bowed to his sister and brother-in-law, and then boarded the ship.
Floris and Larys Strong were already on board.
Floris was directing servants to move the Princess’s luggage, while Larys leaned against the ship’s railing, watching the crowd at the dock, his gray eyes appearing exceptionally deep in the setting sun.
The Cagell Brothers stood at the stern, their white cloaks snapping in the evening breeze.
Arryk was checking his weapons, and Ilic Cargyle was confirming the route with the captain.
The two occasionally looked toward the dock, their gazes searching for something in the crowd.
Tyland Lannister was the last to board.
He stood at the end of the gangplank and bowed to Viserys: “Your Grace, I will ensure the safe return of the Princess and the Prince.”
Viserys nodded: “Go.”
Tyland turned and boarded.
Rhaenyra picked up Aegon and took one last look at her father.
Viserys nodded slightly at her, saying nothing more.
She turned and walked toward the ship.
Sunfyre followed behind her, its golden scales like flowing fire in the setting sun.
It paused before the gangplank, looking at the ship and then at Rhaenyra, a hint of hesitation in its eyes.
“Go on,” Rhaenyra said.
Sunfyre stepped onto the gangplank cautiously, and the wood groaned under its weight.
It dashed across the gangplank, rushed onto the deck, and then crouched at the stern, its golden eyes watching the river water vigilantly.
Rhaenyra smiled and walked onto the ship with Aegon in her arms.
A horn sounded at the dock, and the sails were slowly hoisted.
The sailors cast off the ropes, and the ship slowly pulled away from the shore.
Viserys stood at the dock, raised his hand, and waved gently.
Alicent stood beside him, her gaze following that small, silver figure on the ship.
The ship drifted further and further away, and the figures at the dock gradually became smaller.
Just as the ship sailed into the middle of the river and was preparing to turn toward the estuary, a dragon’s roar came from the direction of King’s Landing.
Everyone looked up.
Rhaenyra’s Syrax flew from the city, its golden scales dyed a golden red in the setting sun.
It spread its wings, sweeping over the walls of King’s Landing and over the docks of the Blackwater Rush, stirring up a gust of wind that forced the crowd to cover their faces.
Viserys looked up, watching his daughter’s dragon fly overhead, his mouth twitching slightly—he had explicitly emphasized the need to consider the speed of the escort party, and this girl…
Syrax circled above the ship once and then descended, flying almost against the masts.
Rhaenyra sat on the dragon’s back, wearing her riding leathers, with Aegon secured in front of her by a leather strap.
Sunfyre had also caught up to the side of Syrax, its smaller golden form just as dazzling in the sunset.
“Father—” Rhaenyra’s voice came from the air, somewhat blurred by the wind.
“We’ll bring back some souvenirs—”
Viserys shook his head with a laugh and waved in response.
Syrax flapped its wings and soared high, with Sunfyre following closely behind.
The two dragons circled and ascended in the sunset, the golden light piercing through their wings and casting huge shadows on the ground.
Rhaenyra sat on the dragon’s back with Aegon in her arms, looking down at the shrinking city of King’s Landing.
The towers of the Red Keep, the crystal dome of the Great Sept, the layered rooftops of Flea Bottom—everything was becoming blurred and distant in the twilight.
“Sister,” Aegon said suddenly.
“We will come back.”
Rhaenyra looked down at him; the boy’s purple eyes reflected the setting sun.
“Of course we will,” she said, tightening her arms.
“But let’s go out and have our fill of fun first.”
Aegon smiled.
Syrax let out a long cry and accelerated forward.
Sunfyre followed closely, the two dragons’ golden scales like a flowing river of stars in the twilight.
The ship sailed slowly on the river.
Tyland stood at the bow, watching the two shrinking figures in the sky, and said to Larys beside him: “Do you think the Princess and the Prince will wait for us?”
Larys leaned on his cane, his gray eyes fixed on the sky: “Probably not.”
Tyland sighed.
At the dock, the crowd began to disperse.
Viserys and Alicent were the last to leave, standing side by side on the empty pier, watching the last streak of golden afterglow at the end of the river.
“They will be fine,” Alicent said softly.
Viserys did not answer, but simply squeezed her hand.
The river breeze blew past, taking away the last of the warmth.
And in the sky, the two dragon shadows had already vanished into the depths of the sunset.