Setyl glared at the two young Targaryens, his expression growing increasingly sour.
His mission was to secure a Targaryen princess for Prince Qoren, not to offer his own. Marrying Rhaegar Targaryen, the heir, would be acceptable, but marrying a lesser prince held no appeal. After a moment of thought, Setyl controlled his temper.
"Prince, Prince Qoren seeks a marriage alliance with a Targaryen princess, not to give away one of our own," Setyl explained.
"Oh?" Rhaegar feigned surprise. "Didn't you just say that marriage between two houses should not be hindered by personal factors?"
"Prince, Princess Aliandra has no intention of marrying at this time," Setyl replied. "When I left, Prince Qoren made no mention of such a proposal, so I cannot make that decision."
"No matter," Rhaegar replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "We have time to discuss it. My younger brothers are of the right age and can afford to wait."
Daeron glanced at Rhaegar, understanding his older brother's intention to make things difficult for the envoy. He played along, puffing out his chest in mock seriousness.
Setyl's frustration was obvious. His already dark skin seemed to darken with anger. "If His Grace and the Prince have no intention of marrying in Dorne, I will report this to Prince Qoren."
Rhaegar's smile faded. "Who is truly unwilling to marry, I wonder? Surely, the envoy knows."
"The refusal of both Targaryen princesses is an insult to Prince Qoren!" Setyl retorted indignantly.
"Oh, really?" Rhaegar produced a letter from his sleeve, his expression turning cold.
Setyl froze, a sense of foreboding washing over him.
Rhaegar took the letter and approached him, his movements graceful yet scornful. "Shall I read this letter you sent to Sunspear for you?"
"What?" Setyl couldn't believe his ears. He snatched the letter and quickly scanned its contents. Recognizing his own words, his face turned pale.
With trembling hands, Setyl stammered, "You intercepted my raven?"
Viserys, having read the letter, spoke in a grave tone. "Envoy, both Qoren and you lack sincerity."
The letter contained trivial information, objections to the marriage, and disparaging remarks about Viserys himself.
The false veil of diplomacy lifted, and Setyl, now doubly nervous, tried to explain, "Forgive me, Your Grace, for my indiscretions. I truly came with the intent of forging a union."
"Silence, scheming Dornishman!" Lyonel Strong chided, his contempt undisguised.
Setyl's face darkened, and he felt the hostile gazes of those around him.
Otto Hightower, observing from the sidelines, frowned slightly. The arrogance of the Dornish envoy was surprising, even to him.
Master of Coin Lyman Beesbury stepped forward, his pale cheeks flushed with anger. "Your Grace, Prince Qoren is mocking the kingdom. It's shameless."
Lyman Beesbury was the lord of Honeyholt in the Reach, and naturally he had a low opinion of Dorn.
Grand Maester Mellos frowned. "Does Dorne seek to worsen relations with the kingdom by sending such a envoy?"
Viserys felt justified in his anger. "Dorne's envoy lacks sincerity. Expel him."
Steffon Darklyn, the Kingsguard, stepped forward to seize the panicked Setyl.
Setyl, though terrified, felt a slight relief. Expulsion was not the worst outcome.
But someone else disagreed. Rhaenyra and Rhaegar exchanged glances, both showing dissatisfaction.
Rhaegar's expression turned cold. "Whose territory do you think King's Landing is, where you can escape your misdeeds?"
"Prince, I meant no offense," Setyl pleaded.
"But you have offended," Rhaegar retorted, approaching him with a cold gaze.
Viserys, not wanting bloodshed, warned, "Rhaegar, he is an envoy. Just expel him."
"Father, the Dornish are our enemies. Mercy is unnecessary," Rhaegar replied, drawing his sword.
He looked at Aemond and Daeron. "Watch how Targaryen men solve problems. I'll only show you once."
Viserys shouted, "Rhaegar, what are you doing?!"
Rhaegar ignored him, signaling the guards to step back. "No! I am an envoy..." Setyl broke free and tried to run.
"When Dorne attacked the Stepstones, did you consider you might die?" Rhaegar whispered, swinging his sword and severing half of Setyl's head.
Setyl's mutilated corpse fell, splattering the ground with blood and filth.
Silence filled the Throne Room. Rhaegar's cold efficiency left a chilling impression on all present.
"Ah! ..."
Alicent whimpered as the bloody scene unfolded, her face pale and stricken. Aemond and Daeron stood frozen, staring at their older brother Rhaegar in shock.
Rhaegar turned and wiped his blood-stained sword on his cloak. "Have you learned?" he asked coldly.
Aemond swallowed hard and looked at Rhaegar with a mixture of fear and admiration. Daeron, still young, closed his eyes in fear and grabbed Aemond's arm for support.
Rhaegar scanned his siblings, his gaze lingering on Helaena. Unlike the others, her eyes were wide with excitement and longing. She took a step closer to Rhaegar, oblivious to the bloodshed and without a trace of fear.
Deep down, she thought, "Indeed, dragons bring courage to people!"
The advisers of the Small Council were visibly shaken. They hadn't expected the Prince to kill so ruthlessly. Otto Hightower frowned deeply, lowering his head to hide his reaction. He saw shades of Daemon in Rhaegar—a resemblance he despised.
"Rhaegar, look what you've done!" Viserys rose in anger, pointing at the body lying in a pool of blood. "When two countries are at war, they don't kill envoys. Killing the messenger like this could provoke Qoren Martell!"
Rhaegar sheathed his sword, facing his father with a solemn expression. "Father, Dorne is involved in the Battle of the Stepstones. Conflict with the kingdom is inevitable."
Viserys rebuked him angrily, "Then you should have let the messenger return, not killed him in public!"
"The Dornish are not as honorable as we are," Rhaegar retorted, hanging his head as if chastised. The history of Dornish treachery was well known, with countless instances of ambassadors and captives being killed.
"You..." Viserys was momentarily speechless. Turning to the royal guards, he snapped, "Why don't you carry the body out? Are you waiting for it to dry?"
Steffon Darklyn, the Kingsguard, bowed his head in shame and hurried to remove the body.
"Dismissed!" Viserys, furious, stormed out of the hall. The others quickly followed, not wanting to incur his wrath.
Rhaegar shrugged, feeling no remorse. He had wanted to kill the Dornish envoy for a long time.
"Apologize to Father later," Rhaenyra whispered, taking his hand. She had played a role in the envoy's demise and knew it was wise to reconcile.
Rhaegar nodded, understanding the need to appease their father. Viserys was often fragile and prone to self-doubt.
Jeyne approached, taking Rhaegar's other arm. "How about saying goodbye and accompanying me to the Dragonpit? I quite like that young dragon called Stormcloud."
"Get off, Jeyne!" Rhaenyra hissed through gritted teeth, her eyes flashing with anger.
Jeyne smiled wryly, releasing Rhaegar and turning to take her friend's arm instead.
...
After lunch, Rhaegar approached his father to apologize, but Viserys scolded him harshly. Rhaegar took the rebuke stoically and left the room, seemingly unfazed. As he pushed open the door, he encountered Otto Hightower, dressed in green.
"Ser Otto, what is it?" Rhaegar asked, a note of suspicion in his voice.
Otto nodded and replied, "There are some matters regarding the street cleanup that need to be reported to His Grace."
"Street cleaning is not easy. Hard work, Ser Otto," Rhaegar said distractedly as he brushed past him.
The street-cleaning program was actually a matter that Rhaegar had proposed. Alicent had pushed heavily for her father, Otto, to oversee the project. The former Hand of the King had returned to King's Landing to serve as a advisor.
But a month had passed with little noticeable change in the city. The new Master of Civil Affairs would need to work harder.
As night fell, Otto emerged from the king's chambers. He and Viserys had had a long discussion about the management of the streets of King's Landing. It wasn't just about cleaning; it was about comprehensive management.
To accomplish the task, Otto had hired a group of poor men and paid them to do the work. Each day at dawn, these men, armed with shovels and dustpans, cleared the streets of excrement.
Wagons were then used to transport the waste out of the city for collective burial. This method, however, proved inadequate.
The people of King's Landing continued to relieve themselves in the streets every day. Moreover, after some people cleaned the streets, others would throw various types of garbage back into them, adding to the burden of the sanitation workers. Otto tried to persuade the citizens to stop littering, but his efforts were in vain.
He then enlisted the Gold Cloaks to enforce stricter regulations against public dumping, but this move backfired. The people reacted strongly, filled with criticism.
When the Gold Cloaks tried to enforce the rules, they were met with retaliation, including having feces and urine thrown at them. Otto, as the Master of Civil Affairs, was also harshly questioned, as if he had incited the wrath of both God and the people.
The people of King's Landing were adamant: "If there's no shit or piss in the street, there's no justice! How can we not relieve ourselves?"
This resistance led to Otto earning the derogatory nickname "Master of Shit and Piss." The moniker became particularly well-known in the chaotic area of Flea Bottom, underscoring the immense challenge Otto faced in attempting to improve the city's sanitation.
(Word count: 1,563)