Aegon's voice was full of resentment. He wore leather armor, his hair was a mess, and he held a defiant expression.
Rhaegar turned to face him, scanning him up and down. Despite Aegon's disheveled appearance, he couldn't help but notice that Alicent's genes were strong; she'd borne handsome children. Aegon, though shorter and slimmer than Rhaegar, had a wild, uninhibited demeanor.
Feeling Rhaegar's gaze, Aegon grew uneasy. His legs trembled, but he stretched his neck, eyes stubborn, determined to escape from this place.
Finally, Rhaegar approached him. Aegon's body shivered, tension mounting. He knew his request was unreasonable, and he braced himself for the expected reprimand.
Surprisingly, Rhaegar didn't get angry. Instead, he sighed and said gently, "You've lost weight and gotten a bit darker."
Aegon was taken aback. "What do you mean?" he asked, uncertain.
Rhaegar placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled. "After a month on the front lines, you're more of a man than ever."
"Hmph, nonsense," Aegon retorted, shrugging off his hand. "Don't think you can sweet-talk me. I'm going back to King's Landing, do you hear?"
"Go back to King's Landing? For what?" Rhaegar asked, his tone sharp. "To sleep, to cuddle a whore, or to play the fool for Father?"
Aegon's face flushed with anger. "I don't need you to tell me what to do! I'm going back, and no one cares what I do anyway."
"No! Aegon, you're my brother, not a waste," Rhaegar said, his gaze intense. "Your name is Targaryen. You are my brother, and no one can call you a waste."
Aegon was taken aback by Rhaegar's words. He hesitated. "That's so sappy. Do you think I'll believe it?"
Ever since he was a child, Aegon had lived in Rhaegar's shadow. Whenever he did something wrong, he would get a good beating. How could he believe Rhaegar now?
"Believe it or not, that's up to you," Rhaegar said, hands behind his back. "There's unrest in the Baylands, the Triarchy has invaded Grey Gallows Island, and Dorne's movements are unknown. Do you want to hide back in the arms of a whore at this time?"
Aegon lowered his head, unable to meet Rhaegar's eyes. "That's your responsibility. You're the Heir. What does it matter to me?"
Rhaegar's face turned cold. He slapped Aegon across the face, sending him stumbling. "You... you..."
Aegon's cheek reddened and swelled. He covered his face with one hand, pointing at Rhaegar with the other, but words failed him.
"Aegon, are you talking to me about responsibility?" Rhaegar grabbed his collar. "Remember, you are a Targaryen. You enjoy the honor of our name. Defend it with your life!"
Aegon, lifted like a rag doll, dared not speak. Rhaegar continued, "You are the only Targaryen man besides me and Father. You must shoulder the responsibility of defending our realm."
"And if I say no?" Aegon challenged, his defiance resurfacing.
"As you wish," Rhaegar said calmly, releasing him. "You can go back to King's Landing if you want to be a waste."
Rhaegar turned and walked away. Aegon fell to the ground, fists clenched. As Rhaegar continued, Aegon suddenly stood and shouted, "I won't leave! I have the name of the Conqueror. I'm not afraid of anything!"
Under the night sky, Rhaegar paused, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. This was the effect he wanted. Alicent might covet the throne and have many children, but to Rhaegar, these younger siblings were not threats but assets.
Sometimes, a person's beliefs and actions are shaped by those who influence them. If Rhaegar wanted Aegon to stand, he would make him stand. The Targaryen line was too thin to afford a wasted life.
...
A month passed in the blink of an eye.
"Roar…"
The sound of dragons echoed across Bloodstone Island. Cannibal lay on the mountaintop, its eyes scanning the horizon and Sea Smoke rising in the distance.
Two dragons slowly descended, and Aegon and Laenor dismounted.
Rhaegar stood nearby, watching them. "What's the situation?" he asked.
Laenor shook his head, his expression grim.
Aegon spoke first, "The pirates took advantage of a weak night patrol, smuggled supplies, and sank one of our patrol ships."
Rhaegar nodded thoughtfully. The Triarchy had been lying low for some time. At night, smugglers in small boats had been sending supplies to Grey Gallows Island. Although the patrol ships intercepted and eliminated a few, the small boats' persistence had fostered a sense of complacency among the soldiers. Last night, several ships swiftly sank the patrol ships and moved supplies to the island. It was a defeat.
Just then, a soldier hurried over, reporting, "Prince, a small ship has arrived at Grey Gallows Island."
"How many men?" Rhaegar inquired.
"Just one," the soldier confirmed, "carrying a white flag. They've docked."
"Bring him to me," Rhaegar instructed.
"Yes, Prince," the soldier replied, retreating.
Moments later, two soldiers escorted a young man with dyed blonde hair, dressed in fine foreign garments.
Rhaegar glanced at him and asked, "What is your purpose here?"
"To declare war!" The young foreigner's arrogance was palpable, his Valyrian dialect heavily accented. His dyed hair marked him unmistakably as Tyroshi.
Rhaegar, Aegon, and Laenor exchanged amused glances and burst into laughter.
"A bunch of rats hiding in a cave dare to declare war?" Aegon sneered, slapping the young man across the face.
Since being on the battlefield, Aegon had seen all sorts of things. The Tyroshi youth, undeterred, held his head high. "In half a month, Dorne will send a fleet, and the Triarchy will dispatch their strongest warriors to reclaim the Stepstones Islands."
"Out of his mind," Aegon muttered.
The Tyroshi youth continued, "Evacuate Bloodstone Island, or you will be doomed!"
"Come on, then. I'm waiting to start a war with you," Rhaegar replied indifferently.
"You will die a silent death," the Tyroshi youth snarled, attempting to curse them.
"Enough…" A soldier stepped in, restraining him and pinning him to the ground.
Unexpectedly, the Tyroshi youth let out a pained grunt, his eyes bulging, body convulsing, and face turning red. Within moments, his neck went limp, and he collapsed, paralyzed.
Laenor reached out and felt the young man's nostrils. "He's breathless," he said gravely.
"Call the maester," Rhaegar commanded, steadying himself. He had never witnessed such a scene before.
The army's maester hurried over to examine the body. After half a minute, he concluded, "The deceased took poison in advance. Judging from the symptoms, it appears to be Strangler."
The maester's face was grave and horrified. There was nothing good about the Triarchy. The customs of its cities were deplorable, its order chaotic.
Besides slave trade and prostitution, poison was their third specialty. Among them, Strangler and Tears of Lys were the most notorious. Strangler was a powerful poison that could quickly suffocate a person.
Laenor's face turned pale with fear. "Cousin, pay attention to what he said before he died. The Triarchy might be planning to poison you."
The Targaryens had lost too many lives in the Battle of the Stepstones. Laenor's grandfather, Aemon Targaryen, had been assassinated in his tent by Myrish scouts. Rhaegar's grandfather, Baelor Targaryen, had died after suffering severe pains, suspected to be caused by poison, though there was no proof.
Aegon, too, was stunned. He looked at Rhaegar with trembling lips, "What do we do? Should we go back to King's Landing?"
It was his first encounter with such a ruthless use of human life as a warning.
"What are you afraid of? I'm not dead yet!" Rhaegar's voice was icy. "Be careful with your food and drink, and have guards follow you at all times."
Despite his brave words, only Rhaegar knew the worry he felt. He had no immunity against toxins. If he was poisoned, he would die like anyone else. The pressure weighed heavily on him.
After a moment of contemplation, determination hardened his eyes. He turned to the maester, "Follow me back to the tent. I have a message for the ravens."
"Yes, Prince," the maester replied, his worry evident.
The poisons from Lys were unparalleled in their lethality. The Triarchy had no boundaries. If something happened to the prince, it would be a significant blow to the kingdom.
By dusk, nine ravens flew out from Bloodstone Island, heading towards the continent of Essos.
Rhaegar climbed to the top of the mountain and approached the Cannibal. The dragon glanced at him and snorted. Rhaegar sat beside it, patting its dark scales. Looking at the distant horizon, his eyes turned cold. "If they want a fight, then we'll give them a painful one."
...
King's Landing
Inside the Council Hall
Viserys had called an emergency meeting. The chaos in the Riverlands had worsened. The Blackwoods and the Brackens were in open conflict, refusing mediation from both House Tully and the royal family.
The Brackens, in particular, had mobilized the peasants to join the war, sparking a widespread rebellion. The conflict had engulfed half the Riverlands, with thousands of peasants joining the uprising, looting and pillaging like a plague of locusts.
Viserys, filled with anger, demanded, "The Riverlands are in the grip of a farmers' rebellion. How do we deal with this?"
"What is the reaction of Riverrun?" Otto inquired, seizing the opportunity now that Lyonel was absent.
Viserys fumed, "Riverrun has deployed troops along the Red Fork, trying to manage the conflict between the Blackwoods and the Brackens."
"If Old Lord Tully can stop the two houses from warring, we only need to handle the farmers' uprising," Otto mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Why not send some troops from the Crownlands to participate in the counterinsurgency?"
"The Crownlands' forces are all tied up in the Stepstones. It's difficult to spare soldiers," Viserys countered.
"It won't take much," Otto suggested. "Just a thousand soldiers, led by a brave commander, would be enough to create a deterrent."
"Who would we send?" Viserys asked, now considering the proposal.
Otto pondered for a moment before replying, "Harwin Strong."
(Word count: 1,667)