Rhaegar sighed. "Things have escalated. Elmo is under house arrest by his two uncles and managed to send me a letter."
Rhaenyra's expression became serious. "You must go to Riverrun. We can't have chaos there."
Old Tully's illness had left a power vacuum, and the antics of his sons threatened the stability of the Riverlands.
Rhaegar nodded. "It is necessary to intervene."
Despite Old Tully's mediocrity and stubbornness, he had remained loyal to the Crown. Rhaegar could not ignore the unrest in Riverrun.
He turned to Grey Worm. "Prepare to leave tonight. Take some men and go to Riverrun."
"How many shall I bring?" Grey Worm asked, tightening his grip on his spear.
"Fifty Unsullied and fifty Fearless should suffice," Rhaegar replied.
The Fearless, infantry soldiers trained by Grey Worm, were formidable, even if not quite at the level of the Unsullied. Harrenhal's defense relied mainly on Fearless patrols.
Grey Worm's eyes flashed with determination. "Yes, Prince."
In Riverrun, where the garrison usually didn't exceed a thousand, a hundred men would ensure Rhaegar's safety.
Rhaegar glanced at Tormund and Grey Worm. "Anything else to report?"
If not, he could finally rest.
Grey Worm hesitated, then spoke. "Prince, Maester Tru wishes to return to the Citadel to regain his status as Maester. He has been helping with the repairs at Harrenhal."
Tru, a renamed Maester, preferred not to be called one, but was still respected at Harrenhal, where he taught the children to read and write.
Rhaegar thought for a moment, then smiled. "Tell him not to worry. I'll arrange for him to be sent to Oldtown soon."
Grey Worm sighed in relief and nodded respectfully before withdrawing. He had taken his language lessons with Tru seriously.
Rhaegar then turned to Tormund, who hadn't left. "What is it?"
Tormund smiled helplessly. "The Faith of the Seven is sending two priests to the sanctuary inside the castle."
Rhaegar frowned. "It's not a big deal. Just don't let them roam around. Think of them as extra hands for the sanctuary."
He did not like the Faith of the Seven. The upper ranks did little more than collect money from the nobles, while the lower ranks were often poor and hoped for miracles from the Seven Gods. Although some sincere believers did good work, they were often naive and made unreasonable demands.
As expected, the priests not only settled in the sanctuary but also started making requests.
Tormund's expression was troubled. "Prince, they want you to fund a 30-foot bronze statue of the Mother for the sanctuary."
Rhaegar chuckled at the absurdity. "Do they have any idea how much bronze that would take?"
Copper was highly prized in Westeros, along with gold and silver. The request for a massive bronze statue was absurd.
Tormund patted the restless white hawk on his shoulder and spoke softly, "According to the priests, this request is negotiable."
"They claim that the loss of the Old Gods' faith in Harrenhal and your restoration of the sanctuary is a sign that the Seven Gods want their faith to spread in the Riverlands. As the Targaryen prince, they believe you should set an example by promoting the faith of the Seven Gods in this region."
The Riverlands were ancient lands with many noble families still loyal to the Old Gods, their sacred weirwood trees standing as a testament to their beliefs. The Faith of the Seven had long sought to convert these families.
Rhaegar smirked, recognizing the priests' ploy. After a brief pause, he said, "Tell them that the Mother is indeed compassionate and holy. I will commission a ten-foot wooden statue for worship. They should not ask for more."
His resources were tied up in maintaining his army, forging armor, and weapons. There was no surplus to indulge the priests' grandiose plans.
Tormund's eyes twinkled with understanding. "I'll convey your message appropriately, Prince."
The Faith of the Seven was a unique presence on the continent. They couldn't be fought or ignored, and their audacity in asking for funds was unmatched. To refuse would be to disrespect the Seven Gods and invite judgment.
...
Two days later.
Riverrun.
"Roar..."
Cannibal hovered over the city, surveying the tiny figures scurrying below.
The soldiers on the walls quickly lowered the drawbridge, and the gates creaked open.
Cannibal descended slowly, and Rhaegar dismounted from the dragon's back.
He patted Cannibal's scales and said, "Rest close by."
"Roar..." Cannibal responded with a low growl, its green eyes sweeping over the people on the walls before it turned and took off.
"Prince, you're here," Grey Worm greeted, leading a team out of the city.
"Let's go in," Rhaegar commanded.
"Yes, Prince," Grey Worm replied, positioning himself just behind Rhaegar and leading the soldiers in two lines as they entered the city.
As they crossed the drawbridge, Rhaegar surveyed the garrison of Riverrun. The soldiers, heads bowed, guarded the walls. It was evident that Lord Tully's illness had severely affected the household.
"Take me to see Lord Grover first," Rhaegar instructed.
His primary concern was the old lord's health. Grover Tully needed to be alive to ensure a smooth transition of power. His premature death could complicate matters.
Grey Worm led the way, pushing aside guards as they made their way to the main tower, seeking the Lord's quarters. The absence of Grover's sons and Elmo was noticeable, and the usually lively city was eerily quiet.
The main tower and walls of Riverrun were constructed from white stone. The Lord's residence was in the lower level of the tower's attic. Rhaegar and his escort quickly arrived there.
In front of an aged wooden door, two knights stood guard. Upon seeing Rhaegar, they quickly saluted, "Greetings, Prince."
These were Grover Tully's loyal knights.
Rhaegar raised a hand and said, "At ease. I have come to visit Lord Grover."
One knight spoke softly, "Prince, the maesters are treating Lord Tully inside. Please keep the noise down to avoid disturbing his recovery."
"Don't worry, I will just take a quick look," Rhaegar assured him, respecting the knight's concern.
The knight saluted gratefully, and the other opened the door, stepping back silently.
Leaving Grey Worm at the door, Rhaegar entered the room alone.
As soon as he entered the room, the strong smell of medicine hit his nose.
Rhaegar instinctively covered his nose and mouth, then walked in with measured steps, his eyes taking in the surroundings.
Riverrun was not a large city, and the lord's residence reflected that modesty. The stone walls were decorated with various swords, stag heads, and candlesticks, giving the room a rustic charm. A round table of solid wood occupied the center, and a cozy goose feather cushion lay near the fireplace.
A fire crackled in the hearth, the pine crackling as it burned.
A middle-aged maester sat on the edge of the cushion, diligently recording the lord's condition with a goose quill. "Low-grade fever, unconsciousness, regular bloodletting in half a bowl..."
Rhaegar approached quietly, his gaze fixed on Lord Grover Tully as he lay unconscious on the soft cushions. The old lord's face was pale, his eyes closed. A damp towel rested on his forehead and a thick blanket covered his frail body.
Rhaegar's presence startled the maester, who looked up in surprise. "Prince, when did you enter?"
Rhaegar put a finger to his lips. "Hush! Don't disturb the patient."
The maester, looking somewhat embarrassed, replied, "Of course, Prince. The Lord has been in a coma for several days now, and there is still no sign of improvement."
"Have you finished your examination?" Rhaegar asked.
"Yes, Prince."
"Then leave us."
The maester bowed and left the room. Alone with the unconscious lord, Rhaegar sat down on the cushion beside him. He removed the damp towel from Grover's forehead, feeling its coldness. It was no longer suitable for use.
Throwing it aside, Rhaegar spoke softly, "Old man, I advised you long ago to decide on a successor, but you hesitated."
Grover Tully's heir was his grandson, Elmo Tully, but the old lord had stubbornly clung to the traditional succession laws of Westeros. According to Andal Succession Laws, if an heir's eldest son died, the line of succession would pass to the second son, bypassing the grandson.
Elmo, as the eldest grandson, found himself third in line. Grover's two sons were seen as inept, yet the old lord couldn't bring himself to bypass them, causing endless strife and delay in naming Elmo as his successor.
As if in response to Rhaegar's words, Grover's lips moved slightly, and he gasped a few times.
Rhaegar leaned closer, hopeful for a moment, but the old lord soon fell silent again.
Disappointed, Rhaegar rolled his eyes. "If scolding could wake you up, I'd have tried that ages ago."
He soaked the towel in warm water and placed it back on Grover's forehead. The smell of medicine in the room was overpowering, prompting Rhaegar to stand and leave.
As he moved, he stepped on something soft with a crunch. Looking down, he saw a few pieces of melon rind. Crouching, he picked up a piece and glanced under the cushions.
It was clean but dark beneath, and there was no dust. Rhaegar discarded the melon rind, shaking his head with a wry smile.
(Word count: 1,544)