"Roar..."
Sunfyre landed with a powerful thud, his wings spreading wide as he stretched his neck and roared. The gathered nobles at the camp entrance scattered in terror, pulling back in panic.
If this continued, chaos was inevitable.
Ignoring Borros' shouts, Rhaegar spoke coldly, "Aegon, control your dragon."
There was no need for Sunfyre to intimidate loyal nobles; Aegon was overstepping his bounds.
"Che, Sunfyre is fine," Aegon scoffed, urging Sunfyre to settle down.
Unperturbed, Sunfyre's golden body shimmered as he flaunted his pale pink wing membranes. Royce, standing protectively in front of Borros, taunted, "Prince Rhaegar, it seems your dragons are indeed disobedient."
Borros, his face contorted in anger, snarled, "I will seek justice from the king!"
Rhaegar's eyes flashed coldly as he confronted Borros. The tension between them dropped the air temperature as if below freezing.
Above, Helaena and Daeron noticed the escalating tension and landed their dragons, looking concerned.
"Roar..."
Sunfyre continued to cause trouble, golden Dragonfire flickering from his maw as he shook his head. Rhaegar turned his back to Aegon and spoke coldly, "Aegon, must I repeat myself?"
Seeing the gravity of the situation, Aegon hurriedly tried to calm Sunfyre. "Sunfyre, quiet down!"
"Roar..."
Sunfyre, ignoring Aegon, crawled toward the camp entrance, roaring defiantly. It seemed he viewed Rhaegar as an enemy.
Feeling the hot, foul-smelling breath behind him, Rhaegar turned to face the unruly dragon.
Sunfyre snorted, spreading his wings and casting a shadow over Rhaegar, seemingly forgetting the fear Cannibal once instilled in him.
In full view, man and dragon faced off.
"Aegon, tell Sunfyre to stand down!" Helaena shouted in alarm.
Aegon jumped from the saddle, tugging on Sunfyre's scales. "Sunfyre, behave!"
"Roar..."
Sunfyre shook his body, annoyed at Aegon, and roared at Rhaegar again, lowering his head and revealing his menacing teeth.
Rhaegar's face hardened, his eyes flickering with green dragon stripes. He raised a palm and bellowed in High Valyrian, "Sunfyre, get down!"
As the words left his mouth, flames erupted from his palm, forming a dragon-shaped crest. In an instant, the cruelty in Sunfyre's eyes faded, replaced by fear. Its golden body trembled, submitting to the commanding presence of Rhaegar.
"Roar…"
Sunfyre shrieked in alarm, retreating rapidly and flapping his wings in panic. He rose into the air, fleeing as if pursued by a terrifying beast.
"No, no, no! Stop it!"
Aegon, having failed to secure his chains, was thrown off Sunfyre's back as the dragon lifted violently. Fortunately, he wasn't far from the ground, and Aegon landed with a thud, rolling to cushion the impact.
"Roar…"
Ignoring his fallen rider, Sunfyre soared low and disappeared into the dense Kingswood, leaving the onlookers in stunned silence.
What had they just witnessed? The prince, with flames in his hands, had commanded a dragon into submission!
"Brother!"
Helaena cried out, swiftly sliding off Dreamfyre's back and running to Rhaegar's side. Daeron dismounted as well, barking at Tessarion to exit the camp, then following on his short legs.
Rhaegar, observing the astonishment on the faces of the crowd, felt a serene confidence. He had used a technique from the "forbidden spell" to command Sunfyre.
This spell, typically employed by dragonlords to control young dragons, wasn't usually potent enough to scare away a dragon like Sunfyre. However, Rhaegar's unique connection to the Cannibal allowed him to borrow its fearsome presence, compelling Sunfyre to flee as if avoiding a predator.
Holding Helaena and Daeron close, Rhaegar turned to the dumbfounded Borros. In the man's terrified eyes, Rhaegar sighed softly and asked, "What justice do you seek?"
"Roar…"
At that moment, the Cannibal descended from the sky, its massive, pitch-black form casting a shadow over the camp. It didn't land, but cast a menacing glance at Borros before turning to chase Sunfyre into the Kingswood.
Borros, recognizing the true purpose of the Kingswood hunt, stammered nervously, "No, nothing."
Rhaegar smiled slightly, "Very well, then. I will escort you to pay respects to my father."
Satisfied with the display, Rhaegar led Helaena and Daeron back, flanked by the two Kingsguard. As they walked through the camp, the gathered nobles watched with a mixture of fervor, fear, and awe. The admiration for Rhaegar's strength overshadowed their fear.
"Prince Rhaegar! …"
"The Young Dragonlord! …"
The nobles erupted in cheers, clapping resoundingly through the camp. Titles and honors once attributed to Rhaegar were revived in their praises.
Rhaegar, his expression unchanged, acknowledged the cheers with a calm sweep of his gaze. These people were, after all, his subjects.
As he passed, Aegon, who was being helped up by Aemond, grimaced and wailed in mock agony. Rhaegar glanced at him briefly, then moved on without a word.
...
It was past noon.
Borros had changed out of his mud-soaked clothes and now led his family into the main tent with palpable trepidation.
Upon entering, five figures kneeling on the ground immediately caught their eyes.
Borros' heart skipped a beat. These were all nobles he recognized—lords from families that had refused to supply materials for the king's honorarium.
Trembling, Borros crossed the room, his eyes scanning the tent nervously.
Viserys sat at the head of the tent, flanked by several royal advisers. Apart from them, only Rhaenys, Daemon, and a few of the king's children were present. All other non-essential personnel had been dismissed.
"Your Grace, Baratheon sends his greetings," Borros said, bowing low, his previous arrogance utterly gone.
Viserys barely acknowledged him, his gaze instead falling on the four girls behind Borros.
The girls, ranging in age from about sixteen or seventeen to four or five, stood nervously.
"Aegon, come here," Viserys called out to his son, who hung his head in the corner.
Turning to the girls, Viserys smiled kindly, "I need to discuss some matters with your father. Why don't you go outside with my children for a while?"
He then waved dismissively at Aegon, "Take your siblings and go."
Aegon, head still bowed, responded, "Yes, father," and led his siblings out of the tent, followed by the four Baratheon girls, who left at their mother Elenda's urging.
The dragons had terrified them when they arrived at the camp, and the tension was evident on their faces.
Viserys then turned to the gentle Lady Elenda. "Lady Elenda, you should leave as well," he said, indicating that all non-essential individuals should exit.
Along with the royal advisers, Rhaenys and Daemon remained, while Rhaenyra touched Rhaegar's hand, their silent communication evident.
Understanding her intention, Rhaegar nodded to his father and followed Rhaenyra out.
Once the tent was clear, Viserys threw a stack of papers at Borros, hitting him hard on the head. "Look at your bannermen! Their fiefs are not facing disaster, yet they refuse to supply building materials!"
Over the past month, the true state of the noble fiefdoms had been investigated thoroughly.
Outside the tent, the sounds of Borros' panicked and helpless defenses could be heard.
It wasn't long before five bloodied heads were hung on the camp's pillars for public display.
Borros had been forced to execute them himself, in front of everyone.
Blood splattered all over his head and face, staining his expensive clothes once again.
...
On the other side of the camp, Alicent and a group of women were entertaining Lady Elenda, leading her to the tent where the women were meeting. Rhaenyra and Rhaegar walked side by side, drawing the attention of many noble ladies and young maidens.
Halfway there, Rhaenyra playfully pouted and insisted Rhaegar not accompany her further, worried that he would attract too much attention from the eager noblewomen. Rhaegar, not wanting to mingle in the heavily perfumed crowd, agreed and changed his course towards the maester's tents near the main tent.
In a few strides, he reached the entrance of one such tent. From behind the curtain, he could hear voices inside. Lifting the curtain, he entered and was greeted by a gray-robed maester with dark skin and close-cropped hair.
"Prince," the maester greeted, clearly flattered, and set aside the herbs he was working with to bow.
"Rise, Orwyle," Rhaegar said, motioning for him to stand.
Orwyle wiped his hands clean and responded respectfully, "Yes, Prince."
Rhaegar glanced at the table covered with various herbs and medical equipment. "You seem well-versed in herbology and medicine," he remarked.
If memory served him correctly, Orwyle was an assistant to Grand Maester Mellos and had played a role in treating his father.
Cautiously, Orwyle replied, "I've earned my maester's chain link in both fields."
Rhaegar continued, seemingly offhandedly, "How does your knowledge compare to that of the Grand Maester?"
Orwyle hesitated, a look of conflict crossing his face. "It should be... similar," he said cautiously, not wanting to appear arrogant.
Rhaegar narrowed his eyes, sensing the maester's humility and underlying frustration.
He lowered the curtain and approached the desk, picking up a white flower. The finished product of this flower was often mashed into a pulp and solidified into milky white beads. "This is a Poppy?" he asked.
"Yes," Orwyle confirmed, adding, "The king occasionally drinks a small sip of poppy milk to relieve pain, especially during the night."
Rhaegar's expression darkened. He hadn't known his father relied on poppy milk, a substance that could calm pain but was dangerously addictive, numbing nerves and muscles.
Recalling the numerous times Grand Maester Mellos had treated his father without significant improvement, a dangerous glint appeared in Rhaegar's eyes.
After so many years, his father's condition hadn't improved. Even if a complete cure was impossible, the wound should have been better managed.
Rhaegar fixed Orwyle with a grim gaze and asked, "Is the Grand Maester's medicine effective or not?"
(Word count: 1,605)