Bronze Fury - Vermithor
Baelon was stunned by the news, and tears welled up in his eyes. Viserys reached out to wipe them away, smiling. "Why are you crying?"
"I don't want your dragon." Baelon's face tightened, and he choked up.
Viserys, puzzled, leaned down to look at the little boy. Baelon wiped his tears and muttered, "If I ride your dragon, it means you're already dead."
Viserys' heart softened.
"I don't want you to die." Baelon's head hung low. "I don't want anyone to die either."
To Baelon, if riding an adult dragon meant the death of a loved one; he would rather only ride a horse for the rest of his life.
"You have raised a fine child," someone remarked.
Viserys, moved, took his eldest son and eldest daughter's hands. "Don't disappoint the children's kindness."
Rhaegar and Rhaenyra exchanged glances, satisfaction evident in their eyes.
"My promise has always been valid," Viserys declared, propping himself up and gasping for breath. "But I will live well and watch our house continue to prosper."
Rhaegar smiled and reached out to help his father. He whispered, "Of course, you are still in your prime."
"Oh, don't try to comfort me," Viserys gasped, his laughter sounding harsh.
"No, I'm serious," Rhaegar said resolutely. "I've found a way to heal your damage to the Spirit."
The runes—Dream Eater—specialize in the Spirit. 'If my father can learn them, he should be able to heal', he thought.
Viserys, skeptical, changed the subject. "Let's go back to the Red Keep first. My grandchildren are still injured."
"Good," Rhaenyra said, wiping her eyes and helping her father to his feet.
Rhaegar, carrying his two daughters in his arms, found it inconvenient. Baelon tried to get closer, but his father gave him a look. Rhaegar assessed him. "Starting tomorrow, until the end of Aegon's wedding, you and Aemon will be staying at the royal school."
"Grand Maester Orwyle will be teaching us?" Baelon asked in surprise.
"No," Rhaegar shook his head firmly. "You won't learn anything new at the Red Keep. Maester Munkun at the Royal School will broaden your horizons."
Since its founding, the Royal School had been attended by both nobles and commoners. The only royal member to attend was Aemond, representing House Targaryen. It was time to focus on the education of future generations, especially in terms of emotional development.
"Fine," Baelon replied, dejected, wishing his burns were more serious. With Maester Munkun's strictness, visiting the Dragonpit would be difficult.
...
The Next Day
The weather was clear and cloudless over the Red Keep. In the princess's bedroom, the ticking of a clock punctuated the silence. The branches of the Godswood tree reached out to the balcony, its red leaves dripping with dew, creating a crisp, pleasant sound.
Rhaegar lay on the edge of the bed, his head buried in his arm. On the bed, Daenerys lay with her eyes closed, her cheeks still flushed from her dragon ride. The little girl's temperature had risen the previous day, and the Maester had been unable to help. Rhaegar had sat by her bedside all night, sleeping in his clothes.
"Dragons..." Daenerys' eyebrows furrowed, and she muttered something in her sleep. Rhaegar immediately sensed his daughter's unusual state and he woke with a start.
"Dragons... burn them all..." Daenerys' face gradually turned pale, and she shook her head as if trying to escape. Rhaegar hurriedly woke his daughter: "Dany, wake up."
"Burn them all... burn them all..." Daenerys repeated this phrase over and over again, still in a daze. Rhaegar, anxious, resorted to extraordinary measures.
"Croak." A gray light flashed from his brow, and a gray toad leapt out. Rhaegar stroked his daughter's forehead and muttered, "The toad eats dreams, nibbling away at them."
"Croak." The toad, with its dead fish eyes, lay motionless by the pillow. Rhaegar was shocked but relieved as Daenerys slowly opened her eyes and woke from her dream.
"Father." Daenerys' eyes were confused, like a lost fawn.
"I'm here." Rhaegar dispelled the toad with a wave of his hand and hugged his frail daughter. "Are you awake? How do you feel?"
Daenerys, still dazed, snuggled into her father's arms and muttered, "I had a dream."
"What did you dream about?" Rhaegar asked, puzzled.
Daenerys blinked, then suddenly started. "I don't remember." She covered her head, trying to recall. "I dreamed about it."
"What did you dream about?" Daenerys' eyes were unfocused, her head aching as she frowned. It seemed like she had dreamed of something terrible, but she couldn't remember what it was.
Rhaegar witnessed this and patiently persuaded her: "Don't think about it. Don't let the nightmare haunt you."
Perhaps it was a premonitory dream, but a dream that cannot be recalled is like a flower in a mirror or the moon in water.
Knock, knock! The door was rapped upon, and Erryk's voice came through: "Your Grace, someone is visiting from The North."
Rhaegar frowned and replied, "I know. Wait a moment."
"Yes, Your Grace." The footsteps outside the door grew distant and quiet.
"Father."
Rhaegar looked down, meeting Daenerys's timid gaze. She hesitated for a moment and whispered, "Is Stormcloud okay?"
She must have tamed the silver dragon. Rhaegar smiled. "He's fine. When you've recovered, you can go to the Dragonpit to see him."
"Okay," Daenerys agreed.
"Before that, the Princess needs to get up and wash up." Rhaegar winked and picked up his soft daughter. "You are already the master of Stormcloud. You will be just like Anna."
"Where is Anna?" Daenerys thought of her sister, who was very close to her.
"They went to the royal school." Rhaegar put a coat on his daughter and walked out holding her. "You will have to go there too."
"Ah?" Daenerys was stunned for a moment.
...
The Council Chamber at Noon
The sun was high in the sky, casting its light over the Council Chamber as Rhaegar entered with a blank expression. "Your Grace, Your Grace..." Two middle-aged Night's Watchmen in black robes and unshaven faces bowed. Rhaegar nodded lightly, his eyes falling on Lyonel, who was entertaining an elderly man with graying hair from the North.
Lyonel introduced, "Your Grace, this is Lord Roderick Dustin of Barrowton." Before he could continue, the elderly Roderick bowed and said in a deep voice, "Your Grace, I come on behalf of my liege, Lord Cregan Stark of Winterfell."
Lyonel, interrupted mid-speech, licked his lips in irritation. 'The people of the North are really rude and unreasonable', he thought.
Rhaegar smiled and said teasingly, "Please rise. This is not the first time we have met, old Roderick."
"Ha ha, yes, Your Grace." Roderick, a large man, laughed like thunder from the Flatlands.
Rhaegar sat at his desk, covered with a letter bearing the seal of a direwolf. He opened it and said, "Cregan is a very busy man. What trouble has he encountered that requires you to come in person?"
After the Gods Eye tournament, the young Cregan had become famous and gained much popularity in the North. In 126 AC, at the age of 16, Cregan became an adult. His uncle, Bennard Stark, refused to relinquish power and insisted on continuing as Regent.
Cregan, strong-willed and embodying the indomitable spirit of House Stark, quickly staged a coup, summoned his vassals, arrested his uncle Bennard, and sent him and his descendants to the Wall to serve as the Night's Watch. Rhaegar admired his decisive actions and wrote to him to express his condolences. Over time, the two men became reluctant pen pals.
Roderick stared at Rhaegar and spoke loudly, "Your Grace, Lord Cregan is a kind man, but he is in too much trouble."
"Just tell me what you want," Lyonel said, pouring a glass of red wine. "I believe Lord Cregan has already given you his instructions."
Rhaegar glanced at the two men and opened the envelope. Roderick, choked with emotion, pulled two Night's Watchmen forward and said in a low voice, "They know the specific problems better than I do."
"Night's Watch?" Lyonel's eyes flashed with curiosity. "The guards of the Great Wall, what is the matter that has disturbed you to come south?"
"Lord, the situation is critical," a middle-aged man spoke up, his weathered face serious. "We are in the North, and I don't know if you in the South have discovered a problem."
"What?" Lyonel asked curiously.
The middle-aged man walked to the window and pointed at the golden sun, saying solemnly, "The Kingdom has been through seven summers since the Gods Eye Tournament in 121 AC."
Rhaegar's eyebrows raised at this. Lyonel continued, "Westeros has a changeable climate, and it is not uncommon to have several consecutive summers."
The climate of the continent of Westeros is unpredictable and does not follow the rules. Except for the North and Dorne, which are perpetually cold and hot, the rest of the land experiences indistinguishable seasons. Sometimes it's spring, with warm and pleasant weather. Sometimes it's summer, which is good for farming. In the North, there have been long winters lasting more than a decade, taking the lives of many nobles and commoners.
The middle-aged man shook his head and said bitterly, "We don't dislike summer. The long summer has warmed the temperature of the Wall, and the Night's Watch brothers have been much better off. But this long summer is unprecedented, and we fear what it portends for the future."
The middle-aged man wiped his face, his eyes filled with hatred. "Seven years of summer allowed the wildlings beyond the Wall to regroup and attack us in an organized manner. We've lost many men."
Rhaegar finished reading the letter and closed his eyes in deep thought. Roderick pushed the Night's Watchman aside and said earnestly, "Your Grace, the wildlings are attacking in large numbers, and the North needs the Kingdom's assistance."
Rhaegar nodded slightly, already aware of the situation from the letter. Cregan had made three requests: to plunder the dungeons of the Red Keep and send the prisoners to the Wall to serve as Night's Watchmen, to call on the second sons of the nobility or commoners to join the ranks of the Night's Watch, and to send an army to support the Wall against the wildlings. Additionally, he requested funds from the treasury to help with equipment and food for the Night's Watch.
Rhaegar thought for a moment, then gestured for Lyonel to come closer and asked, "How much did my father provide the Night's Watch with during his reign?"
Lyonel straightened up and replied in a serious tone, "During the reign of Viserys I, supplies were provided to the Night's Watch three times, each time no less than 2,000 gold dragons. During the reign of the Old King, supplies were provided 17 times, and two pieces of land within the Great Wall were given as gifts. The brave Baelon, who served as Hand of the King, also provided supplies twice and patrolled the Wall once on a dragon."
Roderick and the two Night's Watch members listened, their hearts pounding. The kingdom had provided so much help to the Night's Watch, and now they were asking the new king for more supplies. High investment, zero return. If this continues, it will be hard for the new king not to think they are greedy.
The three of them were speechless, waiting for the new king's decision. Rhaegar pondered for a moment and then decided with a clap of his hands, "My ancestors all helped fund the Wall, so I can't be an exception. The prisoners in the dungeon can be taken with you, and the supplies in the letter will be doubled and paid directly from the treasury."
In any case, the Wall cannot be compromised.
(Word count: 1,961)