The Prince of Scrolls [ASOIAF / Game of Thrones AU]

[Walder Black]

Hello everyone, I am bringing here my Fanfic, it has been posted on other sites but not here, hope you enjoy it.
Is a Reincarnation fic with an OC, AU, Rhaegar won... well, you'll see.
Chapter 1: Worried Mother
He was dreaming about a train and a plane. He was tired of sailboats and riding horses. They were too slow.

"Are you drinking again?" The sound of his mother's voice gave him a headache.

Jaehaerys looked around in a daze. Rhaella Targaryen watched him with compassion. She didn't seem to appreciate his condition, but she understood his feelings. But she misunderstood him; his alcoholism wasn't due to recent events.

Alcohol was an old friend. It was a necessary one if he wanted to stay sane.

"I've been challenged to a duel. You know who: Daemon," he whispered, referring to his nephew. The son of Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark. "A duel to the death. I want to give him the advantage," he said, stumbling to his feet. He ignored his mother's horrified expression.

He was obviously lying; he had no intention of dying. Nor did he plan to lose. His plans were as steady as the hand offering him support.

Slap!

His mother's hand colored his cheek red.

"I will not see my blood spilled over a stupid dispute," she said fiercely. She paused and thought. "You're going to fight a duel. By now, the lords must be arguing about it. You can't cancel it. I'll talk to Daemon and tell him you'll win. You'll spare his life," she said, gathering her skirts as she walked out of the room.

"He won't accept. He wants a duel to the death to prevent His Highness from arranging another marriage for Daenerys. If I die, he'll marry her. If he dies, he won't live with the shame of seeing the woman he loves warming my bed." His mother stopped her steps and looked at him in pain.

"Daenerys will be your wife. You will not call her a bed warmer as if she were a common whore," she finally said, educating him. "I will find a way to convince Daemon. I will call some maids to prepare you. There will be a welcome banquet for you, followed by a tournament, as you may have noticed. You have been away from the capital for a long time." She tenderly took his cheek. It was the same cheek he had slapped, and regret filled her violet eyes. "Your sister will be an incredible wife. She is an educated and beautiful girl."

"She's in love with another man," he replied bitterly. Even if he didn't want to cancel the wedding, it still hurt his pride to think of his future wife in love with someone else.

"A youthful love that will pass."

"It's not just a youthful love, and you know it. They grew up here together, while I grew up in the cold north. I'm a stranger who came to break up everything they had."

Rhaella turned away. Deep down, she knew Jaehaerys was a better match for her than Daemon, and she agreed with the marriage.

She couldn't understand her eldest son's reasoning. She knew he wasn't stupid and that there must be a hidden motive. Rhaegar feared that there would one day be a fight for the throne. Therefore, the best option would be to marry Daemon and Daenerys. That way, he would have no allies.

There was also Viserys, who, according to the king, had his eyes on the Iron Throne. Rhaella hoped she would never see her family's blood spilled over a piece of iron. But every day, Viserys looked more anxious.

Rhaegar chose Jaehaerys. He didn't say why, only that it was a good idea. Her younger son was the most peaceful and the last one she would see usurping a throne. She didn't question him because, deep down, she was happy with the outcome.

"She will fulfill her duty," she finally said. She knew the two would find respect, if not love, as husband and wife. "I wasn't in love with your father back then. My heart belonged to another man. I fulfilled my duty."

'Of all the examples, you chose the worst,' thought the prince.

"I don't want Daenerys to suffer as you did with Aerys," he said in an extremely soft voice. He did not refer to the old king as his father because he did not deserve such a title.

"You are not Aerys," she whispered, her voice nearly lost among the birdsong. "You will take care of her, promise?"

"Of course I will," he began, but his mother's eyes stopped him. "First, I will win the duel. You don't need to talk to him. I will win fairly."

"Jaehaerys. You don't understand. Daemon is a monster with a sword. You were raised among books, not swords." From the moment he set foot outside King's Landing, Rhaella had Varys watch over her son.

"The prince only set foot on the training grounds once. No one has ever seen him with a sword in his hand. He prefers ink and books over... anything else," the eunuch told her in one of his many reports.

Jaehaerys looked at her with a gentle smile. He seemed unconcerned by her words.

"I will spare his life. You need not worry." He had seen him fight. He was good, but not better than him. "People will gossip if the Queen Mother appears distressed during her son's welcome banquet." He dismissed her quickly.

"Jae---"

"Your Grace, we are here as you ordered." Two maids entered, waiting for orders. Rhaella simply looked at him. Her stubborn son began to undress. He was unmoved by any reaction from the maids.

"Clean him up and dress him. I have matters to attend to." She left in search of her only daughter. The daughter she loved most.

The maids prepared hot water, almost boiling it. They had to be careful not to get wet while scrubbing the prince's body. They looked at each other with knowing smiles as they took their time enjoying the sensation. The prince's body was muscular---something they would not expect from a scholar.

The prince's mind was not on the two maids in his room. He was living his life in this world. He had had a life before, a boring one filled with books. He had been a student. A failure. He had a basic knowledge of many subjects but never delved too deeply into any of them. He knew about chemistry, physics, and engineering, but he could not call himself a master of any of those disciplines.

He could recite books from his past life from memory, but his mind seemed to slow down when he tried to remember everyday things. It was almost as if he didn't need to know about them.

'Daemon,' he thought.

Everything in this world seemed familiar to him, yet it didn't. It was as if a cloud had been placed over all his memories.

'Wolves, deer, lions, dragons,' he thought. All the pieces were there, but they didn't fit together.

It felt like a simulation, and he was on the verge of entering and exiting the Matrix. He lived with a constant headache. The only way he could ease the pain was by numbing his brain. It was a torturous childhood. Only when he grew up was he able to drown it in alcohol. He had tried poppy milk, but he stopped because he was afraid of becoming addicted.

His life in this world was princely. He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. In his early months, he heard whispers of war. Apparently, his older brother wasn't the brightest. Taking a second wife was a stupid idea. He would have understood if there had been dragons flying around, but not like that.

Taking her without the consent of her Lord Father, the guardian of the North, was even stupider.

Honestly, the Targaryens are only still on the throne thanks to Tywin Lannister.

It was a debt he didn't like to owe. He had interacted with the lion a few times; it was in Essos, and they were both using other hands. The old lion tried to stick his hands in Jaehaerys' business.

Rhaegar did everything he could to keep the kingdom together, and one of his actions directly affected Jaehaerys.

On his eighth name day, he traveled north to be raised. He didn't have the chance to say goodbye to his grandmother or his niece, Rhaenys, who was his age. A servant informed him of the trip, and a knight of the guard and a small group escorted him north.

Eddard Stark was a cold and direct man.

He was never rude, but rather, he was courteous in all his interactions. He taught him enough, but they never formed a true bond. The man despised him and his family.

This is why he felt no remorse when he stole his daughter's virginity.

"Sansa," he whispered with a hint of nostalgia.

The girl must be devastated by his impending marriage. For a long time, she believed they would marry. Jaehaerys liked the idea. She was kind and dreamy, beautiful and delicate like a flower. He could see that she truly loved him. Unlike the ladies from his childhood in the red fortress, she wasn't cunning. She would never betray him.

She would never love another man.

At first, she was bland and a bit boring, but she became quite talkative when he was inside her. Over time, she loosened up a bit. She liked to ride horses and talk about tournaments and legendary knights. She was naive. It was in her innocence that he found such pure love.

'Maybe I shouldn't have done that,' he thought. The girl was genuine, and at the beginning, he wanted to do something to go against her father. It was after that that he began to like her. 'Will Rhaegar call off the wedding with Daenerys if we talk?' He doubted it. Besides, he wasn't sure if he would give him the castle he promised if he did. Still, he would prefer not to have problems with a swordsman known throughout the continent as Barristan the Bold's equal.

"What can you say about Daemon?" he asked the two maids, who seemed eager to offer their services.

"He's the reborn rogue prince," one of them said, enthusiastically washing his arms.

"People whisper about whether he's a red dragon or a black dragon," said the other, lowering her head when the prince turned to look at her.

"Are you one of those who whisper?" Any insult to the House of the Dragon was an insult to him. His plans depended on his family's reign. The last thing he wanted was another dance. Daemon had even taken the name of the first Blackfyre pretender. History seemed to be repeating itself with Daenerys' hand being denied to him and married to another man.

"No, my lord, my prince! I only repeated what I've heard," she said. He ignored her slip as he ran a hand through the maid's hair.

"There are some things that are better not repeated," he said, feeling her tremble under his touch. His body was hot from the water and hurt her a little sore.

He still wasn't used to it since his arrival at King's Landing. People seemed to fear the royal family. In the north, contempt for dragons was common.

Both women began to hurry. They no longer seemed as happy while washing his body.

'The Rogue Prince, eh?'

 

[Walder Black]

"The king's younger brother. A prince of the Seven Kingdoms. Jaehaerys Targaryen," the herald announced. The man entered the hall. Dozens of lords stared at him as he passed. He smiled modestly as he looked at them.

The House of the Dragon shared a single table. The king sat with his two wives, Elia and Lyanna. Viserys was seated with his betrothed, Margaery Tyrell. The young heir, Aegon, sat with his wife, Myrcella of House Lannister---the eldest daughter of Jaime Lannister and Catelyn Tully.

Tywin Lannister's reward for his services was "A Lannister will be queen."

Rhaenys remained unmarried, though rumors in the city said her destiny lay in Dorne. The princess greeted him with a cheerful smile. They had not spoken since his arrival in King's Landing.

Another unbetrothed princess was Visenya, who had just turned nine. She was the youngest daughter of Rhaegar and Lyanna. She was a young girl with dark hair streaked with silver and purple eyes. If the rumors were true, she was wild and constantly repressed.

Daenerys looked like a porcelain doll; her beauty was enormous, almost unreal. "The purest Valyrian woman in generations," an Essosi merchant said when he looked at her. She was the same age as Sansa.

Queen Rhaella was seated behind Daenerys. The prince was expected to take a seat between his betrothed and the queen mother.

"Begin the banquet," the king said, not acknowledging him with so much as a nod. As always, he seemed more focused on his duty than his family.

Jaehaerys took his seat as servants began serving the most exquisite dishes available at that time.

"Mother, you look beautiful today. Princess Daenerys, may the gods bless me to be at your side," he said, flattering both women. Both smiled at his words, but the princess seemed on the verge of tears.

The princess opened her mouth, but no words came out. Music and murmurs filled the room as Daenerys drank a whole glass of wine to wash down the bitter pill.

'Shit,' he thought. He knew that ignoring his betrothed was the best way to maintain his family's image.

That image would be shattered the moment Daemon interrupted and shouted, "I'm going to kill you." Jaehaerys looked at the door as he waited, glancing behind the table at the entire royal guard except Dayne. 'He must be with Daemon,' he thought. 'Sir Barristan will lend me his sword if I ask him, won't he?' He wasn't a swordsman; he preferred other weapons.

"Princess, would you grant me this dance?" A bold man approached the royal family's table, ignoring all decorum, and asked a woman to dance right in front of her betrothed.

Darkstar, the most dangerous man in Dorne, or so the voices in King's Landing whispered. He was a tall, handsome man who appeared to be physically fit. Jaehaerys wondered if he was as good as the rumors said.

"Of course," the princess murmured as she ran to take the Dornishman's hand. He smiled as he looked at Jaehaerys. Jaehaerys looked at his mother in disbelief. She wasn't even looking at him; her eyes were digging holes in Viserys's head.

'A little fish from High Hermit wouldn't act like that unless he had backing,' he thought, annoyed.

"I wish to dance with my betrothed," he said, standing up. He took Daenerys's hand, which was trembling. 'She just wanted to escape from me,' he thought sadly.

But if she ran into the arms of another man to start the dance, it would damage his image.

He didn't know how to calm the young woman down. She looked like a fawn caught by a hunting party.

"She doesn't seem comfortable with the idea," Dayne said, frowning. "It is my duty as a knight to protect maidens."

"Does that mean my son intends to harm his betrothed?" the queen mother interjected.

The Dornishman searched for a polite way to respond to the queen mother. His gaze faltered as he bowed his head in defeat. He looked for Viserys, but he seemed to ignore him in favor of his betrothed: Margaery.

"I apologize for my words, Your Majesty."

"It is my son whom you accused of those vile actions," she said, not relenting.

He clenched his teeth as he replied. "My prince, I apologize for my comments," he said, turning on his heel and leaving the hall. He could feel everyone's eyes on him.

"Come, princess. We must start the dance." Many lords continued eating, but the situation warranted an exit. "In a world of appearances, we are not allowed to cry in front of others," he whispered as they walked. She simply clenched her teeth and nodded. She was a dragon, not just any lady.

As they danced, many lords and ladies commented on how Jaehaerys and Daenerys seemed to have been born for each other. They communicated in a secret language with their eyes. However, others pitied the princess, who had to endure the touch of a man she did not love.

Daenerys looked at her betrothed's face.

Like everyone in the Targaryen family, he was handsome and charming. He had purple eyes and white hair, a rare color even in the dragon's family. Viserys and Rhaegar were handsome, yes, but not masculine. They could easily pass for princesses in a dress. It wasn't the same with Jaehaerys, though. His face was masculine, like a warrior's. However, according to the lords, he was far from being one.

Daenerys thought of Daemon, her love. The night before, they had argued. He had asked her to spend her first night with him so he could talk to her father. She refused. It wasn't because she didn't want to; it was out of respect for Jaehaerys and herself. She was a princess, not a prostitute like the ones Viserys frequented.

She did not want to marry Jaehaerys. However, she also did not want to dishonor herself or her betrothed by doing so. She knew of Daemon's plans: a duel. She was against it, of course. She tried to persuade him to cancel the fight.

At the very least, she wanted to spare his brother's life. She didn't want to make her mother sad, nor did she want her brother to die, even if he was a stranger. In the end, Daemon promised to spare his life. Under certain conditions.

"The Free Cities are beautiful," she said. Her voice, though nervous, was as soft as the whisper of silk against skin.

"Do you want to go there? After the wedding?" her brother asked, his voice thick. She was captivated for a moment. "Baratheon is still alive there. It's not safe." She frowned. But according to Daemon, the Dothraki didn't enter cities.

"Daemon will spare your life. As long as you agree to live there," she replied. Her feet continued to slide across the stone floor of the hall.

"Daemon can't beat me," he said confidently. She blinked at his blind confidence.

"He's the best---"

"Is he?" he interrupted. "You're shaking like a leaf," he said. "Is my presence so unpleasant, princess?"

"Ladies swoon in front of you," she said, flattering him. She tried to shake off her earlier nervousness.

"A few moments ago, you looked like you were about to throw up just from touching my hand," he continued.

"I don't want to marry you," she said. With more firmness than she had expected. He almost smiled.

"Neither do I want to marry you," he said. "There's a girl in the north I'd rather be with," he said, half a lie, half a truth.

Daenerys frowned.

Maybe it was a bit cruel, but she hadn't expected him not to want her. It was just a game of egos. Someone who had been called beautiful since birth had a certain pride in her appearance. She might be shy, but she knows she's beautiful.

"Is she more beautiful than me?" she asked without meaning to. Jaehaerys had gotten into her head.

"They're different kinds of beautiful," he replied, not meaning anything by it. His hand brushed her waist. "Be that as it may, neither of us will be with the one we desire," he continued. "I don't expect you to share my bed. I would never force you to do such a thing."

"Will you live in celibacy? Or will you bring women to our bed?" Her eyebrow movements were charming to Jaehaerys.

"I am capable of living without carnal pleasures," he said. Not so sure. He had enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh since he was young. It was a great way to relieve stress. "You seem to accept our future union."

"I don't," she replied, blushing. "You'll live a good life in the East."

"If I ever visit the other continent, it will be by your side." He heard her snort in an unrefined manner. "Daemon will live in the north. It'll be good for him. Maybe they'll treat him better than they treat me. After all, he's a Stark."

"The North?" she said worriedly.

"Yes," Jaehaerys replied. "You don't expect me to just accept you warming his bed in King's Landing."

She stopped dancing. The look on her face showed genuine anger.

"I'm not a whore. If you think it's that easy to sleep with me, you're going to be disappointed."

"I didn't mean to," he said, a little embarrassed. He saw his mother's character in Daenerys at times. He was bothered by the fact that they wanted to send him to Essos, considering the threat across the Narrow Sea.

"Prince Daemon Targaryen, of the houses Stark and Targaryen," announced the herald. Jaehaerys felt Daenerys try to pull away from him.

He stopped her.

"Can you avoid looking like a maiden in love with another man?" he whispered in her ear.

"Are you afraid of what the world will see? Do you care about anything other than appearances?" she asked him.

"I care about our legacy. You may not understand, but our family's position is not as stable as it seems. If the sharks smell blood, even from a small wound, they will pounce on us."

 

[Walder Black]

"Daemon," he greeted. He glanced sideways at Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, who followed Daemon like a shadow.

"Jaehaerys," his nephew said, not so warmly.

The two men looked at each other. The people in the room could feel the tension in the air. Jaehaerys had his arm around Daenerys's waist. She seemed to be admiring the fabric of her dress.

Daemon glared at his uncle's hand on his beloved's waist, clenching his teeth. He had to restrain himself from tearing his uncle's head off.

Rhaegar stood up, drawing all eyes to him as if they were moths to a candle. "In the days before, my decision to unite Princess Daenerys with Prince Jaehaerys was questioned. Several have expressed their discontent." His eyes scanned everyone, lingering a little on Viserys. "My son Daemon was one of them," the king said. Queen Lyanna looked at him reproachfully. "He requested a duel to the death for Daenerys' hand," he paused. The room held its breath. "I have refused. I will not see my blood kill each other. The union of Daenerys and Jaehaerys is final. It's for the realm's peace." Jaehaerys looked at Myrcella, who was nodding.

Daemon looked at him, his face red with anger. "Your Grace, if you will allow me, I would like to accept the duel," said Jaehaerys. His mother, who had sighed with relief, looked at him in surprise. "I do not wish to kill my nephew. I suggest exile for the loser," he continued. Though not as concerned, his mother was still upset by this.

"I agree," said Daemon, his eyes never leaving the princess.

The king seemed to ponder for a few minutes, his eyes fixed on Jaehaerys. Jaehaerys returned his gaze, showing neither defiance nor submission.

"So be it, then. Jaehaerys, given your lack of martial skills, I will allow you to choose a sword to fight for you." Jaehaerys could choose anyone he wanted: Ser Arthur or Ser Barristan. The king seemed bored by the situation, but deep down, he hoped Jaehaerys would choose one of the kingdom's best knights.

"Aōha riñnykeā's ondos jāhor sagon va aōha ȳrgos skori morghon māzigon," a red priestess had told Rhaegar. He remembered those words every time he looked at his most warrior-like son.

"You can choose two if one is not enough for you," Daemon said confidently.

Prince Daemon was handsome and masculine. His Stark features---such as his long face, gray eyes, and black hair---did not diminish his beauty but made him unique among the Targaryens.

"I will fight on my own, Your Grace," he said. He heard one of the lords snort in disdain, and the ladies sigh dramatically.

"No one will judge you. We all know you prefer books to steel. A scholar is respectable... for a maester," said his nephew in a mocking tone, earning a few laughs from the crowd.

"I can't imagine the honor the knights feel in challenging a maester to a duel," he said as the laughter died down. If only out of embarrassment.

"A man does what he has to do," he replied.

"He does. Even if you're as good as the bards sing, you'll be in for a surprise," he said, taking a small jab.

"I'll be surprised if you start throwing books at me in the middle of a fight," he answered with an amused grimace. A chorus of laughter followed.

Daenerys lowered her head. She knew he didn't mean to hurt her. But she had loved books since she was a child. She had even wanted to be a maester one day. The day after she talked about it with her mother, her lessons with the septas began. Even then, she had a collection of books that she enjoyed reading. Others were boring stories about princesses and princes; she enjoyed more challenging books.

The girl felt a hand caress her waist. It was as if he had sensed her discomfort. Jaehaerys looked at her with a hint of concern. She was touched to see him worry about her. But she hated herself for being happy about it. She loved Daemon. 'I do, I do,' she repeated to herself.

"It would be quite the news story: 'The reborn rogue prince defeated by a book.' I can imagine the songs the troubadours would sing," Jaehaerys said, and some nobles laughed at his joke. Daenerys laughed too, before realizing her mistake and covering her mouth. She glanced at Daemon, who seemed to be looking at them in pain.

"Books don't win duels."

"They win wars," he replied. "They prevent us from dying of disease. They remind us of our ancestors, and they ensure that our descendants will remember us. They're not as shiny as steel, but they last longer."

Daenerys looked at him, moved. He had defended books in front of a city full of men who despised them. She glanced at a few who were sneering, unwilling to accept his words yet too cowardly to refute them.

"Enough," the king said. He had allowed the discussion to go on too long. Now, he looked at Jaehaerys reproachfully. The king hoped Jaehaerys would choose a champion capable of defeating Daemon and sending him away. "Jaehaerys, will you not change your decision?" He could force his hand. But he decided against it; it was best to remain neutral in this conflict.

He really wanted Daemon gone.

"I stand by my decision, Your Grace. I will fight for myself."

"The duel will take place on the fifth day of this month, which gives you three days to prepare," the king decreed. The timing coincided with the end of the tournament held in honor of Prince Jaehaerys.

"I will withdraw first, Your Grace. The princess is indisposed." The king simply nodded. Jaehaerys walked past Daemon with his head held high. He held Daenerys's hand firmly, and she did not resist being escorted away.

"I didn't know you liked books so much," the princess began. It was a small lie; everyone in King's Landing knew of his fondness for books.

"I always have," he said, remembering earlier times. "I remember giving you a book on your fifth name day, a month before I left for the North." Daenerys looked at him, confused. She didn't remember that.

"Really?" she asked doubtfully.

"Yes, it was Great Women of Westeros. I thought you'd like it since you used to dream of conquering kingdoms when you were little."

"I..." The book was her favorite. It made her dream of being a conqueror, like Nymeria, who led her people to another continent. Or like Rhaenys and Visenya, who conquered Westeros alongside their brother-husband. She wanted to be remembered for something. She had dreamed of awakening the dragons from their stone slumber. "I wanted to be the Mother of Dragons," she said aloud by mistake. She often dreamed of three dragons.

"Mother of dragons?" A twinge of pain shot through Jaehaerys's temple as if he had heard that title before. He hadn't drunk any wine during the banquet, so his mind was clearer than it should have been, and the pain was higher too.

"Just forget it," she had told Daemon about the dream.

"Dragons no longer exist. Only swords and armies remain. Don't waste your time dreaming about them. The only dragon you need is me," Daemon said, trying to comfort her. It didn't work.

"I'd like to see dragons," Jaehaerys said. "I'd like to touch the clouds with my fingers," he said, looking out the window.

The moon was hiding behind the clouds. "If you ever get a dragon, I'll steal it from you," he joked.

The princess was still too embarrassed to answer him.

"My chambers are ahead," she said, trying to change the subject.

Her dreams were silly; they always had been. Waking dragons. Being a maester. These were things she could never achieve.

"We're not going to your chambers," Jaehaerys said suddenly, his eyes lost in the red flames of a torch. "We're going to mine," he said as he led her away.

Daenerys's face turned red with anger. All the sympathy she had felt for her brother vanished in that moment.

"If you think you---"

"Do you want to see dragon eggs?" he whispered in her ear. She stopped fighting. The offer might have been a lie, but it was tempting.

 

[Walder Black]

"It's so big and warm. It feels good," Daenerys said, holding Jaehaerys's eggs.

"Warm?" he asked, touching the same black egg Daenerys seemed so obsessed with. A warmth covered his palm. He could feel the heat, too. But others couldn't. When others touched the eggs, they were cold, though only Brandon, Torrhen, and Ros had done so.

There were three eggs in total: one black with dark purple spots visible only near the fire. The second egg was silver with a black line running through the middle.

The last egg was copper red with gray streaks like steel, and it was the smallest of the three.

He believed his Targaryen blood made them react to his touch. Because of that, he had felt special. And he was.

But apparently, his betrothed was just as special.

Jaehaerys began to thank Rhaegar silently. Although he hadn't been convinced about the marriage at first and had only accepted it to obtain land and a castle, it now seemed that his sister's lineage would help him: "Mother of Dragons." He liked the title.

'Only Daemon remains,' he thought bitterly. If Daenerys weren't in love with someone else, everything would be much simpler. They seemed to have a lot in common.

The prince thought about why he had taken her to his room. He had always been very careful with his belongings. The twinge in his temple served as a warning sign. It told him that she had to see them. 'Can I trust her?' he wondered, already knowing the answer.

'I can't,' he thought. After the princess left her chambers, he decided he would hide the eggs somewhere else.

"Are they alive?" she asked incredulously. "Forget it," she said, realizing she had said something stupid.

"Dragons are magical creatures. Fire made flesh," replied Jaehaerys. "It would be foolish to assume they're not alive," he finished.

"Can I have one?" she asked, her violet eyes shining with innocence and joy. The prince was about to give in.

"For now, they must remain a secret," he said, perhaps a little too curtly.

"I see," the princess replied naturally. Her ears turned red.

"Maybe... once we're married," he said.

The girl looked at him with conflicting emotions. She was torn between her desire for the dragon eggs and her feelings for Daemon. She remained silent. Jaehaerys cursed himself internally. What he said sounded more like a condition than the casual comment he had intended.

Daenerys wondered what her life would be like with Daemon. He was an accomplished warrior and was respected by the lords; no one dared to mess with him. She would probably be a beautiful rose by his side. They would have sons as talented as their father and daughters raised the same way she was.

Then she thought about her life with Jaehaerys. Perhaps she could be freer at his side. He was a scholar. She had heard some knights call her betrothed "The Prince of Scrolls." The warriors did not respect him, even if they never said it to his face. Dany wondered if, since he was so intelligent, he could teach her something. Or at least allow her to learn on her own? Perhaps he could demand that the maesters teach her. An intelligent man like him shouldn't be seen with a foolish wife, should he?

Daemon would never do such a thing. She had often tried to convince him to borrow a book from the maesters' library for her to read. He obeyed, but he always brought back a book about chivalry and romance. When she asked for something more academic, he mocked her, saying that if she learned such things, she would take the maesters' jobs away.

She didn't want to accept that. Her mind seemed to want Jaehaerys to win the duel tomorrow, even though it was impossible. She felt guilty instantly. Although she hoped for a better life with Jaehaerys, she still loved Daemon. If she married Jaehaerys, she would feel like she was using him.

"Hide!" Jaehaerys urged, scaring her. She took the eggs and hid them under the bed.

Then, he dragged her behind a piece of furniture. He was rough; Dany would have moaned if the prince's muscular hand hadn't silenced her.

He manipulated her as if she were a rag doll. For the first time, she realized how big Jaehaerys was. He was at least half a head taller than Daemon, who was much taller than her. He moved her with alarming ease. Contrary to her initial thoughts, the idea that he could subdue her so easily didn't seem so bad.

The door opened slowly, and soon they heard footsteps approaching.

"What is your purpose here?" Daenerys heard the prince speak, accompanied by the sound of a chain. She received no answer.

Then, she heard steel being unsheathed. It was a sound she had grown accustomed to. Whenever Daemon asked her to watch him train, she went.

Her heart raced in her chest. Her first impulse was to cower.

"Surround him," said one of them in an accent similar to Queen Elia's. A Dornish accent.

"You may withdraw now," said the prince, his voice firm but not carefree.

'Damn it, he's brave!' the princess thought. She wished he would run for his life.

The men let out small, stifled laughs.

"Shut the hell up," said the only one who had spoken. "Let's do this quickly," he ordered.

Daenerys screamed into her hand when she first heard steel clash against steel. Tears began to fall from her eyes at the thought of losing her brother. They weren't very close yet, but she had grown fond of him in a short time.

"Son of a bitch!" she heard one of them shout.

"Damn monster!" The fear was palpable.

"They said it would be easy!"

"I'm out of here. This shit isn't what they told us."

Dany poked her head out. The sight made her stomach churn. Jaehaerys was fine, standing in front of two bodies. In his hand was a strange tool. It was three metal tubes joined by a chain. Dany had never seen a weapon like it. She could see that it was dark iron, stained bright red.

"Please," a third man, whom Dany hadn't seen before, began to plead.

"Who sent you?" The man remained silent.

Jaehaerys let the weapon slide down his hand until he grasped one end. With a slight arc, he broke the man's leg at an odd angle.

"Ahhh! I can't. Please," the man whispered. His hands were unable to support his broken leg. Daenerys saw Jaehaerys raise the tool again.

"It was Darkstar! He swore it was him. Please forgive me," the man sniffed, squealing like a pig about to be sent to the slaughterhouse.

"Darkstar?" Jaehaerys muttered incredulously.

The man wasn't capable of sneaking five men into the red fortress as if it were nothing. Jaehaerys thought about how the man looked at Viserys and realized he had found his culprit.

'Is he that stupid? An attempted murder in broad daylight?' Rhaegar wasn't the most affectionate man, but he knew Viserys craved the throne and saw Daenerys as a tool to help him get it. Had he succeeded, the investigation would have led back to Viserys, giving Rhaegar an excuse to eliminate a rival for the throne.

Jaehaerys began to think that Daemon wouldn't be his only problem in the capital.

The sound of approaching footsteps distracted him from his thoughts. He soon felt a small body grab him from the side. The princess held him tightly, burying her face in his chest. He held her tenderly. The poor girl must have been scared.

"Jaehaerys, are you all right?" To his surprise, the concerned voice came from Viserys, who was accompanied by a group of knights and white cloaks. 'Hypocrite,' he thought, seeing the look of concern on Viserys's face. He felt an urge to break his arms when he reached out a hand, apparently to check if he was okay. "Dany?" he said incredulously.

 

[Walder Black]

"I'm fine, brother. Thank you for your concern," he said, looking him in the eyes.

Jaehaerys was a bad actor. He was sure he hadn't been able to hide the suspicion in his eyes. Viserys said nothing; he just continued to stare at Daenerys. He couldn't tell what he was thinking. It was as if he wanted to reprimand her but didn't dare.

He moved his hand, causing the chains to clash together. Viserys looked at the bloodstained weapon, then at the bodies in the room. He swallowed hard.

"We must take this matter to the king immediately," he said, with a hint of venom in his voice when he said "king."

"I would like a few minutes to calm my betrothed," Jaehaerys said.

Viserys gritted his teeth and looked sadly at Daenerys. He nodded.

"You know where the council chamber is, right? Go there as soon as you can. Lorch, protect my brothers. The rest of you, take the bodies away," he ordered.

The knights accompanying him dragged the bodies away. It was not a task befitting knights, but facing a Targaryen was akin to a peasant facing a lord.

"Lorch, wait outside the door," the prince ordered once everyone had left.

"My prince, if anyone tries---"

"I'm sure I can defend myself until you come to my rescue," he snapped.

The man nodded, his gaze angry. He left the room, probably listening at the door to see what he could report to Myrcella or Cersei. He was a Lannister creature.

"Are you okay?" he whispered to Daenerys.

She nodded; the words were stuck in her throat. Dany felt safe in his arms. Jaehaerys looked at the tear in the princess's dress, running from her stomach to her right thigh. Her milk-white skin was tempting.

"You're... strong," she said, looking into his eyes.

Daenerys had just noticed how his body felt. He was muscular, though you couldn't tell from his generally loose-fitting clothes. It was as if he were trying to hide his physique.

"I am," he admitted without shame as he let her go. He began searching through a trunk. Dany continued to look at him.

His broad back was certainly an asset. And his butt was---

"Put this on," he said, not noticing her gaze. It was a linen shirt and pants. She looked at him, confused. "Really?" She brought her hand to the part of her hip that was exposed.

Daenerys blushed and looked down. If she had moved a little more, her private parts would have been exposed.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

Jaehaerys turned away and approached the window. An eagle appeared seconds later. He seemed to whisper unintelligible words to the animal. Then, the bird took flight. She hurried to change, discarded the dress, and quickly dressed in her betrothed's clothes, which were not as nice as she was used to and were too big for her.

"Are you done?" He hadn't taken his eyes off the night sky while she was changing. She was sure. She had looked in his direction several times.

"Yes," she said. "Aren't you going to change?" she asked, pointing to his bloodstained clothes.

"It's not necessary. My modesty is not affected." His clothes were intact, just a little wrinkled.

She nodded.

Jaehaerys walked toward the door, his weapon in hand. His footsteps were silent. With a quick movement, he pulled the door open. Amory Lorch stumbled but quickly regained his balance. He looked down the hallway. Two men were approaching. Lorch was about to draw his sword. But the prince's hand stopped him. Neither man said a word; they just entered the room.

"They're coming with me," he said. "Daenerys," he called to her. She went to his side and shot the royal guard a contemptuous glance. Jaehaerys put his hand on the girl's waist and led her outside. "Once you are in your room, bolt the door. One of my men will bring you a letter with a drawing of an elephant. You can trust him," he said. He saw Lorch's ear twitch.

"Your men?" she asked. He had arrived with only a handful of Northerners who had escorted him and then immediately returned to their frozen wasteland. She had never seen the two men who entered her room. "I'm going to the meeting. I'm a witness," she said, deciding it was a priority.

"You're not ready," he said, looking her up and down. "Don't worry. I'll take care of everything," he said, trying to persuade her.

"If we get married, will things always be this way?" she asked. His words reminded her of Daemon's. "Will I be the typical Lady who doesn't interfere in her husband's business?" Her voice held traces of irritation. Daemon was always leaving her out.

"When we get married," he emphasized. "I have no idea. I never thought about such things. You'll have all the freedom you want as long as it doesn't include other men in your chambers," he said.

"Try me. I want to be at that meeting," she said.

Amory Lorch snorted.

"Something funny, Ser?" asked Jaehaerys, stopping short.

"No, my prince," he said, bowing his head.

"Go to the council chamber. Tell them I'll be there soon."

"My orders---"

"Go!" he interrupted. The little man cringed, took one last look at him, and left. "The drawing, by the way, is not of an elephant. It's of a white eagle with gray eyes."

"Is that so?" she said. She filed his words away in her mind. After all, it was relevant information.

"Why do you want to attend?" he asked. "You know that women's voices aren't heard very much."

'Daemon wouldn't let me go,' she thought, but she couldn't tell him that. She wanted to see how he compared to Daemon.

"Will you listen to me?" she asked in a low voice.

"Yes," he replied, looking into her eyes.

"Take me, then." They looked at each other for a few seconds until he gave in.

"Do you want to go dressed like that?" he asked. A Princess wearing male clothes would raise eyebrows.

"My room is on the way. I'll grab a dress there," she said, walking ahead.

"I should have told Amory Lorch that we're going to be late."

"But you did," she said with a smile. He smiled back.

"Did I?" he asked rhetorically.

They reached the room in no time. Jaehaerys entered after Dany. She quickly took off her pants. They were uncomfortable; the fabric was rough compared to silk.

Jaehaerys looked at her. His shirt was too big, so he didn't see anything he shouldn't have before their wedding night. He quickly turned away, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.

He heard her rummaging through the chests. It seemed like an eternity before he heard her again.

"I'm ready," she said.

She was beautiful. She was wearing a red dress, simpler than before because she hadn't been able to call a maid to help her get dressed.

"Let's go, then," he said. His hand naturally went to her waist.

Soon, they arrived at the council chamber.

Varys greeted them with a friendly smile. Jaehaerys thought of the children he bribed in the north to give false information.

At the eunuch's side was Petyr, although he seemed more like a harmless bootlicker. The Grand Maester made a clumsy attempt to stand up, only to fall back into his seat. Dany looked at him with pity. Jaehaerys looked at him with disdain.

The ship's counselor, Paxter Redwyne, stood up to greet him. The war counselor, Randyll Tarly, greeted him with a nod, unable to hide the contempt in his eyes.

Aegon was present. Rhaegar had selected him as Hand of the King after Jon Connington abandoned the position. Rhaegar was also present, his crown adorning his head with pride. Viserys and Queen Rhaella were also present. She walked urgently toward him when she saw the blood on his face.

"By the gods!" she exclaimed, looking worried.

"The blood is not mine, Mother," he said, letting go of Daenerys's waist. He realized only then that her red dress was to hide the blood on her.

He heard a murmur of contempt. Daemon was there too, standing next to the Sword of the Morning.

"We have been waiting. Lorch announced your arrival some time ago," Rhaegar's son said.

"Oh, he must have misunderstood my orders. I told him I would be late because my betrothed needed me," Jaehaerys replied. He rejoiced when he saw him grit his teeth. He wondered if he had leaked his code to his mistress. He hoped so; he needed gold. By that time, Brandon and Torrhen should be outside Daenerys' door.

"The council is assembled," whispered the king. He ignored the absence of Oberyn Martell, the master of laws, who was probably on the Street of Silk. "We have matters to discuss," he said, his violet eyes meeting those of his younger brother.

 

[Walder Black]

"I will accompany Daenerys to her chambers. She must be tired," said Daemon, stepping forward. The other lords said nothing. Dany lowered her gaze, unable to refuse.

"The princess has already been to her chambers and decided to join us. Your intentions are unnecessary, Prince Daemon," replied Jaehaerys. He directed Daenerys to an empty chair set aside for him. Then, he brought another chair over and sat down beside her. He left his bloodstained weapon on the table. Several men looked at him with frowns.

Daemon looked at them with a small smile, as if he had just remembered a joke.

"The council is no place for women!" Tarly's voice echoed through the room.

"My betrothed was involved in the incident," said Jaehaerys. "She will be heard."

Tarly clenched his teeth.

"Time is of the essence, My Lords," Prince Aegon said coldly. He was a smaller version of his father, though he preferred to braid his hair, likely influenced by Rhaenys.

"Wise words, Lord Hand. If I may," Viserys began.

Although he did not hold a position on the council, no one would ask him to leave. At that moment, he was a witness. Even if he were not, he was a Targaryen.

"Continue."

With the king's permission, Viserys began recounting his version of the story. He had received a warning from Varys that assassins had infiltrated the castle. Their target was Prince Jaehaerys.

"I took the men I found along the way. When I reached my younger brother's chambers, I found two corpses and a man crying on the floor," he continued.

"You cried, Jae?" Daemon asked with a smile.

"No, the prince was standing with Daenerys by his side, holding a bloody weapon. The man crying was one of the assassins, as were the two corpses. Everyone was removed, and the survivor was taken to the dungeons," Viserys continued.

Part of Jaehaerys hoped that something would change. But, to his surprise, his brother was quite faithful to his account.

"You want us to believe that he killed them?" asked the rogue prince.

"He did," Daenerys's voice rang out.

"What were you doing in his room?" Daemon asked suddenly, ignoring her statement.

The girl remained silent. She couldn't tell him that she was looking at her betrothed's dragon eggs. It was a secret. Still, Daemon's disappointed look left her frozen. She felt the need to justify herself, but she couldn't lie or tell the truth.

"It's not uncommon for betrothed couples to get to... know each other before consummating their union," Baelish replied cleverly.

"Did you get any answers from the survivor?" asked Prince Aegon, not in the mood to mediate between the two.

"None," said Viserys. "At least not after the interrogations." He looked at Jaehaerys.

"Darkstar," Daenerys said for the second time.

The room fell silent. The girl seemed to shrink under the stares.

"Are you sure, princess? Know that this is a very serious accusation," Paxter Redwyne said.

"A frightened woman can misinterpret sounds," said the maester.

"Her ears work as well as mine. That was the name he whispered," said Jaehaerys. "If he is truly the mastermind behind this, it is a mystery," he said. "Two men fled. I forgot to mention that," he said, glancing at Viserys, who frowned. 'He's not going to defend his friend?' he wondered.

"The city guards found them," Varys began in a low voice. "Apparently, they resisted arrest and were... dealt with," he said, looking at the Master of Coin.

'Subtle,' thought Jaehaerys. Perhaps Baelish was not as harmless as he initially thought.

"Gerold Dayne will be considered a suspect. Varys, I want you to tell me where he was today. And yesterday, and the entire previous moon if necessary. For now, he will be detained and questioned. Any objections?" the king asked. He looked particularly at Viserys, who seemed nervous. "I also want the survivor to be questioned again. I will send my men to do so," he finished.

"That won't be possible," said Viserys. "He's dead," he continued.

"Dead?" asked Tarly.

"Yes, the wounds that Prince Jaehaerys inflicted on him were fatal. He died before the interrogation even began." Everyone looked in his direction.

"What a pity. We could have learned so much from him," said Baelish, smiling.

"Indeed," said Aegon.

Viserys did not look like a guilty man. He was either a good actor or innocent. Jaehaerys would bet on the first option.

"I hit him pretty hard. I'm not surprised he died," said the prince, drawing patterns on the table with the blood from his weapon.

"I hope Varys can properly investigate the attack and find out who was responsible," Queen Rhaella interjected.

"I'll put all my birds on it," he said, nodding his bald head.

"The session is adjourned, for now," said the king. "Dismissed. Except you, Jaehaerys," he ordered.

"Of course," said Jaehaerys.

Everyone quickly left the room. The queen accompanied Daenerys, and Ser Barristan escorted them. Soon, only Rhaegar and Jaehaerys remained.

The king placed the crown on the table.

"Five men couldn't kill you," the monarch said, walking toward Jaehaerys. When he was close, Jaehaerys crouched down slightly, making himself shorter than the king. "It's heavier than it looks," he said.

He was referring to his brother's weapon. He had to make an effort to lift it properly.

"It's a weapon for brutes, Your Majesty," he replied humbly.

"For men with superhuman strength. You are far from being a brute," he said, his hands stained with blood. "Who do you think tried to kill you?"

"Conjecture is not my strong suit," he said, not wanting to create conflict within his family and preferring to handle things himself.

"You are the most intelligent man I know," said the king.

"I don't deserve such praise," he replied humbly.

"You think it was Viserys," the older brother continued. "Like everyone else," he said melancholically. "It's no surprise. Viserys has been trying to marry Daenerys himself, which is why he delayed her marriage to Margaery Tyrell for so long," the king commented.

"Isn't he wanting Daemon and Daenerys to marry?" Jaehaerys frowned.

"That's also true. Viserys was seeking the Starks' support by uniting our sister with Daemon. Daenerys grew up close to him," the king commented.

"Why would the Starks support him? If they were going to support a candidate for the throne, it would be Daemon, not Viserys." Jaehaerys wasn't agreeing with his older brother.

"The goal would be to overthrow my reign. And Aegon's. They would start a war, draw in the Starks, and put Daemon as the king. Once Daemon gets the throne, getting rid of him would be easy. If he hasn't fathered any children, the throne would pass to Viserys," said Jaehaerys. "The same would happen with the Tyrells," he added.

'Or he could take two wives like the previous king,' he dared not say.

"It's not a clever plan. Viserys isn't as smart as you," the king said, assessing him with a glance. Jaehaerys realized he might have said more than he should have. "If he were, he wouldn't have orchestrated that attack today," he finished.

"No, it's a desperate attack," he said, still thinking that something was wrong. His brother's explanation was too weak. In that case, Viserys would not need to marry Daenerys to Daemon.

It was all too obvious; his brother seemed too guilty.

"It is. Plans like that can cause harm to both the instigator and the target. Even if Viserys is found to be behind it all, there will be no justice for you if you're dead," the king finished. "He will pursue Daenerys. He sees her as his property."

"And yet you betrothed her to me," he said without reproach.

"I didn't expect him to be a kinslayer. Your martial skill was a pleasant surprise," said the king. "Do you think you can defeat Daemon?"

"Yes," he replied without hesitation.

"It wasn't specified. But you will be the one to choose where he will be exiled," he said, taking his seat. "Essos will be a good place for him," he said, looking at Jaehaerys with his violet eyes. Jaehaerys was tempted to obey without further ado.

"I plan to send him north," he said. "Baratheon is in Essos. It will be dangerous for him," he finished.

"He would send you to Essos without a second thought," the king said with a frown.

"Is there a reason you want to send him there? Are you afraid the Starks will rebel?" Jaehaerys asked. He knew Eddard well enough to know that he hated war. He saw it not as an ambition tool but as a duty.

"It's because of Robert Baratheon. I want him dead, and I want Daemon to kill him," he said casually.

"He has fifty thousand men under his banner. If not for the fact that five and forty thousand of those are Dothraki, he would have launched a campaign against Westeros by now. No matter how skilled Daemon is, he doesn't stand a chance," he reasoned.

Robert had been wreaking havoc in Essos. He started a mercenary company with men who left Westeros after his defeat at the Trident. Then, after fighting a khalasar, the Dothraki wanted to join him.

Little by little, he adopted the customs of the horse lords until he became Khal Robert. They said he had so many wives and children that he couldn't count them all on his fingers. But he was looking over the whole continent for a northern girl. He wanted a Lyanna.

"I believe in my son's abilities," said the king.

"I will not send him to certain death."

"He is more capable than you think." The king stood up. "Even so, it was only a suggestion. We can deal with Robert in other ways," he finished, looking at a painting of the Conqueror and his two wives. "You may leave now," he said, dismissing him.

"With your permission, Your Grace," he said, bowing slightly as he walked to the exit.

"Are you interested in a position on the council?" the king asked before Jaehaerys left the room.

"No, I will take charge of developing Harrenhal. It will need my full attention," Jaehaerys replied, feeling grateful. His brother was foolish to start a war over a woman. But he seemed to have matured and become a good king.

"That's a shame," Rhaegar murmured wistfully.

 

[Walder Black]

"What were you doing in his room? Playing with dolls?" Daemon asked, his sarcasm concealing his anger.

Daenerys looked down at the floor, ashamed.

"His life was in danger, Daemon!" Queen Rhaella scolded him. It did nothing to quell his fury. "Do you think that's the question you should be asking right now?" Her words made the boy pause for a moment.

The young prince shook his head. He looked Daenerys up and down. He noticed the change in her clothes.

"Did you sleep with him?" he asked, looking down at her.

"No...he taught me," she began, but stopped.

"He taught you?" Daemon took a step forward.

"His books," she whispered.

It was a weak excuse, but a believable one. If Daemon had known her for that long, he would have known that she loved to read.

"Books?" He seemed amused now. "Weren't all the ones I gave you enough?" he asked.

"They're not the same. I wanted---"

"Ah, you wanted to be a maester. I'm sure The Prince of Scrolls had plenty of those," he scoffed at his uncle. "Books won't stop me from cutting off his head," he said coldly.

"Daemon!" Queen Rhaella faced him, looking like a dragon about to breathe fire. "You both agreed it wouldn't be a duel to the death. Remember?" she scolded. "Or do I need to remind you?"

Ser Barristan watched as Daemon's fists clenched. The leather of his gloves made a characteristic sound. The old knight took a few steps forward, hoping he wouldn't have to intervene. The prince, in his anger, was unpredictable.

"I remember, Grandmother," Daemon said, taking a step back. "I hope I still remember by then." With that, he turned and left.

Daenerys was confused. She was torn between sadness and anger. He was bothered that she looked at Jaehaerys's books, even though it was a lie, but Daemon didn't try to listen to her at all.

However, her sadness overpowered her anger. Daemon had been her first friend and her first love.

He had been by her side since she was a little girl. Seeing him so angry over a misunderstanding still made her feel bad. Her heart ached at the thought.

"Come on, Dany. Sir Barristan," the queen mother said, putting a hand on her shoulder as she led her to her chambers. The Bold followed them without saying a word.

They walked in silence through the corridors. The lords had long since retired to their rooms. Only a few drunkards still staggered through the hallways. Some of them looked at the princess and her mother lustfully. The gleam of Ser Barristan's armor stopped any impure thoughts they might have had.

"You seem to want me to marry Jaehaerys and not Daemon," the princess said. She had noticed her mother's behavior from the start. She spoke well of Jaehaerys, saying that the princess would be very happy with him. She never spoke ill of Daemon, but didn't praise him too much either.

"You've met him. Who are you more compatible with?" the queen mother asked.

"I love Daemon," she replied quietly, not answering the question.

"You love him? Or is he the only man you interact with besides Viserys?" her mother pressed.

"I..." The queen had a point.

Daenerys only interacted with Viserys, who was oppressive. He wasn't abusive, but he liked to demonstrate his leadership and dominance. She could never see him as anything more than her brother.

Daemon, on the other hand, had always been by her side. They were similar in age and were very close. When they reached an age where they became interested in the opposite sex, he began flirting with her, and she fell for his charms.

"Daemon is not a bad boy. Even with his recent outburst," said the Queen Mother, who was a little worried about her grandson. "But you won't be happy with him. I know you as only a mother can know her daughter," she said.

"Is that why you have to force everything?" The words made sense, but love did not.

'Love, right?' She began to question her feelings.

"Force?" Rhaella raised an elegant eyebrow. "It was Rhaegar who organized everything," she said. "I won't deny that I thought it was a fantastic idea, but I never discussed it with him," she finished.

Daenerys remained silent. Soon, they heard the sound of swords clashing. Sir Barristan was the first to hear them and drew his sword faster than the two ladies could recognize the sounds. He stood in front of them.

"In the name of the king, stop fighting," he said, taking a step forward and making sure out of the corner of his eye that the princess and the queen were all right.

Two groups faced each other. Some knights in elegant armor fought against men in worn, dented armor. Two wounded knights lay on the ground, gasping for breath and blood dripping from their mouths.

"We are men of Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen," said one of the knights. "We found these men trying to enter the princess's chambers." The princess's mother squeezed her hands tightly. "Princess," he called out, holding out a letter.

"Throw it," ordered Ser Barristan. The man stopped short before obeying the order.

"They lie," said one of the other men, his voice like a bear's growl. Their attention was drawn to his northern accent.

The white cloak caught the letter in midair and offered it to Daenerys with his left hand. His right hand never let go of the hilt of his sword.

Daenerys opened the letter; it was in the shape of an elephant.

"You," she called to the men in worn armor. "Letter?" she asked nervously. She cursed at how foolish she must have sounded.

"Here," one of them said in a hoarse voice. An elegant letter appeared in his hands. It was not rolled up, as was customary. Instead, it was rectangular.

They repeated the process until the letter reached Daenerys. It appeared to be sealed. Her mother had helped her. There was a triangular fold that had to be lifted up. Inside was a white sheet of paper, which contrasted sharply with the yellowish tone of the scrolls and papers she was used to seeing.

Daenerys looked at the white eagle with gray eyes inside.

"Ser Barristan," the queen mother said. "Those in shining armor. Capture them," she ordered.

She had regularly exchanged letters with her son. It was a unique form of communication; only Jaehaerys sent letters that way. With that kind of paper.

The old knight did not question the order. The knights fled---or at least tried to. Jaehaerys's men stood in their way. It was only a matter of minutes before they were defeated. Ser Barristan stood between the battle and the ladies; more than one person wanted to take advantage by taking a hostage.

"Not on my watch," said the brave knight, his mind as sharp as his sword.

"Can you recognize any of them, Ser?" asked Queen Rhaella.

"Their faces are familiar, yes. But I cannot associate them with anyone in particular. I apologize, Your Grace," the old knight said humbly.

"I'm sure the dungeons will open their mouths. Or their necks," Daenerys heard, feeling a chill run down her spine as she heard her mother's bloody words.

In the end, there were six attackers: two were dead, and four were wounded. None of Jaehaerys's men had more than a new scratch on their already worn armor.

"I didn't know Prince Jaehaerys brought an escort. I only remember the disgraced maester who arrived with him and a red-haired girl."

Ser Barristan did not lower his guard, even with his supposed allies.

"The prince's business is the prince's business. We follow orders, nothing more," said the man with the raspy voice. They took off their helmets out of respect for Daenerys. Their faces were thin, their hair dark brown, and their eyes brown and gray. They were northerners, or so their features shouted.

"Jaehaerys told me about them, Ser Barristan," said Daenerys. She recognized the two who had entered Jaehaerys's room earlier.

"The prince will be here soon," said the other. "It's just a matter of waiting. If you allow, Princess, one of us will inform the castle guards about the infiltrators." He did not consult Ser Barristan or the queen. His orders did not include them.

"Go," she said when asked. "Will you also notify Jaehaerys?" she asked.

"Not necessary," a male voice said from behind her. "More assassins?" he asked his men.

"No, impostors. As you predicted," one of them replied.

"I need an explanation, young man," her mother said, looking at him in confusion.

"Just dealing with a useless knight," he replied cryptically, not saying the whole truth. Daenerys seemed to understand, as evidenced by the sound she let out. The prince was grateful she wasn't a fool.

"And where did your men come from, son?" his mother asked, leaving the political game aside.

"From the snow, Mother, from the snow," he whispered, his voice traveling against the castle walls.

 

[Walder Black]

"I heard that last night they tried to assassinate Rhaella's youngest son," said Tyrion the Imp as he cut a sausage. "Then they tried to kidnap his betrothed." He chewed his food as he looked at his brothers with his mismatched eyes---one black and the other green.

Cersei drank a glass of wine, swirling it gently. Her full, pink lips glistened.

"A pity," she said without looking at anyone. 'A pity they didn't succeed.'

Cersei wore a revealing dress. Her skin was lightly tanned from the scorching Dornish sun. She had embraced the culture of her late husband, Oberyn Martell. Their union was a way for Tywin to further secure his hold on the throne. His granddaughter would be queen, and marrying Cersei to Elia's favorite brother was a way to solidify his position. The numerous trade agreements between Dorne and the West also contributed to this.

"A pity?" Tyrion said after swallowing the sausage. "I hear that Amory Lorch is in the black cells right now. He's the prime suspect in the kidnapping attempt. I wonder what he'll have to say." His sister seemed indifferent.

"Cersei?" Jaime said to her. Then he shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe it."

Jaime was dressed in elegant clothes befitting his position as heir to Casterly Rock. In another life, he would have worn a white cloak until his death. But in this life, he had been released from his vows after the loyalists won and Rhaegar replaced his father, Aerys, as king.

Jaime was the father of the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. His wife was Lysa Tully. She wasn't the prettiest or smartest, nor the best mother or wife, but... she was the one his father had chosen for him.

They rarely saw each other. Cersei was in Dorne, and Jaime was on the Rock, learning from his father.

"He won't talk," she said confidently. Although she still felt uneasy.

"Are you still upset because the princess rejected Joffrey?" Tyrion asked. "The boy enjoys whores as much as his father. I recall that he attempted to take the princess to his bed a few moons ago. He ended up with a broken lip. The girl has fire," he said between bites.

"That little minx doesn't deserve my son. But a Lannister always pays his debts."

Her father would have liked to see her married to a Lord Paramount, but there were none eligible at the time of her marriage. The only worthy candidate was Edmure Tully, who was now betrothed to a Frey. Given his young age and that the Lannisters were already married to a Tully, Tywin preferred to marry her to the prince Martell, with whom she had two children, Joffrey and Serena. Her mother intervened, wanting to unite her blood with that of her friend, Princess Deria Nymeros Martell, mother of Oberyn.

"And how do you plan to pay the debt now?" Jaime asked, not looking as amused as Tyrion or as indifferent as Cersei. "Must I remind you that my daughter will be queen, and I must ensure that she is? You cannot act as if you were on the Rock, doing as you please."

"Lorch will die in his cell before he speaks," Cersei replied, her nostrils flaring.

"It would be wise to consider how much gold you are willing to give," said Tyrion. "There are rumors that the boy will have a castle. Knowing the king, he won't give him anything important---probably an abandoned one. One that requires a lot of gold to rebuild." He smiled as he watched Cersei's rosy cheeks flush. "We Lannisters shit gold. I'm sure you can fill a cart with our shit," he said sarcastically.

"Disgusting," Cersei said, wrinkling her nose.

"And true," said Jaime. He was no longer the boy who dreamed of being a knight. He was a father now and the son of the most powerful lord in the kingdom. His father continued to educate him, even now in his adulthood. "I'll talk to Jaehaerys. I'll negotiate a price."

"That would be admitting we did it."

"You did," Tyrion corrected. "And the boy already knows it. In case you didn't realize, all that talk about the code was a trap. A good one," he said admiringly.

"You seem to like the boy. Is there anything you can tell me about him?" Jaime asked. Knowing the players was important; it was a lesson he had learned from his father.

"He's quite intelligent. More than me, I'd say," the Imp replied. Cersei snorted at his words but didn't intervene. "We had a little academic chat. There are a few things I enjoy more than good wine and a whore between my legs," he said unabashedly. It was just the three of them; the children were outside.

"Did you enjoy chatting with him so much?" Jaime asked, ignoring his sister's grimace.

"No," Tyrion replied, using a napkin to wipe his mouth. "But maybe three or four chats would even it out," he said, laughing softly.

"I'm not interested in the pleasure the boy gives you. Tell us what we can use against him," Cersei said. She didn't find the comparison so amusing.

"I thought years of spreading your legs for the Dornishmen would relax you," Tyrion sighed sadly.

"Watch your tongue, Imp," Cersei said, blushing as she looked at Jaime.

One of her husband's good qualities was his skill in bed, and the fact that he didn't care how many men came to her bed. Even a bastard would not be a reason for separation.

Oberyn had only warned her that, should she have a bastard, he would not give the child the Martell surname, just as he had not given it to any of his daughters. She had been tempted to return to Dorne pregnant. That was why she was concerned about Jaime's opinion. The blond man didn't even look at her as he laughed with Tyrion, which infuriated her.

"The boy is smart. Very smart. At least, academically speaking. From the way he managed to turn this situation to his advantage, he knows how to play the game," he said, washing down his food with sips of wine. "He'll probably ask for gold. But he may also ask for other things, such as craftsmen or carpenters to help him rebuild the castle." He paused. "I doubt he'll make it difficult for you or seek revenge. He's quite pragmatic."

"I know there's no love between him and Daenerys, but his wife was in danger last night," Jaime said.

"She wasn't. Not for a moment. The prince's men are seasoned warriors. Ser Barristan praised them. He singled out two of them, saying that he'd have trouble beating them: They have the skill of a Kingsguard. And the boy has his absolute loyalty." Ser Jaime's eyes widened. Although his priorities were no longer tournaments or fights, he was still passionate about them. He would never feel as good as he did with a sword in his hand.

"No loyalty is absolute," Cersei said.

"That's the wisest thing you've said all day, sister," the dwarf said mockingly. "Although I hope you're not planning to seduce one of them to make him your man," he continued, watching her face flush.

"I wouldn't do that, dwarf," the lioness denied angrily. Although the idea had crossed her mind.

"We don't want any more trouble, Cersei," said Jaime. He glanced at his younger brother. He seemed to understand and left, leaving them alone. "I can't clean up your mess forever," Jaime said. He sounded like Tywin Lannister. At least he had the decency not to scold her in front of Tyrion. "Listen. I don't care if your son was rejected. Believe me, if he asked for Joanna's hand, I'd refuse him, too." Joanna was her second daughter with Lysa, a beautiful girl with red hair and green eyes. "You have to control yourself. Trying to hurt a princess was stupid. What were you thinking?" His voice was a whisper.

"They were only supposed to scare her, nothing more," she said, her voice sounding hurt. In reality, she had asked them to rape and abandon her in Flea Bottom.

"I don't care. It won't happen again. You're not a child anymore. Have you thought about what they would do to your children if they found out about your involvement?" The woman's lips pressed into a thin line.

She felt the same way she did when her father called her out.

"Jaime," she said, her voice vulnerable and beautiful. "Please, you know I didn't mean to---"

"Take your hand away, Cersei. I decided long ago never to cross that line again," he said, pushing away her hand that was reaching for his crotch. "We're twins. I know exactly what you meant. Our father made a mistake teaching you how to be cruel, but not when to be cruel. Your stupidity will cost us gold, but it could have cost my daughter the crown if you had succeeded. I thank the gods you don't have the intelligence to achieve it." He was angry. Her attempt to seduce him to calm him down only annoyed him more. "I'll give him gold in the hope of appeasing him. But if I have to choose between my daughter and you..." He left the words hanging in the air.

'Damn coward,' she thought. 'I would have been a better choice for our father's heir,' she thought, but she didn't dare say those words.

"It won't happen again," Cersei said as she stood up. "Lord Lannister," she added, curtsying before leaving.

 

[Walder Black]

"Lord Jaime," the Prince of Scrolls greeted him. Jaime looked him up and down. If the rumors were true, then last night he had faced five assassins and won. Everyone thought he was nothing but ink and books. Everyone was wrong.

"Prince Jaehaerys," he said, bowing his head slightly to show respect, not submission. He was a lion of the Rock.

"I hear your wife is pregnant again. Congratulations," he said. Lysa had become pregnant in King's Landing, which surprised the blond man. It seemed that the capital acted as an aphrodisiac for her. "I hope she gives you the heir you desire." Up to that point, the Lannister had not had a son, only two beautiful daughters.

"I appreciate your wishes," the blond man said with a smile.

"I was on my way to the dungeons. I wanted to see the people who tried to kidnap my wife yesterday. They dropped a name: Amory Lorch." His purple eyes flashed. "Would you accompany me, my lord? I would feel safer with a former king's guard at my side."

Jaime tensed. He wasn't stupid enough to think the prince didn't know who Ser Lorch answered to.

Still, the prince seemed to be offering him a way out, which would make everything easier.

"I'd love to. I've heard you wouldn't have any trouble."

They both began to walk, exchanging compliments.

The conversation was pleasant. Few would have expected it from a scholar and a swordsman. But they understood each other well.

Jaime would always prefer a sword, but he knew it wouldn't solve all his problems. Jaehaerys preferred to solve problems with his mind, but he knew that sometimes steel was needed to fulfill his duty.

"Ser Amory Lorch. I should have brought bread. I forgot," the prince said. The man was looking up at the prince from the ground. He was in terrible condition, bleeding from everywhere.

One of his eyes was closed, surrounded by a purple stain.

"Your Grace, there was a misunderstanding," he began.

"Torrhen. Cover his mouth," he ordered one of his men.

The former royal guard tried to protest through his tears. No one heard him.

"Did he say something?" Despite the pleasant conversation, Jaime remained uneasy.

"Perhaps, but I can't quite remember," the prince began. "My mind has been preoccupied with developing my new lands. The king will give me gold, but I fear it won't be enough." His eyes never left the man on the floor.

"Gold, eh?" Jaime asked. "The Lannister house has a little," he said with false humility.

"I couldn't ask you..." He tried to refuse halfheartedly. Jaime had to admit that the prince was a bad actor. At least he was on this occasion. Jaime could read his desires easily. 'Maybe he knows I can't refuse,' he thought.

"My daughter will marry your nephew," he said, alluding to family. "As long as you maintain a strong castle, my grandchildren's reign will be more stable." Jaime wanted to negotiate and leave. He wanted to spend more time with his eldest daughter, but he would soon have to return to the Rock.

"That would certainly ease my fiancée's concerns. She has trouble sleeping, fearing that they will come for her again," he said. It was true; Daenerys had woken him before sunrise. She hadn't slept a wink all night. Only after chatting for a while did she manage to fall asleep in his room. "She'll be glad to know that the castle where she sleeps is safe," he said calmly.

"May I ask what fiefdom you will get?" Jaime didn't think this would come cheap.

"Harrenhal," said the prince.

Jaime held back the "shit" that wanted to come to his lips.

"I will send half a million gold dragons in the hope that it will ease the princess's concerns." He wasn't going to offer too little. No matter how upset he was with Cersei, she was his sister, and he loved her. Besides, his daughter's crown could be affected. "You'll need craftsmen, carpenters, and blacksmiths. I will send a few," he added.

"That's quite generous." Jaehaerys had hoped to get two hundred thousand gold dragons. 'The Lannisters shit gold,' as they usually said. The fact that Jaime was willing to hand over that amount in one go spoke volumes. The men were also a surprise, but he would have to keep an eye on them. He didn't want spies on his land. He could have negotiated a higher price, but he didn't want to sour relations with the Lannisters.

"I remember now... Ser Amory confessed to desiring the princess and ordering her kidnapping. It was a repugnant crime, don't you think, Lord Jaime?" he asked.

"A horrible crime," Jaime replied. He had no love for the man in front of him. Losing a Lannister in the capital would be annoying, but this one was more loyal to his sister than to anyone else.

'She probably bewitched him, letting him taste the sweetness between her legs,' Jaime thought with disdain. His sister had been wilder since marrying Oberyn.

"What do you think would be an appropriate punishment? I was thinking about the Wall." The knight's eyes sparkled with hope. Jaime understood; the prince was giving him the opportunity to save the man's life.

"That's quite kind," said the blond man. The man seemed ready to throw himself at his feet and kiss them. "But attempting to harm the royal family is a crime punishable by death." He watched hope leave Lorch's eyes. 'I wouldn't spend a gold dragon on an idiot.'

"Torrhen," the lord and the prince said, turning to leave the dungeons. They heard muffled moans and the familiar sound of steel being drawn from a sheath. Then, a thud like a deer falling to the ground.

"I have a visit to make. I'm sorry I can't accompany you, my lord," the prince said.

"I know the way, my prince. I hope that you can visit my family's castle in the future." He extended his hand, and the white-haired man took it. Jaime noticed ink stains on his fingers.

"I hope I have the opportunity. When I transform Harrenhal into a castle worthy of its name, I will extend an invitation to you."

"I'll be waiting," he said. With that, they both left for different places.

Jaehaerys walked to a cell where he found a man with hair as dark as coal and a silver streak. He was of Valyrian descent. He was an attractive man, almost on par with the royal family.

"Prince," he said, sounding anything but worried. "I heard you almost died."

"Unfounded rumors," he replied gracefully. "Your men didn't come close to touching me," he continued.

"They weren't my men. They weren't following my orders." He wasn't defending himself or begging for forgiveness or mercy.

"You don't seem worried."

"I trust my sword."

"So did the five men," the prince replied.

"Five men together don't make a Darkstar." He was an arrogant man.

"A title you give yourself doesn't make you a warrior." The man's smile faltered. "A trial by combat, then?" he asked.

"Yes. I will challenge Arthur. I will bring the sunset to the Sword of the Morning," he said devotedly.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you. You won't fight him. It will be my hands that take your life." He turned to leave.

"Make sure you don't die at the hands of Daemon. I'd have no choice but to comfort little Daenerys." Jaehaerys gritted his teeth, but didn't stop walking, even with the laughter that followed that comment. He was a patient man.

"Could you ask them to send Rhaenys? It would be good to have her motivate me before a battle. It wouldn't be the first time." Jaehaerys raised an eyebrow, but continued walking. Most of King's Landing believed that there was a forbidden romance between him and his niece. This was just because they used to play together when they were children.

'I have enough funding,' he thought, ignoring the man. He would kill him later. Perhaps it was arrogant of him, but he wasn't worried about duels at all. He was faster and stronger than anyone he had ever met. Maybe only the Mountain could match his strength, given that he was said to wield a broadsword with one hand and split men in two with a single blow.

He didn't like fighting. Had Gerold attacked any other member of the royal family, he would have let Ser Barristan or Arthur deal with him. Still, Gerold had allegedly attacked him. Allegedly. He looked more like a peacemaker. Viserys was the real culprit, but even that didn't feel quite right. He didn't want to believe that his brother would stoop so low.

His head began to ache as usual. He wanted to find some good wine and sleep with Ros. But he didn't want to disrespect his future wife. She already had enough on her plate with being forced to marry a man she didn't love, so she shouldn't have to worry about him cheating on her before the wedding.

'Just wine will suffice for now.'

 

[Walder Black]

The king had decided that the duel between the princes would take place the day after the joust. This meant that it could be extended or brought forward from the initial date. Jaehaerys arrived at the stands. He greeted all the nobles he passed with a polite bow.

Rumors spread like wildfire. Many lords viewed him differently after learning how he had defended himself against the mercenaries. Jaehaerys felt disgusted. They admired him for his killing ability. He didn't have a problem with killing. He had killed more than one bandit in the north. But to admire him for that? It made him feel sick.

He sat in the royal box. Only Targaryens and their relatives, as well as members of the small council, were present.

He looked at Prince Oberyn Martell with his dark hair and matching eyes. He was thin and tall with a blonde woman at his side---his wife, Cersei. She was as beautiful as they said she was. Still, she looked like a girl with leprosy compared to Daenerys.

"I'm sorry I wasn't at the small council. I had other needs," the Dornish prince said. He did not introduce himself; he didn't need to.

The prince looked at a figure like a diamond drawn on the Dornishman's forehead.

"The matter was resolved without incident. Gerold Dayne's trial will be soon," he said politely.

"And the other matter, the traitor Ser Lorch?" The prince suddenly seemed more dangerous, like a snake baring its fangs.

"The king allowed me to deal with it in my own way," he said, not giving many details.

"And Ser Lorch?"

"Somewhere in the ocean," he said simply. He looked at the woman next to the prince, who looked at him with a grin.

Jaehaerys was not a vengeful man. But he couldn't let that woman think she could attack his betrothed and just carry on as if nothing had happened. He wouldn't move against Cersei just yet. However, opportunities arise, and he is an expert at capitalizing on them.

"Ah, my beautiful wife, Cersei Nymeros Martell," the prince said as he took her hand and kissed it. The blonde smiled. There was a trace of affection between them.

"Your beauty does not do justice to the rumors, princess. If the Targaryens didn't exist, I would have proclaimed you one of the most beautiful women in the Seven Kingdoms," he said. Looking at her smiling face, he tried to hide his anger.

She earned the title of princess through her marriage to Prince Oberyn. However, it did not carry much weight outside of Dorne.

"I am flattered, my prince," she said, ignoring his comment, allowing him to kiss her hand. Cersei held her breath as she watched the tall prince extend his hand. A primal desire arose within her. Prince Oberyn was not much different.

Jaehaerys ended up shaking her hand. Cersei shifted uncomfortably, insulted.

"It seems my betrothed is calling me. I hope we can meet later," he said, bidding her farewell.

"I would like to see the weapon everyone talks about," said Prince Oberyn. His eyes narrowed, a hint of anger in them. His mood went from lustful to offended in seconds.

"I'll be happy to show it to you," he said.

'He's dangerous,' he thought about Oberyn. He seemed more dangerous than Daemon and Gerold combined.

"Daenerys," he greeted the girl who looked at him. "Brandon." That was one of his guards. He had left him with Daenerys to ensure her safety.

She seemed torn between smiling at him and ignoring him. She didn't know how to behave in public around him. She had accepted that the idea of marriage didn't displease her. Her mother's words about her infatuation with her nephew had also made an impression on her.

"Jaehaerys," she greeted him. Finally, a tender smile appeared on her lips, unintentionally. It disappeared as soon as she heard a snort behind her.

"Daemon!" Queen Lyanna scolded her son. He rolled his eyes, but stopped causing trouble.

"I hope you slept better, princess," he said. The girl nodded.

"I did," she said. 'Knowing you're close calms me,' she thought, too embarrassed to say it out loud. Her face flushed at the thought. "I also enjoyed the books you lent me. I'm embarrassed to say, though, that I have some questions. There are some things I didn't quite understand," she said, feeling Daemon's eyes on the back of her neck. She wondered whether she should say anything at all. She really enjoyed talking to Jaehaerys.

"I'll be happy to answer," said the prince.

"The tournament is about to begin," they heard the Master of Coins say. "Perhaps you'd like to place a bet, my prince?" His smile was sharp and unpleasant.

"I'm not very knowledgeable about tournaments, Lord Baelish," he said, declining.

"Ah, yes. You grew up in the North. I sometimes forget," the little man said with a smile. "I was friends with Catelyn Stark when we were children. Perhaps she mentioned me?" he asked, wanting to strike up a conversation.

"I remember her once speaking of a foolish, weak young man who tried to win her hand from Brandon Stark." His words were more poisonous than he intended. He felt he had to be on guard with the man. They heard Viserys stifle a laugh.

"I did. I have an ugly reminder of that day. Thanks to Catelyn's mercy, I'm still alive." If Baelish took the comment badly, he didn't show it.

The trumpets announced the start of the joust. Crown Prince Aegon stood up and gave an opening speech. Jaehaerys paid no attention beyond the moment he was mentioned, raising his hand when he received an ovation from the audience.

A figure among the participants caught his attention.

"The Mountain," he muttered. Daenerys, sitting beside him, wrinkled her nose.

"I don't like him," she said. He always looked at her too much, as if she were a piece of juicy meat.

He wondered if Gregor's strength was superior to his. "I'm curious to see how strong he is."

The first joust was between Sir Arthur and a knight from a lesser house. The knight broke three of the royal guard's lances before being thrown from his horse. Ser Arthur, Ser Loras, and Ser Barristan seemed to be the favorites. There were others, such as the Clegane brothers and some knights from the Valley. Prince Daemon would have normally participated, but he did not want to take any chances, given his upcoming duel. He took the rumors seriously.

The clashes continued. Ser Arthur swept past his rivals. The Hound unhorsed Ser Barristan after breaking eight lances. Soon, Loras was facing the Mountain. The next duel would be between Ser Arthur and the Hound.

"Princess Daenerys, not in a thousand lifetimes would I be worthy to stand before your beauty," said Loras in a chivalrous voice. The princess smiled demurely. "Would you grant me the honor of carrying your favor?" he asked, raising his lance.

Normally, Loras would ask his sister for the favor, but this time, he asked the princess.

Daenerys looked at her betrothed, the question in her eyes. He nodded, knowing the sodomitic nature of the man. Besides, everyone knew he was being considered for the white robe. It wasn't inappropriate. Jaehaerys nodded. Out of the corner of his eye, Jaehaerys saw Daemon grit his teeth as Daenerys tied a ribbon to the tip of her spear.

"I wish you the best of luck, Ser Loras," the princess said before returning to her seat.

Both competitors took their places at opposite ends and prepared themselves.

"It seems Sir Gregor is having difficulty controlling his horse," said Aegon's wife, Princess Myrcella.

"Loras is riding a mare in heat. Dishonest, but clever," said Petyr Baelish.

Daenerys's lips formed a soft line. She had given her favor out of obligation. It would have been disrespectful to deny him in front of all the nobles when he asked. Now, seeing him use a dishonest tactic, she regretted it. She accidentally looked at her betrothed, perhaps hoping he had said no when she asked him.

The knights broke the first lance. Gregor managed to stay in his saddle by a hair. On the second, he wasn't so lucky and was thrown from his horse.

"Sword!" he roared at his squire.

With one blow, the horse's head fell. Jaehaerys was a bit surprised. But he could do the same. He had once decapitated a bear with an axe.

"Why?" he heard his betrothed ask. She seemed angry about the horse's death.

Amid the crowd's cries, Ser Loras gloated. He did not look at the approaching mountain behind him. Dozens of screams made him turn just in time to block a sword blow with his shield. The wood shattered on impact, and he fell to the ground.

Seeing Ser Gregor's raised sword, ready to deliver the final blow, Jaehaerys grabbed with one hand an empty chair by one of its legs and threw it with all his might. It flew through the air about thirty yards before hitting the Mountain in the back of the neck. The blow knocked Ser Gregor off balance, almost causing him to fall, allowing Ser Loras to escape.

'That blow would have knocked out most men,' Jaehaerys thought, surprised.

"Stop this in the name of the king," roared Prince Aegon, his face stoic despite his shouting, showing no agitation. "Good father," he said, looking at Jaime.

"I'll take care of him," said the Golden Lion.

Both competitors looked at the box.

'Gregor seems to want to rip my head off. And Loras... Why are you looking at me like that?' the prince thought with concern.

Jaehaerys ignored everyone's stares as he left the stands. The whole situation was giving him a headache.

'Maybe I need a stronger drink. Whisky. I wonder how it's made.'

 

[Walder Black]

He emptied another cup of wine. His headache subsided as more alcohol reached his bloodstream. Every so often, the pain increased. Certain situations or people brought it on: certain names, phrases, and houses. No matter what he did, the pain never went away.

Alcohol didn't take the pain away; it just made it easier to ignore. He had tried painkillers, but only poppies worked.

"It wouldn't be a good idea to fight tomorrow with a hangover," he heard a velvety voice say beside him.

"I'll take the risk. Rhaenys," he said, looking at the newcomer.

She walked over to him, took a silver cup, and poured wine from the jug. The wine flowed, filling the cup.

"There are rumors about you, one man against five," she said. Her violet eyes had tiny brown flecks.

"They're true," he said.

"Oh, I believe they are. The Mountain saw it for himself." Throwing a wooden chair thirty yards was something few could do. Even then, the chair only stopped because it hit Ser Gregor.

The crowd in the box continued to discuss the prince's strength.

"Perhaps I'll let myself get carried away," the man said.

She let out a charming giggle. Jaehaerys felt her hand caress his thigh.

"Don't you want to show me what else you can do with your body?" she asked. Under other circumstances, the prince would have accepted without hesitation. But he was betrothed to someone and was inside the Red Fortress, where the slightest indiscretion would reach the king's ears.

"You'll see tomorrow when I fight Daemon," he said, subtly removing her hand.

Rhaenys clenched her teeth as she forced a smile. It was fake, but to anyone else, it could have passed for a genuine, beautiful smile.

"It promises to be interesting," she said, not mentioning his refusal but continuing to talk. "You're fighting for Daenerys."

"It's Daemon who's looking for a fight," he said, hastily finishing his wine.

"I always thought I would marry you," she said contemplatively. "I dreamed of it since I was a little girl, and now... you're marrying someone else." Her voice sounded bitter as she directed the reproach toward him.

"Did you think of me when you were with Gerold?" the prince asked.

Rhaenys was silent for a long moment. Her eyes widened in confusion. She and Gerold had shared a dance, and afterwards, he had stolen a kiss from her. She remembered vomiting afterwards.

"He asked you to come to his cell. He wanted motivation to fight me afterwards," the prince said, leaving her to return to the box. He regretted that the alcohol was still affecting his speech. But he hadn't said anything he hadn't thought before.

To him, his niece's love life or sex life was irrelevant. He understood the hidden meaning in the girl's words: "Can't you fight for me?" She seemed to want to shout at him. He couldn't find the strength to tell her that she wouldn't come with Harrenhal and the lands. It was better to pretend that he cared about her sleeping with Darkstar. That should stop her.

"My thanks, Prince Jaehaerys," he heard a lilting voice say before returning to his seat next to Daenerys.

He looked at his betrothed. Daemon now occupied the seat to her left. Not too close. Brandon had his eyes on both Daenerys and her nephew. She was uncomfortable, and he could tell by her body language. It was the same as when they had shared a dance.

"You have nothing to worry about, Lady Tyrell," he said.

His brother Viserys's betrothed was beautiful. She had brown hair that fell in waves over her shoulders. Her skin was white, and her eyes were almond-shaped. She wore a red dress that revealed just enough of her cleavage to avoid being vulgar.

"Still, I am grateful," she said, nodding at his words. He added nothing more. "My brother is very dear to me, and you saved his life," Margaery continued.

"You exaggerate," he said carefully. "Anyone would have intervened."

"There were knights closer by, but you intervened," she continued gratefully. "Viserys seems to be waiting for me. I hope we can continue this conversation in a less crowded place," she said, curtsying slightly before walking toward Viserys.

'Continue what?' thought Jaehaerys. He watched as Daemon stood up and extended a hand to Daenerys; he intended her to follow him. Daenerys seemed unsure of what to do. Jaehaerys considered approaching and intervening, but he was curious about his sister's actions.

She shook her head. Lyanna's son's face darkened. With the grace of an angry lion, he withdrew. Their eyes met, and Jaehaerys could see pure hatred in his.

He walked through the box, ignoring the whispers directed at him, and sat down next to Daenerys. He caught Aegon looking at him with an inquisitive expression, as if analyzing him.

"He looked angry," he said to his sister, ignoring the heir.

"He's furious," she whispered. It was barely audible among the voices of the crowd. He looked at her, her eyes filling with tears.

He took her hand in comfort. She shuddered, but did not pull away. His fingers traced circles on the back of her hand.

Back at the tournament, Ser Loras waited for the joust between Dayne and Clegane to end.

The Hound and the Sword of the Morning broke eight lances before the king's guard emerged victorious.

The final was between Ser Arthur and Ser Loras: Two skilled knights, separated by nearly two decades in age. The murmurs grew louder, and people began to place bets.

To the surprise of many, the joust was quick.

Loras's first lance struck Arthur squarely in the chest. Screams from the ladies filled the arena.

Ser Arthur could barely stay on his horse. His back hit the horse's hindquarters. But he managed to stay on.

One more lance, and Arthur passed Loras's shield and struck him in the side. The young man was not so lucky, falling from his horse with a thud.

The crowd applauded, including Loras. He accepted his defeat gracefully and praised Ser Arthur. The maidens sighed his name. The king's guard rode up to a box where he found his niece.

Lady Lyarra Dayne was named queen of love and beauty. Her name gave a clue as to who her father was. Jaehaerys looked at the Lady. She was accompanied by another woman who seemed older but was just as beautiful. It was her mother, Ashara Dayne.

Many whispered that it was either Brandon or Eddard. Some even dared to say that they were both responsible for sleeping with her at Harrenhal. Ashara kept her mouth closed. Elia requested that Rhaegar legitimize her as a Dayne, even though she had no right to Starfall.

The girl was just as beautiful as her mother. Her eyes were different colors: one purple and one gray. Each eye had a little of the other's color. The girl received equal parts praise and ridicule. Despite her origins, nobles fought for her hand just as they had once fought for her mother's.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Daenerys asked.

"She is," he replied sincerely. "If the Targaryens didn't exist, she would be the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms," which seemed to please her a little.

Although he wasn't completely honest. Lady Dayne's beauty was more seductive. Whereas the Targaryens were closer to a perfect appearance. They weren't the same, and he would have a hard time choosing between them.

"Daemon always stares at her. There are even rumors that he slept with her." Jaehaerys was surprised by this. "Would you sleep with her?" she asked. Her eyes were still sad. He could tell she felt insecure.

"I'm promised to you. I don't love you, but I won't dishonor you," he said. What he didn't admit was that before he knew about the engagement, his eyes had been on the Dornish girl. She would be the second of Eddard's daughters he slept with.

"What if I said it was okay for you to sleep with any woman? Would you sleep with her?" Those words sounded strange. Jaehaerys didn't understand her game.

"The idea seems to bother you, so no," he answered, but his answer did not appease her. But it didn't worsen her mood, either.

"We'll see," she said.

"See what?" Women were complicated beings.

"Make sure you win tomorrow," she said, squeezing his hand, words he never thought would come out of her mouth.

He shook his head as he walked her back to her room. People had begun to return to the castle for the banquet.

'You lose before the fight, Daemon?'

 

[Walder Black]

"Have you placed your bets, Prince Viserys?" Littlefinger's high-pitched voice distracted him.

They were back in the stands.

The field used for the joust the day before would be used for the duel of honor between the two princes for the princess's hand.

"I won't bet against my brother or my nephew," Viserys said. He had a certain moral code about that.

"Oh, I'm sure your whole family doesn't feel the same way," the man said.

"Did someone place a bet?" he asked curiously.

"Princess Daenerys bet," Littlefinger said.

Viserys started feeling bad when he heard that.

In the distance, he looked at his sister. She was sitting next to their mother. He wanted to go over and sit next to her. But he had to stay close to his "rose" for appearances' sake. The girl did not arouse any desire in him. Unlike his sister, whom he had watched grow up since she was a little girl.

He still remembered when they were young and he read her stories about her family, about their pride. He told her about dragons. He had always thought they would get married.

Then she started spending time with Daemon. They were close in age, which caused them to form a stronger bond. Over the years, that bond turned them into lovers.

Viserys's hands dug into the arms of the chair.

He could feel the king slowly putting obstacles in his way. Someone was trying to pit him against his brother. The circumstances were in their favor.

Viserys had no idea who ordered his brother's murder. Supposedly, it was Gerold, and everyone believed he was behind it. Viserys regretted ever befriending Gerold. Now, everyone believed Gerold to be a bloodthirsty killer, although they didn't dare say so for lack of proof.

He felt a burning hatred when Daenerys's hand was promised to Jaehaerys while he had to settle for the farmers'.

But he would never kill his brother. It hurt him deeply that his entire family believed that lie. Little by little, he felt more and more isolated. The oppression in King's Landing seemed like a noose tightening around his neck. He still didn't know who was tying the knot.

"Betting on Daemon will only cause her trouble if Jaehaerys wins," he said. Deep down, he knew Jaehaerys would win. And that terrified him. He believed that Daenerys could come to love him in a way that she never loved Daemon. He could see her affection for her nephew, but it was usually devoid of desire or passion---just youthful infatuation.

But with Jaehaerys... he remembered the dance they had shared. Despite her reluctance, his sister's eyes didn't lie.

"I'm not betting on Daemon," Littlefinger said, leaning closer as if about to reveal a great secret. Viserys leaned toward him. "She bet on Jaehaerys. Five thousand gold dragons."

"What?" It was an absurd amount. Normally, they wouldn't have let that bet into the betting house, which was run by Littlefinger.

"She bet against Myrcella Lannister. Apparently, they had a heated argument yesterday," the man said.

Viserys swallowed. His sister was already starting to fall in love with Jaehaerys. How long did it take? Three or four days. Viserys achieved nothing in years.

He always felt inadequate. He was a Targaryen, well educated; he knew how to wield a sword. He was handsome and tall.

But he didn't excel at anything. He wasn't the best warrior---that was Daemon. He wasn't the most learned, either; that was Jaehaerys. He wasn't the most charismatic, either; Aegon, even with his stoic face, was able to win over the lords. He wasn't the most handsome, not even close. The maidens used to whisper about Aegon and Daemon, although lately, they had added Jaehaerys to the list.

Viserys was not usually part of those discussions. He knew he was handsome compared to the low-born lords without dragon blood. But within his family, he was average.

Too average. This embittered him, leading him to turn to whores and alcohol. He cursed his birth. He deserved better.

"Ah, it looks like it's about to begin," said Baelish.

Jaehaerys looked at the stands. Hundreds of lords stared at them like animals on display. The king and the entire royal family were present. Their expressions ranged from neutral to encouraging.

He noticed the smile on his mother's face. He also noticed how Daenerys's brow was furrowed with concern. Last night, after the banquet, they had shared an intimate moment in her chambers. They didn't sleep together; they didn't even kiss. She simply asked him about a book she had read. He took his time explaining it to her and found her to be a dedicated student.

He looked at his opponent.

Daemon wore black armor. A dragon was carved on the front, and a wolf was carved on the shoulder pads. His helmet was simple yet imposing. It was a magnificent piece. The prince held a steel shield with a white dragon carved on it. This was very different than him: Jaehaerys wore leather armor. He had chosen agility over defense.

He had his reasons.

Daemon held a one-and-a-half-handed sword. A dragon was carved into the pommel, its wings forming the guard. Its black blade was shiny with characteristic waves.

Rhaegar had retrieved Dark Sister from the Wall where Aemon had kept it after Bloodraven took it with him to the Night's Watch.

Maester Aemon sent it, saying that Daemon had proven himself more than capable of wielding it. The old maester wanted to give it to Jaehaerys, but the latter showed no signs of being a warrior.

He wondered if Rhaegar would get the sword back before banishing his son to the North.

"An iron stick?" asked the rogue prince with a smile. "And you won't wear armor? I can wait for you to tie some books to your body for protection," he said sarcastically.

"Daenerys doesn't like steel. She said I'm more handsome without wearing a helmet," he said, trying to provoke him.

And it worked. The mocking smile on his face turned sour.

"It's good that you enjoyed her. I know firsthand how tight she is," he replied vulgarly. There seemed to be a hint of contempt in his voice when he spoke of her.

She had told him that she was a virgin. He hadn't doubted her.

"I know you're lying. The blood on the sheets is proof enough." Looking at Daemon's angry face told him that Daenerys wasn't lying about her purity. He would apologize to her later. It wasn't polite to talk about a woman that way. Fortunately, there was no one around who could hear them.

"Can we begin?" Daemon couldn't stand it any longer. His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword.

"Today, under the watchful gaze of the gods, we gather to witness the battle of wills between two men. A duel for the hand of Princess Daenerys, whose beauty surpasses all the gold in Westeros," said King Rhaegar.

"A man's honor is as strong as the weapon he wields. My brother and my son have brought this dispute to me, and they have decided that the winner of the duel will be worthy of my sister's hand. Let it be known that their fight is not for possession, but to prove themselves worthy husbands to Princess Daenerys. The loser's fate will be exile to Essos."

Jaehaerys turned to look at him.

"Daemon's exile will be to the North, as agreed," he interrupted. He would regret it later.

May the gods curse him for contradicting the king in front of everyone. But he would not cause his mother's worried face.

"It is true. Prince Jaehaerys's exile will be in Essos, while Daemon's will be in the North, alongside the Starks." He gave his wife, Lyanna, a kind look. She was pale but forced a smile.

Princess Visenya stood beside her, casting angry glances at Jaehaerys.

The king's gaze returned to Jaehaerys, showing nothing. But he could see the sparks of anger in his purple eyes.

"With the gods as witnesses, begin!" he ordered, taking his seat.

 

[Walder Black]

Jaehaerys watched his opponent lunge forward. Daemon didn't ask if he was ready. His sword traced a fine arc. The sound of steel reverberated across the sand. The staff stopped the blow. The blow was powerful, but it barely moved him.

He had chosen the full staff over the staff divided into three sections. It wasn't that the staff wasn't lethal, but it was more controllable, which meant fewer chances of killing his nephew. It was a weapon nearly seven feet tall and weighing nearly forty-five pounds. Useless to anyone but him. Its rough surface allowed for a good grip. The black steel glinted with purple specks in the midday sun.

The black-haired man took a step back, and Jaehaerys wasted no time. With one blow of his weapon, he bent the shield in his opponent's hands, who, his eyes wide with surprise, took steps backward while shifting his focus. Now he looked with more respect at the weapon in his hands.

'Fuck.' He almost broke Daemon's hand.

The Prince of Scrolls let his hands run along the staff. He found a small notch.

'Valyrian steel is amazing,' he thought. The weapon had been struck before, but it had never been damaged.

Both men circled each other. The seconds seemed to drag on. Jaehaerys knew that a blow from the sword would be devastating. And his opponent was also afraid of the staff.

"Are you going to run away the whole time?" asked the white-haired prince.

"I could ask you the same thing," the rogue prince replied.

"You're the one who challenged me," he said, looking through Daemon's visor as his eyes hardened at his words.

Daemon approached, made the same strike as before, but changed direction at the last moment. The vertical strike became horizontal.

He took a step back to dodge it. He heard the air buzz as it was cut. He maneuvered his staff to hit him on the shoulder with one of its ends. The blow was dodged, unfortunately for him.

'Should I just throw myself at him?' he wondered. He dismissed the idea immediately. One bad blow and his nephew's brains would be scattered across the ground.

For a moment, he even thought about dropping the staff and punching him. But that would be too humiliating for his nephew.

He threw powerful but slow blows, hoping his nephew would lose his balance while dodging. But Daemon's stance was impeccable.

The duel progressed slowly. The spectators watched from the edge of their seats. It seemed even, but slow. Only the knights knew that one blow would be enough to end it all.

When Jaehaerys took the initiative, his opponent's shield was shattered, leaving him unprotected.

When Daemon moved to dodge a blow, he watched the staff strike the ground. Pieces of earth broke off.

The rogue prince looked at his opponent. He had tried everything, cuts from all angles, feints, and he even hit him with his shield.

Jaehaerys was like a rock. His blows never reached him. It quickly became a duel of attrition, one he was losing. Beads of sweat dripped down his face. He discarded his shield. It was so mangled it was barely useful. His hand was numb from the blows. His uncle struck like Ser Gregor. And Daemon had already defeated the Mountain.

It wouldn't be any different now. He looked at his face. The typical Valyrian features, unlike him, who was painted with Northern colors. His uncle's eyes were cold. And a feeling of unease would not leave his chest.

'He's holding back,' he thought.

He wanted to win. No, he needed to win.

Not for Daenerys. The sweet girl no longer looked at him or spoke to him the same way. It hurt to think about it, but she loved his brother, or at least she was starting to. She had begun to read and study with him. Couldn't she see what everyone else saw? Those weren't characteristics a princess should have. At least, they weren't the characteristics he wanted in a wife.

The need to win was only to heal his pride.

He pushed the girl out of his mind. He would deal with her later.

He took the bastard sword in both hands. He had to finish quickly. He lunged, not hastily, but with calculation. His sword struck the staff, sending sparks flying. He didn't strike hard; the recoil would be counterproductive. The steel danced as his uncle covered himself. He tried to aim for the hands holding the staff, but they always managed to dodge him.

'There it is.' Throughout the fight, he had noticed a mistake his uncle made. When he raised the staff above his head to strike him, his right foot was on its toes, affecting his balance.

Taking a risk, he slashed at Jaehaerys' left foot, forcing him to move. He watched him fall backwards. 'You're mine,' he thought, striking him again, aiming for his head. He would finish him off.

His uncle's eyes were indifferent.

'Did he let himself fall?' Soon, the sky was in front of the Rogue Prince's eyes.

As he let himself fall, Jaehaerys threw his staff aside, finding his nephew's sword in its path and deflecting it. He braced his hands on the ground as he swept his feet. His nephew's skill was incredible, but insufficient. He knocked his nephew down, grimacing when he hit the steel of the armor.

His nephew fell to the ground. With agility, Jaehaerys got up. With his feet, he picked up his staff and placed it on Daemon's chest.

Everyone remained silent.

"Surrender," he said. Not asking, ordering. He was not happy. Daemon's last blow was intended to split his head open. He had restrained himself; he could have easily broken his legs, but he did not want to be cruel. In this backward world, a broken bone could kill him.

'The stigma of a Kinslayer cannot be washed away,' he thought to calm himself.

He looked at the sword in Daemon's arm. Daemon moved, not to let go, but to launch one last desperate attack.

His leg held the arm in place. He pressed hard; a bit more, and he would break his arm. Daemon stifled a cry as the armor deformed around his arm.

"Are you so proud? Huh?" he asked. "Will you wish me to break your arms? I've held back long enough. I wouldn't mind honoring your wish." He twisted his foot, causing the rogue prince to grit his teeth.

"I surrender," he said finally.

Jaehaerys stepped back. He turned his back on him, secretly hoping that his nephew would want to play dirty. He gripped his staff tightly. The sun was behind him, so the shadows were cast in front of him. They would warn him if Daemon decided to make one last act of cowardice.

The blow did not come. It seemed that there was some honor left in Daemon.

"He made me sweat a little," he thought. It had been a long time since any opponent had done that.

The crowd's cries were immediate. Everyone looked at Daemon lying on the ground, staring at the sky. His grip on his sword did not loosen. Several minutes passed before he got up on his own.

He walked among the mocking glances. He was not well-liked, only feared for his martial skills.

Apart from his wrist, he was uninjured, except for a few bruises. He had lost, even though his opponent had held back.

He felt terrible. It wasn't just the defeat. It hurt knowing that he had wanted to kill his opponent and that his uncle had held back. He walked through the castle in his armor. His chambers would be his refuge.

Only when he arrived did he ask for a cold bath, or the closest thing to cold water that could be found. The maids made sure to prepare it. He took off his armor himself.

"I'll bathe myself," he said. His voice cut through the air, and the maids didn't dare to object.

He submerged himself in the water. The cold was welcome to his body. He wondered how cold Winterfell would be, considering that it would be his next destination.

It hurt. Not his body. Daenerys hurt him, not because she had been taken from him, but because she had chosen to leave. It hurt to lose. It hurt that his rival hadn't even fought seriously. He felt anger at the pity his uncle had shown him.

He didn't let the tears fall, even though his eyes stung. The silver whore and her stupid Prince of Scrolls didn't deserve them. He didn't scream or cry.

He just let the hatred simmer.

 

[Walder Black]

Later that night, his mother found him. Jaehaerys spent the hours after the fight in his quarters. He worked on whisky. He wanted to produce a purer liquor. He was writing down his knowledge of microbiology and chemistry. He would have loved to recreate tequila, but he had never heard of the agave plant in Planetos.

"That vision of you seems more like you," she said as soon as she saw him.

"Thank you. I enjoyed it more, too," he said, putting his pen aside.

His mother approached and carefully took the strange object.

"Another one of your inventions?" she asked.

"Yes, but I just need to change the ink periodically. It's more useful than dipping a quill every twenty words," he continued.

"Would you be willing to give one to your wise mother?"

"You can have it." He smiled. "This box contains cartridges," he said, showing her some thin glass tubes. There was wax at both ends and ink inside. "When the ink runs out, you have to change them. Remove the wax and put it together like this," he said, showing her how to take the pen apart. It was an invention that lightened his workload.

"I've never seen such small Myrian glass," she said, admiring the small device. It was delicate and difficult to produce.

"It doesn't come from Myr," he said. His mother's eyes widened. She nodded at his words.

"Knowledge is dangerous," she said, looking worried. "I don't want anyone to hurt you."

"The last time you thought they would hurt me was before the duel," he said calmly. "I can defend myself."

"And Dany?" she asked. "Can you promise me you'll protect her?"

"With my life, Mother. I'll protect her with my life," he said, taking her hand in his.

Soon, he found himself in his mother's warm embrace. She hugged him tightly. He knew she was worried, but he didn't know how much. Seeing him fight in a duel must have upset her, especially against a skilled opponent with a Valyrian steel weapon.

"The wedding is in two weeks, my children," she said, caressing his face. "I missed so much of your life," she said regretfully.

"When Harrenhal is repaired, I will build chambers for you. They will be fit for a queen." He kissed her hand.

"You still want to go to Harrenhal? I don't know what nonsense is going through your head," she said, walking away. Now, she was upset. "It's cursed and barely habitable," she said in a low voice. "Stay at King's Landing. There are hundreds of lords who hardly ever set foot in their castles. You can join the small council and live here."

"Why do you always doubt me, Mother?" he asked. Pain tinged his voice. "Haven't I already proven what I'm capable of?"

"The last time I saw you, you were eight. Now you're back as an adult. But I can't forget the image of the child who held my hand as we walked through the gardens. I only knew about you through your letters and Varys's reports." Her eyes filled with tears.

"It's not fair, Mother. But I'm not a child anymore. I'm going to make Harrenhal a great place. Mine will replace the name of Harren the Black. History books will mention me first when discussing the castle. They'll talk about the city around it, too. I'll make you proud," he said in a low, raspy voice.

"Don't talk nonsense. I'm proud of you. Whenever Varys talked about your studies, I felt like my little prince was growing into a strong and kind man," she said, smiling at the memory. "You don't have to prove anything to me."

"I want to prove myself to myself, too," he said. "It's my ambition, and I need a place to fulfill it. I'm the third son. The king's little brother. I'm not close to the line of succession. I'm fourth in line---sixth, if you count the princesses. I have to make a name for myself. I plan to make my name ring louder than the king's."

"You shouldn't say that lightly," his mother scolded, feeling moved by his words.

"I don't covet the throne. It would take time away from my research."

"Others won't think the same," his mother whispered more to herself than to him.

"Others?"

"What I'm about to tell you. Be sure to keep it to yourself," his mother said, looking at him with unusual seriousness. "The person who wanted you and Daenerys to marry is Tywin Lannister," she whispered.

"Why? What did Tywin want with the marriage? He got nothing out of it."

"I found out a few minutes ago. I intercepted a letter from the Imp," she said. It was as if stealing information was her daily bread.

"Are you watching the Lannisters? I thought Joanna was your friend."

"And it's because of Joanna that I haven't sent for the lioness to be whipped. Cersei is a stupid and dangerous woman. I'll keep an eye on her," she said venomously.

"I've already taken care of that," he said.

"Yes, Jaime's letter asked his father to send half a million gold dragons to Harrenhal. The stupid lion's face must be hilarious," she said, allowing herself a crude laugh. "Be that as it may, the halfman warned his father about the duel, telling him that his wish to see you and Dany together would be fulfilled soon. I don't know his motives. I only know that he is the hand behind the scenes," she finished in a conspiratorial tone.

"He fears me," said Jaehaerys after considering it for a moment.

"I don't think he fears anyone."

"I have certain business dealings with him. They are small, but they generate a good amount of gold dragons. Tywin tried to take them for himself. All in vain; the business is still mine. He's been trying to take it over for three years," he said, taking a sip of wine.

"Business in those parts?" asked his mother. "Tell me later. Now, tell me why Tywin fears you for that."

"Because I beat him," he said. "He fears that if I ever usurp Aegon, I might get it. Viserys is too clumsy to do it. Daemon isn't interested in ruling, nor does he have a head for politics." His words were not disparaging; they simply expressed the plain truth. "I, on the other hand, have done things there that he doesn't like. I have a small army there."

That's when he realized that Rhaegar's explanations were rubbish.

"An army?" asked Rhaella.

"Yes, to protect my merchandise."

"Merchandise?" she asked.

"A mixture of herbs that cause hallucinations when burned and inhaled," he replied. He created hallucinogens to sell to wealthy Essosians. They were expensive and kept out of the hands of ordinary people. There were others on the market, but they were of inferior quality. "The point is, he sees me as more dangerous than Viserys or Daemon. I'm not saying I can usurp Aegon, but I'm more capable than the two of them." There was no boasting, just the words of a confident man. "That's why using my marriage to Daenerys is the best option. It prevents me from taking a wife who could support me in a war," he finished, hoping his mother wouldn't pry into his drug trade.

Jaehaerys hadn't expected the old lion to be so cautious with him. Still, that was just a theory. He had shown a good head on his shoulders, nothing more. But in this world, though, such a thing was rare.

"If what you say is true, he'll be more cautious with you now that he knows you're a good warrior and that you're extorting Jaime."

"Jaime offered to make a donation," he clarified, but he received only indifference. "I can't marry the daughter of a great house. Even if I'm the best warrior in Westeros, without soldiers, I'm not a threat."

"What about your men?" she asked, worried.

"They're just five hundred, not enough," he said quickly.

"Be careful with him. Don't antagonize his family. He's a ruthless man; only Joanna can curb his cruelty. He won't hesitate to hurt you if he sees you as a threat."

"He can try," he said calmly.

"Jaehaerys!" his mother scolded. "You are brilliant, my son. But you are still mortal. Don't be reckless," she advised.

"I am a dragon. A young one, but no less dangerous," he declared, holding his head high.

He did not consider himself the second coming of Daeron the Young Dragon. However, he would not allow anyone to think he was inferior. If he had, he would have given up his business long ago.

"Suddenly, I feel like I'm talking to a proud lout," his mother said, sounding frustrated.

"Don't worry about me, Mother. It'll be a while before I start breathing fire," he joked.

Despite his words, he was aware of his own weakness when talking about armies. But not all wars are fought with troops. He wished he could awaken the dragons from the stones, though.

"I'm going to assume it's the alcohol making you an idiot," she replied.

She approached him and kissed him on the forehead. "I'm glad you're safe. Don't change that," she said, turning to leave.

Jaehaerys appreciated the silence. He took another pen from one of the drawers, loaded the ink cartridge, and prepared to begin writing.

"Come in," he said when he heard a knock at his door. A man in simple gray armor entered.

"Prince," said Torrhen, one of his guards. "I have news... unpleasant news."

"Be direct," he ordered.

"Gerold Dayne has been found innocent. The man said that it was Viserys who ordered him to hire the assassins. He claimed he was threatened with death," the man said.

'What the hell is Rhaegar doing?'

"Do you know when Viserys' trial will be?" he asked, feigning calm.

"Tomorrow."

"Withdraw," he ordered. The man nodded before leaving.

'Gerold sold Viserys out. The son of a bitch lied to me,' he said, his fingers intertwined beneath his chin. 'Was Viserys the culprit, or did they simply use him as a scapegoat?' he wondered.

'Why did they rush Darkstar's trial? Rhaegar wouldn't be that petty, would he?' He didn't believe his brother would have done it to punish him for not wanting to send Daemon away.

"I need to talk to Viserys," he decided, rising from his seat.

 

[Walder Black]

"Kinslayer!" was all that could be heard in the throne room.

"Silence!" roared the king. On Rhaegar's head rested a simple band of yellow gold set with seven precious stones of different colors: It was the crown of Jaehaerys the Conciliator. Rhaenyra Targaryen had sold the crown. The king spent a lot of gold to get it back. He hoped that, with it, he would be seen with more respect as the second coming of the Conciliator. All in all, he had fulfilled his promise despite the rebellion of the stag.

Jaehaerys looked at his brother, who was on trial. If he had had any doubts about his innocence before, he was certain now. He still did not know who the instigator was; he only knew that Viserys was not guilty.

Jaehaerys even thought it might be Rhaegar. But he dismissed the idea. The king was taking advantage of the situation to punish him.

'Did he expect him to fight as Viserys' champion? Or does he intend to send him to the Wall?' When he spoke to Viserys yesterday, he said that Rhaegar asked him to confess and go to the Wall.

The prince stood hunched over on a small platform, given the opportunity to defend himself. Three impartial Lords would judge the prince:

Jaime Lannister, Oberyn Martell, and Mace Tyrell. The latter looked at him angrily. He could often be heard muttering, "And to think that my beautiful rose was about to marry a kinslayer."

Jaehaerys walked among the whispers of the court. His older brother looked at him from the Iron Throne. There was nothing in his eyes.

His nephew Aegon looked at him sympathetically, looking tired.

Viserys looked at him uncertainly, but with hope in his eyes. Jaehaerys nodded in his direction and walked toward Rhaella and Daenerys. They both seemed uncomfortable. The queen mother did not know which side to take. He smiled softly at her as he took his betrothed's hand and kissed it.

"We will begin," the king said.

And the charade began. In addition to Gerold, several other servants were brought in to corroborate his story. They said they saw Viserys give Gerold a heavy bag and speak to him angrily.

There was also talk of Viserys' mistreatment of his employees. Those who spoke of him said he was a man already corrupted by the bitterness of being a spare prince.

There was even a stable boy who said he was used in unnatural ways.

They weren't just accusing him of trying to murder his brother; they were also trying to discredit him. No matter what the case might be, the marriage between Viserys and Margaery Tyrell would never come to fruition.

"Enough!" He seemed dwarfed in court at first; no one expected him to roar like that. "Since those damned imbeciles began to speak, I have heard nothing but lies against me. I am a Targaryen; I am dragon blood. You can be sure of one thing: I would never do anything against my blood or my brother," he said, his voice fading along with his rage.

The three judges looked at him: Jaime with surprise, Oberyn with amusement, and Mace with anger. The latter began to speak.

"How dare you speak? Your desire for Princess Daenerys disrespects the Reach and my daughter. Above all, the thought of a kinslayer sword-swallower becoming the husband of my rose is abhorrent," he said with shame and anger. He did not seem to notice the look the Dornishman gave him. Oberyn was well known for his fondness for men and women.

"Sword-swallower? You don't know how many times I've ignored the Knight of Flowers' advances." Many in the room lowered their heads to stifle their laughter. The Lord Paramount's face reddened further. "And I do desire my sister. May the gods strike me down if I deny it. How could I compare her to your insipid daughter, who seems eager to sleep with Aegon in front of her future husband?" Viserys wasn't exactly brilliant, but when he was angry, he spat fire.

"How could a flower compare to a dragon? Even so, regardless of my desire for her. I will admit that my brother is more worthy of her hand than anyone else." He calmed down and said those words from the bottom of his heart. "Even me", he ended sadly.

Jaehaerys looked at Dany; she seemed uncomfortable. She looked for his hand, trying to find peace.

"My daughter is not---"

"I demand a trial by combat," he interrupted Tyrell. "A dragon should only be pitied by the gods. Men have no right to judge me."

For agonizing seconds, silence reigned in the hall.

"I ask that you allow me the honor of fighting for the crown, Your Grace," said Ser Gerold Dayne as he knelt before the Iron Throne. "I was corrupted and used by Viserys Targaryen. I let fear guide me and did shameful things because of it. Allow me a little redemption." From above, Rhaegar heard everything, impassive.

"So mote it be," said the king, his voice booming through the hall. "Let the gods decide, then. That will ease the pain and doubt in my heart. Do you have a champion, or will you fight for yourself?"

"I will fight for him, Your Grace," said Jaehaerys. He watched his brother grip the throne tightly for a moment, surprise in his eyes. 'Rhaegar didn't expect me to come out?'

Jaehaerys thought of another reason why the king had brought forward the trial. Was it to give him a scapegoat as an excuse? That was unlikely. Rhaegar should know that he wanted to kill Darkstar.

'No. Rhaegar wasn't that stupid.'

If Viserys's statement had caused silence, then his younger brother's had caused chaos. It was uncommon for someone who had nearly been murdered to fight and risk his life for his would-be murderer.

"Are you sure?" Jaehaerys could taste the bitterness in Rhaegar's words.

"I am. Perhaps it is childish of me, but I believe my brother is innocent. So I will fight for him," he said.

His mother and sister looked on in surprise. They were both feeling better now, though. Not because Jaehaerys was going to fight for Viserys's life, but because he believed in his innocence. Rhaella no longer had any doubts about her son's innocence. Now, she was sure he was innocent. Daenerys squeezed his hand affectionately.

"Very well," said the king. "A date will be discussed."

"Why not right now? Here. Let's get it over with quickly," Jaehaerys interjected. "The three judges are here, and there are hundreds of witnesses. The High Septon is here," he said, looking at the fat man, who cringed at his gaze. "Here. My opponent is dressed in his armor. I have my weapon with me. There is no need to wait," the prince said, showing the three-section staff in his hand. Torrhen had brought it.

"Sir Gerold."

"I... agree," the man said. His voice was tense.

Darkstar had heard about the duel between Daemon and Jaehaerys. They fought evenly, and Jaehaerys won with an unexpected move.

Gerold had not fought the Rogue Prince, but he did not believe that he was less skilled. Still, he would be cautious.

"The rules are simple. The winner of the duel will be the one left standing, whether he kills or immobilizes his opponent. It has always been this way. I cannot make exceptions, not even for you, my brother," he finished with a sigh, as if it hurt him.

"Daenerys, it would be better if you left the room. There will be blood," said Jaehaerys. What he was about to do to the man was not something a person with a weak stomach should see.

"Women see blood more often than you gentlemen," said the Queen Mother. Daenerys nodded firmly and frowned defiantly.

He gave her hand one last caress before letting go, sighed, and walked to the center of the room. He removed his cloak, leaving him in a cotton shirt. His rival frowned.

"No armor?"

"The last man who judged me for that lost."

They formed a circle in the center of the room, leaving enough space for themselves. The lords watched, not daring to blink. They crowded together. Knights of House Targaryen formed a perimeter around Gerold and Jaehaerys.

"Don't hold back," a voice from the crowd said. It caused silence.

"Daemon," Lyanna said. Princess Visenya at her side refused to leave.

"I will leave for the North after witnessing the duel. I want to know what he's capable of," he said shamefully, hugging his sister.

"I don't plan on holding back. He's not lucky enough to share my blood," Jaehaerys said, looking at Daemon angrily. He wanted to get it over with quickly. He didn't want to antagonize Rhaegar, but he also wanted to show that he wasn't a toy to be manipulated at will.

"Supreme Septon," the king said.

Both rivals listened to the septon talk about the Seven Gods and other things.

Neither paid any attention.

"In the name of the Seven, may Viserys Targaryen's innocence or guilt be proven by these two warriors," he finished.

The duel began. The lords joked that the Septon took longer to deliver his speech than the prince took to finish off his rival.

"It's a shame... Prince, but I will keep my promise from that day." In a room full of people, Gerold did not dare repeat his words.

"Do you know what a black dwarf is? It's what the last stage of stars is called... when they die," Jaehaerys said, though the comparison was unfair.

Black dwarfs are the last stage in the life of a small star...

Gerold was barely bigger than a candle.

Gerold didn't respond; he struck the first blow, but Jaehaerys stopped it, letting the sword bounce off the metal.

'He's strong. I couldn't budge him at all,' Gerold thought as he looked into the prince's eyes. They were purple, like his own. Gerold wondered if his eyes appeared that way to his rivals, not with hatred or anger, but with indifference. It was as if this duel were not against Darkstar; it was as if he were about to sacrifice a pig for a feast.

Gerold wished he could inspire half the fear he felt at that moment in his victims.

The second blow came from Jaehaerys. It was an upward arc that struck Darkstar's inner thigh. Grimaces of disgust filled the hall more than the air. The leg was broken with a crack, and the lords watched it rise and twist impossibly.

A cry more befitting a maiden than a knight came from Dayne's lungs.

The cry of a baby echoed it.

"Who ordered you to hire assassins?" the prince asked. All he got was the knight's cry. He spat in disgust as the smell of feces and urine filled his nostrils.

He got no answer. What would he do if he pressed him further? What if he said that Rhaegar had ordered everything? It would make the House of the Dragon look even more broken.

The third blow, also from Jaehaerys, crushed his rival's head, ending his suffering. The prince felt no pity. Anyone who attempts to take the life of a dragon deserves to die by its jaws.

There was no fourth blow.

The murmurs of the lords and the cries of the ladies ceased. Even the baby's crying stopped.

In the hall, only Daemon's footsteps dared to break the silence.

 

[Walder Black]

"I knew you were strong, but I didn't know how strong," whispered the silver-haired princess.

"I don't like fighting," he said simply. He was lying in a tub filled with hot water.

Daenerys could see his chest protruding from the water. Further down, it was dark, and she couldn't see him clearly.

She thanked the Seven because she couldn't contain her blush if she were looking at that part of him.

"And you do it well."

"No, not really," he admitted. "Daemon is better than me. If he had my strength, he would have won." Daemon was not like Sir Barristan---he was better, perhaps even better than Sir Arthur.

"You're not very interested in being a warrior?" she asked him. She wondered if she should help the redhead maid clean her betrothed.

"I prefer books. What do they call me? The Prince of Scrolls." He didn't usually train.

Maybe it was fighting a bear in the Godswood of Winterfell that gave him so much confidence. If a bear couldn't kill him, what human could?

"They're rude," Daenerys said angrily.

"It doesn't matter. It's a good nickname," he said, not bothered in the least. "Do you know what will happen to Viserys?"

"He's going to Dragonstone. It's better if he's isolated for a while. Even if he's declared innocent," she said. "Don't your hands burn?" she asked the maid.

"I've been with the prince for years. I've gotten used to his warmth," the princess heard her, frowning as she found more than one meaning in that sentence.

"Enough, Ros. Leave," the prince said, not wanting to see them fight. The maid curtsied before leaving the room.

"Ros?" Daenerys asked.

"She's been with me since the North. She's been my companion for a long time. Before you arrived, she was giving me information about Cersei's children," he admitted.

"Is she your lover?" she asked first. "What information?"

"No, not my lover anymore. Since our engagement was announced, I haven't been with any other woman," he said, not sounding pitiful. "Serena will be your lady companion."

She hummed in agreement. Serena Martell was a pretty and kind girl. Although she always seemed sad.

Daenerys moved behind him. She admired the muscles on his back. She took a basin and a sponge and began to wash him.

"I don't know how I feel about you keeping her around," she said about Ros, rubbing his arms.

"Do you want me to dismiss her?" She couldn't see his expression and didn't know if he was angry or indifferent.

"No, but if rumors start spreading that you have a mistress under our roof, I'll send her away," she said fiercely. He just kept quiet.

"I never asked you before. What made you agree to the marriage?" He knew it was a conversation with Daemon, but he didn't know exactly what was said.

"Daemon wanted a princess. He wanted the façade I put on. He didn't want the girl who was interested in books. He wanted a pretty face and open legs. Nothing else," she said flatly.

"That's all?" he asked.

"Don't you think that's enough?"

"It is, but you seem to be holding something back," he clarified.

"The day before the tournament, he slept with a prostitute," she said sadly and angrily. "He's done it before. I let it go. But then you said you wouldn't dishonor me by having a mistress, and... he says he loves me, you know? But his lust always got the better of his love."

Jaehaerys remained silent. He knew his betrothed's feelings wouldn't disappear overnight. However, he would be lying if he said it didn't bother him to marry someone who had feelings for someone else.

"Do you still love him?" he asked.

"Love him? I'm not sure I ever loved him. There have been few people I've lived with in my life," she admitted, remembering her mother's words. "I won't say I never felt affection for him, but love? No, I don't love him." Her hands began to stroke his hair, cleaning it.

She heard him purr at her touch, and a small smile adorned her face.

"Do you see the glass container with the blue liquid?" Jaehaerys asked her. "Put some on my hair," he requested.

Daenerys obeyed.

"It foams a lot," she said, amazed by the liquid. She used both hands to spread it throughout his hair. "Did you create it?" she asked curiously.

"Yes, one of many things." Daenerys began to question him about his inventions and studies. She even dared to ask him why he never went to the Citadel.

"You would have learned a lot there," she said.

"The Stark library is vast, and I was allowed to use it as I pleased," he replied. "Besides, I didn't trust the maesters very much," he confessed, frowning.

"Why? Maester Pycelle---"

"He fucks whores so often he could die inside one of them."

"He can barely move."

"A fraud. Believe me, I've seen him run like a young man," he replied.

The girl frowned, not quite believing him. She didn't know what the maester got out of it. Was there any reason to hide from everyone?

"Besides," the prince continued, "the way they accumulate knowledge without advancing technology worries me. Westeros has remained unchanged for nearly eight thousand years. We just went from bronze to steel."

"There have been many changes. Like the Andals and the conquest of our ancestors," said Daenerys, remembering her history classes---a subject she was able to study in depth.

"Only the owners changed, but the land remains the same," he said. Dany used the basin to wash his hair and watched the foam fall into the tub.

"I don't understand," she said, frustrated by her fiancé's words.

"You will in time. You'll see the world I want to build." His words were distant.

Ever since he was born, he had hated how backward everything was: defecating in buckets and the smell of shit in the streets. Traveling for days to get from one place to another. He wanted to change that. He wanted to modernize it. Technology limited him; in his life, he would not be able to see a plane or a car... but maybe his children, or his grandchildren.

He knew that wouldn't be the best way to keep his family in control.

After all, improving the quality of life would lead to education and, eventually, democracy. But that was something for later, for his descendants. He would plant the seeds.

In the modern world, only a few families held power, controlling from the shadows. He would give his descendants an enormous advantage over others.

If they couldn't hold on to power, they weren't worthy.

"What are you doing?!" The princess blushed when she saw her brother standing naked. She looked at his firm buttocks for a few seconds before turning away.

"Why are you scared? We're getting married soon," he said, amused by her reaction.

She blushed even more at that. Her wedding night was only a few weeks away. She would share a bed with a man for the first time. Soon, if the gods blessed them, she would carry his child and give birth.

"I want to talk to Ros," she said suddenly.

"If you want to blame someone, blame me. She was just a tavern keeper's daughter before she became my mistress." He didn't want any unnecessary animosity between them.

"That's not why. Just make her my maid," she said, walking away quickly and not caring about her wet dress.

Before leaving, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "Damn it." Just outside, she found Ros. A knight was trying to talk to her. Daenerys could see how uncomfortable the redhead was.

"Princess," the gentleman said, bowing. His gaze drifted to her dress, more specifically to how it clung to her skin.

"The prince will tear your eyes out if you look at his betrothed like that, remember Darkstar," Ros said, amused and relieved.

Dany frowned at Ros's words. The memory of Gerold's death was brutal and swift. However, she was glad that Jaehaerys had come out unscathed. There was something else there, too: pride. She felt proud that her husband was strong. She felt safe around him.

"I didn't mean to."

"Get out of here," the redhead ordered.

The princess looked at the girl in front of her. She was pretty. Taller and older than her, she had prominent breasts and wide hips. The princess could see why her brother had let her warm his bed. Now, she would use those same circumstances to secure her future.

"Come with me," she said, walking to her bedroom.

"Sure, Your Highness," the girl replied, walking with her head down and looking surprised.

The silver-haired girl undressed as soon as she entered her room. She put on a robe, a gift from Jae, to cover herself. The cotton garment covered her entire body, leaving only part of her legs bare. It was quite comfortable, although it couldn't be worn outside without looking vulgar.

"I want you to prepare a hot bath for me. Just like Jaehaerys's," she said. The girl hurried to carry out her orders---or rather, to give orders to the other maids waiting outside her room.

"It will be ready soon," Ros said. She had no idea what the princess wanted with her, the former lover of her future husband.

"Now, I need your guidance, Ros," she said slowly. A huge blush spread across her cheeks.

"I'll do my best, Your Majesty," the girl agreed, not that she could refuse.

"I want... I will have," she stammered. "I'm going to have my wedding night soon, and I want to know what I'm getting into," she said quickly.

"Oh! In that case, I have quite a bit of knowledge." The girl nodded, feeling relieved and concerned.

'Would she kill me if she found out everything Jae has done to me?' Ros wondered.

"Will it hurt?" asked the princess.

"With others, maybe. I've only shared a bed with one person. The prince is quite delicate. You wouldn't expect that from someone with that tool at his disposal. But don't worry; he'll be gentle. You'll end up enjoying it."

The girl looked sad, and Dany felt guilty. It was as if it were her fault that the two lovers had separated.

"Tool? Is it...big?" The girl was dying of embarrassment. But there was no one better to talk to about these things. Perhaps one of her good sisters or her mother could help, but she couldn't bring herself to ask.

"Oh, princess, you have no idea," the redhead said, smiling lasciviously. "It's a gift from the gods."

"Does it feel good?" She received a knowing giggle from the maid before others came in to prepare the bath.

"You'll feel like you're riding a dragon, princess. You'll touch the clouds at times," she said dreamily.

Daenerys was a curious girl, and Ros loved talking to her. Dany was sure that Ros's words would make the girls on the Street of Silk blush.

 

[Walder Black]

One hand over the other, joined by a ribbon.

"Father, Father, Mother, Mother, Warrior, Warrior, Smith, Smith, Maiden, Maiden, Crone, Crone, Stranger, Stranger..." They both spoke at once, as if with one voice.

The Sept of Baelor was full of nobles. It was not every day that two members of House Targaryen were married, especially in such a tense atmosphere. Everyone wanted to see Daenerys's legendary beauty; many men looked at her skin with greed and desire.

The well-looking appearance within House Targaryen was, without a doubt, legendary. But who was the prettiest flower in that garden? She could intimidate all the men who saw her. She was once guarded by the rogue prince and was now guarded by the Prince of Scrolls.

No noble dared to try anything; they only looked. The memory of Darkstar alone was enough to silence them all.

"I am hers, and she is mine, from this day until the end of my days."

"I am his, and he is mine, from this day until the end of my days."

Both members of the royal family had their eyes fixed on each other as they pronounced their vows.

Jaehaerys looked at his wife. She was gorgeous and delicate, more than a head shorter than he was. He had looked at her so many times. Her silver hair was gathered into an elaborate arrangement on her head. She looked good, although he would have preferred her to wear her hair loose and flowing.

Daenerys looked at her husband. He was handsome and strong. She could feel his firm hand beneath hers. She felt safe. Even if a dragon came to eat her at that moment, she would not be afraid as long as he was by her side. She had grown accustomed to seeing him in loose, comfortable clothes. She had begun to imitate his habit when she read. But seeing him in that wonderful doublet looked just as good.

"What is joined before the eyes of the Seven, let no man put asunder," the septon cried.

The prince bent down to kiss her, and it was soft and demure. Daenerys had never kissed Daemon before, just holding hands. Jaehaerys's lips were smooth, and he tasted slightly of fruit; his breath was fresh. 'He didn't drink wine today. He knows I don't like that.' The kiss was sweet yet aggressive. She was overwhelmed by his skill.

The queen mother's cough broke them apart. They had lost themselves in the moment. Jaehaerys raised their hands so that everyone could see them. He raised them just enough so that it wouldn't be uncomfortable for her.

They moved on to a feast where they were the center of attention. The lords gave them gifts, mostly beautiful but useless trinkets. However, one gift from the Manderlys surprised everyone except the groom---it was a ship. Jaehaerys just smiled, as if he had expected it.

The Lannisters presented a beautiful, ornate sword that Daenerys thought her husband would never use. The Tyrells gave her a silver steed so beautiful that it seemed to glow in the torchlight. They gave him a black horse to match. Its coat was so dull that it looked like a shadow next to the silver steed.

There were gifts exchanged. Daenerys gave him a black cloak with a dragon sigil embroidered in blood red. She had done her best to embroider it, but it paled in comparison to what she received. He gave her an entire library, not yet finished, but he spared no expense.

He showed her the designs for the castle. There was an area of the castle exclusively for her: a library overlooking a vast garden. He did all this because she had mentioned that she liked reading while looking out at the gardens in the fortress.

If the lords found it inappropriate or foolish, they did not voice their opinions; Jaehaerys had earned himself a reputation.

Daenerys could only find one fault with her husband. Just one. His alcoholism. He could hide it well, but most of the time, he was drunk. When she asked him about it, his answer was simple: "It helps with the headache." Even when he fought Daemon and Gerold, he had been drinking. She didn't know whether to call him a fool or be more impressed that he won both fights without getting hurt.

"You look happy," she heard her mother say. She smiled and squinted her eyes as if she had fulfilled a dream, as if it were her wedding and not her daughter's.

"I am," she said. "I'm just a little nervous about the bedding," she admitted.

"Oh, it might hurt the first time, but you'll get used to it," her mother said, misinterpreting her words.

Daenerys wasn't afraid of that. Ros had talked about it in such a way that Daenerys was looking forward to it. She was nervous about the bedding ceremony, in which the nobles undressed her and carried her to her bed. She didn't want dozens of men's hands on her body. She remembered Myrcella and Aegon's wedding. The girl looked like she wanted heads to roll. Even though they didn't get along, Dany didn't wish her ill.

"It's because of the bedding ceremony," she finally said, hoping for support.

"It's the custom," her mother said, not paying much attention to her.

"There will be no bedding ceremony," she heard her husband say. A few nobles turned to look at him; one even glared at him with something resembling resentment. Her husband returned the gaze, making lords as docile as kittens.

"Jaehaerys, you don't have to---"

"There will be no ceremony," he interrupted his mother.

Rhaella nodded.

Daenerys felt the familiar warmth in her chest that grew every time her brother did something to make her feel good, a sweet side of him that few get to know. She never felt it with Daemon; only Jaehaerys could make her feel that way.

His decision caused discontent, and an idiotic noble even went to complain to the king. Rhaegar dismissed him, claiming that he would respect his younger brother's decision.

Soon, they went out to dance. They opened the dance, of course, and it was a sweet moment before they separated to dance with others. Daenerys danced with Lord Jaime, Oberyn, and even his son, Joffrey, who whispered obscenities at her.

"Unless you want to end up like Darkstar, keep your tongue in your mouth, prince," she said, feeling more confident than she had in years.

The little man glanced at Jaehaerys, who was dancing with Queen Elia, but his eyes were fixed on Daenerys. The boy cowered, bowed, and left.

She ended up dancing with other lords who were respectful, not because they were gentlemen, but because they feared her husband.

Jaehaerys danced with all the ladies of the court: from Ashara and her daughter to Cersei, who seemed to want to scratch the face of the prince, and Princess Myrcella. He even shared a dance with Serena. The girl seemed to look at him with admiration. Daenerys still didn't know how Jae managed to get Cersei to let her daughter go to Harrenhal as a companion lady.

They even saw him dance with Queen Lyanna, who did not seem to hold a grudge against him for her son. Instead, she seemed grateful.

"The bedding ceremony will begin," they announced late into the night. A nobleman, drunk enough to dare, announced it.

Daenerys found herself lifted into the air over Jaehaerys's shoulder; she couldn't help but laugh happily. The prince walked among the men who dared to try to touch her. More than one unfortunate fool learned the power of the prince. Soon, they reached their wedding bed. A few idiots followed them, but her husband's knights chased them away.

"We never talked about this," he said, laying her on the bed. From her seated position, she felt small in front of him.

"Shall we lie down?" she asked, feeling his hand caress her cheek. She leaned in to feel his touch more.

"I don't want us to have children yet," the prince confessed.

"Why?" Her words came out with more pain than she intended.

"You're too young, Dany," he said, calling her the way she asked him days before.

"Mother was fourteen when she had her first child," she said stubbornly. "I'm older."

"Still too young." The risk at her age wasn't that great, but it was still there. "You forget that our mother suffered several miscarriages and stillbirths."

"Do you think it's because she had them too young?" the princess asked, calming down a little.

"Yes, when your body finishes developing..."

"I blossomed years ago," she said.

"You started to blossom." He smiled at her, remembering when she had similar tantrums as a child. "But you still need to mature and spread all your petals."

"I talked to Ros... I wanted to," she admitted, sounding vulnerable. She hadn't desired another man, not for the act itself. With Daemon, she saw sharing a bed as something she would have to do, a duty.

"Oh dear, we don't just sleep together to procreate children," he said, making her look him in the eyes.

Daenerys felt him kiss her tenderly and sweetly as before. But that feeling was lost over time, giving way to desire and lust. Everything Ros had told her came true. The prince didn't rush things. He took the time to get to know her body and how to pleasure her before he was inside her. Dany blushed at the feeling of his rough tongue exploring her body. That was when she had her first climax---or at least, she thought she did.

When he finally claimed her as his wife, there was a slight stinging sensation that eased with time. Her mind was elsewhere for a moment as she experienced the pleasure of being a woman for the first time. The peak of pleasure she had felt before was just a prelude---not an orgasm. The climax left her weak but wanting more. She had to convince him to continue even though he said she was too weak for him.

She almost forced him.

During her conversation with Ros, she only heard stories about the maid's time with the prince. Next time, though, she would ask Ros for advice.

Her lord husband had repressed desire, perhaps from holding back himself for so long. She needed to relieve him; it was her duty, and she took pleasure in doing so.

It was her pleasure to do so.

For hours, she doesn't care about anything, nor the goods, the lords, the lands, and the smallfolk. That moment was just for them.

 

[Walder Black]

Jaehaerys woke up satisfied. His wife was sleeping beside him. But not for long. The princess sensed his movements and opened her eyes. He kissed her. They both got up silently. She seemed embarrassed by the previous night.

He took the sheet, stained with blood and other fluids.

He disliked this custom of inspecting the virgin blood after a wedding night.

About an hour after getting up and bathing, Maester Pycelle appeared with Queen Rhaella. They both examined the cloth, finally nodding in confirmation that it was real. He turned his eyes away. But that tradition would ensure that there were no rumors about his wife's chastity.

Rhaella left with a dazed Daenerys. She wanted to spend more time with her before they left for Harrenhal.

Jaehaerys, for his part, walked through the castle. Torrhen was at his side. Brandon followed the queen mother and Daenerys.

Viserys had set sail for Dragonstone. Innocent.

But he was still left with a mystery. Who ordered the assassination attempt? It was someone powerful from the royal family or the private council. Cersei had shown that she could send Lannister men to attack his fiancée. She was a possible culprit.

But Cersei had problems with Daenerys, and the attack was directed at him, not his betrothed. No, his wife. He remembered.

Oberyn, Varys, Paxter, Baelish, Tywin, Aegon, Tarly... Rhaegar.

Oberyn and Aegon could have done it to eliminate a candidate for the Iron Throne. But his hand was already taken, and he had no grudges against any of them.

He discarded Tarly and Paxter; they were lords of the realm who had nothing to gain from his death unless they wanted to marry Dany to one of their heirs, which was unlikely with Daemon around.

Varys and Baelish were more enigmatic. They were unknown characters to him. At first, he saw Littlefinger as little more than a jester. But the man had a sharp tongue and a mind capable of keeping up with him. The look Varys gave Peter when he talked about how the two fleeing assassins died was still on his mind.

Jaehaerys sent his former lover to buy brothels in King's Landing to keep an eye on the capital. She failed to acquire any establishments; to do so, she would have had to relieve the prince of her patronage. According to Ros, Baelish owned countless brothels. It was because of him that she failed to buy anything. How did a lord of a small island come to control the flesh trade in the capital?

How did a man from the Fingers become a master of coin?

Varys, the spider. He knew nothing about him. He could be a loyal servant of the crown. Or he could be seeking the ruin of the House of the Dragon. It was suspicious how he found out so quickly about the assassins and sent Viserys straight to his chambers. In the end, even without knowing his motives, the same question remained.

What did they gain from his death?

Chaos? He could see it, a civil war. They could easily blame Viserys. They would have gotten rid of him. They would have struck a prince and brought down two. It would also sow distrust among the king's sons. If Viserys could kill his brother, why wouldn't Daemon do the same?

Then there was Tywin, although he doubted it. The man wasn't that stupid. The attack seemed designed to pin the blame on someone else, too careless. The only reason Tywin would attack would be to maintain his granddaughter's position as queen. For the moment, Jaehaerys was no threat to Myrcella.

And finally, there was Rhaegar. His brother. He thought he knew him as a good king, but apparently, he wasn't. He was a petty man, willing to punish Viserys in favor of a Dornishman. Jaehaerys' head hurt. The possibility that it was Rhaegar was enormous.

In doing so, he would kill a potential rival and Viserys, who would marry into a great house, one capable of providing him with a hundred thousand swords.

He hated not knowing. He was unable to confirm his suspicions. He wanted to stay in King's Landing longer and dig until he uncovered the truth. But he couldn't neglect his territory. In the capital, he was vulnerable, but in his territory, his men would answer only to him.

He had about five hundred men in King's Landing, though only about twenty in the Red Keep. The rest were in the city, recruiting young men to take to Harrenhal.

He gritted his teeth. He needed information; how he wished he were a green-seer. But he would have to make do with other means. Once trade in his lands began, he would be able to send spies to the capital as merchants.

Walking, he reached the gardens and looked at Cersei with her daughter, Serena. The girl would soon go to Harrenhal with them.

He had found no way to punish Cersei directly. But taking her daughter away from her had been a stroke of luck. He still remembered their conversation from the previous days.

"Aren't the gardens beautiful, princess?" he remembered asking her. The woman startled. The Lannister guards tensed, but luckily for them, they did not draw their swords.

"They are. I enjoy the sun here," she said tensely. "Is there some reason you brought yourself here, Prince?"

"The view is beautiful," he replied, smiling at her. She felt flattered. "I'm used to seeing piles of shit in the city, so any improvement is welcome," he continued. "Tell your men to stand back."

"You think you can talk to me like that?"

"Stand back, or you'll lose your heads," warned the prince. The men looked at Cersei. 'Loyal,' gold was undoubtedly captivating.

Finally, Cersei nodded.

"If my husband were here, you wouldn't dare---"

"You can invite him," he interrupted her. "I'm sure he'll enjoy the conversation. It's about his eldest son, after all." He didn't explain where his anger came from. She already knew.

"Joffrey has nothing to do with this." She became more defensive.

Jaehaerys remained silent in front of the woman. Despite her anger, she took care to pose for him, showing off her curves.

"I want Serena sent to Harrenhal. She will serve as a lady-in-waiting for Daenerys."

"No," she refused flatly. "There is nothing in this world that could make me give you my daughter," she said.

"Ah, but you have no problem giving her to Joffrey, do you?" he said sarcastically.

He watched the woman's face turn white. He watched her throat move as she swallowed hard.

"What are you talking about?" she tried to play dumb.

"About how your eldest son visits your daughter's chambers," he said.

"What right do you have to judge a lion?" she said. "Brother and sister, just like you and the princess. Don't my children have the right to love each other?"

"A dragon is judging a cat." He mocked, "We both know it's not love. Your daughter is not consenting to Joffrey's actions," he spat angrily.

It was an unpleasant surprise. The little son of a bitch was a rapist. This was punishment for Cersei, but it was also salvation for the girl. She was only three and ten years old.

"You know nothing," her voice came out tense as she clenched her teeth. Her once beautiful face was contorted into an ugly grimace of hatred.

"Serena plans to throw herself from the highest tower of Red Keep," he said. He watched Cersei's face turn whiter. "I will take her with me," he declared.

"She's my daughter," she said, looking defeated.

"She's also Oberyn Martell's daughter..." The prince's voice trailed off, tickling the back of her neck. "What would he think if he found out? What would he do to Joffrey? What would he do to you? Knowing that you knew and never stopped him." She lowered her head.

"I'll make Jaime give you more gold," she said, trying to negotiate. He was tempted to accept.

"I'll take Serena with me. I've already spoken to her. Her father won't stand in our way. Oberyn always allowed his children a lot of freedom. Only you could stop her from leaving. But if you do," he touched her cheek, enjoying seeing her tremble at his touch. "All of King's Landing will know the truth. There will be a trial and I'll fight against your son, or his champion. I don't care how, but the best fate for your son will be to be a eunuch on the wall." He stood up and left. "And make sure Joffrey doesn't hurt others. If you want to calm your spawn's desires, use your own body," he said before leaving.

He could feel the lioness's eyes on his back, but her claws remained sheathed.

Days later, during the ball, Serena thanked him. The little girl had a small spark of hope in her dull eyes.

He looked at the mother and daughter in the park. Serena seemed uncomfortable, and Cersei, to his surprise, had genuine remorse in her eyes.

That didn't matter. Joffrey was alive because he allowed him to be.

Oberyn was a man known for his hatred of rapists. He might not kill his own son, but he would make him live a miserable life. For now, Joffrey was a weapon to control Cersei.

Jaehaerys shook his head. He had to organize his men to leave the capital soon.

He came to the capital for answers and left with questions.

 

[Walder Black]

"You can ride in the carriage with Serena; you don't need to ride beside me." They were both on their way to Harrenhal.

Jaehaerys appreciated the change of scenery. In King's Landing, even in his small quarters, he had almost forgotten what fresh air smelled like.

Daenerys had enjoyed it much more, having spent most of her life in the capital, only occasionally venturing out to tournaments and Dragonstone. She lived in the Red Keep, yes, but even in the castle, the stench was constant, though less pronounced than in the city. The prince thought he would never allow his city to smell like that.

"Brandon said we're only a few hours away. We should be able to see it soon," she added, feeling her buttocks and thighs bruised from the ride.

She wasn't used to riding horses; her mother hadn't allowed it, for fear that her virginity would be lost. Now that it no longer mattered, she was enjoying the learning process.

"You're stubborn," he complained.

"It's a small sacrifice. I like riding," she said to justify herself.

"You don't have to prove anything to me," he tried to appease her.

Her friendship with Ros had resulted in the redhead telling her about his little romance with Sansa Stark. The girl was a good rider, and Dany didn't want to be left behind. It was a childish competition.

"I'm proving it to myself," she said.

"You used to be so shy when you touched my hand, and now---"

"You prefer me shy and weak, Lord husband?" she asked jokingly.

"Of course not, I like fire," he replied. "That's Harrenhal." He gestured forward.

Daenerys frowned at the imposing structure. Massive black stone walls stood proudly, melted in places by dragon fire, though not as much damaged as she had expected. She saw three tall but broken towers; there were supposed to be five, and she hoped to see the other two when she got closer. The entire structure was made of black stone, which she had disliked since the first time she saw it.

The castle was built on a small hill on the shores of the Gods Eye, a lake known for its mysticism. The Isle of Faces was in the center. However, it was advised not to enter there, as most people get lost. 'He who dares to enter will never leave.' She looked to her brother-husband, who was looking at the island with great interest.

"I hope you don't plan on going in there. You have duties to fulfill," she warned.

"The island is calling me." Jaehaerys felt a twinge in his head, similar to when he showed his dragon eggs to his now wife. It was as if he had to take a raft and go out onto the island.

"I hope you don't answer," she said. "I don't want to lose you." She blushed as she said it and urged her horse to overtake him.

Silver, that was the name she had decided to call the steed. The name suited him well. He was gentle and docile, but fast and agile. Her husband's knights even said he was a horse ready for war, but she would not allow it.

Coal was what her brother had named his horse. It was a direct mockery of her. She made him change the name to Black Sapphire. He rolled his eyes and agreed.

The last few hours of riding tested her determination. She could feel the castle getting bigger and bigger. But not big enough. Sweat was already pooling in her leather garments.

Finally, they arrived. The gates were open. Inside, there was a crowd of people working, which surprised her.

'Gods' was all she could think. The walls were monstrous. They must have been over eighty feet high and thirty feet wide.

Finally, she could see the five towers. The outer walls were not as severely ruined as the towers. Aegon the Dragon proved that he didn't need to eliminate the walls to bring down the castle. The towers were broken and bent. The stone masonry was melted in several sections.

The hall of a hundred fireplaces was also enormous. They said that during the great council of Jaehaerys the First to select the heir, it was this hall that welcomed more than a thousand lords and their entourages.

However, it was still disappointing. 'This couldn't be called a castle,' she thought. Perhaps the hall and the outer walls were the only things that turned out to be as she had imagined. The five towers were not. She had expected a fortress, but the five towers were not connected; only two towers had a wall between them. The others were connected by bridges, and some not even that.

Between the five towers was a large expanse of land.

Dany looked to her sides, at buildings that should have been a smithy, an armory, barracks, a hunters' hall, and a huge stable. She looked at another building in the distance, but couldn't identify what it was from that distance. There were two other abandoned buildings. Two septs. It seems that even the Seven Gods have abandoned this place.

"Ser Brandon, does my husband know that these people are working here?" The men were cutting the grass and piling bricks close to the damaged walls.

"I am not a Ser, my princess," said the man with a northern accent. "And yes, he sent Maester Qyburn to begin the reconstruction. He didn't want you to arrive at a place in such a state," he clarified for her.

Daenerys liked the man. He didn't look at her with lust. Nor did he idolize her; he protected her, doing his duty without question. Jae had assigned him to watch over her; he was her sworn sword.

The girl looked at a man approaching. He wasn't old enough to be called an elder; he was probably about the same age as her mother. Next to him was an elderly woman with an irascible expression: Lady Shella Whent. The woman had lost her children over the years and was no longer of childbearing age. The king had told her that Jaehaerys would take the castle.

She agreed; there was little she could do to refuse. She only asked for a place to die.

"Princess Daenerys," greeted the maester. She looked for her husband, who was entering the castle walls.

"Maester Qyburn, is that you?" The man was a maester who had fallen from grace, one whom her husband had saved.

"Yes, my princess. According to the prince's orders, I will be your teacher for the next few moons." The maester did not seem enthusiastic.

"You don't like teaching a woman?" In recent days, her personality had undergone a change; she had become bolder.

"Forgive me, princess. It's just that the time I'll spend teaching you could be spent on my research," he clarified, still a little curt. The princess frowned.

"She will be a good student, Qyburn," said Jaehaerys before nodding to the elderly Lady Whent. He dismounted his horse, handed it to a stable boy, and greeted the former lady of the castle.

"The Targaryens are blessed, no doubt," the woman greeted him, saying "blessed" as a joke.

She was a wrinkled woman who seemed constantly bitter. "The castle is yours," she said. "No banners are hanging; you can put yours up anytime," the woman said tactlessly. "My new quarters are much better than the dump I lived in before; at least I'll spend my last days in a comfortable bed, even if it's in someone else's castle," she said before turning around and leaving.

Jaehaerys was not upset. The woman had lost everything, which was why he had ordered that quarters fit for royalty be built for her. He couldn't bring her children back, but he could make her life more comfortable.

"Quite rude," Daenerys whispered after dismounting.

"She reminds me of someone," whispered Jaehaerys.

"You want the reports, my prince?" called Qyburn, saving him from a reprimand.

"I want to know how long it will take to finish everything," he asked quickly.

"How many men did you bring from King's Landing?" asked the maester. There was still a crowd arriving at the castle. For the time being, they would camp outside the walls.

"About ten thousand, mostly young men and women, the more youthful are eight, and the more older, five and ten onomastics." He had brought young people who were not so corrupted by the lifestyle. To Rhaegar, losing one percent of his population was not a problem.

"They're from Flea Bottom," he said, a little worried.

"They're people who are going to work. My men here will keep them under control." Six hundred adult soldiers could maintain order.

"Those who are raised among fleas and filth..." the man began. "It doesn't matter. How many will work?"

"About five thousand. The others will be assistants, doing other jobs like preparing and carrying food and things like that." Several women had decided to leave a city that offered them nothing.

"In that case, it would take us a year or less to repair the walls, especially since it will take them a considerable amount of time to learn the trade. It could take up to three years because of the brick production, where new workers will also have to be trained," he said, making quick calculations. "I wanted to ask if you were sure about building the outer walls out of brick. Although it's faster and neater, it's less resistant to siege weapons," asked the maester. "The width of the wall will compensate for the strength of the brick."

"If you want to build quickly, you need to use brick. Extracting the stone would take years and require a significant amount of gold. Luckily, the Trident is nearby so that we can get clay from there," he added at the end, causing the maester to nod. "How far is the nearest quarry? One day? Two?"

He had another reason for using brick, but even he didn't know it yet.

"One and a half. If I may offer some advice, Your Majesty."

"Speak."

"The towers are almost useless. However, the stone from them can be used to repair the outer walls. Using the bricks to create a new structure would be quick and more structured, and would also allow you to modify the design to your liking," explained the maester.

"You want to tear them down to repair the wall," muttered the prince. "What about the great hall? Should it be torn down, too?"

"No, the great hall can be saved. The columns are damaged but stable. Although, if you wish, it can be torn down to expand the walls. This could increase the territory within the walls by twenty or thirty acres, assuming we know the amount of material required for the wall. It will probably be less than expected," he added at the end.

"I need to consider it and do my calculations, Qyburn," he said, not because he didn't trust him, but because any man was capable of making mistakes. "Tell me the territory within the castle."

"There are eighty acres of land inside the walls," he said quickly. "The Godswood is next to the western wall; it should be about a third of the total. However, you won't be able to obtain any wood unless you don't want to keep the peace in your lands. That would leave only four and fifty acres of land to build on, more if you want to expand the outside walls."

"How long would it take to expand the walls and build the castle?"

"About five years, less if we can get more men."

"I'll think about it. Now I'm going to tour the castle. Make sure my men get some rest. Serena Martell is a guest; give her a good room. Dany, are you coming with me?" he asked the girl, who had been silent during their exchange.

"Yes," she replied. She was tired, but also curious about the castle. She had felt suffocated within its enormous walls. It felt like she was inside a cage.

 

[Walder Black]

"I know it's not even close to the Red Keep," he said as they walked. They reached the stretch of land between the broken towers. To the naked eye, he could only guess that one or two football fields would fit between the towers.

Jaehaerys understood why Qyburn had asked for them to be torn down. They were bent, thanks to his ancestor. And they looked unstable. Although Jaehaerys thought it was unlikely that they would be able to expand the walls much with the material they were going to extract. They would only be useful for repairing the walls.

Jaehaerys looked at the walls connecting them. He thought he could use the foundations. They would allow him to build without worrying about having to dig new ones. But, damn Harren... The towers formed a pentagon, but each side was a different length.

"It's huge. The walls are enormous," she said.

"In case of a siege, they will protect us from our enemies. Unless they have Balerion, we will be safe here inside. What do you think about expanding the walls?" he asked, wanting to consider her opinion.

"In a siege, more land inside the walls means more people can get in, right? You'll be able to protect more smallfolk," said the princess, looking at a structure in the distance.

"Should I order them to build it then?" he asked. He had similar thoughts; the land inside the walls was fertile, and if he could farm it, he could maintain the castle indefinitely. However, he couldn't feed too many of the commoners.

"What else will you do with the remaining stone?" she asked in return.

"First, I need to calculate how much will be needed to repair the walls," he said.

"They don't look that damaged. I mean, even dragon fire had trouble melting them," the princess said uncertainly, pressing her lips together as she led her husband toward the structure that had caught her attention.

"They don't look so damaged because they're huge," he said. "That must be the bear pit," he said.

Daenerys looked at the structure. It was a hole ten yards wide and five deep. The walls were covered with stone, and there were several levels of benches on the surface.

"It could be good for holding water," she said. "Water from the Lake of the Gods could be brought here to be stored; it could even collect rainwater."

"You're starting to think a lot. How do we keep the earth from swallowing it up?"

"Replace the soil with stone and use clay to seal it" was the first thing that came to her mind.

"We could do that," said the prince. It could hold a good amount of water, though perhaps not enough for a long siege.

Daenerys blushed a little. It was just a random comment. Ever since he had told her about a system of pipes to carry water everywhere, she had wanted to do something herself.

She didn't understand it yet, but she would study to be useful. She wouldn't be having children for a few years so that she would have plenty of time for that.

It was a small thing; the moat could hold about eighty thousand gallons---enough for a month, considering only its use in the castle.

"That's not much water," said the prince.

"Oh." She looked a little disappointed.

"There must be wells to draw water from. I'll have them tell you where they are. There must be other underground storage rooms in the castle. Harren the Black considered using his castle for prolonged sieges. I'm sure water was one of his concerns." He looked at her, and she was disappointed.

"I see."

"But perhaps he didn't consider the common people," he continued. "Creating water reservoirs for them could be a personal project for you, perhaps?"

"I will," she said quickly. "I'll consult you before I do anything," she added quickly.

It was a need to prove herself; she hated to admit it, but she felt that Jaehaerys had given her more than she could give him in return. At their wedding, she had given him a cape, and he had given her an entire library. That wasn't fair.

Jaehaerys nodded. Keeping his wife happy was the best thing he could do. And if she was helpful in the meantime, even better.

Water, crops, and some fuel to keep the fires burning. That would be the basics during a siege. Not counting the soldiers.

"Let's keep walking."

"You'll use pipes when you design the castle, right?" asked the princess. "I can help you do it."

"You know about pipes, princess?"

"I'll learn."

"When I modify the plans, I'll need your help." The princess nodded.

"We'll need copper. Can you order them to search for mines?" asked Dany.

"Of course." It was unlikely, but not impossible to find mines in his land. He felt his wife take his arm as they walked.

They finished their walk in the Godswood. Daenerys refused to go in, as the sun was already setting, and she didn't want to take any risk. In the end, they returned.

"It's not appropriate, Jae," said the silver-haired woman, being carried like the princess she was by her husband.

She had tried not to complain, but her husband noticed her tiredness.

"I'm the lord of the castle. Who's going to scold me?" He earned a charming laugh from his wife.

"The lady of the castle," she replied with a smile. "Where will we stay during the construction?"

"On the first floors of one of the Towers of Dread. I ordered a small temporary mansion to be built; it will be ready within a moon." He could afford to order the workers to give priority to his home.

"Don't apologize," she said, sleepily. "I can see you'll build something wonderful here. I'm happy to be a part of it."

"Oh, your water systems will undoubtedly be the heart of Harrenhal," he said with feigned pomposity.

"I don't like Harrenhal."

"Is it that unpleasant?"

"No, not the fortress, although I would love a color other than black. I mean the name. Harren the Black was an idiot who had his family killed. Let's change the name," she said, hiding a small yawn with her hand.

"Have you thought of one?"

"No, not yet. But I'll find one. The Silver Castle, doesn't that sound beautiful?" She smiled against his chest. Jaehaerys always smelled good. She envied him for that. On the way to Harrenhal and during the walk, she hadn't seen him sweat. She felt dirty from her sweat.

"The Silver Castle," he hummed the name. "It doesn't have anything silver on it," he said as he looked at the black walls.

"It has me," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"That's enough." Jaehaerys considered it seriously. "It doesn't seem very imposing."

"I was joking," she said, smiling before kissing him.

"ArgentStone," he said, alluding to Dragonstone. In this world, Argentum didn't mean silver, as Latin didn't exist on Planetos. "Argentum means silver in a forgotten dialect," he said when he looked at the princess's confused face.

"The castle can be ArgentKeep," Daenerys continued, liking it. "What dialect is that? I've never heard it before."

"Latin," he said. "I found it in a book brought from Essos," he lied. He couldn't tell her it came from his old world.

"We can decide later, but I like it," she said.

They both retired to their quarters. Daenerys fell asleep after a short bath, too tired for any nighttime activities.

Jaehaerys began with the logistics of construction. The castle he planned to build was tall and majestic; he didn't want to create something merely beautiful, but something imposing. He wanted the nobles to want to travel to see it.

Using brick was faster, yes, but it was also weaker. It wouldn't support the weight of the entire structure without steel beams or other supports, which he didn't have access to at the moment.

He had around 5,500 workers, including those who were already there. More workers did not mean that they would be able to finish everything in a day; even if he had a million, not all of them could work simultaneously.

He began with a general plan of the castle: seven towers, a mystical number in this world. The structure would consist of five towers on the outside, forming a pentagon with rounded sides. He would have to create foundations for the new towers. That's if he wanted symmetry. He still had to calculate the thickness of each one, but it would certainly not be small. Jaehaerys decided to use black stone for the first floors of the castle. He would use brick, which is lighter, for the higher parts.

The outer towers could be made of brick, with the smallest ones only about 250 feet high. The tallest would be around six hundred feet. He wanted them to grow in size evenly, creating a kind of slope between the walls that connected them. The tower behind the castle's principal gate would be the highest, standing at 600 feet. The two on one side would be smaller, at 400 feet, and the two on either side of the gate would be the smallest.

In the center, the two towers would reach around five hundred feet in height, both of the same height. Like the others, they would start with stone walls on the lower levels, tapering as they rose, until the stone was replaced with red brick. Walls would join the most prominent tower and the two central towers, and in that space would be the Great Hall.

He wondered how big to make the castle. He made an initial sketch that would have a total area of nine acres. It was an absurd figure.

He would leave the rest of the design and layout of the areas to Qyburn. He would then review it again to ensure it would not collapse under its weight.

He then proceeded to distribute the men, as not all of them would be useful for construction. He would have them start making bricks. Others would have to lay the foundations, as such a tall castle would need deep foundations.

He also needed to take advantage of the fact that the Gods Eye connected to the Blackwater River, which would allow him to reach Blackwater Bay.

A large ship could not travel on the river. So he thought of smaller boats to carry goods to King's Landing. They could be Drakkars, but he needed to know the depth of the river and how it changed at different times of the year. If he couldn't use Drakkars, he could design smaller boats.

He felt a little drowsy from fatigue. He hadn't had a drop of alcohol all day, and yet his head didn't hurt that much.

He looked at his wife lying in the bed they shared. He had never wanted to sleep so badly.

"I'll continue tomorrow," he said, putting away his pen, notes, and plans.

 

[Walder Black]

The first rays of daylight hit his face. His unconscious hand searched the bed, finding no one there.

His wife was already awake, sitting at his desk. Her beautiful face was furrowed in concentration, and Jaehaerys wondered if she was squinting to see better or if it was just a simple gesture.

If she had vision problems, it would be a good idea to get her some glasses, although that would be complicated. He had a pair himself, but he hardly ever wore them.

That reminded him that he needed a quartz source to make glass. His glassmakers were waiting for the raw material. But he also needed strength to protect himself from the Myrians.

"Six hundred feet," she murmured, seeming to be rereading the same part.

"The lighthouse in Oldtown is eight hundred feet high. Or so they say," said the prince as he stood up. He was wearing only black pants.

"I didn't mean to snoop," said the girl, seeming to have reverted to the submissive child he had met during their first dance.

"You don't have to lie." He rang a bell. Two maids appeared immediately. "Prepare the bath, please," he asked them. Without saying a word, they both nodded. The room where they were staying indefinitely was large, like everything else in Harrenhal; giants could live there. Jaehaerys thought that in his new castle, perhaps even a dragon could.

There was room for the bed, the desk, and a tub in the back. There were no large windows; instead, a small hole near the ceiling allowed sunlight to enter the bed. It was probably Balerion's doing, or the architect of that tower was a miser.

Dany looked like a scolded child. She stood completely still, as if waiting for him to do something to her.

"What do you think?" he asked, picking up a jug of wine.

"It's too early for that," the girl rebuked him, drawing fire from somewhere.

"Five towers in a pentagon and two towers inside," he said, emptying the wine into his stomach in one gulp. He wasn't going to argue about his alcoholism.

"Too big," the girl muttered.

"The Wall is a hundred feet higher than the tallest tower will be." He wasn't sure if the lighthouse of Oldtown was as big as they said, but the Wall was. He had looked at it once when he visited Maester Aemon.

"Harrenhal is already huge. I remember Sir Barristan saying that the castle was expensive to maintain. It was an excellent point during the wars, but in times of peace, it was almost impossible to maintain. How much will it all cost?" she asked. Her brother had offered a dowry of two hundred thousand gold dragons.

"Around two million, maybe half a million more." He heard her sigh deeply.

"We can't---"

"I can." The fortune he had obtained from the Lannisters, plus the dowry and his earnings in Essos, amounted to nearly a million, not counting the projects that could bring them money. "We have a million; we won't spend it all at once. As time goes by, gold will flow into our coffers; you don't need to worry about that," he said.

"If you say so, brother," said the girl naturally.

Jae felt a little uncomfortable being called brother. It wasn't that he was unaware of their kinship. Or that he intensely disliked it; they were Targaryens. Dragon blood. But being called that directly still rubbed him the wrong way. He imagined Arya and Robb the same way he imagined himself and Dany, and he felt disgust.

Incest was acceptable for dragons, but the rest of the creatures would have to find mates outside their nest.

"After your bath, we'll break the fast and you'll go with Qyburn to study. Serena will join you. Be kind to her." Daenerys nodded. "You can choose whatever discipline you like. Qyburn is good at everything, although he's best at alchemy and medicine." He was a fanatic about the human body. Jaehaerys had no qualms about giving him the worst of the worst to study.

The maids brought hot water, and Daenerys dismissed them, not wanting their help in the bath. The tub was large enough for both of them to fit comfortably. They helped each other wash and get dirty. Then they went their separate ways after breaking their fast together.

"Brandon." He nodded to the man who said goodbye to follow his wife. "Torrhen." He was another of his men, one who followed him.

"Your Highness," the man called out, sincere and blunt, but polite nonetheless.

"You may call me Jaehaerys. How long has it been since I found you in Wintertown?" he asked.

Brandon and Torrhen were his two strongest men. They were lethal with the sword and the axe. Both were brothers, actually Snows, the bastard twins of a northern nobleman. They had grown up in Wintertown, where he had met them. He invited them to the castle to serve in the guard, although he always made it clear to Eddard that he intended them to be his sworn swords. The man let him be.

Lord Stark was a complicated man, constantly torn between duty and his hatred of dragons. Time had made him less irritable. But in the snow and cold, there is a saying: The North remembers.

"More than eight, my prince. Although I have had little opportunity to defend you," he said in the same manner. His voice was hoarse, as if he had just woken up.

"How far is the village?" There was a small village near Harrenhal, on the banks of the Gods Eye. There were several, but they were far apart. "How many people live there?"

"The largest village is a short ride away; you can see it from the walls of Harrenhal. It has about eight thousand inhabitants. The other villages have around two thousand," said the man. "I don't know about the rest of your land." He bowed apologetically.

The two left, a small entourage behind them. It was made up of men from the north and other knights who had sworn allegiance to him in King's Landing.

The village was small. He could see ordinary people walking around with buckets full of fish. The people used to fish near the lake. The fish there were larger than usual, not enough to shout "magic," but they did attract attention. There was livestock, but it was scarce, and only a few families raised it, something he intended to change.

His procession attracted curious glances from the inhabitants. They opened up, allowing them to pass. The houses were mainly made of wood, although he noticed a few stone ones, likely belonging to a blacksmith. He decided to take a look later.

He looked around the village at the surrounding land. There were crops, but not as many as he would have liked. Some of the workers he had brought from the capital would have to work those fields, although he would give them better tools, of course.

For better tools, he had to increase iron production, but he couldn't just waste gold, or his coffers would be empty in a month.

He came to the village to survey it, as he mainly needed to draw up plans for its expansion. During his reign, it would grow in size. Harrenhal was an excellent location for land-based trade, which had not flourished because the previous rulers were too preoccupied with maintaining the massive fort to spend gold on developing trade.

He also wanted to use the lake to transport goods to King's Landing. A small river flowed from the Gods Eye and connected to the Blackwater. He needed to find a good spot on the lake shore, and if it didn't exist, he would create it.

The village had a leader, not officially recognized by the nobles, but by the people. Jaehaerys spoke with him.

He was one of those who lived in a stone house. He was a nasty little man, utterly oblivious to the difference in their social standing. He treated the prince like just another villager, and not in a good way.

The leader ended up hanging from a makeshift gallows. Jaehaerys left one of his men from the north in charge of the village. A few knights helped him. The prince asked him to obtain the professions of the villagers.

Then the prince visited the blacksmith. He was good, not the best at his trade, but he did it well. There were other blacksmiths in Harrenhal, and Jaime would send for more.

He spent the rest of the day visiting other small villages, mainly fishing villages.

When the sun began to set, he decided to return to the castle. At the gates of the castle, he found a trembling Daenerys who was about to go out looking for him.

"We have to leave Harrenhal," she said, frightened. Jae looked at the man behind her.

"Lady Whent started telling ghost stories," said the northern man, not at all frightened. "And a man died today. She says they saw a shadow knock him down on a rock. He was just a drunk man. There's no need to pay any attention to it," the man said indifferently.

"I looked at the shadows moving, Jae; I know I saw them," the girl said fearfully, her voice a trembling whisper.

"Let's go back inside, Dany. Let's talk inside," he said, cupping her cheeks, forcing her to look him in the eyes. The girl seemed to calm down a little before nodding.

'The fucking curse. Was it real?'

 

[Walder Black]

"Harrenhal is cursed. People throughout the Seven Kingdoms talk about the ghosts here. It has seen more owners in three hundred years than any other castle in its entire existence." The old woman's voice was soft and weak. But it was full of malice. "My family was a victim of that curse. I'm sure Harren the Roasted is laughing at us," said "the Roasted" with a smile. Mocking the man was the only pleasure she had at the time.

Jaehaerys had dismissed it as nonsense at first. There had been one death; the shadow could have been anything from Daenerys' imagination to the shadow of a bird.

But since then, every day one more person had died than the day before. A week had passed since then. Seven days, 28 victims. Tomorrow, there will be 36 dead in total.

People were terrified, wondering who would be next. Many had begun to leave. And soon more would leave. Panic grew every day.

And Dany. The girl had stopped studying, spending her days near the dragon eggs, the stones bringing her comfort. She stayed away from anything dangerous. Every day, she begged him to leave, to ask for another castle. But according to Lady Whent, just being recognized as Lord of Harrenhal was enough to fall under the curse.

"And how am I supposed to kill a ghost?" he asked in exasperation. Of all the things that could have delayed his plans, a ghost was not something he could have imagined.

It was absurd, and... fantastic. The existence of ghosts implied that magic was a part of this world. He had thought so when he saw the Wall, and now he was sure. Of course, it might have been just one or more people playing a prank. But he had seen it with his own eyes. A worker had died in such an absurd way that no one could have planned it.

"Who knows," spat the old woman. "If I knew how, do you think my family would be dead?" She coughed after shouting at him. "Boy, you should enjoy yourself while you can. Your wife is a beautiful woman. Stop thinking about ghosts and go to her. Maybe drowned between her legs, you'll find a satisfying death. I know many in the castle would wish to go that way." There was a vicious smile on her face. Her pale eyes looked at him. "Or maybe you want to run east. Run as far away as you can. In Essos, I wonder who will catch you first, Harren's ghost or Robert's hammer. But you will die, just as my good brother, my children, and my husband died in your brother's war." Her saliva dripped from her mouth uncontrollably.

"I hope you live forever, Lady Whent," he sneered. "I'm sure the memory of your family keeps you warm on cold nights." He stormed out of the room.

He felt no pity for the old woman. She knew about the curse, and she never said a word, never. She let them into the castle to die for it. She was a woman consumed by hatred and blamed the Targaryens for the death of her family. Even if only her husband died at the Trident. Her children died inside Harrenhal, from disease or accidents. Her daughter was luckier, although not by much. She married a lord and died in childbirth.

Now only she remained, for even her husband's brother, Oswell Whent, had died protecting his king.

"What do you think, Brandon, Torrhen?" They were the two men he trusted most.

"I said it was nonsense, Jae," said Brandon, who was more informal than his brother. "And I stand by that. He must be a troublemaker. Give me time, and I'll find him." Jaehaerys considered his words.

"How do you explain the luck of the woodcutter?" The poor man had died while cutting wood. The man struck the log so hard that the axe flew out of his hands. When he went to pick it up, he tripped over his feet and his left eye fell on a nail.

An accident, no doubt. Like so many others. That alone said that there was no human intervention.

"Coincidence," the man muttered, without much confidence.

"There have been many coincidences, brother," Torrhen spoke. "I don't believe in ghosts or curses... but even I can't deny that what's happening at Harrenhal doesn't make sense. And I can't find any other explanation for it." His voice was heavy. As if what he was saying bothered him.

"I see," said the prince. He wasn't crazy after all. "I'm going to the Isle of Faces."

"Prince."

"Jaehaerys," both brothers said in unison. Neither of them wanted the man to go to the island. No one ever returned from there.

"I'm not asking for advice," he said, determined. "The island is calling me. I don't know if it's because of the curse, but I have to go." It wasn't very reasonable if you asked him.

Ever since he arrived at Harrenhal, his eyes had been drawn to the island. It was always shrouded in mist, but he could feel the magic there. He ignored that feeling and continued trying to develop his land. There was something on the island that he needed. To break the curse, to discover his past. Perhaps even to awaken the dragons. He needed to move. His people were dying with each passing day. His wife was becoming increasingly paranoid. It wasn't a pleasure; it was a necessity. There were so many answers there; he knew it; he could feel it in his bones.

"Perhaps it is Harren the Black who is pointing you to the island," said Brandon.

"Didn't you say it was nonsense?" asked the prince. "You must not tell Daenerys. If I die on the island, make sure you protect her, escort her away from Harrenhal. Hopefully, the curse won't affect her."

"We'll go with you to---"

"No, I'm going alone." His voice left no room for negotiation.

The two men gritted their teeth. But they nodded.

The prince prepared for his journey; he didn't have much to take with him. He only needed a raft on which to carry his weapon and food for a week. He hoped he wasn't making a mistake and that he wouldn't die on the island.

He wrote a letter to each of them: to Ros, to Daenerys, and to... Sansa. The latter had been an important part of his life, and he had a place in his heart for her.

He rode with the twins to the shore of the lake. Qyburn said goodbye to him.

The man seemed more intrigued than concerned about the curse. He had even begun to study the behavior of the dead before the accidents occurred.

Jaehaerys felt his eagle land on his shoulder a second before flying away. It had been a long time since he had been so close to her. She had no name, but she had followed him from the north.

He cared for her when she was weak and small. And she had repaid him with loyalty. She understood him in a way no man ever had.

At the edge of the lake was a wooden raft. With two oars at the sides, he could get someone to take him there, even at the risk of their lives. Suddenly, he felt the air tense behind him. He moved just in time to avoid a blow to the back of his neck.

His arm struck Brandon in the stomach, knocking him off his horse.

"I thought you'd know better," he said to the two men accompanying him. One had a cloth sack and the other a rope. "Even attacking me from behind, you couldn't defeat me."

"We wanted to try," said Brandon, worried. The man landed on his feet. "We could have taken you to Essos. They say there's a courtesan in Braavos who will squeeze your balls like lemons. It's your loss." Ah, if Daenerys would hear him now. All the seriousness he had tried to convey would crumble like a leaf in autumn.

"We await your return, my prince. The princess will ask for you. What should I tell her?" said Torrhen, calmer and more serene than his brother.

"Tell her I'm trying to secure our lineage," said Jaehaerys, dismounting from Black Sapphire and walking toward the raft. "Tell her that the little time I spent with her was as real as the ghost of Harren," he said with a touch of black humor.

Brandon laughed out loud, while Torrhen allowed himself a small laugh, which was a rare expression for him.

"Go now, or I'll tell her," Brandon barked, touching his belly where he had been hit.

Jaehaerys got on the raft and sailed around the island. Soon, he was just a white blur.

"If he doesn't come back, I'm keeping his horse. You can have the black steel staff," Brandon said. He climbed back onto his horse and, leading his prince's black horse, rode back to the castle.

"I'll stay here for a while. Take care of the princess, Brandon." Torrhen watched his brother ride away.

He let the air escape from his lungs as he dismounted and sat on the ground. He let his horse graze. The red colt was like Jaehaerys.

He could go away, but he always came back.

He would wait patiently.

 

[Walder Black]

The closer he got to the island, the colder it got. He regretted not bringing warmer clothes. Luckily, he didn't feel tired; his upper body gave him that advantage. Soon, he reached the fog, which weakened his vision. He tried to stay focused. One direction, no stopping. If he stopped, he risked getting lost.

Would he die here? He had always felt that he would do great things. Even his logical, scientific mind told him that he would get off the island alive.

Greenseers. It is said that they inhabit the island; perhaps they were the ones who called him. Maybe they want Valyrian blood for a ritual. Or they want to help him. Jaehaerys was curious about them as much as he was afraid of the curse.

What old Whent said made sense. Houses that once flew their banners at Harrenhal are now extinct. That was enough to raise eyebrows. Seeing the deaths of his subjects confirmed it even more.

Was it duty that brought him here? Was it love? Was it a hunger for knowledge? Was it pride? Did he want to be the first person to enter and leave the Isle of Faces?

The answer was yes to all the questions.

His duty to his land was to protect it. That same duty was linked to pride, which made him want his lands to be safe. Love, for his wife. Although he would not dare say he loved her, he was not indifferent to her affection.

He had been naturally curious since his childhood. What scholar wouldn't want to investigate a mysterious island? Who would turn down the opportunity to see magic, perhaps even study it?

And then there was that part of him that wanted to leave his mark. That part, perhaps from his youth, that made him daring and confident. He was going to leave his name in history, even as the third son, as the lord of a cursed castle.

He is a Targaryen. Madness disguised as greatness.

His children would hold their heads high and speak proudly of their father. 'I will not die here,' he thought, even though he would not be the first Targaryen to die in that lake. Daemon and Aemond faced each other here, on their dragons, Caraxes and Vhagar. Daemon's body was never found after he left Dark Sister in the basin of Aemond's eye.

He rowed for hours. But he didn't stop. Finally, he was rewarded. Through the white mist, he could see a little green. His arms oared with renewed energy. He looked at the lake, though he didn't believe the danger of the island was there.

He felt his raft hit the ground and come to a stop. He took a second to appreciate the island.

It was full of trees, and he even wondered if there was human life there, as it seemed impossible to live so long without cutting down a single tree.

"Jaehaerys Targaryen." To say he wasn't scared would be a vile lie. The voice seemed to be embedded directly in his brain. He looked everywhere. "You have come," the same sound, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once.

"Where are you?"

"In front of you, behind you, to your sides, in the sky, at your feet," said the voice.

"Do you know why I've come?" asked the prince, his eyes still studying the place.

"For answers." The voice sounded tired. "For your present. For your past. For your future."

"Will I be given help?" he asked now.

"The island does not help. Not without something in return. A trade."

"What could the island want from me?" He began to think that he was talking to the Isle of Faces.

"Death," the voice said mysteriously. The prince watched the leaves sway before falling. "Destruction."

Jaehaerys would not enjoy being a mercenary. But he would do it if he could find a cure for the curse.

"Who?" He did not like being treated like a hired killer. "Is it someone I know?"

"Since childhood."

"Is it my blood?"

"Yes," said the voice. And Jaehaerys thought of his entire family. He had known almost all of them since they were children, except for Visenya.

"I will not kill my blood." His voice was firm. He could not imagine taking the light from any Targaryen. Perhaps Daemon... and if he finds him guilty, Rhaegar.

"Things need explanation." The trees twisted. "Come," the voice commanded.

Jaehaerys left the raft. With his hand, he dragged it further into the ground. He held his weapon tightly. The voice said nothing.

The prince walked through the undergrowth. The vegetation parted for him. It was the most magical experience he had ever had.

He thought of Greenhand. It was said that flowers bloomed where he walked. Could he achieve the same?

The island knew him; the island called him. It offered an exchange. Would he die if he refused? But could he kill his own blood? Not even Rhaegar or Daemon, with whom he had ended on bad terms.

Soon, he came to a tree, a giant weirwood. The weirwood at Winterfell had been the largest he had ever seen. But this one was two or three times as wide. It wasn't very tall, growing more in width than in height. Its branches spread out far enough to shade a small village and were leafy enough to block out the sunlight, which was already scarce on the island.

He felt small and insignificant in front of the weirwood. He looked at the face carved into the wood. It seemed to look back at him. And for a moment, he swore he saw it blink. He walked toward the tree. Since he arrived at Harrenhal, his headaches had subsided. But there was still that pain he sought to relieve with alcohol.

Here, in front of the weirwood, his mind felt free.

So much so that he wanted to stay there forever; he had grown accustomed to the chronic pain and had forgotten what it felt like not to have it. It was sweet. He cursed because he couldn't stay there forever, and he couldn't take the tree with him.

He even remembered the face of an old man. His clothes were too modern to be from Westeros. But the whole memory was from his other life.

"Touch it," said the voice. And he reached out his hand. He touched just below the carved eye and felt red sap run through his hand.

He was no longer on the Isle of Faces. Now he was in Winterfell, in front of the weirwood tree. He would be ten years old. He frowned as he looked at the little white-haired boy and wondered if his children with Dany would look like that.

The boy touched the tree and fell to his knees. He remained unconscious, his hand pressed against the weirwood.

"Ahhh!" The boy woke up suddenly. His hands held his head as he cried. Jaehaerys wanted to bring him to the weirwood tree, where he wouldn't suffer such pain. He remembered crying from the pain as a child until he fell asleep.

"The first time you met that friend," the island said softly.

"No. The pain has been there since I lived in King's Landing," replied the prince. He remembered crying from the pain until he fell asleep in his mother's arms.

The image changed. Now he was beyond the Wall. He looked at an icy being. It seemed to be made of pale, icy substance. A crown made of spikes rested on its head. Its expression was bored as it rode a skeletal steed.

There were dozens of similar beings around him. They rested on the snow, still as statues.

The ice man looked at him. His stoic expression changed to a frown. His hand took a spear that was embedded in the ground, and with a fine movement, he threw it at Jaehaerys. The prince moved. The spear passed by him. Soon, he returned to the Isle of Faces.

"One death. One destruction," the voice spoke. "One caused your pain. The other one will cause your death," the island declared.

"How did he cause my pain?" Jaehaerys was not stupid. Just by looking at the white figure, he knew what it was. Their stories in the north were told to scare children in their cribs. 'The Others.' He remembered the name as if it were something he had known all his life.

He didn't need to be told that. He needed to know who had caused him so much pain in his life.

"One death. One destruction," the voice repeated, like a mantra. "Do you accept?"

He clenched his teeth.

"I accept," his voice firm.

"Then have your answers," said the voice.

And everything went black.





If you wish to read more you can go to https://linktr.ee/walderblack, already in chapter 150.

 

[Walder Black]

He watched the red leaves fall around him. He didn't move an inch. After accepting the trade, he fell unconscious from the sheer pain. He felt as if his head was about to burst like Oberyn's when he fought the Mountain.

That fight didn't happen in this world. No. That memory came from his past. From his other life.

Gods. The things he saw and read as Erick were so different from his current world. Those newly recovered memories tormented him. In that world, he was not born, or he was stillborn; his mother had many dead children.

"Bloodraven." That man had sealed his memories in the weirwood tree in the Godswood at Winterfell.

"Abomination. But still useful," said Bloodraven. His body fused with a weirwood tree. "You will send Jon Snow north to fulfill his destiny," he said in his memories.

That brief exchange changed everything. His whole life, his plans. He had intended to go to Essos, far from the chaos of the west. A bad idea, so in the end, Brynden Rivers saved him. A shame for the bastard, he saved his future killer's life.

"A death," whispered the leaves. A mission, one he would be happy to accept.

"A destruction," roared the rocks. And he thought of the Night King. It was not his desire, but it was his responsibility.

Finally, he stood up. A small cascade of red sap flowed from the face of the weirwood tree. A man was collecting the liquid in a bowl. Dozens of people surrounded him.

Greenseers. He had found them. His heart tightened against his chest. Being able to see everything would help him in his quest for revolution.

"Son of destiny," said a man. Pale, beautiful skin, silver-gold hair falling over his shoulders. He was attractive. There was something around his eyes that made him seem unnatural. Jaehaerys identified him as a Targaryen, without a doubt. But which one? "Can you walk?" He just noticed that he was speaking to him in High Valyrian.

"I can," he replied.

"Follow me then." The man pushed his way through the undergrowth.

"Are you a greenseer?" he asked, trying to hide his excitement. Before unlocking his memories, he had thought that magic might be real. That wargs and greenseers existed. The curse of Harrenhal confirmed it. And his memories opened up a whole new world for him.

"I am," the man replied. He walked confidently. He had the bearing of a warrior.

"Can I be one?" asked the prince.

"I am bound to the island. I was once a prince, a dragon rider. Those were the days," he said, sounding like an old man, but he looked young, about Rhaegar's age.

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I am a greenseer. I arrived here by accident a long time ago. I asked the same question. They made me one. I didn't know what I was agreeing to. I will never be able to set foot off the island," the man seemed to lament. "If you wish to be a greenseer, you must forget everything outside: your mother, your brothers, your wife, your daughter. You will own no land. You will be bound to serve a greater good." That was disappointing.

"I don't have a daughter." The man shrugged. "Where are we going?" The man gave him a clay container covered with a lid. When he lifted it, he saw a red liquid moving inside. It was like the arcians, but it seemed more alive and brighter.

"The island wants to give you gifts. We have been preparing them since the day you were born," said the man.

He followed him, walking beside him. 'A prince, a dragon rider.' He searched his mind for candidates and found one easily.

He watched his eagle approach. The man didn't notice it, but Jaehaerys did. He extended his arm so it could land. Just as he was about to ask it what it was doing on the island, he found himself looking at his own face. A second later, he looked back at the eagle.

"I see." It seemed he would not leave the island without some magic.

"Past. Future, what's missing?" asked the Targaryen at his side.

"Present. Harren's curse," said the prince.

"Harren was a fool and an imbecile," said the man. Jaehaerys wasn't expecting insults from what was, in the eyes of all Westeros, a mystical man. "But he was an excellent sorcerer," he said vaguely. "Spells didn't save him from dragon fire," he sneered.

"Did Harren leave the curse behind when he died?" The whispers claimed that the ghost of the man himself was responsible for the curse.

"Indirectly. Every stone in the walls, in the towers, in the hall is filled with spells and blood. Thousands died to soak it with blood," the man explained. They came to a small clearing. There was a clearing where a small weirwood tree sprouted. It couldn't have been more than two feet tall. "Their blood remains in the stones, their souls bound to eternal suffering."

"And why do they attack my men?"

"Why can your men enjoy the sun? See their children and their wives. Even sleep with a good prostitute," he asked back. "Why can your men rest at night and Harren's men cannot?"

"So it's... envy?" It seemed absurd and logical at the same time.

Even adding a dead body every day served to sow panic among the crowd. It was a twisted game.

"A way of putting it. In their suffering, they find a glimmer of happiness in making others suffer," said the man. "When a man leaves Harrenhal, he takes a part of Harrenhal with him. They carry souls that will torment them until they manage to kill them."

He grabbed the earth around the weirwood and pulled. Jaehaerys watched as he pulled out a clay pot, inside which was the sprout of the elder tree.

"There is already a weirwood in Harrenhal," said the boy.

"One contaminated by the three-eyed crow and his singing brats," the man spat.

Jaehaerys thought about it. The weirwoods were the means through which Bloodraven could see the Seven Kingdoms.

"Should I cut it down?"

"You can purify it," the man said. "The red sap from here. You must put it at its roots. It will look withered for a while, but then it will spread like no other weirwood tree. Even so, one will not be enough to rid Harrenhal of all Harren's cruelty," he clarified, pointing to the vessel.

"I know they are magical, but how will they help destroy the spirits?"

"Destroy?" The man raised an eyebrow. "They will not destroy them; they will put them to rest. They will feed on them. Don't be surprised when you see it grow beyond what you ever thought possible."

"As big as the one on the island?" The man smiled, his cracked lips tightening, but he did not answer. "Is there anything you can tell me about the three-eyed raven?"

"He was a greenseer. He lived right here on this island," the man began as he walked. "The man was not content to remain bound here; no, he wanted more. He used to use ravens to look outside the island; besides being a greenseer, he was an exceptional warg. He left the island. He succeeded, but to do so, he contaminated the trees outside the island. He made them his own and used them for his own will. He became a parasite, semi-immortal. I don't know how long he's lived, or how many bodies he's had. No one on the island knows. For no one has lived that long." His voice grew tenser with each word. "The man knows how to cover his tracks well. We can only theorize about how he managed to change bodies; no one has ever been twisted enough even to try. The man spat on the Isle of Faces. And it was he who gave the shit singers the idea to create the first White Walker." Jaehaerys listened, drinking in every word as if it were Dornish wine. "We can glimpse a little of the future; it's not fixed, it always changes. But if the three-eyed raven lives, no one else does," he finished in a whisper.

In the TV show, the man ultimately becomes the king of the Seven Kingdoms. In the books... only George knows. He was an enigmatic creature who apparently supported humanity.

"The stories say that it was the Children of the Forest who carved the faces of the weirwood," said the prince.

"They did. At first, it was for the gods of nature. Then they betrayed them; we don't know why, whether it was because they didn't answer their prayers or because the three-eyed raven convinced them," replied the man. "You will carve the face of this weirwood tree"---he pointed to the vessel---"when the time comes. The gods will guide you."

"So the gods are real?" asked the prince.

"Are you real, Jaehaerys Targaryen?" he asked rhetorically. "You've already spoken to one," he added.

Finally, they reached his raft. On it, he found a chest that he did not bring with him. He watched the man place the tree on the wood.

"Thank you," he said to the man. "Can I return to the island?" The mysticism attracted him.

"Only the island knows," said the man. "No man can challenge you," he added, knowing his strength. "But you will not face only men, remember that." Then he disappeared into the undergrowth. Jaehaerys knew what he had to do.

"I hope it holds," he said, pushing the boat into the lake. It would be a shame to die when he had already achieved everything he needed.

If you wish to read more you can go to https://linktr.ee/walderblack, already in chapter 150.

 

[Walder Black]

"He'll be back, princess." Torrhen had barely moved from his position. He had been there for a week, waiting for the prince. Brandon sent him food; otherwise, he wouldn't eat.

"You should be hanged just for letting him go." Brandon, at her side, bowed his head at her words.

"We didn't let him go," he clarified. "But we couldn't stop him from leaving either." The man was aware of his weakness.

Daenerys was in a panic. Her husband's men had kept the news of the prince's departure well hidden. She thought he was working on finding another castle or a place to move to. Not for a moment did she think he would abandon her; she trusted him.

She missed his warmth at night. The deaths had not stopped. The day after the prince left, eight died, and the next day, nine. A week after his departure, fourteen died. She had heard Lady Whent mock her misfortune.

Only the thought that Jaehaerys would return comforted her. She didn't know what she would do if he didn't get back.

"He's not coming back. He'll have found another girl and a ship to take him east," the witch Whent had told her. For a moment, she found herself considering her words.

Days earlier, she had received a letter from her mother. King's Landing was near, and it took only a few days for rumors of the curse to reach the Queen Mother's ears. Her mother urged her to return to the capital. And to drag her husband back with her. She would have listened, but where was her husband?

She left the two men, although Brandon followed her, stubborn as a mule. She rode fast, hoping to lose him. But she had underestimated how good a rider he was. Within the walls, there were no whispers. She entered through a small door protected by guards. The gate was closed. She had ordered it on Qyburn's advice. More than a hundred men had already died, and hundreds had left. More would have followed if they could.

The former maester said that Jaehaerys would appreciate it if she kept his people inside. And that even if they left, they would end up dying.

She didn't know if it was the right thing to do. There had been fifty deaths since she ordered the gates closed. Those deaths weighed heavily on her conscience.

'Should I abandon everything and return to King's Landing?' She shook her head. To do so would be to give up on her husband. Although now that she knew he was on the Isle of Faces, she might never see him again.

She looked at the black stone walls. She disliked them, but it was her duty to stay there. To hold it for her husband. 'I am the lady of this land, of this castle. And my husband will come back for me.'

"M'lady," she heard someone call her---a skinny, short young boy. "Please open the doors," he begged. Dany looked at the boy, who couldn't have been more than two and ten.

"Prince Jaehaerys will be back soon," she said from her white steed.

The words were meant to be comforting, but to whom: the child in front of her or herself?

"He has been searching for a solution to the whole problem," she said. She was not used to speaking in front of an audience, so when she raised her voice, it broke.

"Liar!" someone in the crowd shouted. And others followed it.

The cries of the people grew louder and louder; her horse became nervous from the noise, and Dany had trouble staying on. Her hands tightened on the reins.

"We're doomed," some said.

"They brought us here to die," others roared.

Soon, the sound of swords being drawn could be heard. The crowd took a few steps back. Daenerys couldn't let this continue.

"Sheathe your swords," she ordered her men. She didn't want to shed innocent blood.

"Princess, we can't---"

"Sheathe them." Her voice tightened as she looked at Brandon. The man nodded and complied, but his hand rested on the hilt of his sword.

"Protect your princess," said the Northerner.

Daenerys looked at the crowd gathered around her. Not all the workers were there. Some didn't care about the curse; they came from Flea Bottom, and going back there would mean a life of misery.

"You're afraid." Her voice was firm, and the crowd fell silent. "So am I. I'm terrified of dying. As much as you are," she admitted. She looked at Serena in the distance, surrounded by a large group of knights guarding her. The girl had been stronger than her. A girl younger than the princess had shown more fortitude, as if she had been through worse. Looking at the Martell princess gave her strength. "Jaehaerys." Her husband's name brought a bittersweet taste to her mouth. "He is the brave one. It was my husband, your lord, your prince, who made a journey to the Isle of Faces to find a way to break the curse." The people began to murmur.

"Everyone dies when they enter the island. No one has ever returned from there," said a man.

"And yet... my husband has decided that your lives are worth the risk of the journey." Tears welled up in her eyes; the thought of being widowed, of losing Jaehaerys, left a hole in her chest.

Brandon looked at her, sometimes forgetting how young she was.

"I trust him," Daenerys continued. Despite her eyes being moist with tears, her voice remained firm. "He will return, and I will remain here, waiting for him." She spurred her horse, the crowd now seeming calmer. "I will not hold anyone against their will. But I will remember those who stay," she said finally. "Open the gates!" The men obeyed her orders without question.

The princess passed between the men. The men in armor around her were attentive and moved, but alert.

As soon as the gates opened, dozens of men poured out. No one stopped them.

They were few compared to all those who were demanding that the gates be opened. Dany watched out of the corner of her eye as the same young man who had spoken to her stood still, staring at her.

Daenerys had prayed to the Seven. To the mother, the warrior, the father, and the maiden. Her prayers had never been answered. She was tired and decided to go to the Godswood.

Her men advised her against it, but she stood her ground. The first day they arrived at Harrenhal, she and Jae had planned to go, and they only avoided it because night fell upon them.

A small path led to the weirwood tree. Dany looked at the beautiful white tree with its red leaves and felt a mix of peace and discomfort as if something inside the wood was scrutinizing her.

She lay down at the roots and slept, only the gods know how long.

"You're covered in dirt," she heard as she was awakened. She felt someone caressing her cheek.

"Jae!" She threw herself into his arms. 'What a beautiful dream,' she thought.

"Brandon said you calmed the crowd like a queen," he said, stroking her hair.

She shuddered. It felt too real.

"You're back?" she asked. "You came back?" She sounded incredulous.

The cold earth told her the truth. It wasn't a dream; he had returned. Somehow, he had made it off the island alive.

"Yes. Now I have to use those ghosts as fertilizer," he said, stepping away, reluctant. She looked at a clay jar in the prince's hands. "This should revive the tree." As soon as he poured the red liquid on the roots of the weirwood, a flock of crows began to attack it. They couldn't do much damage; their beaks couldn't penetrate the bark. Dany watched from the side, her face twisted in confusion.

Her sleepy mind didn't understand anything. She panicked when she saw the birds attacking her husband, but he kept the same expression. He managed to scare the birds away by waving his arms, each blow killing one or two birds. It looked like something out of a court jester act.

"What happened on the island?" she asked. "How did you get back?" She could think of a thousand other questions.

"The island let me return. I'll tell you later. Now I have to plant a weirwood tree. Can you think of a place?" The prince began to brush the dust off his pants and his wife's clothes. The men who were guarding the princess disappeared, probably on Jaehaerys' orders.

He picked up a large pot from the ground. Daenerys looked at the red leaves and white wood.

"In the garden." The dream vanished. And thinking about how peacefully she had slept at the foot of the tree increased her desire to have one inside the castle. How did her husband get a weirwood? That was a question for later.

"Let's get to it then." The garden was designed to be on the inner side of the five towers. Jaehaerys planned to use one of the central towers as a library, and the garden in front of it.

"Here." Dany pointed to a patch of ground where no grass grew. "I know it doesn't look like much, but it's the best place."

They were in the Flowstone yard, located at the center of the five broken towers. They weren't exactly in the center; Dany chose a spot closer to the wall connecting the Wailing Tower to the Tower of Ghosts.

"I'll trust you, then," said the prince. "I need a damn shovel."

"Here, my prince," said Torrhen, his twin brother at his side. They seemed to have been following them from afar. Dany looked at the men with an apology on her lips for saying she would hang them. "I'll help you dig."

"No need, I want to do it myself." He looked at the steel of the head as if it were the worst piece of trash he had ever seen.

"May I ask where you get the weirwood, my prince?" The man acted as if nothing had been said and took out a second shovel. Brandon looked at the tree from a distance, his brow furrowed.

"I got it on the Isle of Faces. It will help with the curse." He didn't say much after that. Both men set about digging in silence. Daenerys wondered why he hadn't ordered the peasants to dig the hole.

Her husband was a strange man. She let herself fall to the dirt floor as she watched him work.

She allowed herself a small smile of relief. Her husband was home.

If you wish to read more you can go to https://linktr.ee/walderblack, already in chapter 150.

 

[Walder Black]

"What do you think of the prince?" Tywin Lannister asked his eldest son.

When Jaime was released from his vows and restored as heir to the Rock, Tywin allowed himself a smile, though only his wife witnessed it.

"He's strong," said the heir with a distant look. "He's ambitious and dangerous if you're his enemy," he added.

"Only if you're his enemy?" asked the Lion, his green eyes seeming to peer into his son's mind.

"Yes. He has no interest in the throne," he said, pouring himself a glass of wine as he listened to his father.

"And yet there are half a million golden dragons less in our coffers." His voice was scathing.

"I had to correct Cersei's mistakes," he said, unmoved by his anger. "My daughter will be queen, and I will make sure that no one threatens her place. Even if that threat is my sister," he said finally with anger.

"Good." His father looked at him with a stony face. "Maintaining and securing your legacy is the most important thing." He didn't show it in his tone, but he was proud of his son. "You said he has no interest in the throne. What about the game?"

"He does," Jaime admitted. "He wants to make Harrenhal into something extraordinary. A center of commerce," he added, remembering their conversations.

"And he has a handful of men who can cause trouble," said his father.

"I don't see him causing trouble," he said. "He's a proud young man. He asked me how to get the tallest tower. He told me there were two ways." His father looked at him, asking him to continue.

"One is to build it directly. It's simple, but the hardest of all. The other is to build a tower not taller than the others. And knock down all the others that exist." He savored the wine. "He said: The first shows strength, the second weakness."

"A fool, then. He won't get far without cutting off a few heads. Harrenhal itself is a curse. The gold your sister gave him will keep him afloat for a few years."

"He's the smartest person I've ever met," Jaime said. "I wouldn't dismiss him so easily."

"Neither would I. But he's someone who only defends himself and doesn't attack, at least from our few interactions," Tywin said.

"Have you met him?" he asked, frowning.

"Do you know why I asked for him to marry Princess Daenerys?" his father asked, ignoring his question.

"No. I only know that you want to keep him without allies through marriage, although I don't know why him and not Viserys or Daemon," Jaime said.

"I considered him a threat to Aegon's throne. The greatest threat within the Targaryens," his father said. "Viserys is an idiot. Daemon is, albeit a better one, but still an idiot. He knows little beyond swinging his sword."

"The prestige of being a warrior will make people want to follow him. Remember Robert."

"I defeated Robert," his father declared.

"He's still alive. A shadow in the east," Jaime said.

"A horse lord. By now, he should be afraid of the sea," his father dismissed him. He was not an immediate danger; his men kept him informed of his movements.

"Yes... I can understand why you fear him---"

"I did not fear him. I respect him," his father admitted. Jaime's eyes widened. "He has business in Essos, did you know that? No. No one in the capital knows, not even Varys. Somehow, he evaded his little birds. I discovered it by chance. He hides well. When I found out he was selling goods, I tried to buy his business. It's no big deal; I just wanted to test his character." Tywin himself was now drinking wine from a golden cup. He was a man of few words, but in front of his son and heir, he could afford to be more open.

"You decided just to be mean?" Jaime had become bolder over the years. In the past, he would not have dared to speak to him in that manner. Tywin was torn between pride and annoyance.

"You should know all the players. I could have them embroider it on your cloak," he reminded him sharply. Jaime remained silent. "He refused. I insisted; I even attacked a few caravans."

"Aren't you afraid of the royal family?"

"They didn't know anything about that business. And if they found out, what would they do to me?" he asked and answered himself.

"I suppose you couldn't get your hands on it?" Jaime was a little amused.

"No. Rumors even began to spread that the mines were running out of gold." His father looked him in the eyes. "He knew it was me who attacked his property, and he counterattacked cleanly and effectively. Do you think Viserys or Daemon could have done that?"

"No. But even then, it's just a small business. Is it worth depriving Daemon of his allies?"

"It's in those small acts that you can see how dangerous the players are."

"Anyone could spread a rumor." Jaime remembered that rumor, but considered it ridiculous.

"We've been mining less and less gold. The mines are drying up, Jaime. He was even able to calculate how long we could continue mining gold," his father said.

"You're joking." His father's face remained stony.

"It's not a concern. More mines remain unexploited. But it's the mere fact that he knows that fact that tells me he's not just any player." His father looked at him directly.

"How do you plan to deal with him?" he asked cautiously.

"It would have been best to marry him to Joanna, your daughter," said Tywin. "But that would deprive us of a possible alliance in case of war. Another Lannister would have served."

Jaime felt insulted that his daughter's hand was considered necessary only as a means of alliance. If it were up to him, he would see her married to the eldest son of the Tyrells, Willas. But he knew his father could sell her even to someone like Walder Frey. He thought of Jaehaerys, to whom he would have offered his daughter as a wife if he had known him earlier. It was a pity that the third prince had only his name and a few men.

"That's not possible. Rhaella would not have accepted the hand of another Lannister of lower rank, no matter the dowry. Perhaps Cersei's daughter, but I can't see my sister wanting to marry off her daughter." His sister seemed to want her children to remain unmarried. And her husband didn't care.

'But Cersei lost her daughter, too.'

"That's why Daenerys was the best choice."

"He just defends himself, you said. Did you want to take away his potential allies so you could attack him?" His father's face told him everything. "That leaves Daemon's hand free," Jaime added when he saw that his father wouldn't say a word.

"His birth makes many think of him as a bastard. Westeros remembers Blackfyre," said his father.

The first Blackfyre was a better swordsman than all the rest, but he died in a rain of arrows.

Jaime didn't object. However, he believed that Daemon was a greater danger than Jaehaerys. Not because the latter was weak---Darkstar and Daemon could attest to the contrary. No, it was because Jaehaerys longed to create. Not that Jaime believed he was harmless in war, but he wouldn't strike a blow without need. As long as the Prince of Scrolls wasn't bothered, he wasn't a problem.

Daemon, on the other hand, was more volatile and aggressive. He didn't get along well or badly with Aegon, but with the right whispers, he could be made to believe that he was destined for the crown.

Jaime hoped the prince wouldn't find a Bittersteel at his side. After all, this Daemon had also had his Daenerys taken from him.

"Your mother has arranged a banquet for your arrival," said Lord Tywin, rising to his full height.

His mother, Joanna. She had barely survived Tyrion's birth. She was the only person who could soften the stone heart of the Mighty Tywin. She was the one who convinced Tywin to go to the Trident to fight against Robert.

It was thanks to her that his daughter would be queen. Rhaella and Joanna discussed the marriage in letters, behind the Mad King's back. His father and Rhaegar ultimately overthrew Aerys and exiled him to the Wall.

"Don't attack Jaehaerys," he advised. "We are not his enemies."

"When the chance arrives, you have to take it."

"He will have children, Father. He may not be able to forge alliances now, but he can promise the hands of his children." This time, his father remained silent. "Besides, Serena is with him." He still didn't know how he had managed to convince Cersei to give up her daughter.

His father gritted his teeth, knowing that his granddaughter was in the house of a potential enemy, and it did not sit well with him. Jaime thought that that was what bothered his father most about the prince.

"I taught you well." He nodded. Then he left with loud, heavy footsteps.

Despite his words, Jaime noticed that his father did not pay much attention to him. He could only sigh and prepare to cover up any possible damage.

'Jaehaerys liked gold, right? I'll start shitting in his latrine,' he joked to himself.

If you wish to read more you can go to https://linktr.ee/walderblack, already in chapter 150.

 

[Walder Black]

A moon had passed since the weirwood tree had been planted. After Jaehaerys' arrival, the death toll stopped rising. At first, the workers remained cautious, though hopeful. As the days passed, their belief in the Lords of Harrenhal was renewed; not only Jaehaerys, but even Daenerys became beloved by the people.

But Jaehaerys was treated almost like a deity. A mystique began to grow around him. He was the first and only man to have entered and left the Isle of Faces alive. Letters had even arrived from the Citadel urging him to recount what he had seen inside the island. The letters became dismissive when the curse of Harrenhal was mentioned.

"Superstition and accidents. Magic has been dead for hundreds of years," said the maesters.

The prince seemed to find no satisfaction in rest, and the few times he left his estate were rare and mainly because Princess Daenerys forced him to take some time off.

"The old tree has grown almost twelve feet in a single moon." The princess massaged her husband's back.

The man was immersed in a book given to him by the man from the island. It turned out that the chest contained a set of books and artifacts from ancient Valyria, as well as others from the First Men. They were not about history, but about magic and dragons. They were academic books, which made them slightly complicated, as they used unfamiliar concepts and words. He felt like a biologist reading an advanced math book.

Jaehaerys already knew how to speak and read High Valyrian, but it was a surprise to him to be able to understand the books of the First Men. They were a set of runes, similar to the Norse alphabet of his previous world. How could he read it? He attributed it to a gift from the gods of nature.

"And it will grow much more," said the prince.

"Is it true that it frees the souls of Harren's victims?" Dany had heard this before, but she was still a little skeptical. The fear that the death toll would resume made her hug him tightly every night.

"That's what the green man said. True or not, I have no way of knowing." He sighed with pleasure as he felt the princess's tender hands massage a knot of muscles.

"And the magic you read, is it real?" The princess had glanced at the books. However, she focused more on those about dragons.

"It is. Although Valyria requires human sacrifices, as exemplified by Harrenhal, I can assume that the Doom of Valyria was due to a similar condition. They abused magic so much that it ended up exploding in their faces," said Jae. He wore two pieces of glass in front of his eyes, held together by a wooden strip.

Medieval glasses. Dany had asked for some for herself, just out of vanity, as she thought her husband looked handsome in them. She asked for them more emphatically when she learned that they would relieve her headache when reading and make the letters easier to read.

"I don't want you to sacrifice anyone. Although perhaps Lady Whent would do," said Daenerys.

Jaehaerys thought of a funeral pyre, with Mirri Moz Dur replaced by Lady Shella. Only one substitute was needed for Khal Drogo, who would become Daenerys' husband in the books. He would love to contribute to the rebirth of the dragons, but he valued his own life.

"I'm afraid we'll have to wait for her to die of old age; hopefully, it won't be long." His mood soured.

He felt bad wishing death on someone, but the old woman seemed even meaner after the curse stopped. Her sharp tongue continued to haunt them. Jaehaerys was about to lock her in a tower and not tell anyone; they could find her in the ruins of the tower when they brought the stone to the walls.

"Can't you send her away?" asked the princess. Her hands began to wander over his chest, losing themselves under his woolen shirt.

"As much as I wish I could, giving her a home until the day she dies was part of the deal for Harrenhal." Jaehaerys sometimes wished the woman would stay alive.

He wanted her to see him transform the castle into something she could never have imagined, even in her wildest dreams.

"That home can be outside Harrenhal," Dany whispered in his ear.

Lately, the girl had begun to use her femininity more to keep him close. He knew she wasn't doing it out of a desire to manipulate him, but rather to stay near him. The curse had damaged her and created a fear of abandonment.

"This is the first time you've tried to seduce me to change my mind." His voice sounded firm. He felt the princess pull away. "You've spent too much time with Ros," he scolded her.

"Once Cersei said that my greatest weapon was between my legs." The girl didn't even understand why she said such a thing.

It was a need to justify her actions. "Do you think Cersei is a good example? You can ask Serena about her." Jaehaerys sighed heavily. She lowered her gaze. "Lady Shella will stay at Harrenhal. If you had made your point without trying to manipulate me, it might have worked." He didn't want this behavior to become a habit.

If he wanted a woman who sought to manipulate him, he would have taken Margaery Tyrell as his wife.

"Ros said---"

"Ros did it to get gold and pretty dresses." He decided he would have a serious talk with the redhead. "Ros is not my wife. Lately, I've had a lot of lords wanting a piece of the Harrenhal lands. I have to be cautious around them. Do I also have to be on guard against my wife?" It was harsh, but he considered it necessary.

Dany was a good person. Even living in King's Landing, she had managed to retain a certain innocence, and he didn't want that to change, not around him.

He felt the girl's arms wrap around him. He turned to look at her. She had a look of sadness, anger, and regret on her face.

"I'm sorry," he heard her whisper.

"Until now, I've trusted you. I don't want that to change. If you want something, you can ask for it, but don't mix our affairs as husband and wife with our affairs as lord and lady." He took her hands in his and kissed them.

'It's not surprising. In the other story, Dany manipulates Khal Drogo into agreeing to certain things that go against the very foundations of the Dothraki.' The idea of his wife married to another man bothered him.

In the silence of the embrace, the prince's thoughts continued to what he knew about the world into which he had been reincarnated.

His memories of the books and the series served him well, not for the plot or to guess the future. The world was so different that he could hardly imagine what would happen.

Jaehaerys, despite his differences with his older brother, would recognize that Rhaegar was a better king than Robert Baratheon could ever be.

The stag never put his fat ass on the throne. Westeros was not in debt; it remained a prosperous region. Although over the years, Baelish could make a dent in that, it would not be soon. Jaehaerys had to consider two things: whether to prepare for war or to prepare to win it, or both.

He would like to argue that war was avoidable, but it wasn't.

He had even sent assassins after Littlefinger and Varys. The assassins failed, plunging the court into chaos for a time. They did not discover who sent them; Jae covered his tracks well. But those two men were his greatest challenge. They were not easy to eliminate.

"How have your studies with Qyburn been?" he asked, breaking the moment.

And the girl seemed to regain her confidence, starting to talk about the pipes. Dany had even searched for copper mines within her territory to produce pipes. Jaehaerys listened to her in silence, intervening from time to time when the girl seemed to forget something or to suggest ideas.

They were a young couple, just like Harrenhal, their foundations still being laid.

If you wish to read more you can go to https://linktr.ee/walderblack, already in chapter 150.

 

[Walder Black]

"It's... fascinating, although it will delay the construction of the castle to inscribe those runes on every brick. We've already had to discard thousands of pieces." Qyburn looked at a small wall measuring two feet by two feet. It was a simple demonstration. But that small piece contained something that Westeros had not seen in centuries: magic.

"Giving them to the smallfolk is not throwing them away," the prince reprimanded him.

The young prince had spent much of his day reading the books left behind by the greenseer. He set aside the Valyrian magic, giving Daenerys books about dragons. The girl had spent the last moon with the eggs. And he believed she could hatch them on her own, although of course he would seek to help her.

Among the texts, he found the primary type of magic used by the First Men: runes.

Jaehaerys had used two runes of the First Men: ᛉ (Elhaz) and ᛏ (Tyr).

Elhaz was a rune that conferred protection and defense on brick. It also had a greater connection to the spiritual, which would help prevent another curse from ever happening at Harrenhal. Tyr, on the other hand, was used to provide greater resistance and increase the structural strength of the brick.

It was a little complicated to work with runes, as a single rune could have several meanings.

The decisive factor was in making them; it was the intention that counted. Of course, it wasn't enough to carve the rune; it had to be painted with red sap to activate it, which would allow it to connect with the weirwoods and activate the magic. That's why he developed a new mortar mixture based on Roman mortar, the best he could create at the time.

That mortar was made of quicklime, volcanic ash, sand, and water. To this mixture, he added the sap from the weirwoods.

The sap was a scarce commodity, mainly because he could only extract it from two weirwood trees. The first was in the Godswood, while the second had just been planted a moon ago.

The tree in the Godswood seemed to be bleeding, and he had ordered his men to collect the sap in large barrels. To date, he had filled two. It was a monstrous amount, although he believed it was due more to the purification process than to natural production.

Even Dany had told him that she felt more comfortable around the weirwood trees since he had returned from the island. 'The three-eyed raven must have been quite frustrated,' he recalled the hundreds of ravens seeking to harm him. But they never sought to hurt his wife; it seemed that she was still important in the story. Or in the story that the raven wanted to write.

For the mortar, it was a matter of knowing what proportion of sap to mix with the mortar. The First Men diluted it almost a thousand times to write the runes. The power of the rune was not limited by the sap used, but by the weirwoods. But there had to be a minimum to be effective. Qyburn was working on that. The disgraced maester had asked him to study the runes, and he saw no reason to refuse.

He did not fear his betrayal; the man was hungry for knowledge. And Jaehaerys was an almost unlimited source of knowledge. But one can never be too cautious. He did not let him know about all the books; there were some more advanced ones. The runes he allowed him to study were elemental.

"Has the blacksmith finished the branding iron?" asked the prince.

He looked in the background, where his men seemed to have started a game. They took a hammer and began hitting the bricks together, trying to break them. So far, they had only managed to produce sparks.

Brandon hit it savagely while laughing like a madman.

"Twenty done, my prince. Ten of each seal," said the maester.

"Have them start using them on the bricks then," ordered the prince. "Have you found any assistants you're happy with?" He had entrusted him with this task weeks ago when he saw how overworked he was.

"I've recruited a group of young people willing to help. One knew how to read and write, so I asked him to teach the others. For now, they're only doing basic tasks. I need to know how reliable they are," said the maester. "Ah, there's an envoy from Lord Tarly," he said at last.

"An envoy?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. If he remembered correctly, the man was Sam's father.

"His eldest son, Samwell Tarly," Qyburn said with a small smile.

"Why did he send him?"

He should be on his way to the Wall by now.

"To fight the curse," the man said.

Jaehaerys nodded. News of the deaths caused by the curse had spread throughout Westeros, and he had even received a letter from Sansa asking about his well-being. He had not yet replied.

If Lord Tarly had sent him, it was in the hope that he would die; in the canon, he threatened him to cause a hunting accident. He did not know what rumors had reached him, probably exaggerations.

"Take him as a student," he said to Qyburn.

He could find another maester after his grandfather.

"Oh? That's not advisable. He's from a noble house and---"

"Take him. The young man is hated by his father. He probably sent him here to die," said Jaehaerys. "By the way, what are the rumors about the curse?" he asked.

"All of Westeros is skeptical. Rumors of deaths are a disease. If someone wants to get rid of their son, sending him away would be a good idea," said Qyburn, still suspicious. "Why would Lord Tarly do that?"

"His son is weak. He prefers books to swords. I remember Randyll looking at me with contempt, as if I were a whore. I can't imagine how he treated his son. Talk to him and ask him to explain why he came. Could you get to know him? You'll end up wanting him as a disciple." He didn't order him to, though he could well have done so. But he had already forced him to teach Dany and Serena; he wouldn't be so foolish as to antagonize him too much. He was an intelligent and valuable man, one worth keeping happy.

"Then I will do as you say, my prince." The old man nodded. "Do you plan to make the runes public knowledge?" he asked.

"No. I will add them to the new sigil of my house. When they see them on the bricks, they will only think I am a self-important prince. Although they won't be in sight when looking at the castle." The runes were forgotten knowledge. He had not even found them in the enormous library at Winterfell. If anyone recognized them, it would be a huge coincidence.

He could only think of the bronze armor of the Royces.

They also required sap to activate. There were only two trees that could provide it, and they were on his land. The other weirwoods were contaminated. That was why magic had diminished.

"What will your new coat of arms be?" asked Qyburn.

"Two intertwined dragons, one white and the other black. As I said, it will contain the runes Elhaz and Tyr at the feet of the dragons. It will be on an auburn background." He briefly described the coat of arms. His gaze was lost.

"Auburn? That sounds like La-"

"How many bricks will be needed to build the castle?" he asked. He hadn't done the calculations himself.

"A little over five and eighty million. That's just for the towers and the walls. The other buildings have not been considered yet," said the man, knowing when his benefactor wanted to change the subject.

"And how many do we produce per day?"

"Right now, around thirty thousand," said the maester. They got a hundred and twenty thousand out of every four days. "There are more than five hundred apprentices. But it will take time for them to learn the trade." Jaehaerys frowned.

That number was ridiculously low. He remembered his grandfather in his previous life, a stubborn old man who made a living making bricks. That was why Jaehaerys was so determined to build the castle out of bricks.

In his previous life, he had failed his grandfather. He wanted to honor him in this one.

It was a stupid reason, yes. But with the runes, it was even an advantage at that moment.

"How many experts are there?" Jaime had sent him artisans in various trades.

"About forty," said the maester. That was more than he expected.

"How many steps are there in bricklaying?" he asked. He knew the procedure from his grandfather, but he was unaware of the significant differences it presented in the medieval world.

"Extract the clay and sand; Blackwater is rich in both, so it shouldn't be a problem. Add water and knead. Then mold the bricks and let them dry. Once dry, form a kiln; each kiln can hold up to ten thousand bricks. They do three every four days," Qyburn explained, although Jaehaerys already knew the process. "That would be six steps. Extraction, kneading, molding, drying, forming the kiln, and baking them."

"And I suppose everyone works on the same thing at the same time?" Qyburn nodded.

"Yes. There isn't enough work for everyone. Sometimes you see the young apprentices just watching, which is why I suggest reducing their numbers," he requested.

"No. Order that twelve groups of three craftsmen and nine and thirty apprentices be created. Each of the craftsmen will be in charge of one step: kneading, molding, and baking," he ordered.

The low productivity was due to a lack of organization. Neither he nor Qyburn could be there giving orders, but they could organize the groups.

"There are intermediate steps," Qyburn began.

"Yes. I will send a hundred men to extract clay and sand, and twenty will transport it to the brickmakers' workplace with wagons. If more men are needed to carry the clay from the kneading to the molding, let me know." The former maester took note of his words.

"That will speed up construction. Production should triple. It could be double or triple that when they become more skilled." He jotted down in a small notebook.

"If I'm not mistaken, there are four craftsmen left over. Those four craftsmen will be supervisors. Let them be the best among them. I'll leave the micromanagement to them. Of the remaining thirty-two apprentices..." He closed his eyes as he thought, "Send them to mark the bricks with the runes. They will rotate with the groups." He rubbed his temples. It wasn't pain, as he was used to, but rather stress.

"I will carry out your orders, my prince." Qyburn slowly walked away.

Jaehaerys looked at the men playing; it seemed that it was Torrhen's turn. Brandon was on the floor, breathing heavily.

The wall remained intact.

If you wish to read more you can go to https://linktr.ee/walderblack, already in chapter 150.

 

[Walder Black]

Six and ninety thousand bricks every third day. That was the new figure. Two weeks had passed, and efficiency had increased more than threefold. But even at that rate, it would take nine years to produce the ninety million bricks required. He would probably need another ten million for the construction inside the castle.

Besides, he had other things to build that Qyburn hadn't considered. The outer walls were over eighty feet high and thirty feet wide. The stone from the towers would only be used to repair the damage, which prevented him from using it in his initial plan to expand the walls.

The walls formed a perimeter of six thousand three hundred and five and forty feet, covering an area of five and forty acres.

The walls were not symmetrical, and Jaehaerys hated that. The walls formed an imperfect rectangle. Three sides were fine, but then in one of the corners, there was a strange construction. Jaehaerys planned to tear down that corner and make the rectangle correct. The new construction would end up with a perimeter of eight thousand two hundred feet; that's one thousand eight hundred and five and fifty feet more than the previous one.

The towers, although monstrous, were useless for expanding the walls; even the Hall of a Hundred Hearths did not offer that much material. Qyburn was an excellent biologist, but as an architect...

The walls would need an additional thirty million bricks. And depending on the dragon eggs, he had other projects that would add another thirty million bricks.

That increased the work to almost fifteen years. Not counting unforeseen circumstances.

Jaehaerys considered how the Ironborn had never rebelled, and the feeling that a war could come soon made him want to hurry. He had already sent letters to the Manderlys offering them a commission.

Jaehaerys thought about sending more men. But he couldn't do that without stopping another process. The men were in charge of building the castle's foundations and expanding the outer walls, although the latter could wait. It would take about eight moons to finish the foundations, considering that they couldn't use those of the towers already built.

On the bright side, he could expand the walls much more than he had initially planned. However, it would still take five years. No one rested in the castle.

He felt a little bad about giving his people ten-hour days. But they had food and good pay. Their conditions were much better than most lords offered. Small groups of workers had arrived, people looking for opportunities. He had taken them on and put them to work quickly.

'Bricks, bricks,' he began to think of solutions.

He decided to give them better tools for kneading and molding. It would allow them to modify the bricks in the kilns for better results. He would order the carpenters to make wooden molds. Enough to make four bricks. It should increase efficiency.

'But it's not enough.'

"So, Will, where do you think the problem is?" The man had just reported on production. He was one of the supervisors.

"In the kilns, my lord," the man replied. He didn't dare look him in the eye.

"In the kilns?" he asked curiously.

"Yes, M'lord." The man swallowed hard, seeing the prince's narrowed eyes. "Ten men are kneading, eight and ten molding, and two and ten in the kilns. Each man produces about four hundred bricks. That would be seven thousand two hundred a day." He had been selected for his ability to count. "But we can only make eight thousand every three days because of the kiln."

"Two and ten men can't do it?" He opened his eyes wide. His grandfather was capable of tending a kiln by himself, albeit on a smaller scale.

"The men need to rotate shifts. We can handle one kiln, but not several at the same time." The man wiped his forehead.

"I see." He narrowed his eyes, looking at him. "How many men do you need?" he asked, starting to play with a knife.

"At least ten or twenty more per group." The man nodded, looking at the sharp steel with fear. 'Don't lie to him, no matter what,' he remembered Qyburn's words. "The young men are learning quickly. They could start molding five hundred bricks by the next moon. That would be seven and twenty thousand bricks every third day, per group, of course." The man calculated two kilns of five and ten thousand.

"What if you make the kilns smaller?" asked the prince.

"The quality of the brick decreases, and it would need more manpower. I would also need more wood," said the man. "About the wood..."

"What about it?" The whole situation was upsetting him. It was a problem of patience; it required time. Medieval industry was slow.

"I..." The man clenched his hands in fear. "In the Westerlands, we use coal. It burns hotter and is more efficient. We would use about a third of what we use in wood."

"I will take care of that. I believe there are several mines..." He stopped before he began to ramble. "I will send men and have them given better tools. I hope that improves production," he said to the man. "Order the kilns to be used in stages. Start one furnace one day, another the next, and another the third. That should speed things up," he asked at the end.

"Yes, m'lord." The man would figure it out.

Jaehaerys thought about correcting him on how to address a prince, but the man was trembling.

The prince gestured to the man, who knew when he was being dismissed.

Jaehaerys gave the orders and began to think about more recent problems.

He needed to obtain gold. He had spent approximately one hundred thousand golden dragons in the last two moons, almost a tenth of his total fortune. He would have to spend it on putting the mines to work. There were eight hundred men laying the foundations outside. Expanding the walls was not a priority beyond his annoyance at not seeing them symmetrical.

He could send five hundred to the mines. He would send the rest to make bricks. He put down his pen and donned a dark purple, almost black cloak.

He left for the village to check on the construction of the Drakkars. People thought that name was a variant of "Dracarys", which meant "Fire" in Valyrian.

He did not correct them.

He rode in silence with Torrhen's shadow beside him. They reached the village in no time.

He had prepared shipyards for the construction of the ships. He wanted small ships about sixty feet long. Agile for navigating the Blackwater. The carpenters of the Westerlands were quick to take orders. They had never built anything like this before, but they were not out of their element. He had purchased the cured wood from Lord Mooton of Maidenpool.

Three small boats were already in the makeshift harbor. Some villagers were offended, as they considered going so far out onto the lake a sin against the gods. It was his trip to the island that convinced them all.

"The gods allowed it. If they hadn't, he wouldn't have come back," said the smallfolk.

He decided to send Ros to King's Landing. He trusted her enough to sell products, mainly perfumes, soaps, and oils. He would send twenty armed men for her protection.

Thinking about the TV show, he was a little surprised. In the show, the girl had been a prostitute in Winterfell. He changed her destiny. She was the daughter of an innkeeper. One night, while looking for people to recruit, he came across that inn.

He remembered a nobleman about to buy her first night. Her father greedily accepted the gold. The man who paid, a knight lost in the north, took her by the waist and was about to take her to a room arranged by her father.

"Girl," he said back then. She seemed intelligent and observant. "Bring me more beer," he asked.

She ran to his side.

Her father frowned but said nothing. The knight looked at him with hatred. No one said anything. He was a prince; he could have taken her virginity for free if he had wanted to.

He took Ros with him. The girl wasted no time in trying to warm his bed. She could read and write, which alone made her very valuable in that medieval world. But she still feared abandonment.

Jaehaerys was not a man without desire and claimed her maiden as if it had always been his. He remembered the blood.

She was his first woman in both his lives. Out of respect for his wife, he had not been intimate with her again. Now he was sending her to sell goods. He didn't want her to stay by his side just as a decoration. After all, she had a good head on her shoulders.

He hoped that word would spread and merchants would come to Harrenhal. He had many things to sell, even if he needed to refine his processes.

He returned to the castle near sunset. He was looking for Ros. When he found her and explained his plan, she got mad.

"You're sending me away because of Daenerys?" was the first thing she said when he finished speaking. Jaehaerys had a separate study. He couldn't spend all day in his chambers working at his desk.

"No. I'm doing it because I trust you," he said softly.

"I don't want to go; I want to be here. With you," she seemed on the verge of begging him.

"It will only be a week or two. The trip down the river should take three days at most," he said. "You'll come back with me," he said, standing up and caressing her cheek.

"And when will I return to your bed?" She wanted to sound angry, but she couldn't. "Even when you and her," she alluded to Sansa, "were sleeping together, you still kept me with you. Gods, I remember you had us both at the same time. How many times was that? Ten, twenty?" she asked him.

"I'm married now," he defended himself.

Remembering Sansa hurt him and made him remember the letter he had not replied to. He shouldn't have been her first man. If anyone found out, she would have little prospect of marriage. Although the idea of his Sansa being married bothered him. Sometimes he wished he could call her Daenerys' lady-in-waiting. But he stopped himself.

"Married under gods you don't worship," she said. Jaehaerys preferred the old gods to the new ones. That wasn't anything new. The Isle of Faces only reaffirmed his beliefs. "The old gods don't care if you had more than one woman." The girl tried to kiss him.

"It's not about the gods. It's about my wife." He pulled away from her.

"Then you don't know your wife as well as you think you do," the girl said with a mysterious smile.

"What are you talking about?" He frowned at her comment.

"I'll tell you when I get back from King's Landing," she almost growled. "If I don't find a rich and handsome husband." She turned on her heel and left.

That idea soured Jaehaerys' day.

If you wish to read more you can go to https://linktr.ee/walderblack, already in chapter 150.

 

[Walder Black]

Jaehaerys never ceased to be amazed by the growth of the weirwood tree. It grew three feet in a week and thickened to the girth of two men. One man, if you counted Wyman Manderly. Daenerys sat on a bench around the weirwood tree. Thousands of men were working on the foundations. By that point, they had already demolished one of the five towers, the King's Pyre Tower. It was the furthest from where he and Daenerys were staying. It suffered the most from Balerion's fire, as it was the tower where Harren and his family used to live.

It would be the only tower whose foundations he could use. He wanted to start building the new tower so they could move in as soon as possible. He had already sent letters to Viserys asking for volcanic ash. Dragonstone was one of the few places in Westeros where he could find it. The valley probably had volcanoes, but he had never heard of any.

"I hear you fired Ros." In the last days, Dany had ordered a fence to be built around the weirwood tree. Some followers of the faith were unhappy with the tree, although there were no septons in Harrenhal. Religions were mixed there.

None of them did anything, either out of respect for their lords or out of fear of them.

There were several wooden benches by the fence, also at the princess's request. The girl liked to read by the weirwood tree. For now, she used a parasol, but she hoped that when the tree grew, its leaves would protect her from the sun.

"She'll be back soon." Jaehaerys sighed.

From where he stood, he could see the workers digging. Others were preparing the two towers closest to the central tower for demolition. The most critical workers were laying the foundations for the two central towers. There was a distance of four and fifty feet between these towers. The prince planned to build the library between them. Both towers would be five hundred feet high. The library would be one hundred and fifty feet high, allowing a view over the monstrous walls of Harrenhal.

He would connect the two towers using a bridge-like structure. The connection would begin 120 feet above the ground, forming an arch between the two structures. It would be built on top of this joint until the floor was level. He planned to create a balcony outside. He would use large windows to separate the library from the balcony. These windows would have exits, although they would generally be closed. He planned to build stairs outside the towers, but he was still undecided; he didn't want his future children to fall down them. He also didn't want to give the killers a direct entry point.

"I like her. She apologized and told me why she made me act that way." The princess turned a page in a book on her lap.

"Would you share that with me?" He glanced at the book. It was about water, focusing on its ways to harness its movement. She had spent the last few weeks with her nose in books about dragons, but he had ordered her not to take them out of their chambers. They were kept in a locked chest.

"No." She bit her cheek. "It's private," she said, hoping he would leave her alone.

"Then you don't know your wife as well as you think you do," he remembered Ros's words from the day before.

"Would you like something from the garden?" He decided to change the subject.

"A lake," she replied quickly. She closed the book. "The arbor tree is right in the center. I want the paths to be built around the edges. Near the walls, maybe thirty feet away, ditches would be dug and filled with bricks and then clay. These would connect to the small lakes." She seemed to be thinking on the fly.

"Lakes?" She changed the number instantly. That told him that she hadn't given the garden any thought.

"Yes, two lakes. I want them to be connected underground." She wrinkled her forehead as she thought. "A path will be built from the entrance, which will fork to the sides of the weirwood and then rejoin to pass between the two central towers. That's why you want to build the library up high, isn't it?" The girl looked him in the eyes.

"Yes. Besides, I thought you'd like to see everything from above. You'll get used to it by the time we get to ride dragons," he said quietly, making her laugh.

"Then it's too low..." she said. "Raise it to two hundred and fifty feet. Is that possible?" she asked.

"Yes, it's possible." Using the bricks with runes, he could build structures worthy of Minecraft. He didn't do it because the weirwoods were a weak point in the castle. "I want to build water channels around the weirwood. Leave an area of one hundred feet between the tree and those channels. They'll be wide. The weirwood will be connected to the roads by bridges," he told her. It would be a way to prevent anyone from accessing the tree. Having water nearby could help put out fires in case someone tried to burn it down. But he was planning in runes to protect it too.

"Sounds good. It would give it more prominence." She nodded. "You said you had prepared a temporary house for us?" He had mentioned it a few days ago.

"A small mansion... it has low walls around it, and with the men guarding it, it will be safe," he told his wife. "It's more comfortable than the tower we currently live in," he added.

"Good. Have the men already started moving things?" she asked.

"Yes. They'll be done in a few hours. It's close to the godswood." He looked at her. She nodded and remained silent.

The idea of building such a large castle was, first and foremost, for prestige, and secondly, to use it as a factory. He planned to divide the castle into two parts. One part would be where his family would live. The other part would be where goods would be produced, specifically those that needed to be kept secret. He preferred to keep them close by.

Of course, those that could be produced in that way. He couldn't put a shipyard inside. However, he could also establish distilleries for perfumes, alcohol, and oils, as well as glass blowers.

Those men worked on secrets he needed to keep close.

He wondered how Ros was doing. He had distilled the perfumes. He had hundreds more in reserve. They were fresh and innovative scents. Medieval perfumes tended to have an intense aroma that, to him, was unpleasant when you smelled it for a long time.

He also managed to create modern soaps with a pleasant scent. It was basic, but he had to start somewhere. His business in Essos would cause him problems if he introduced it to Westeros. Perhaps not immediately, but when the children of important people began to become addicted.

His idea was to innovate and establish his lands as a trading post. In time, with enough Drakkars, merchants could bring their goods down the river. No one had exploited the rivers in this way before.

Some traveled on small rafts, but they didn't have the carrying capacity of a ship.

"My prince," said a young man as he approached. He was chubby and not very agile. His cheeks were red and his forehead beaded with sweat. "Maester Qyburn sent me," said the boy.

Qyburn was cruel to send him as a messenger. However, it looked like the old man wanted to improve the boy's health. His obesity would kill him sooner or later.

"You are Samwell, aren't you?" asked the prince. "The son of Lord Tarly," he added.

"Yes, Your Highness." He bowed his head in reverence. "Or is it my lord?" he asked in a thin voice.

"My brother allowed us to keep the title of prince. My wife and I," he said, pointing to the young woman beside him. She looked up from her book to greet Samwell.

"Lord Tarly," she said. To Sam's ears, it was the most beautiful melody he had ever heard. "Qyburn mentioned that you would be joining us to study," she said.

"Yes." The boy nodded enthusiastically.

"What message does Qyburn have for me?" Jaehaerys interrupted.

The prince's gaze made Samwell wonder if he had improperly looked at the princess. He was not a lustful man. But the princess was the most beautiful being he had ever seen.

"He said he has already determined the yield of the red liquid." The maester gave him that message. But he didn't explain what the red liquid was; it seemed to be a secret.

"That's magnificent," said the prince. "Tell me, Sam. Do you know how to fight?" he asked with a smile.

"No, my prince, no," he hastened to say. "It has always been my weak point," he said nervously as he looked at the prince. He had heard about Darkstar. 'Two blows,' he thought. He was a little relieved not to see his weapon next to the prince. 'Oh, he would probably kill me with one punch.' He laughed nervously at his thoughts.

"You'll learn," the prince declared.

"I'm not a fi-" he was interrupted.

"I know," the prince said, looking at his chubby face. "I received a letter from your father. He wants me to make you a warrior." Lord Tarly had offered crops in exchange for taking his son as a ward. The boy was only a few years younger than him; it would be unusual, but not unheard of.

Barley was usually harvested on Lord Tarly's land. And right now, he needed it to make whiskey.

"My studies with the maester..." he began worriedly.

"They will not be interrupted," he said. "I don't want you to be a great warrior. Just a decent one." 'And don't die of obesity.' Those words were too cruel to say. "If you don't accept, you'll have to go back to Horn Hill." He really wanted to keep him as a scholar to screw Tarly over. But he wasn't so stupid as not to see the benefits of getting the barley. He could start distilling whiskey. There weren't enough people on his lands to harvest it, not yet.

"I... I'll train." The boy scowled. His gaze was determined.

Jaehaerys remembered an animated cartoon from his previous world: Kung Fu Panda.

"Good, Torrhen will train you tomorrow. First, you need to lose some weight and build up your stamina. Get ready." The boy turned green and nodded before leaving.

'I'll turn you into a dragon warrior, Pomwell,' thought Jaehaerys. 'Oh, that was childish, right?'

If you wish to read more you can go to https://linktr.ee/walderblack, already in chapter 150.