**Nightfall.**
Red Keep, the Queen's Chambers.
Alicent sat at the round table, her gaze fixed ahead.
Across from her sat Otto Hightower, the Lord Hand of the King.
Dishes were spread across the table, yet neither father nor daughter had touched their utensils.
"Father, you must help me."
Alicent spoke, her face full of worry. "Prince Martell has requested a princess for marriage. I cannot send Helaena away."
"Don't panic. Viserys hasn't agreed immediately; nothing is settled yet."
Otto remained calm.
"You know he's merely weighing the pros and cons."
Alicent grew anxious. "You and I know Viserys better than anyone. He will choose peace over everything—he'll send Helaena to Dorne."
"And why is that so terrible? Prince Qoren is young and strong. Marrying him would not be a disgrace for Helaena."
Otto's gaze was deep and unwavering, his emotions unreadable.
To him, political marriages were inevitable for every noble house.
It was nothing out of the ordinary.
But Alicent saw things differently. She worried for her daughter, her voice rising in distress. "Father, Dorne and the Crownlands are irreconcilable enemies. The people there are ruthless."
"Helaena will be all alone if she marries into Dorne. Who knows what fate awaits her? I can't stand by and watch her walk into a pit of fire!"
Truthfully, her greatest concern had always been her eldest son, Aegon.
But Helaena was her only daughter.
A daughter who looked like her, suffered from mental afflictions, and had endured whispers and rumors all her life.
To send such a fragile girl away from her family's protection, alone into Dorne—Alicent couldn't bear to imagine what her future would hold.
Otto frowned slightly but spoke with indifference. "Calm yourself, Alicent. Do not let panic cloud your judgment."
"Father, my daughter's fate is being decided by others—how can I stay calm?!"
Alicent stood abruptly, her eyes reddening with emotion. "Ten years ago, Viserys was willing to send Rhaenyra to Dorne for marriage. Do you think he'll care any more about Helaena?"
Otto remained silent. He knew his daughter was right.
There was a time when Rhaenyra's marriage had not been her own choice. She had many potential suitors.
Before the first Stepstones War, Viserys had considered marrying Rhaenyra to Qoren to maintain peace with Dorne.
At the time, Rhaenyra had been Viserys' first and only child with Queen Aemma Arryn.
It was a testament to how firm his stance was on political marriages.
After a moment of silence, Otto spoke his mind. "You have more than one child. If Helaena's marriage secures peace for the realm, it may also gain you the support of House Martell."
He was a politician.
To him, political gain far outweighed personal bonds.
Trading one girl for the loyalty of House Martell was an exchange well beyond her individual worth.
"Father, do you even hear yourself?"
Alicent's face froze in disbelief at his words.
Otto sighed. "Alicent, you've always worried about your children's future. If Helaena marries the Prince of Dorne, she will be their princess—a position that will benefit our family greatly."
"No! Don't even think about it!"
Alicent was livid, her disappointment in her father overflowing. She roared, "You said the same thing to me once—before sending me to Viserys' chambers."
"He never loved me. His heart belonged to his dead wife and their children. I was nothing but a breeding mare, a caretaker for the Red Keep!"
Her words spilled out in anguish, her breath ragged, her eyes bloodshot.
Her life had already been miserable enough.
She refused to let her daughter suffer the same fate.
Otto remained unmoved, silently watching as his daughter vented her emotions.
After a long moment, Alicent caught her breath, her expression hollow. "If you won't help me, I'll find another way."
With that, she turned and stormed out of the room.
Otto said nothing, lost in his own thoughts.
---
Alicent climbed a set of stairs and arrived at a secluded attic.
**Creak—**
The door swung open, revealing the dimly lit chamber within.
Inside, Larys Strong sat waiting, dressed immaculately. Two wooden chairs occupied the room.
Larys sat in one, his cane resting in his hands, a smile playing on his lips as he looked at Alicent.
Clearly, he had been expecting her.
---
**Grey Gallows Island, Central War Tent.**
Inside the large tent, a heated debate raged among the gathered officials.
"We should fortify the island and focus on defending against the Triarchy's ambushes."
"Nonsense! We barely have enough men to hold a defensive line. A night raid would be the best way to catch them off guard."
The argument was between Ser Spicer Redwyne of the Arbor and Lord Borros Baratheon of Storm's End.
Borros had been expelled from court, only to be disowned by his own father, Lord Boremund Baratheon, forcing him to return to the army.
This time, he had arrived with two thousand soldiers and ten warships, a significant reinforcement to the royal forces.
"My lords, please settle down!"
As the argument escalated, Ser Robert Rivers, commander of the Second Sons, stepped forward to mediate.
"Settle down, my ass! I'm discussing war strategy, and you're just a bastard—stay out of this!"
Borros was hot-tempered and had no qualms about striking where it hurt the most.
Robert's face flushed with anger at the insult, but he dared not speak back.
Seated at the head of the table, Prince Rhaegar tapped the surface with his fingers and shot a sidelong glance at Borros. "Lord Borros, that is enough."
"Prince, we're discussing the war. Not even the king can silence a battlefield commander."
Borros' gaze was filled with disdain, offering no deference whatsoever.
He was, after all, the future Lord of Storm's End.
A mere prince—not even crowned—was no one he needed to bow to.
**Bang!**
Rhaegar slammed the table heavily and abruptly stood up, shouting, **"I said be quiet, Lord Boros!"**
As he spoke, his piercing gaze locked onto Boros, exuding an aura of overwhelming dominance.
Having spent years in the company of the devourers, he had long cultivated an air of terrifying authority.
Boros glared at Rhaegar in frustration, wanting to hurl insults, but the sheer intensity of Rhaegar's gaze forced him to swallow his words.
His Adam's apple bobbed up and down before he let out a heavy grunt.
Seeing this, the others averted their eyes and fell silent.
Boros had an awful temperament—no one liked him.
The prince scolding him was a welcome reprieve for them.
Rhaenys broke the tension, frowning. **"Rhaegar, what is it you wish to say?"**
**"Yes, Your Highness, when do you plan to take action?"**
Balthimos Celtigar spoke up in support, steering the conversation away.
Rhaegar withdrew his gaze and turned his attention back to the sand table on the table. **"My lords, that is precisely what I wish to discuss. It is time to set the plan into motion."**
The room's attention focused on him, awaiting further explanation.
Rhaegar continued, **"Within two days, the Kingdom of the Three Daughters will undoubtedly make a major move. Our primary objective is to prepare our forces and await the supply shipments."**
**"Hah! Who doesn't know that already?"**
Boros sneered.
Rhaegar glanced at him briefly, uninterested in further engagement, then asked, **"Has Cole departed for Broken Arm to divert Dorne's forces?"**
Robb quickly replied, **"He left at dusk."**
**"Good."** Rhaegar nodded.
Boros interjected, **"Prince, you said Cole is the bait. Now that he's gone, what do we do next?"**
**"We prepare our forces and remain on standby at all times."**
Rhaegar responded seriously.
Boros scoffed and shook his head. **"You say that every damn day. Either we hold Grey Gallows to the death or launch a surprise attack on the Three Daughters. Just sitting around preparing won't accomplish a damn thing!"**
**"Lord Boros, mind your words. You are speaking to the Crown Prince!"**
Loyalty to the prince came first. Robb was the first to rebuke him.
**"Shut your damn mouth, you bastard!"**
Boros, now enraged, shot back with an insult.
Robb was about to retaliate, but Rhaegar placed a firm hand on his shoulder, holding him back.
Robb froze, confused. **"Your Highness?"**
Rhaegar waved his hand dismissively and turned to face Boros, who was red-faced and seething with rage. His voice was calm but sharp. **"With both the Lord Admiral and the Minister of Naval Affairs absent, who holds command on this island?"**
Boros narrowed his eyes and responded coldly, **"By rank, of course, the Crown Prince holds the highest authority."**
Among those present, the highest-ranking noble was Rhaenys, the daughter of a king.
Next was Balthimos Celtigar, the Lord of Crab Isle.
The rest, including Boros, held only lesser noble titles or knighthoods.
Hearing Boros' answer, Rhaegar smirked. **"Oh? If I hold the highest authority and I order the forces to remain on standby, are you planning to defy me?"**
As he spoke, his hand drifted toward the dragon-claw hilt of his sword.
**"I, of course—"**
**"Enough! Boros, shut your mouth!"**
Boros was about to retort when Rhaenys immediately cut him off.
She glared at him, warning, **"Remember your father's advice—watch your words and actions!"**
She had always been perceptive and immediately noticed Rhaegar's subtle movement.
She knew that Boros had unwittingly become the example Rhaegar would use to instill fear.
Boros' face twisted with frustration as he stared at Rhaegar, his words catching in his throat.
Rhaegar's gaze was as cold as ice. His tone was eerily calm. **"Go on. Speak."**
At that moment, Boros' peripheral vision caught sight of Rhaegar's right hand gripping his sword. Realization struck him like a hammer.
A chill ran down his spine, his anger instantly overtaken by terror.
**"He's going to kill me!"**
Boros swallowed hard, the thought echoing in his mind.
Just then, the tent's entrance was abruptly thrown open.
Lannino hurried in. **"Cousin, the Three Daughters have reinforced their garrison on Bloodstone Island!"**
Rhaegar glanced at him but remained unfazed.
With Lannino's sudden arrival, the tension in the tent slightly eased.
Rhaenys seized the moment, swiftly kicking the back of Boros' knee.
With a loud **thud**, Boros collapsed forward, falling to his knees before Rhaegar.
Rhaegar gazed down at him like a judge passing a verdict.
When fear grips the heart, a man will abandon his pride.
In that moment, Boros realized the gravity of the situation. His entire body trembled as he raised his voice. **"Prince, your words are law. The Stormlands will follow your command!"**
As soon as he spoke, Balthimos quickly echoed, **"We obey the Prince's orders!"**
The tension had been suffocating just moments ago—everyone had felt as if they were standing on the edge of a blade.
Now that Boros had yielded, the others followed suit.
**"We obey the Prince's orders!"**
Led by Pesc Redwyne of Greenstone Island, several commanders dropped to one knee in allegiance.
They didn't care why Rhaegar insisted on keeping their forces on standby.
His sheer strength of will and decisiveness alone were enough to command their loyalty.
Rhaegar accepted their pledge with a composed expression.
Then, unexpectedly, his icy demeanor melted away, and he burst into hearty laughter.
**"Lord Boros was merely joking—why are you all kneeling?"**
His laughter was loud and unrestrained, as if this had all been nothing but a jest.
Boros shuddered, forcing an awkward smile onto his bearded face.
The others exchanged looks, and soon, the tent erupted in roaring laughter.
**"Hahaha!"**
(End of Chapter)