The uncle and nephew had just finished their matches, and the seating arrangements on the high platform shifted accordingly.
Rhaenyra lifted the hem of her dress and eagerly took a seat beside Laenor, chatting while snacking on his pastries.
"Rhaenyra, your appetite has been huge lately," Laenor remarked in surprise, unable to hide his amusement.
She had never seen her close friend eat this quickly before.
Usually, Rhaenyra only showed this much enthusiasm when indulging in cakes.
Feeling full, Rhaenyra squinted her eyes in satisfaction and casually excused herself, "I skipped breakfast."
To save face, she chose to tell a little white lie.
The truth was quickly exposed by Baela, one of the twins, who chirped, "The princess often gets hungry and even snaps at cousin Rhaegar."
By "cousin," she meant Rhaegar, as House Targaryen followed the patrilineal hierarchy.
"Baela!" Rhaenyra immediately covered her face in embarrassment.
She had been betrayed by her own foster daughter.
Laenor gently tapped her daughter's head and turned to Rhaenyra with concern. "If you're frequently feeling hungry and anxious, maybe you should have a maester take a look at you."
"Owyle said there's nothing wrong with me."
Rhaenyra shrugged, lifting a goblet of Arbor Gold and taking a small sip.
She had absolute confidence in her own health—there was nothing to worry about.
"Don't be so sure."
Laenor's lips curved slightly as she brushed a hand over the swell beneath her white gown. With a knowing look, she hinted, "When was the last time you and Rhaegar were intimate?"
A flicker of sadness passed through Rhaenyra's eyes. In a low voice, she replied, "The maester said I'm showing no signs of pregnancy."
"A maester isn't a woman!"
Laenor countered bluntly and shared her own experience: "The first three months of pregnancy are highly unstable, and symptoms can vary greatly."
She spoke in detail, analyzing every sign she had experienced—from carrying twins to the unborn child still in her womb.
Rhaenyra fell silent.
Halfway through listening, she suddenly realized something—she hadn't gotten her monthly cycle this month.
She was usually gentle with Rhaegar, radiating a strong maternal warmth.
On the rare occasions she was in a bad mood for a few days, Rhaegar would be extra considerate toward her.
But this time, she had been irritable for half a month straight. It was almost as if she had been too overwhelmed to notice.
Her heart pounded heavily. Feeling dazed, Rhaenyra instinctively lifted her goblet and took a large gulp of wine.
As soon as the liquid hit her throat, the familiar taste of alcohol—one she normally enjoyed—rushed over her senses.
"Ugh—"
A strong wave of nausea overtook her. Rhaenyra immediately turned her head away, clutching her chest as she dry-heaved.
"Princess!!"
Baela and Rhaena jumped in alarm and rushed to her side, grasping at the hem of her dress in concern.
"I'm fine… ugh…"
Rhaenyra tried to speak but was interrupted by another bout of nausea.
She had no idea why—just moments ago, she had felt perfectly fine.
But now, as soon as she considered the possibility, her body reacted involuntarily.
Laenor's face lit up with excitement. Forgetting all decorum, she grabbed her friend's hand and exclaimed in delight, "Look at that! Rhaenyra, you might really be pregnant."
As someone who had been through it herself—and was currently carrying another child—her instincts told her that her friend was definitely expecting.
Rhaenyra forced herself to suppress her discomfort. Placing both hands on her still-flat stomach, her mind went completely blank.
Everything was happening so suddenly, and she felt utterly lost.
At the Tourney Grounds
Rhaegar had chosen a white warhorse and was pacing back and forth with a wooden lance in hand.
Many knights in the preparation area were stretching and flexing, eager to prove themselves.
From time to time, he caught sight of Daemon watching a few contestants like a predator sizing up its prey.
Among them were Criston Cole and two Baratheon bastards.
Noticing his nephew's gaze, Daemon rode forward and said casually, "Want to see who can eliminate more opponents?"
"Let the knights have their chances—they came here for this." Rhaegar politely declined.
"Oh?" Daemon narrowed his sharp eyes and probed, "Then, are you interested in the lands beyond the Narrow Sea?"
A few days ago, he had received a warning letter from his brother, Viserys, forbidding him from raiding the ships of the Three Daughters.
Daemon had obeyed—technically. Instead of direct attacks, he had arranged for a band of Volantene pirates to intercept all passing ships and impose heavy tolls.
He didn't believe for a second that his nephew hadn't already guessed his plans.
Rhaegar indeed knew.
He had spies among the garrisons in the Stepstones, and he was well-acquainted with the three Triarchs of Volantis. Information buzzed around him like a swarm of bees.
Hiding his amusement, Rhaegar replied, "Uncle, now is not the right time to invade the Three Daughters."
He firmly believed in one thing:
Launching an overseas invasion was unwise!
Westeros' strongest naval power belonged to House Velaryon. Half of the realm's adult dragonriders had close ties to Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake.
If the crown recklessly initiated a war, the naval constraints would be too severe.
Even if they conquered the Three Daughters, the distribution of rewards and governance would become a massive burden on the crown.
The history of Aegon the Conqueror's failed Dornish campaign was a blood-soaked lesson.
Daemon's expression darkened, his tone laced with disdain. "The Three Daughters were once Valyrian colonies. Taking back what rightfully belongs to us is perfectly justified."
"That's not my decision to make. You can try discussing it with the Small Council."
Rhaegar chuckled lightly and spurred his white horse onto the field.
If he were being honest, he too desired to conquer the Three Daughters and expand their territory.
But the reality was that the Seven Kingdoms had enjoyed peace for many years. The wars over the Stepstones had already stretched tensions too thin, making an invasion across the Narrow Sea nearly impossible.
Despite House Targaryen boasting more than a dozen dragons, they were internally divided.
In truth, their family had already splintered into four loosely connected yet distinct factions.
First—the Greens.
Alicent Hightower's four children shared a deep familial bond and were backed by the powerful Hightower family of Oldtown.
Even though Aegon was a mess, and Helaena, Aemond, and Daeron were all close to Rhaegar, the Green faction remained a formidable force in its own right.
This wasn't because Rhaegar couldn't suppress it, but because human nature is unpredictable—there will always be someone pushing you toward a certain position.
In the Larys incident, all three siblings—Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond—were involved, revealing the first signs of an emerging strategy.
Rhaegar's primary task was to extinguish these signs and completely separate the three siblings.
Opposing the Greens was the Blacks.
Or, it might be better to call them the "Legitimist" faction.
Rhaegar and Rhaenyra were both the eldest son and daughter of the late Queen Aemma Arryn, naturally holding the strongest claim to the inheritance of Westeros.
Following family tradition, they controlled territories such as Harrenhal and Dragonstone, along with a partially completed princely residence.
They had countless followers, with core members including Jeyne Arryn of the Vale, the old Tully of the Riverlands, and various minor lords from the Crownlands and the Crackclaw Point region.
Their father, King Viserys, was in his prime, carefully protecting his two children. The father-to-son transfer of power was proceeding smoothly, leaving no cause for concern.
Beyond the Black and Green factions, Daemon and House Velaryon were also forces that could not be ignored.
Daemon himself commanded Caraxes, possessing high leadership and influence, as well as extensive wartime experience.
His wife, Laena, rode Vhagar, and their twin daughters had both successfully hatched dragon eggs.
At first glance, their faction seemed weak, relying on the royal family and House Velaryon.
However, Daemon was of the bloodline of Prince Baelon the Spring Prince.
When King Viserys inherited the throne, it was this lineage that held claim to the Iron Throne for generations.
Daemon's branch of the family was an independent extension, carrying the responsibility of expanding the family line.
As for House Velaryon, its significance needed no explanation.
The Sea Snake's wealth and military power were unparalleled in the Seven Kingdoms. His wife and son were both dragonriders, and Laenor was married into the Craghas Drahar lineage of the Stepstones.
In terms of sheer strength, the Sea Snake commanded two battle-ready dragonriders and controlled the majority of the kingdom's navy, making him formidable even against the rising power of Rhaegar.
However, the Sea Snake wouldn't take such a risk—nor would he have the opportunity.
Rhaenys was a steadfast supporter of the Black faction. Her daughter was married to Daemon, and her granddaughters were entrusted to Rhaenyra's care, tying their bloodlines together.
Although the Sea Snake and Daemon were closely allied, they each harbored their own ambitions.
Just like Rhaegar and his younger siblings—close, but with an unbridgeable gap.
Clang!
The knightly duel had officially begun.
The contestants were Daemon and a knight from House Tarly.
From a distance, Rhaegar watched, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of the future.
Family, war, feudal grants, governance…
His father, Viserys, might not have left behind a grand legacy, but he was undoubtedly a foundational ruler.
For the realm, he ensured a full treasury and a prosperous people, leaving a solid foundation for his successors.
For the family, he had sired six children, four of them sons.
This alone put him slightly ahead of King Jaehaerys the Conciliator, who had only three sons.
"The Dragonless Aegon," Rhaegar murmured.
A flourishing family was a good thing, but the more people there were, the messier the politics became.
Among King Jaehaerys' three sons, Aemon and Baelon were closely aligned—one was meant to be king, the other his Hand. Meanwhile, Aegon renounced his inheritance and became a maester in Oldtown.
The arrangement seemed perfect, yet none of them ultimately ascended the Iron Throne.
In Rhaegar's generation, he was the main heir, while his uncle Daemon and Aegon's three sons were offshoot branches of the lineage.
House Targaryen was chaotic and disorganized, and on top of that, they were all dragonriders.
Leaving them in King's Landing without titles would be troublesome, but letting them roam freely could also lead to disorder.
Rhaegar rubbed his temples in frustration, muttering, "War and feudal grants…"
When internal conflicts arise within a faction, external pressure is often the best remedy.
Clang!
The referee struck the bronze gong, signaling the end of the duel.
Daemon, clad in black armor with a flowing crimson cloak, unseated his opponent within two rounds.
As he stepped off the field, the referee scanned the stands excitedly before announcing, "Next match! Welcome Prince Rhaegar of House Targaryen and Ser Galwyn, eldest son of Hand of the King, Otto Hightower!"
Snapping back to reality, Rhaegar's gaze steadied as he rode his white horse into the arena.
Idle thoughts served no purpose—true power lay in wielding real authority.
If Daemon wanted war, he would have to convince the Small Council and King Viserys first.
Rhaegar was the heir apparent, and he had his own responsibilities.
Producing an heir, altering the nobility's perception of the royal family's weakness, and maintaining control over dragons and dragon eggs.
"Hyah!"
Rhaegar rode to one end of the tilting barrier and looked toward his opponent at the opposite end.
A lean knight in silver armor, draped in a cloak bearing the sigil of the Hightower.
"Otto's son," Rhaegar muttered, glancing up at the silent and observant Otto in the royal box.
Otto was a widower, with only two children: his eldest son, Galwyn, and his daughter, Alicent.
In the royal box, King Viserys watched with great interest, glancing between his wife and Otto before laughing, "Look! Rhaegar is facing Galwyn."
Alicent smiled wryly and walked over to Rhaenyra, who was leaning against the railing to watch the duel. They observed the match together.
Her brother was skilled, though not exceptionally so.
Otto remained calm, conversing lightly with the king, but he could not fully mask his concerns.
His foolish brother had disrupted his plans. Now that the situation had unraveled, he had to prepare for retaliation from both the Crown Prince and the Hand of the King, Lyonel Strong.
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