"Hiss… Gah…"
Seeing that no one was paying attention to it, Syrax twisted its body and let out a low screech, nudging its rider who was curled up in its embrace.
"Syrax, be careful of the baby in my belly."
Rhaenyra's smile was radiant as she wrapped her arms around the dragon's massive head, rubbing against it affectionately.
Rhaegar shifted backward slightly to avoid pressing against Rhaenyra.
"Hiss… Gah…"
Syrax immediately adjusted its movements, becoming much gentler. Its amber eyes, with slit pupils, were full of curiosity.
It seemed to be asking: Are you laying dragon eggs too?
Rhaenyra vaguely sensed its thoughts and chuckled. Lowering her head, she pressed her forehead against Syrax's upper snout.
"It has a strong bond with you," Rhaegar said with a smile.
Among the current Targaryens and Velaryons, Rhaenyra had the longest history as a dragonrider.
Even Daemon had bonded with his dragon a year later than his niece.
"Syrax grew up with me; it's far more loyal than you," Rhaenyra quipped, rolling her eyes at him playfully.
Rustling…
Footsteps crunched over loose gravel, approaching the palace.
Grey Worm stopped outside the hall and said solemnly, "Prince, Lady Jeyne requests an audience with you."
Rhaegar's expression stiffened. Great timing, he thought wryly.
After a brief pause, he asked, "Is it something urgent?"
"She insists on seeing you," Grey Worm responded with his usual formality.
"Wonderful."
Rhaegar's eye twitched slightly. Leaning in, he nuzzled Rhaenyra's neck and whispered, "I'll go take a look. I won't be long."
Rhaenyra tilted her head up, grasping his face with her hand as she teased, "The fox has been cornered by the hunter again and is now trying to talk its way out of trouble."
Since discovering her pregnancy, her emotions had been remarkably steady.
Smooch.
Rhaegar placed a light kiss on her before sighing, "I'm just going to hear her out. If there's nothing important, I won't stay."
Whether for courtesy or reason, he had to at least meet with her.
Rhaenyra scoffed, turning her head away in mock disdain. "Get lost. I'm going to the godswood for a walk."
She had no time for jealousy—ensuring the safe birth of her child was her top priority.
Rhaegar didn't have to go far. The meeting was set in a scenic pavilion within the Pebble Gardens.
Jeyne wore a fitted honey-colored gown, her chestnut hair cascading down to her slender waist. She stood at the edge of the pavilion, gazing into the distance.
When Rhaegar arrived, Jeyne seemed momentarily dazed before pressing her lips into a soft smile. "Rhaenyra is with child. Congratulations."
"It is indeed joyous news, something for all to see."
Rhaegar replied calmly, taking her hand and guiding her to a seat. "You have something on your mind. Speak."
The moment he saw Jeyne, he had already guessed the nature of this meeting.
From the moment he failed to restrain himself and things happened between them, this day was inevitable.
Jeyne smiled faintly, lowering her head. "I truly mean my congratulations."
Out of guilt toward Rhaenyra, she had hidden away in the Vale for three years, avoiding the public eye.
Even now, she wasn't sure if her past decisions had been right or wrong.
Originally, she had planned to use the chaos of the Stepstones War to drive a wedge between Rhaegar and Rhaenyra, hoping to win Rhaegar's heart and loyalty.
She had indeed experienced what it meant to be a woman—and she had left a mark in Rhaegar's heart.
But when the time came, she had hesitated. She had never found an opening to sow discord, nor had she been able to bring herself to do it.
"Jeyne, tell me plainly. You're not a woman who fears speaking her mind," Rhaegar encouraged her.
Jeyne was a woman whose intelligence matched her beauty—surpassing most men in both.
Under her governance, the Vale had thrived. Her political acumen and unwavering spirit were a testament to House Arryn's ability to soar like eagles.
Jeyne's gaze wavered. After a moment, she looked at him and softly asked, "Have you ever thought about having a child with me?"
The moment the words left her lips, she realized how much they sounded like the complaint of a scorned woman. Quickly, she clarified, "Even if it were a bastard!"
"Of course!"
Rhaegar responded without hesitation, then added firmly, "But not as a bastard. I've seen how most bastards are treated, and I would never let my child suffer such indignity."
Jeyne blinked in surprise. "But you can only have one wife."
"No."
Rhaegar's eyes gleamed with conviction. "Aegon the Conqueror married both Visenya and Rhaenys. No one dared oppose him."
"You're planning to start a war?!" Jeyne's face changed dramatically. Her sharp political instincts immediately sensed the gravity of his words.
The Faith of the Seven and House Targaryen had long held a fragile truce. Breaking that agreement would inevitably lead to war—or demand they take the initiative in waging one.
Rhaegar looked past the pavilion, gazing at the artificial hills and flowing water. He shook his head. "It's not that I want to start a war. The war will come to us on its own."
He would never start a war merely for love—that would be foolish.
But the strength of House Targaryen continued to grow, and with more than a dozen dragonriders, they were all living with shackled ambitions.
Even during the reign of Maegor the Cruel, when the Targaryen male line was thin, the battle beneath the Gods Eye still erupted.
If he were in Daemon's or Aegon's place, Rhaegar knew he wouldn't want to spend his days idling in the Red Keep, shackling dragons inside the Dragonpit.
War was an outlet for pent-up energy and desire.
Conquer new lands. Distribute those lands. Prevent dragonriders from becoming frogs at the bottom of a well, focused only on a single iron throne.
Jeyne's gaze flickered, her voice quick and sharp: "Where will the sword fall?"
"Dorne," Rhaegar answered without hesitation.
Janie said anxiously, "Dorne is a desert land, and its people are proud and unyielding. Even the Conqueror couldn't subdue them."
"The Conqueror only had three dragons. How many lords truly swore loyalty to him?"
Rhaegar remained rational as he assessed his available forces. "During the Conqueror's time, Balerion was just over a hundred years old, not necessarily much larger than the Cannibal. Meraxes and Vhagar were barely over sixty. Blood Wyrm and the Red Queen could easily match them."
"If war breaks out, Sunfyre, Seasmoke, and Grey Ghost can all take the battlefield."
Besides, the current nobility of the Seven Kingdoms widely accepted Targaryen rule. This wasn't the turbulent era of the Conqueror.
"Rhaegar, war is no small matter. The king will never agree," Janie said, her heart pounding. She tried to maintain her composure as she urged caution.
"I know."
Rhaegar's gaze was deep as he smiled. "Someone else will bring it up for me. I just need to go along with it."
He wanted to start a war, but his dear uncle Daemon was even more eager for conquest.
The difference was that Rhaegar had no intention of recklessly crossing the Narrow Sea to invade Essos.
The Three Daughters were among the Nine Free Cities, and declaring war on them would be equivalent to challenging all the Free Cities at once.
Even after two hundred years, the fear of Valyrian enslavement had not fully faded.
If the war went smoothly, they could swiftly conquer the Three Daughters and prepare for any countermeasures.
But if there were any setbacks, House Martell of Dorne would undoubtedly intervene. Even if they didn't send troops to aid the Three Daughters, they could dispatch a fleet to the Narrow Sea to disrupt supply lines, which would be enough to strain the front lines.
Janie didn't fully understand the situation, but that didn't stop her from letting her imagination run wild.
If war broke out in Dorne, the royal family had almost no reason to fear failure.
A successful conquest would mean complete unification of the Seven Kingdoms under House Targaryen, restoring their prestige to the level of the Conqueror's era.
Rhaegar could take another wife, and with his military success, no one would dare oppose it.
Of course, his thoughts were far from being that simple or crude.
He was considering a deal with the Faith of the Seven—supporting its spread in Dorne in exchange for permission to take another wife.
If they refused…
Then he would have to consider accepting the Red Priests' offer—bringing R'hllor worship into Westeros to challenge the Faith's dominance and prevent a monopoly on religious power.
The concept of "divine right of kings" meant nothing to him.
After a moment of silence, Janie left.
She hurried away, filled with excitement and hopeful visions, as if she needed time to process their discussion.
This was the first time Rhaegar had made her a promise, leaving her utterly shaken.
The soft patter of water echoed…
Outside the pavilion, a stream flowed in a winding path. Rhaegar sat in quiet contemplation, his earlier confidence replaced with a calm, detached expression.
He replayed his words in his mind—words that carried a hint of gentle deception.
His push for war was somewhat related to Janie, but not to the extent she imagined.
Setting emotions aside, his priorities were Rhaenyra and the family.
Janie was the Duchess of the Vale, and her support was crucial to Rhaegar.
Their child would inherit the Vale, just as Aemond and Cassandra's child would inherit the Stormlands.
To be honest…
If Aegon had been his full-blooded brother, he would have orchestrated a marriage between Aegon and Margaery, seizing control over the Reach in the process.
With the three brothers each controlling a major region and consolidating the Crownlands and the Riverlands, they could completely reshape Westeros' power balance.
After pondering for a while, Rhaegar let out a soft sigh. "A woman's ability to bear children is a powerful asset."
He despised Alicent's petty schemes, but he had to admit that her fertility was impressive.
For a family to grow strong, it needed women like her.
A rustling sound…
Not far from the pavilion, in the grass nestled against a rock formation, two small heads peeked out.
One had golden curls; the other had long, jet-black hair.
Helena lay on the ground, her big, watery eyes fixed on Rhaegar in the pavilion, momentarily lost in thought. "The Conqueror and his sisters…"
Malicent covered her mouth with both hands, her face filled with panic as she mumbled, "Invading Dorne…!"
The two girls had flown back on Dreamfyre after Janie left.
Malicent had heard rumors about Lady Janie and the Crown Prince, so she had come to see for herself.
Helena was also curious, so the two of them had agreed to spy together.
They never expected to overhear such explosive secrets.
"Helena, we need to go!"
Malicent was terrified, tugging at her friend urgently.
But Helena remained frozen, her mind replaying Rhaegar and Janie's conversation over and over.
Suddenly, Rhaegar seemed to sense something. His sharp gaze shot toward them.
"Eek!"
Malicent shuddered in fear, grabbing Helena and attempting to flee, afraid they would be silenced.
But before they could escape, a shadow loomed over them. A calm voice said, "Eavesdropping is not a good habit, ladies."
Grey Worm stood before them, expressionless, looking down at the two girls.
The scene shifted.
Now, the two young girls sat inside the pavilion, their heads lowered, not daring to meet Rhaegar's eyes.
Rhaegar sighed in exasperation, momentarily at a loss for words.
Especially Helena—her face was blank, as if she hadn't been the one caught eavesdropping.
"Prince Rhaegar, we won't tell anyone," Malicent whispered, nudging Helena nervously.
Rhaegar rubbed his temples. "It's not exactly a state secret, but your actions are unbecoming of your upbringing and status."
Daemon's thirst for war was far more urgent than his own.
It wouldn't be surprising if he stormed into the royal chambers and started a heated argument before the tourney even ended.
Luckily, Rhaegar wasn't in the habit of talking to himself—his true thoughts always remained hidden.
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