The king was still basking in the excitement of the royal house reclaiming two ancestral swords, indulging in the wild fantasy that House Targaryen would surely regain dragons as well. And so, locked inside the royal suite all day with alchemists and favored courtiers, divining the whereabouts of dragon eggs, Aerys missed the spear tourney finals entirely. It was only at dusk that he heard Varys enter and report a piece of news—
His eldest son had acted on his own initiative and, in full public view, proposed marriage to a Stark lady of the North.
In those clouded violet eyes, hysterical fury erupted.
In a towering rage, Aerys summoned Rhaegar and unleashed every venomous, cutting insult he could think of—mocking him for setting his sights on a coarse village woman, deriding his low taste, utterly devoid of Targaryen nobility. He accused him of being jealous of his younger brother, impatient to be named Prince of Dragonstone!
"You greed-ridden schemer! Liar! You are far inferior to your brother!" the Mad King roared, threatening, "When he marries someone of pure Valyrian blood and sires a silver-haired, purple-eyed heir, I will disinherit you!!"
Faced with his father's violent and deranged tirade, Rhaegar was already completely unmoved. He listened quietly, posture respectful. Only when his brother's marriage was mentioned did a ripple pass through the Crown Prince's gaze.
He would not allow his father to control Viserys's marriage.
Viserys deserved the freedom Rhaegar himself had never had—to marry a good girl he truly loved. Whoever she might be, Rhaegar would arrange a grand wedding for his brother. He imagined it absently: Viserys's joyful smile, the light in his eyes, bright enough to illuminate all of King's Landing.
The king's furious bellowing led his favorite, Count Orwen, to conclude that the Crown Prince was utterly fallen from favor. He exchanged looks with the Master of Coin, Colton, both intending to band together and continue slandering Rhaegar, hoping their long-cherished wish of seeing him disinherited would one day come true.
But Bellis of the Royal Alchemists' Guild did not join in.
He studied Rhaegar carefully and felt the Crown Prince's heart was like still, deep water. The young man wore no crown, yet seemed more kingly than the monarch beneath the enormous golden crown etched with dragons. The pyromancer clicked his tongue and casually raised a hand, lighting a candle in the dim, ruined throne hall of Harrenhal.
Aerys's attention was instantly drawn. Bellis sprinkled a pinch of powder onto the flame—
The fire turned purple.
It flared and roared.
Bellis began chanting an incantation, his expression rapt and intoxicated. He stared into the flames the king so adored, as if truly glimpsing future scenes within them. After a stretch of murmured, chant-like ancient words, Aerys impatiently demanded to know what he had seen. Had he seen the whereabouts of the dragon eggs?
"Not dragon eggs, Your Grace! Your Grace!! There is no need for anger—the flames tell me this marriage will bring you supreme glory!"
Following what Viserys had once said, he dramatically reiterated and reinforced Aerys's youthful ambitions. The Mad King strutted back and forth, puffed up with pride, his long fingernails stabbing at his own chest.
"I knew it—I will be reborn through fire as the true dragon—" He burst into shrill, unhinged laughter, then pointed at Rhaegar. "Then let ice and fire be joined! Dragonflame and the direwolf—will they produce something with a dragon's head and a wolf's body?"
This was not something Bellis dared fabricate lightly. He could only repeat a famous prophecy from the past:
"The prince that was promised must come from House Targaryen—he can only be your descendant!"
The king suddenly seized his silent son by the arm."The prince of prophecy—will it be you? Why couldn't it be Viserys?"
Rhaegar thought carefully. Then he answered his father honestly.
"You are not wrong. Perhaps it truly will be Viserys."
"Heh heh heh heh!" The Mad King clapped his hands. "Then he must marry someone of pure Valyrian blood! As for you, I will allow this rashly chosen marriage of yours! But don't you dream of a grand ceremony! The blood of the Northern direwolf is unworthy! Unworthy! Your wedding will never surpass Viserys's! After you marry, get out and go live on Dragonstone!"
Rhaegar bowed with perfect form and withdrew from the hall. Inside, his father's manic laughter echoed like the cry of a night owl.
Outside, the red-haired Count of the Griffin was waiting, his face full of concern and tension.
"Your Highness!" he asked. "The king—he—?"
Rhaegar's lips were even paler than the day before. Calmly, he replied, "My father has agreed to my marriage. With the aid of the fire-mages, he believes marriage, like a tool, can bring glory to the Iron Throne. After the wedding, I will live on Dragonstone."
Pain flashed through Jon's eyes."You… was the fire-mage arranged by you?"
Rhaegar shook his head and smiled faintly. "No. It was Viserys. My clever, capable younger brother."
His thoughtful gaze drifted toward the weirwood grove below Harrenhal. A breeze stirred his silver hair. Was he smiling? Praising the young prince? Yet his eyes seemed to suppress melancholy and sorrow.
Jon could no longer hold back.
"Your Highness, Crown Prince! Was this marriage truly your willing choice?! It was clearly Prince Viserys who deliberately arranged for you to ally with House Stark! Even the flower crown was given away by his hand—why did you decide to marry so quickly, without consulting any of us, right there on the spot?"
The challenge was, frankly, a breach of propriety.
Rhaegar did not mind. He recalled how, in that moment, his blood had gone ice-cold. All impractical longing had shattered into bubbles the instant the flower crown was passed on to another. He had become instantly calm, utterly pragmatic.
He did need a wife. Who it was did not truly matter. But it would be best if she could also be his companion.
And his perceptive younger brother had chosen that companion for him.
The Crown Prince sighed. "Lyanna is an extraordinary girl—more suited to me than any lady in King's Landing. I decided myself to form this marriage alliance with House Stark. Enough, Jon. Please trust my judgment, and my brother's."
But you are clearly unhappy! Jon cried inwardly. You make those who love you feel as though their hearts are breaking!
Yet the count could not confess his feelings to the Silver Prince. He took a deep breath and bowed his head.
"Yes. May you… be happy."
For reasons even he could not fully explain, Jon Connington found himself disliking Lyanna—the woman who would now, by right, possess Rhaegar. From this day on, he also began to guard against Viserys.
He believed the brown-haired Northern girl was wholly unworthy of the elegant, perfect Dragon Prince. And Viserys—who had facilitated all of this—why had he so eagerly helped his brother secure a marriage that was, frankly, inferior?
The North ranked low among the Seven Kingdoms in strength. Its lands were barren, its people's faith utterly different from the south. Compared to an alliance with the Westerlands, Jon saw no benefit at all—
He even harbored a dark suspicion—
Only Rhaegar himself was too upright, too loving toward his brother to consider it. And so, Jon resolved, he would protect him, and remain vigilant on his behalf against any would-be schemers.
The Viserys suspected of coveting the throne was, at that very moment, seated before a table of weirwood, writing furiously.
He was busy listing the items Lyanna ought to bring as her dowry: the glass greenhouse he had long admired, and hot spring water channeling technology for heating! Dragonstone's palace needed renovation—an independent plumbing and water system project had to begin immediately! His brother must live in comfort!
He even added House Stark's ancestral ice sword to the list. If it could be included in the dowry, all the better. Such a massive blade could be melted down and reforged into a breastplate for his brother! Defense would increase a hundredfold—
One day, he would surely forge Valyrian steel kingly armor for his brother.
What else after the wedding?
He hoped Lyanna would, like himself, properly manage the kitchens and know his brother's tastes. Northern food tended toward stews and roasts, but his brother preferred fresh vegetables and fruit, fish and seafood with every meal, and well-made roasted venison or rabbit.
After daily riding, archery, and sword practice, his brother would need extra protein and hydration! Adding a spoonful of fresh lemon juice or pepper water when cooking meat was a secret that stimulated his appetite even during the height of summer!
He had more than a dozen dishes his brother loved most. Lyanna should instruct the Dragonstone kitchens to rotate them regularly for his enjoyment.
Also—his brother favored the scent of dragon's breath grass; all his robes must be scented with it. His brother sometimes slept lightly; please have him drink a cup of warm milk at night.
All these trivial matters had to be written down, one by one, and handed over to—
—to the woman his brother loved most…?
Viserys unconsciously set down his pen. An intense discomfort welled up in his chest, and he even began picking at Lyanna's flaws.
She wasn't gentle enough! Would she truly be attentive and considerate to her husband?
He admitted it—he was jealous.
Jealous that his brother would no longer belong to him alone?
He frowned. But hadn't his brother's marriage to Lyanna been one of his own hopes and achievements?
Confused and irritable, the Prince of Summerhall continued writing the Lyanna Must-Know Manual. After finishing a page, he tore it to shreds.
Restless and unsettled, he rose and paced.
He thought he should talk to someone…
Not his brother.
If only Tyrion were here now.
What exactly was going on?
If his beloved brother Jaime were to marry, would Tyrion feel the same way—restless, irritable, unable to sit still?
Ah—right. He needed to inform Lord Tywin that Tyrion and Sandor were in Essos… that they were safe, and to offer a formal apology for their rash departure all those years ago.
Viserys decisively set down his pen and headed straight toward the camp where red banners with golden lions fluttered.
Lord Tywin received the prince and generously stated that Tyrion was also his son, and that he had already forgiven his leaving without farewell. Moreover, he should return to attend the Crown Prince's wedding.
"We agreed to return one after the other. Tyrion should be arriving soon. My lord duke, he will go with me to Summerhall as my friend and as a minister of the prince."
Tywin said this was good.
Viserys judged that the duke was sincere. No matter how little he liked Tyrion, family honor came first for Tywin. Tyrion having a promising future truly benefited House Lannister.
The only question was whether, when it was revealed that Tyrion had already married and had children with a commoner, Tywin would explode in fury.
The duke sent the prince off in a friendly, relaxed atmosphere. Watching Viserys's retreating figure, Tywin's thoughts ran deeper.
News that the king had approved the Crown Prince's marriage spread swiftly throughout Harrenhal and beyond. Tywin had long anticipated this outcome. He now paid closer attention to House Stark, which usually kept a low profile in the North.
It was said that the dogs that don't bark are the ones that bite.
House Stark made no noise, yet in one stroke seized the great prize of the future queen.
But if Duke Rickard thought that producing a queen would grant him entry into the future power center of King's Landing, he was mistaken.
What kind of man was Crown Prince Rhaegar?
Polite and gentle on the surface, but once he made up his mind, nothing could sway him. And he possessed the abilities to match his will—along with a group of loyal supporters.
The Northern girl would never become another ambitious Alicent Hightower.
When Cersei heard the news, she could not believe it.
She was convinced that some Northern witch must have bewitched the Crown Prince! Otherwise, how could Rhaegar marry a girl like a gray firefly?
Though Tywin said there was still Prince Viserys, Cersei thought—how could he compare to Rhaegar? His eyes could not stir her heart in the slightest!
In the depths of her despair, Cersei repeatedly questioned her twin brother Jaime, who had come to comfort her, demanding to know why. In the end, she leaned against him, collapsing into his embrace.
The engagement decree made Lord Hoster Tully of Riverrun instantly understand why Rickard had refused to marry Lyanna to Edmure—so there had long been ties with the royal family!
Still, he offered his congratulations. His eldest daughter would marry Brandon, making her the sister-in-law of the future queen! With that connection, Lysa would be much easier to marry off. What reason could Tywin of the Westerlands have to refuse then?
Upon hearing the king's consent, the Queen of Thorns of Highgarden—remembering the sight of the brothers embracing and kissing—believed that even with Rhaegar's engagement, some things would never change!
However, her own soon-to-be-born grandchildren could be groomed toward marrying into, or welcoming, the next generation of royal children.
The North, following Dorne, would also blend its blood into House Targaryen. That would bring benefits—
Yet the old grandmother was, after all, a traditional noblewoman. Her calculations were excessive compared to Viserys's true goals.
The Prince of Summerhall believed that nothing surpassed centralized royal power. Dorne or the North—it mattered little. When it came time to carve them up, he would show no mercy.
Across the Seven Kingdoms—some ecstatic, some calm, some scheming, some envious—the only discordant note came from one man in the Stormlands.
Upon hearing that Lyanna and Rhaegar's marriage was a done deal, he roared and overturned tables and chairs.
Then he erupted into a violent argument with his younger brother, Stannis. Stannis accused him of making the Stormlands a laughingstock, accused him of wasting money on drink without restraint.
"When Father and Mother return, just see what they'll say! The streets are full of puppet plays mocking you for your countless bastards! You can't find a single good lady in all of Westeros willing to marry you! That's why they're planning to bring one back from Essos for you while they're at it! It's you who's kept them from coming home!!!"
Their youngest brother, Renly, was terrified by the violent quarrel between his two brothers. He didn't even dare say that he was hungry.
Not yet eight years old, the child ran out of the tent and sat alone by a stream, wiping away tears.
The Queen of Thorns, strolling outside the castle, spotted him.
Well now—blue eyes, black hair. What an exceedingly handsome boy!
Her heart softened. She went over to comfort him, took his hand, and led him back to a castle chamber belonging to her household.
"Are you hungry? Have you eaten lunch?"
"Onions boiled in gravy? Poor child. Your two brothers really are hopeless—utterly incapable of managing a household, and completely inattentive when it comes to caring for children."
The ingredients and chefs brought by Highgarden far surpassed the Stormlands kitchens run under his brothers' control.
Ravenous little Renly ate his fill, completely satisfied, and even began to entertain the idea of becoming a page at Highgarden.
And so, in this story, he later grew up there alongside the Knight of Flowers, Loras.
Lady Olenna, the Queen of Thorns, never dreamed that the moonlit roses she had once seen embraced and kissed behind in her youth would reappear again within her lifetime.
...
The fully completed English PDF of this fan-fic is now available on my Patreon shop.If you want to support my work and enjoy the entire story in one go, grab the PDF and binge-read it from start to finish without any breaks.
Patreon Shop:patreon.com /InkNovels
Here are a few fan-fic titles that I've recently uploaded on my Patreon:
"Game of Thrones: Dragon Prince"
"Game of Thrones: Political Life"
"Game of Thrones: Lannister Kingdom"
"Gods' Apocalypse: What Should I Do When the Loli is a Bit Fierce?"
"My Sister And I are in The Apocalypse"
(End Chapter)