Naturally, the task of handling the funeral fell to the Hand of the King.
Tywin proposed holding the ceremony at the Dragonpit.
The suggestion was immediately and fiercely rejected by Aerys.
The Dragonpit belonged to House Targaryen. How could it be used for an outsider? Furthermore, aside from the Targaryens, cremation was not the custom for the nobility of the Seven Kingdoms.
In the end, Tywin arranged a hasty farewell. The body was laid in the Great Sept of Baelor, waiting for the Grandison family to retrieve it for burial.
Time flew by, and the Tourney at Harrenhal arrived as scheduled.
---
The Shores of the God's Eye.
The tourney grounds were set, and Lord Whent had constructed massive stands for the spectators.
Today, the guests were pouring in.
Daeron watched as banners were unfurled one by one: the Moon and Falcon, the Direwolf, the Crowned Stag, the Golden Rose.
"Prince Rhaegar has arrived," Barristan murmured from his side, offering a reminder.
Daeron turned his head and saw a carriage flying both the Three-Headed Dragon and the Sun and Spear standards.
Rhaegar did not show his face; his location was unknown.
However, Oberyn and Prince Lewyn appeared beside the carriage, escorting Princess Elia inside.
"It's Prince Rhaegar's motorcade!"
"Prince Rhaegar! Prince Rhaegar!"
The moment the procession—sprinkled with Dornish faces—appeared, it drew the gaze of every noble lord present. Many ladies' eyes lit up as they cheered loudly.
The prestige of the Crown Prince was something built up over years.
Davos hurried over, his expression grave. "Prince, I've been looking around. Many of the lords are speaking only of Prince Rhaegar..."
Daeron signaled for him to relax.
He had anticipated Rhaegar's influence, though he had perhaps underestimated just how deep it ran.
The lords of the Seven Kingdoms had heard that Daeron had hatched dragons, but they had never seen them. To them, it was just a rumor.
But Rhaegar's excellence was something they had witnessed with their own eyes.
Ever since Elia entered King's Landing, a faction of the Crownlands nobility had been acting as if they were possessed, fanatically supporting Rhaegar and subtly undermining the City Watch at every turn.
They wanted to strip Daeron of his military power to pave the way for Rhaegar to eventually take the capital.
"Ser, any news recently?" Daeron asked.
Barristan thought for a moment. "Before we left, a band of outlaws calling themselves the Kingswood Brotherhood appeared in the Crownlands. They specialized in kidnapping nobles and extortion."
"But," Barristan continued, "they didn't last long. The Dragon's Guard drove them out."
With the Prince's lands sitting between King's Landing and the Kingswood, there was no room for bandits to operate.
After the group was chased off, they vanished.
"Vanished?" Daeron asked, curious.
He remembered the Kingswood Brotherhood was supposed to have a "Smiling Knight" who was quite infamous.
Barristan shook his head. "I heard a master archer among them tried to steal some of Princess Elia's jewelry. It drew the attention of Prince Oberyn. He took Ser Arthur Dayne and hunted them down for quite some time."
Daeron realized he was partly to blame for the Brotherhood's failure.
In the original timeline, the Kingswood Brotherhood was rampant because the smallfolk in the forest protected them.
But after Daeron developed his lands and established the new settlement near Harvest Hall, the peasants all flocked to the city to settle down. The people of the Kingswood benefited from the trade and cheap goods.
Naturally, they had no interest in sheltering bandits.
Without the support of the people, the Kingswood Brotherhood died in the cradle before they could make a name for themselves.
Other than that, there was no special news.
It was mostly trivialities: a minor noble finding a rare plant and selling it for a high price at a banquet, or a major house's prized knight suddenly mastering his "Life Force."
It was a picture of peace and tranquility.
"Ser," Daeron said, looking out at the water, "tell Lord Whent to cooperate with Rhaegar as much as possible."
"Prince, where are you going?" Barristan asked quickly.
Daeron looked toward the center of the God's Eye. "To feed the dragon."
---
Harrenhal.
Rhaegar stood in a high tower, looking down at the courtyard teeming with people.
"Prince, Robert and Lord Mace Tyrell have arrived," Ser Arthur Dayne reported. "Lord Rickard Stark and Lord Jon Arryn are not present; they have sent their heirs."
Rhaegar didn't move his gaze. "And Lord Hoster Tully?"
"Not here."
Arthur's voice held a trace of confusion beneath his calm. "Not only is Lord Hoster claiming illness, but his children are absent as well. He only sent his brother, the 'Blackfish' Brynden Tully, to represent the house."
Rhaegar wasn't surprised. "That is Lord Hoster's style."
At the first sign of risk, the trout dives deep underwater.
Thinking of his wife's inability to conceive again, Rhaegar frowned, his mind fixated on the prophecy: The Dragon has three heads.
House Targaryen held a secret passed down from king to heir.
The Conqueror's dream: A Song of Ice and Fire.
When the Long Night comes, when winter swallows all life, the White Walkers will return. They will cross the Wall and kill the living.
The secret was hidden within the Valyrian steel dagger his father carried.
And the method to save humanity and drive back the darkness lay in the prophecy of the three heads.
Rhaegar possessed the gift of dragon dreams. He had vaguely foreseen that none of his siblings—including himself—were the Prince That Was Promised.
They were not the three heads.
That was why he needed three children. To ensure the prophecy was fulfilled through his line.
"Daeron... you brought back three dragons, yet I did not see you in my dreams as the Prince," Rhaegar thought, a melancholy look in his eyes. He felt a pang of guilt.
If Daeron wasn't the Prince, then he was an obstacle on Rhaegar's path to the throne.
Daeron's dragons were too young. They couldn't defeat Rhaegar's political momentum, and they couldn't defeat the Long Night.
"Prince? Prince?"
Arthur's voice pulled him back from his thoughts.
Rhaegar rubbed his aching temples. "Ser, was there something else?"
Arthur said, "Should we ask Lord Whent to release Oswell?"
Oswell Whent had been detained for some time.
During this period, Prince Lewyn had made things difficult for Rhaegar, urging him to use the tourney to call a Great Council and have the lords elect Rhaegar as Regent, effectively stripping the King of power.
Prince Doran, on the other hand, had sent a marriage proposal, hoping to betroth Arianne Martell to one of the Princes.
At the very least, they wanted a dragon egg for his niece, Rhaenys.
It could be one of the eggs Daeron might have hoarded, or an egg from the first clutch the hatchlings eventually produced. After all, it was Targaryen tradition to place a dragon egg in a newborn's cradle.
Rhaegar nodded. "I will speak to Lord Whent later. He won't refuse."
When Rhaegar appeared at Harrenhal, Lord Whent had been terrified.
It is easy to be a fence-sitter, but hard to be a staunch supporter. Internal struggles within the royal family were often accompanied by blood and slaughter. Usually, the nobles who took a side were the ones who suffered, while the fence-sitters survived by kneeling to the victor.
Lord Whent didn't dare offend Rhaegar to the point of no return.
Arthur nodded and pulled a map from his pocket. "I found this on Simon Toyne after I killed him. It looks like a treasure map."
Toyne was the leader of the Kingswood Brotherhood. When Arthur found him, he was trying to hire a ship to flee to the Eastern Continent.
Arthur had easily beheaded him and captured several key criminals. Unfortunately, the Smiling Knight had escaped.
Rhaegar examined the old map. It showed the scattered islands between the two continents.
The Stepstones.
One island was circled with a red 'X'.
Rhaegar analyzed the symbols: mountains, root vegetables, birds, and monkeys.
"Pirate code," Rhaegar muttered.
It meant the island had a volcano, native taro roots, seabirds, and monkeys. The 'X' meant danger. The skull symbol represented a pirate den.
"Are there volcanoes in the Stepstones?" He couldn't quite remember.
Arthur listened to the analysis and scoffed. "So those rats wanted to flee to the Stepstones and join the pirates."
It suited those desperate men.
The pirates of the Narrow Sea were usually Tyroshi, Lysene, or Myrish. History's "Kingdom of the Three Daughters" was the peak of their power.
The Ironborn, who believed in "paying the iron price" rather than sowing, would often run there to be pirates if they couldn't make it on the Iron Islands.
"Ignore it," Rhaegar said, handing the map back. "The Iron Throne has no precedent of going to war with the Free Cities."
Pirates were inextricably linked to the Free Cities. The Cities funded pirates to raid each other's merchant ships; it was standard practice. To fight the pirates was to fight the Free Cities behind them.
Rhaegar was about to turn away when his gaze was suddenly drawn to a figure below.
"Hah! Hah!"
A black-haired girl rode a horse into the front courtyard. Her face was beautiful, her temperament cold and highborn. As her brown stallion galloped, her long hair rose and fell in waves, cutting a striking figure.
Her riding skills were superb. She controlled the horse in tight circles and stopped on a dime.
She was the best rider Rhaegar had ever seen among women—and better than most men.
"A Stark girl," Arthur noted, following Rhaegar's gaze to the Direwolf banner.
Rhaegar paused, then noticed the three brothers behind her.
It was the Heir to Winterfell, Brandon "The Wild Wolf," Lord Arryn's ward Ned Stark, and the youngest son of Lord Rickard.
"Prince, I will take my leave," Arthur said with a silent sigh.
The Prince's mind had been wandering more and more lately.
They were knights who had mastered their Life Force; such mental lapses only indicated immense internal pressure, exceeding the body's ability to recover.
I hope once the tourney ends and the dust settles, the Prince will recover, Arthur thought. He was just a Kingsguard; he couldn't share the burden of ruling.
However, it was surprising that the Stark girl caught Rhaegar's eye. Arthur's own sister, Ashara, was ten times more beautiful, yet Rhaegar rarely spared her a glance.
But the girl had a betrothed, so the Prince surely wouldn't pursue it.
---
The Day of the Tourney.
Half the nobility of the Seven Kingdoms squeezed into the arena.
In the royal box, Aerys sat in fine robes, surrounded by Tywin and the ministers.
It was the first time the King had appeared in public since the Defiance of Duskendale.
"Look at me! They are all looking at me!"
Aerys's eyes darted around, his body tense. He muttered incessantly, "I have a dragon. I am the King!"
Anyone could see the King's mental state was fragile. Thankfully, he held onto his reason, avoiding any screaming fits. His appearance was still regal enough to intimidate.
Lord Whent stood on the dais, sweating as he glanced nervously at the empty seats.
The tourney was starting, and neither Prince had shown up.
"Damn it. One is loved by the nobles, the other has actual dragons, and I'm stuck in the middle like a piece of meat," Whent prayed silently. Prince Daeron, please don't let me lose this gamble.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Suddenly, the gongs sounded, and the musicians played a lively tune.
A cavalcade marched into the arena.
Leading them was Rhaegar. He wore black steel armor and a red cloak, his figure tall and capable, his face handsome beyond measure. He instantly drew the gaze of every noblewoman and maiden.
But the most striking thing was his mount.
It wasn't a warhorse. It was a massive beast, seven and a half feet tall at the shoulder. It looked like a horse but had the beard of a goat and shaggy fur like satin. From its forehead rose a spiral horn, two feet long and white as snow.
A Unicorn.
"Ooh-rah!!"
Behind Rhaegar marched a squad of massive, hairy savages, none shorter than seven feet tall.
"A Unicorn!"
"Where did those wildlings come from?"
"They look like Skagosi. The Stoneborn. Technically Northmen."
Rhaegar, riding the legendary beast, was the center of the world. The combination of his gallant form and the ethereal unicorn captivated the crowd.
Unicorns were creatures of legend. Seeing a white one in the flesh was immediately taken as a sign of extreme favor from the gods.
"A unicorn?" Tywin looked stunned.
He had heard Rhaegar went to Braavos, but he hadn't expected him to detour to the desolate island of Skagos to capture a unicorn and tame a band of Stoneborn.
"So pretty!"
In the stands, Viserys's eyes went wide. He wanted to ride one too.
Jaehaerys scoffed. "Tch. Useless."
A unicorn was nothing compared to the three dragons in the Pit.
The opinions of the lords were split along similar lines. Those who supported Rhaegar saw the unicorn as an auspicious sign. Those who remembered that the Targaryens were the Blood of the Dragon kept their eyes on the King, waiting to see the true power.
Just then, a roar came from the sky, shattering the thin mist over the lake.
SCREEEE—!
A sharp, piercing shriek, like an air raid siren, echoed across the God's Eye.
"What is that sound!?"
"Oh gods, look up!"
The nobles craned their necks and saw a sight they would never forget.
A massive, crimson beast, long and serpentine, descended. It spread vast, leathery wings, cutting through the mist like a bolt of red lightning.
"Dracarys!"
A shout rang out from the sky.
It was High Valyrian, understood by only a few.
BOOM.
As Caraxes dove, he opened his maw. A torrent of red dragonfire, mixed with black smoke, poured out, creating a sea of fire in the air.
The lords turned pale with terror, finally recognizing the beast for what it was. Panic rippled through the stands as people scrambled to flee.
When a true dragon appears, nothing else matters.
Even Rhaegar looked up in haste. He stared at the scarlet wyrm, his indigo eyes widening in shock.
Arthur Dayne, standing beside him, heard a single, faint word escape the Prince's lips:
"Dragon!"