After embracing for a while, Aemond took the initiative to let go, deliberately putting on a serious face to appear magnanimous.
This was a new experience for him—he wasn't sure how to react.
Rhaegar didn't expose his little act and instead said with a smile, "You can call me by my name or just 'brother,' either is fine. I have no preference."
The shift in address—from "big brother" to "Rhaegar" to "brother"—confirmed Aemond's inner thoughts.
Hearing the teasing tone, Aemond's face turned bright red. Embarrassed and annoyed, he turned his head away.
"Alright, I really have things to do. Enjoy yourselves."
Rhaegar didn't delay any further. He patted Aemond on the shoulder, pulled up his hood, and turned to leave.
He left his Dragon Guards behind, allowing them to serve as protection for Aemond and the others.
Aemond quickly turned around, opening his mouth as if to call him back.
He still wanted to spend more time with Rhaegar.
But Rhaegar walked briskly, disappearing around a street corner within moments.
Disappointed, Aemond covered up his emotions by brushing off his green tunic and rejoining Helena and the others.
Under the escort of the Dragon Guards, they made their way toward the northern exit of the town.
A winding path there led to Dragonstone.
No one noticed that as they passed the town's only low-end brothel, they were spotted by someone familiar.
Aegon, still half-asleep, stepped onto the third-floor balcony of the brothel to get some fresh air. He was shirtless, with only a thin sheet wrapped around his lower body.
Looking down, he saw Aemond and Helena being escorted by the Dragon Guards. Scratching his messy silver hair in confusion, he muttered, "Heading toward Dragonstone? Going to tame a dragon?"
A cold breeze passed through, making Aegon shiver. He quickly retreated into the room, still filled with the sounds of debauchery, grumbling, "An idiot and a fool."
---
### Stone Drum Tower
Rhaegar returned to the castle and sought out Ser Robert, the steward of Dragonstone.
Ser Robert handed him a letter, his expression excited. "As you predicted, a raven was sent from King's Landing. I intercepted it in advance."
Rhaegar tore open the envelope and scanned the contents, asking casually, "Any movement from the Queen?"
Dragonstone was Rhaenyra's stronghold, but naturally, he had his own interests there as well.
From the moment he began suspecting Alicent, he had the Stone Drum Tower placed under surveillance.
Ser Robert answered honestly, "The Queen spends most of her time in her chambers. Her maids report that she often picks at her fingernails until they bleed. As for Grand Maester Mellos, who is confined to the attic, he discreetly inquired about any messages from King's Landing."
"Mellos?" Rhaegar repeated.
"Yes, my prince," Ser Robert confirmed.
Rhaegar thought for a moment, then smirked mockingly.
It seemed he hadn't misjudged Mellos after all. The man openly pledged loyalty to his father and aligned himself with Rhaenyra, yet secretly worked for Alicent, gathering intelligence for her.
A true "people's servant" as the Citadel claimed.
At some point, he would have to find a legitimate reason to execute him.
After reading through the letter, Rhaegar exhaled deeply.
As expected, it contained news of Borros' death and Lady Elenna's cries for help.
She pleaded for the royal family's intervention to investigate the cause of Borros' demise.
At the end of the letter, there was a handwritten note from Rhaenys.
It seemed she suspected Borros had been poisoned, much like their grandfather, Baelon Targaryen.
While calling for a thorough investigation, she subtly inquired about the progress of a marriage alliance, hinting that Storm's End required a Baratheon heir to oversee it.
The intent was clear—Rhaenys had keenly perceived the issue of succession at Storm's End and was in favor of securing a union between the two houses.
Such familial loyalty brought a slight smile to Rhaegar's lips. "Aunt Rhaenys still prioritizes the family's interests, fulfilling her duties as a Targaryen princess."
Chaos itself wasn't frightening. In fact, it was a stepping stone toward greater progress.
By leveraging Borros' death, their family's control over Westeros could be further strengthened.
Tearing the letter into pieces, Rhaegar gave his instructions. "I'm going to see my father. Make sure Dragonstone remains secure."
The news couldn't spread yet. He needed to let the raven fly just a little longer.
Those who plotted misdeeds would be eagerly awaiting their results.
If he suppressed the news, they would grow restless and reveal themselves.
"No problem at all, my prince." Ser Robert pounded his chest in assurance.
Rhaegar smiled and headed toward his father's chambers.
Ser Robert was a loyal and capable man, someone both he and Rhaenyra trusted deeply.
---
### The King's Chambers
"Get out! I'm perfectly fine! I don't need any treatment!"
*Clang!*
With King Viserys' feeble yet furious outburst, a wine goblet was hurled out of the open wooden door.
Alicent stood at the doorway, covering her nose in disgust at the overwhelming stench of alcohol.
Ever since the Small Council opposed the dragon-taming plan the previous day, her husband's pride had been wounded. He had drowned himself in wine, indulging in self-destruction.
Inside the room, Maester Orwyle stepped over the scattered bottles and slowly walked out.
"How is he?" Alicent asked, troubled.
Despite everything, after so many years of marriage, she still worried about her husband.
He was her only support.
Orwyle hesitated before making his assessment. "The King's condition is dire. He is burdened with resentment, drinks excessively, and his wounds are now inflamed and festering."
"He still refuses treatment?" Alicent pressed.
Orwyle sighed and nodded. "The Grand Maester's words have aggravated him. He refuses to see anyone and even threatened to cut off my fingers."
It was his first day as Grand Maester, and things were already off to a difficult start.
"He won't take your fingers. I guarantee it," Alicent assured him, her eyes reddening with frustration. Then she suggested, "His emotions are unstable. Perhaps milk of the poppy could help calm him?"
Orwyle's expression turned stern as he immediately refused. "The prince has ordered that the King must not be given milk of the poppy without his explicit approval."
Milk of the poppy was effective, and the King had taken it frequently before.
But the prince was right—a ruler could not allow his mind to be dulled by narcotics and develop a dependency.
Rejected so outright, Alicent felt humiliated. Waving her hand dismissively, she said, "I understand. You may leave for now."
"I'll return later. Hopefully, the King will be asleep by then."
Orwyle didn't argue and quietly withdrew.
Alicent tilted her head back with a sigh, occasionally glancing at her drunken, frail husband lying on the bed.
Mellos had been from the Citadel and was a close confidant of her father, Otto.
Without Mellos' support, she couldn't even find a way to ease her husband's pain.
---
After a while, Viserys lay shirtless, tossing and turning on the bed. The wounds on his back were pulled open, making him grimace and groan in pain.
Even so, he still did not wake up, mumbling for more wine.
Alicent closed her eyes in anguish and prayed, "Seven Gods, spare me from this torment."
With no other choice, she turned and left.
In her heart, she wondered whether she should ask Maester Mellos for some milk of the poppy.
*Tap… tap…*
Before long, Rhaegar walked in.
As soon as he entered the room, his gaze fell on Viserys, who was in complete disarray. He frowned and called out, "Father!"
Viserys was utterly intoxicated, his face flushed with drunkenness. A fresh pool of vomit lay beside the bed.
Shaking his head, Rhaegar stepped forward, preventing his father from collapsing onto the floor. He wiped away the foul-smelling sweat covering him.
His original intent had been to share news from Storm's End and discuss a strategy with his father.
Ideally, he wanted to uncover evidence and expose schemers like Larys and Alys Rivers while also securing a marriage alliance to stabilize the situation at Storm's End.
But now, it was clear his father was of no help.
"Oh… Rhaegar…"
Viserys, still sprawled drunkenly on the bed, mumbled incoherently. His bare back revealed wounds of various sizes.
Rhaegar sighed in resignation, wiping away the vomit before sitting beside the bed.
After a moment of thought, he retrieved the long strand of hair hidden beneath his father's pillow and sighed softly. "Father, you are the King. You can act with purpose and decisiveness. You should not let your will be swayed by the opinions of your councilors."
Viserys grunted twice, unclear whether he had even heard the words.
Having said his piece, Rhaegar rose to his feet, left the room, and shut the door behind him.
His father was far too reliant on the decisions of the Small Council—so much so that he had become shackled by them.
---
**At dusk.**
*SCREEECH—!*
A deep, thunderous dragon roar echoed across half of Dragonstone. A massive, pitch-black dragon soared over the Drum Tower, gliding toward the Gullet.
Inside the Drum Tower, servants and guards alike gazed up in awe, their eyes filled with reverence and envy.
Half an hour earlier, Prince Rhaegar had received a raven and decided to fly back to King's Landing.
It was said that his sword had been damaged, and he had enlisted the finest blacksmiths of Qohor to reforge it. This journey was to retrieve the weapon.
**Beyond the castle, on the sea cliffs.**
Dreamfyre, with her pale blue scales, and Sunfyre, gleaming golden, lay apart from one another, the distance between them filled with silent tension. Their slit-pupiled eyes burned with anger.
*SCREEECH…*
Sunfyre let out a challenge first, flapping his wings aggressively.
Dreamfyre huffed through her nostrils, keeping her gaze locked onto him. She crouched low, inching forward.
There was no direct confrontation, but both dragons could feel the hostility emanating from their riders.
---
**Elsewhere, in the small garden behind the Drum Tower.**
After wandering around the island all day, Aemond and his companions returned to the castle. Following dinner, they agreed to meet in the garden to play.
Helaena and Maris sat in the pavilion, playing together, while Aemond and Cassandra strolled hand in hand.
Aemond kept Rhaegar's advice in mind—he needed to embrace his betrothed and create opportunities for them to be alone.
Cassandra, being older, was also more forward, carrying herself like an affectionate older sister.
Their peaceful moment, however, was soon interrupted by an unwelcome guest.
Aegon, reeking of alcohol, returned from a visit to the brothels and found them.
His first words immediately provoked everyone.
"Well, what a waste of a trip to Dragonstone. Didn't even get to see a dragon?"
"Aegon, today was just about getting familiar with the surroundings," Aemond retorted loudly, discreetly letting go of Cassandra's hand.
He didn't want to be mocked for not having a dragon yet, nor did he want Aegon to see him interacting with Cassandra—he feared his brother's scorn.
Aegon never valued arranged marriages.
Shrugging indifferently, Aegon said, "Then you better hurry. If Vermithor and Silverwing fall into too deep a slumber, you'll be stuck taming some sheep-stealing wild dragon instead."
A simple sentence, yet it was just another of his usual taunts.
This time, Aemond refused to endure it any longer. He snapped, "Aegon, I will tame Vermithor! You underestimate me."
Seeing her younger brother being bullied, Helaena stomped over from the pavilion, standing protectively in front of Aemond and confronting Aegon.
With her eldest brother Rhaegar watching over her and a dragon larger than Sunfyre by her side, she had no fear of Aegon and his bullying.
In just a few words, a small conflict erupted.
---
**On a balcony of the Drum Tower.**
Rhaegar gazed down at the commotion below, his expression calm and unreadable.