Rhaegar left Viserys's quarters very late. After a long talk with his younger brother, his face showed fatigue, but his purple eyes were bright and lively, indicating his excitement.
Jon Connington followed behind him. Their shadows were blurred in the silver mirrors embedded in the wall. The red-haired Earl silently watched the tall figure in front of him, then looked at the mirror, as if Rhaegar's silver hair and his own sudden dark red were one. He wished this road could be a little longer.
Rhaegar stopped at the window. He looked out. The Red Keep, which stood high on the hilltop, had an excellent view, but it was midnight, and King's Landing was pitch black. Even the candlelight that the Great Sept of Baelor kept lit all year round was swallowed up, not to mention the poor Flea Bottom?
The Crown Prince turned to his friend and said, "Starting tomorrow, I will dispatch people to the brown soup shops in Flea Bottom. According to Viserys's suggestion, the price for a bowl of hot soup is to clearly explain where they came from and why they ended up here. Write down what they say and dictate it to the young scholars for record-keeping."
"Will there be cunning people fabricating stories to get food?"
Rhaegar's eyes were full of compassion. He said calmly, "The stories fabricated by those who are so hungry that they need a bowl of soup to fill their stomachs will only be the experiences they have heard. They belong to those who cannot speak, the poor who have died in the long or short winter... I don't think this is a crime."
Jon bowed his head. His silver prince looked at the winter night sky, his voice low, "Collect the corpses in the square of the Great Sept of Baelor and cremate them."
"Yes. Do you also plan to investigate who got Prince Viserys's golden button?"
The prince's expression turned cold. "The oath sworn by a knight: just, humble, not greedy, and not to harm women and children. That man, I will have his sword belt cut and his title revoked in public."
Jon smiled faintly. "Once we find out who it is, I will invite him to participate in the next tourney."
The two men understood each other well. After making the necessary arrangements, Rhaegar rubbed his forehead.
"You should rest early, Your Grace," Jon said with concern.
"Thank you." Rhaegar looked again at the tower where his brother was, his gaze softening. "Viserys's words today reminded me of what my ancestor, the good King Jaehaerys, and his Queen, Alysanne, said: 'Do not disregard the suffering of the people.'"
"You haven't," Jon replied. "Therefore, you are naturally beloved by more people. The people of King's Landing are yours. Your good reputation spreads throughout the Seven Kingdoms."
Rhaegar, however, was not thinking about his reputation. He looked up, frowning, as if he had a new worry. Jon pondered the prince's thoughts. The silver prince continued softly, his voice fading like smoke: "But the maesters are propagating that King Jaehaerys abolished the right of the first night... to please his fiery queen, his sister..."
...Jon felt that something was amiss. For the first time, he couldn't understand the prince's intentions. He watched Rhaegar's expression become increasingly despondent, his brow furrowed—although being deep in thought was his usual state, Rhaegar rarely displayed such a sense of helplessness and dejection.
"What are you still worried about? About Her Majesty…"
That wasn't it. Rhaegar quickly corrected himself: "Viserys's method is worth a try. I will help the Queen Mother continue to receive the prescribed pills. Jon, I even find a certain satisfaction in doing so."
The two princes conspired together. Since it had already been proven that their mother's fertility was not the problem, the next step was to let King Aerys discover that Queen Rhaella was not happy and therefore could not conceive. If he wanted an heir, he would have to respect, cherish, and please his wife. Rhaegar, bound by his identity, found that his most tormenting problem was moving in a positive direction.
"Prince Viserys is far more intelligent than others his age," Jon said to the silver prince. "Just like you were when you were young, you learned to read and write far earlier than other children. He is worthy of being your brother, a brother blessed by the gods."
Rhaegar gave a short laugh, a flash of relief and pride fleeting in his eyes, before melancholy began to carve at his heart. He thought again of the most famous and praised couple in House Targaryen: the Good King and Queen, Jaehaerys and Alysanne, brother and sister. They were in love, supported each other, and were faithful to each other for a lifetime, growing old together.
Rhaegar hadn't originally intended to imagine what his marriage would be like. He knew that his father would use this marriage for its value, to abuse everyone he wanted to, including Tywin, and himself—it was Viserys who had, in public, shouted that he would marry him, disrupting the king's plan. It was also Viserys who firmly told him that he would marry the person he loved.
He saw enough, he understood clearly.
That night, in the crown prince's residence in Maegor's Holdfast, Rhaegar lay in a warm velvet bed, half-asleep, his consciousness wandering in a confused dream, until he saw a wedding: the silver-haired Targaryen prince wearing a crown of seven jeweled golden rings, draped in a deep purple groom's cloak decorated with golden dragons. He stood before the statue in the Great Sept of Baelor, the High Septon's gold-threaded crystal crown emitting colorful rainbows, and he smiled, looking at the bride beside him.
The bride, cloaked and a Targaryen herself, was slender and tall with a long neck. A delicate circlet adorned her silver hair, and though a purple cloak concealed her face, what did it matter?
Rhaegar felt an addictive swelling in his chest, sweet and mellow. He seemed to become the groom, and the groom was overjoyed, knowing he had married the love of his life, a kindred spirit, as skilled with a bow as he was, and a superb archer, who loved to soar----
The newlywed couple exchanged seven vows, received seven blessings, and made seven promises.
He wanted to draw his wife closer, rewrap her cloak, and tie a knot under her delicate chin, representing eternal protection for his beloved.
He lifted the bride's cloak.
Rhaegar opened his eyes. His deep purple pupils stared at the bed curtains, realizing what day it was.
He probably dreamed of the wedding of King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne. He thought. Brother and sister. He saw it clearly enough, clearly enough.
The Crown Prince slowly sat up, gazing out the window. His silver hair flowed like cold moonlight, and his expression returned to its coldness. He didn't make a sound for a long while.
This was a short winter in Westeros. Before the sowing season arrived, Jon delivered the completed parchment book, a survey of the Flea Bottom's vagrants, to Maegor's Holdfast.
This was also the first census of the realm.
Rhaegar hadn't eaten yet, so he simply handed it to a page boy to read aloud.
"Little Scab. Deceased. Due to a clouded mind, he couldn't recall his true name. He boasted of being a puppeteer and juggler who traveled to towns across the land, but his troupe disbanded in the North. He remained silent about what happened, only saying his friends and family were all dead. He wandered the North, following a girl south to King's Landing. They lived together in Flea Bottom, but the girl was later taken away by some important person and never returned. He spent his days wandering near the Fisherman's Square, enjoying stripping the skin, scales, and entrails from large fish and swallowing them whole. He choked on a fishbone three days ago."
Hearing this, Rhaegar lost his appetite. He put down his lemon cake, his face frozen.
"Skinny Billy. Claimed to be the son of a hotel owner. But because of a duel between two knights, their hospitality went awry, and the tavern was destroyed. His father fled with him overnight. During this process, they encountered bandits in the woods. Without knights to protect them, his father and the others were killed. Billy escaped and returned to his original home in Flea Bottom."
The silver prince frowned.
The pageboy continued reading:
"Flea Warren. He got the name because he always took off his clothes and shook the fleas off himself. His real name is unknown. Claims to be from the Riverlands, his father was a grain merchant. One long summer, while transporting grain through the Red Fork, the river flooded and his boat capsized. He drifted to Riverrun, where he served as a page for the kind Sir Bonifer Hasty, and followed him to King's Landing. But later, the knight was struck by misfortune and threw his spear, abandoning the Sept, and dismissed his few servants. Warren spent his last silver coin in a King's Landing tavern, and has been stuck in Flea Bottom ever since."
Jon noticed that the Crown Prince's fingers rested on his golden goblet with grape patterns when he heard the name Bonifer Hasty. Of course, he was always a man of great restraint, only taking a few sips before bed and at banquets. The Crown Prince clutched the golden goblet tightly, a melancholy look filling his eyes again.
What's wrong? Jon had a vague impression of the knight, he thought, then realized - an old King's Landing story. The Crown Prince's mother, Queen Rhaella, had fallen in love with a lowborn knight when she was a princess. Later, for the witch's prophecy, it was said that the prophesied prince must be born from the offspring of siblings, so Rhaella married the king. That heartbroken knight was...
He couldn't comfort Crown Prince Rhaegar, he could only watch him in silence, not breaking the silence.
Until...
"Brother!!" A loud shout came from outside the door. It was Viserys, who entered directly without announcement, bringing with him a surge of vitality and the aroma of food.
Rhaegar immediately stood up and walked towards him, lifting him up in one motion.
"I finally did it, Brother!" the little prince chirped like a happy sparrow. "I found pepper and salt and ground them into powder, sliced the venison and onions separately, and baked them with honey! It tastes pretty good, Brother! And I made lemon honey water, would you like to try some? Lord Jon, too!!"
He clapped his hands, and the attendant behind him presented a tray covered with a silver lid, placing it on Rhaegar's table as if offering a treasure. There were also strange utensils: three-pronged forks like those carried by knights, but only as long as a hand, made of silver.
"We can use these to pick up the food," the little prince explained. "Better than using our hands or a spoon, right?"
Rhaegar held his younger brother on his lap, and, following the little prince's instructions, squeezed a few drops of lemon juice onto the roasted meat and then used the silver fork to pick up a slice and put it in his mouth.
"Is it delicious?" the little prince asked expectantly.
Rhaegar smiled. "I could eat a whole leg of venison. If the kitchen did it like this."
As he ate the undeniably delicious roasted venison, Jon thought, the Crown Prince is a diligent and responsible older brother, caring for his younger brother. However... the little prince would eventually grow up, and he was extremely clever. Would he still be content to sit beside his brother in that position?
Rhaegar had already realized how perfect it would be if Viserys were a princess…
Looking up at the tag, no CP.