Prince Rhaegar left Viserys's residence quite late. After a long talk with his younger brother, his face showed fatigue, but his purple eyes sparkled with a bright fire—a sign of mental excitement.
Jon Connington followed behind him. Their shadows were blurred in the silver mirror embedded in the wall. The red-haired Earl silently watched the tall figure in front of him, and then looked at the mirror—he seemed to see Rhaegar's silver hair and his own abrupt dark red as one. He wished this road could be a little longer.
Rhaegar stopped at the window and looked out. The Red Keep, which stood high on the hilltop, had an excellent view, but it was late at night. King's Landing was pitch black. Even the candles that were always lit in the Great Sept were swallowed up, let alone the poor Flea Bottom?
The Crown Prince turned to his friend and said, "Starting tomorrow, I will send people to the Brown Stew Shops in Flea Bottom. According to Viserys's suggestion, the price of a bowl of hot soup is to clearly tell their story and why they ended up here. Write down what they say, and have the young scholars record it."
"Will there be cunning people who fabricate stories to get food?"
Rhaegar's eyes were filled with compassion. He said calmly, "People who are so hungry that they desperately need a bowl of soup to fill their stomachs will only fabricate stories based on their own experiences. 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 Connington bowed his head. His silver prince looked at the winter night sky and spoke in a low voice, "Take all the corpses from Baelor's Sept Square and cremate them."
"Yes. Do you also intend to investigate who took Prince Viserys's golden button?"
The prince turned grim. "The oath sworn by a knight at his knighting – just, humble, not greedy, and not harming women and children. That man… I will have his sword belt cut off and his title revoked in public."
Jon smiled faintly. "Once we find out who it is, I will invite him to the next tourney."
The two understood each other perfectly. After arranging everything, Rhaegar rubbed his forehead.
"Please, rest early, Your Grace," Jon said with concern.
"Thank you." Rhaegar looked again at the tower where his brother was, his gaze softening. "Viserys' words today reminded me of what my ancestor, King Jaehaerys, and his queen, Alysanne, said: do not treat people's suffering as nothing."
"You haven't," Jon replied. "Therefore, you are naturally loved by more people. The people of King's Landing are yours. Your reputation has spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms."
Rhaegar wasn't thinking about his own reputation, however. He looked up, frowning, as if he had a new worry. Jon tried to guess the crown prince's thoughts. The silver prince continued softly, his voice fading like smoke: "But the maesters are spreading the word that King Jaehaerys abolished the right of the first night to please his… fiery queen and 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 more and more despondent, his brows furrowed – although being thoughtful was his norm, it wasn't often that Rhaegar revealed a sense of helplessness.
"What are you still worried about? About Her Majesty the Queen..."
That wasn't it. Rhaegar quickly responded, "Viserys's method is worth trying. I will help Mother continue to get the prescribed pills. Jon, I even take a certain pleasure in doing so."
The two princes conspired together. Since it had already been proven that their mother's fertility was not the problem, then the next step was to make King Aerys realize that Queen Rhaella was not happy, and therefore unable to conceive. If he wanted an heir, he would have to respect, cherish, and please his wife. Bound by his status, this most tormenting problem for Rhaegar was developing in a positive direction.
"Prince Viserys has a cleverness far beyond his peers," Jon said to the silver prince. "Just like you were as a child, you learned to read and write far earlier than the other children. He is worthy of being your brother, a brother blessed by the gods."
Rhaegar gave a brief chuckle. Relief and pride flashed in his eyes, but quickly vanished, and melancholy began to carve at his heart. He thought again of the most famous and praised couple in the Targaryen royal family: the Good King and Queen, Jaehaerys and Alysanne, brother and sister. They were in love, they supported each other, and they were loyal to each other for a lifetime, growing old together.
Rhaegar originally had no intention of imagining what his marriage would be like. He knew that his father would use the value of this marriage to abuse everyone he wanted to abuse, including Tywin, and himself—it was Viserys who publicly clamored to marry him, disrupting the king's plans. It was also Viserys who firmly told him that he would marry the person he loved.
He saw enough, he understood.
That night, in the crown prince's residence in Maegor's Holdfast, Rhaegar lay on a warm velvet bed, half-asleep, his consciousness wandering in a confused dream until he saw a wedding: a silver-haired Targaryen prince wearing a golden crown with seven gemstones, draped in a deep purple groom's cloak decorated with golden dragons. He stood before the statues in the Baelor's Sept, the High Septon's golden crystal crown emitting colorful iridescence, and he smiled, looking at the bride beside him.
The bride wore a cloak, a Targaryen herself, slender and tall with a long neck. A delicate crown adorned her silver hair. Though the purple cloak obscured her face, what did it matter?
Rhaegar felt an intoxicating swell in his chest, sweet and mellow. He seemed to be the groom, and the groom was overjoyed. He knew he had married his beloved, a kindred spirit, just as skilled with a bow as he was, an excellent archer, and a lover of soaring.
The newlywed couple took their sevenfold vows, received seven blessings, and exchanged seven promises.
He wanted to draw his wife closer, to rewrap her cloak for her, tying a knot under her delicate jaw, a symbol of eternal protection for his beloved.
He lifted the bride's cloak.
Rhaegar opened his eyes. His deep purple eyes gazed at the bed curtains, and he realized what day it was.
He had probably dreamt of King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne's wedding. Brother and sister, he thought. He saw it clearly enough, clearly.
The Crown Prince sat up slowly, looking 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 on the continent of Westeros. Before the sowing season arrived in a rush, Jon delivered the completed parchment book, a survey of the Flea Bottom's homeless, to Maegor's Holdfast.
This was also the first census ever.
Rhaegar hadn't eaten yet, so he simply handed it to a page boy nearby to read aloud.
"Little Leper. Deceased. Unable to say his real name because of mental instability. He once boasted that he was a puppeteer and juggler who traveled to towns in various countries, but he disbanded when the troupe reached a certain place in the North. He remained silent about what happened, only saying that all his friends and relatives were dead. He wandered in the North and followed a girl south to King's Landing. The two had lived together in Flea Bottom, but the girl was later taken away by a great lord and never returned. He wandered around the fishermen's square all day, and he liked to skin and descale large fish and eat them raw, so he choked on a fishbone three days ago."
Hearing this, Rhaegar lost his appetite, and 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 caused the shop to be smashed. His father fled with him overnight. In the process, they met robbers in the forest. Because there were no knights to protect them, his father and others were killed, Billy fled, and returned to his original residence in Flea Bottom."
The silver prince frowned.
The page boy continued reading:
"Flea Valen. He got his name because he always took off his clothes and shook the fleas off himself. His real name is unknown. He claimed to be from the Riverlands, his father was once a grain merchant. During a long summer, while transporting grain through the Red Fork, the river overflowed and the ship capsized. He drifted alone to Riverrun, where he served as a page to the kind Sir Bonifer Hasty, and followed him to King's Landing. However, the knight was later devastated, threw away his lance, and entered the Sept, dismissing his few servants. Valen spent his last silver coin in a King's Landing tavern, and has remained in Flea Bottom ever since."
Jon noticed that the Crown Prince, upon hearing the name Bonifer Hasty, had placed his fingers on the golden cup with grape patterns. Of course, he was always a man of great restraint, only drinking lightly before bed and at banquets. The Crown Prince clutched the golden cup tightly, and a look of melancholy appeared in his eyes.
What's wrong? Jon vaguely remembered the knight, he thought, and then realized—old events from King's Landing. 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, the legendary prince had to be born from the offspring of a brother-sister marriage, 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 energy and the aroma of food.
Rhaegar immediately stood up and walked towards him, picking 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 a powder. Then I sliced the venison and onions, and baked them with honey! It tastes pretty good, brother! And I made lemon honey water, do you want to try some? Lord Jon, too!!"
He clapped his hands, and the attendant who followed him brought a tray covered with a silver lid and placed it on Rhaegar's table as if presenting a treasure. There were also strange utensils: three-pronged forks like the ones knights carried, but only as long as a hand.
"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 followed the little prince's instructions, squeezing a few drops of lemon juice onto the roasted meat, then using the silver fork to take a piece 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 could make it like this."
As he ate the truly delicious roasted venison, Jon thought, the Crown Prince was a dutiful brother, loving and caring for his younger sibling. But----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.