Viserys understood logically that his older brother, a knight and heir to the kingdom, had announced a trial by combat and couldn't back down without damaging his honor. But did others know what kind of person The Mountain was? He stared, his face ashen, at Gregor accepting the trial, his gaze fixed on the giant fist cracking with tension. Memories flashed before his eyes of Red Viper's head being crushed. He was terrified of this happening again, and he swayed, nearly fainting.
Rhaegar saw this, and while happy that his brother cared about his safety, he was also somewhat depressed. In the eyes of his beloved younger brother, were several jousting tournament victories not enough to make him trust his martial abilities?
"My brother needs to rest, he's injured," the Crown Prince said, using this as an excuse to cover his brother's strange behavior. He helped Viserys, who was pale and covered in cold sweat, into the inner tent. He kissed his forehead to soothe his panic, carefully helped him lie down, and then had the attendants remove his armor. He would stay and take care of his brother.
Moonlight spilled across the land like flowing silver, and the Riverlands of winter were silent, as if covered in frost. Inside the royal luxurious tent, it was warm, and the spices burning with the charcoal should have been calming. But Rhaegar put down the parchment he was reading, his purple eyes filled with worry. He realized that his beloved younger brother wouldn't recover just by resting this time; he had been greatly traumatized and was anxious and restless.
"Viserys," he called softly to his brother, who was tossing and turning. "Does your dislocated arm still hurt?"
Viserys shook his head and got up from the camp bed, his hair disheveled, and walked towards Rhaegar. He burrowed into his brother's embrace like a small animal seeking warmth.
Rhaegar liked being relied upon by his brother. He comforted him, letting Viserys bury his head in his clothes, his fingers slowly combing through the soft silver hair.
Viserys deeply inhaled the scent of Dragon's Breath Grass emanating from the supple fine linen fabric. This was a memory of the Red Keep's godswood, and also his brother's usual scent. He needed to be tightly enveloped by it to find peace of mind.
Rhaegar's cool hand rested on his head as he spoke softly, "Don't be afraid, Viserys. Tournaments are commonplace for me. I'll get you justice, and I'll win the championship at Riverrun."
...Could he really not forgo this justice? Thinking of how the Red Viper had sought justice against The Mountain, Viserys's heart pounded like a drum. He shook his head, almost pleading, "Can, can you not fight?"
Rhaegar's eyes were gentle, but his tone was firm. "How can a knight's promise be broken? A knight should be fearless, and shouldn't waver or retreat before a battle. You'll understand someday, because you too are destined to become a knight who bears glory."
"But, but Gregor isn't a knight." Viserys bit his lip, "He's an absolutely vile, ruthless brute, a murderer. Brother, if you judge him by a knight's standards, you'll be at a disadvantage!!"
"Do you know what kind of person he is? Brother, Sandor, Tyrion's squire, is his brother. Half his face was burned by fire. Lord Clegane claimed it was because a sheet caught fire when he was a child, but that's not the truth! When he was seven, Gregor held him down in a burning brazier because he took Gregor's toy!"
Rhaegar's expression grew more serious. He listened as his brother spoke at length about how cruel and dark Gregor was: girls near Clegane's keep always died mysteriously; bandits, mercenaries, and prisoners in the Westerlands who were caught by him would have their limbs cut off and be fed to their companions or themselves!
"Brother! I saw it today. Gregor wants to kill everyone, including you and me!" Viserys cried out excitedly, "If something happens to you in the tournament, I won't live either!!"
Rhaegar was taken aback and quickly cupped his brother's face, making those anxious purple eyes look directly into his own. He placed a warm, sincere kiss on his brother's forehead, swearing, "It's alright, I already know what kind of person Gregor is, Viserys, trust me. I won't lose the tournament, and I won't get hurt."
"Do you swear not to give this man any chance?" Viserys gripped his wrist, his voice hoarse. "No matter how pathetic or defeated he seems."
"In the name of the Seven, he doesn't deserve pity."
Viserys calmed down slightly, then after a moment, he pulled his brother close again, cautioning, "But he's very strong, exceptionally vicious. Even Robert… Robert can't beat him. Robert's warhammer is very heavy; I can't even lift it."
He couldn't help but worry because Robert, wielding his warhammer, was his nightmare, who would shatter his brother's breastplate on the Trident Riverbank, and then…
Rhaegar let out a long, helpless sigh and still gently told his younger brother, "The amount of strength doesn't have a huge impact on dueling and swordsmanship. Viserys, otherwise, how could Queen Visenya have been a stronger swordsman than Aegon the Conqueror? She could completely defeat Aegon."
"Really?"
"Really." Rhaegar embraced his brother, explaining, "In Maegor's Holdfast's library, there are the queen's notes, recording how she saved Aegon on the streets of King's Landing with Dark Sister. Between the lines, there's confidence and criticism of Aegon's swordsmanship. Before I aspired to be a warrior, I loved to read there all day, so I saw the most merciless criticism of King Aegon, saying his movements were slow, his wrist techniques were completely inadequate, and he couldn't combine offense and defense, and she could make gestures with her sword on his face, but he wouldn't react at all."
Rhaegar smiled faintly at this point. "If you read the evaluation separately, you'd think it was some clumsy swordsman and never imagine it was Aegon the Conqueror, who established our Targaryen dynasty."
Viserys relaxed a little, infected by his brother's mood. He rested his head on his brother's shoulder and mumbled, "So... Aegon clearly loved Queen Rhaenys more." Then, for some unknown reason, driven by intuition, he said, "Brother... We Targaryens, since Aegon, kings can only marry one queen."
Rhaegar was glad that his brother had shifted his focus from the upcoming trial by combat. Hearing the topic of queens, he thought of his own wonderful dream. His voice became as gentle and illusory as smoke. "Yes. There's nothing wrong with that, Viserys. Marrying one person... the one you love."
Viserys hummed in agreement. But still, for some reason, on this night before arriving at Riverrun and the trial by combat, he had no interest in thinking about Lyanna and his brother's marriage.
The next day, before breaking camp, Viserys, unable to be reassured, went to find Barristan again. If this era had convenient communication, he would also have questioned the Sword of the Morning, Arthur Dayne, "If your opponent in a trial by combat is eight feet tall, immensely strong, and wearing the heaviest armor, how do you defeat him?"
Barristan the Bold saluted the young prince and frankly told him that it required courage and patience, calmness, and agility.
...Isn't this just empty platitudes? Can you give some practical advice?
"You don't need to worry about the Crown Prince," the experienced middle-aged Kingsguard said. "I have served three kings and seen several princes, including the short Prince Duncan. Prince Rhaegar's abilities are stronger than any of them."
This was still just a formality. Viserys thought for a moment and, steeling himself, asked Barristan, "Um, during the trial by combat, can you stand guard at the closest distance?"
If it weren't for his dislocated arm preventing him from drawing a bow, he would have done it himself.
Barristan understood what the young prince was thinking again, and he frowned. "Your brother is a steadfast, sincere, and composed man. He would not approve of such… thoughts. Furthermore, if you were to do such a thing… it would violate the code of chivalry."
Viserys gave a bitter laugh. Chivalry… could you eat it? Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, the strongest knight, no exaggeration, right? He was defeated in a duel when Ned Stark's squire ambushed him from behind, violating the rules of chivalry.
I don't want to be that kind of knight. The swordsmanship I want… hmm, I want to be like Queen Visenya, able to react swiftly to an ambush.
He watched Barristan mount his horse. The gold-cloaked Kingsguard were ready to depart, their weapons gleaming with a chilling light in the winter sun; all of them were excellent knights. However, one-on-one duels were their forte. Viserys was unmoved. He vaguely knew where he could learn a swordsmanship that could handle multiple opponents with ease.
Should I go?
Then he saw his brother, Rhaegar, approaching him. The three-headed dragon on the black helmet's breast, made of rubies, was bursting with confidence in the morning sun. His brother smiled at him and reached out his hand.
He gripped it tightly, and as he was lifted onto the horse to ride with his brother, he temporarily forgot about swordsmanship, as well as Robert and Gregor, and was left only with excitement.
The Crown Prince's party, along with Robert's, arrived at Riverrun the following day. It was a triangular castle, protected by rivers on two sides, with an artificial moat dug on the west side, effectively surrounding and defending itself with water.
Viserys looked up at the arrow slits on the battlements, the enormous water wheels driven by the Riverrun River, and the linked hydraulic drawbridge gates, assessing that the place was indeed defensible. However, if one were to completely disregard humanity and draw on history, such as using trebuchets to hurl rotten corpses into the city, throwing in earthenware jars filled with animal fat, or forcing captives to fill the moat… Riverrun's sandstone walls wouldn't be so impenetrable. Castles couldn't withstand dragonflame, nor could they withstand gunpowder. What was the recipe for black powder? One part saltpeter, two parts charcoal, three...? Or one part charcoal, two parts saltpeter, three...? Viserys hated that he couldn't remember, but it didn't matter. Once he had his own territory, he would experiment, gather the recipe, and once he held the ultimate weapon, coupled with his golden finger's black technology, he could expand his brother's kingdom and centralize power by reducing the power of the regional lords.
…By then, those dukes who formed alliances through marriage shouldn't even think about threatening the royal authority.
Unaware that someone was plotting to deprive them of their hereditary lands, the Tully family warmly welcomed the two Targaryen princes and the heir to Storm's End into the castle. The distinguished visitors would be accommodated in the luxurious suites of Riverrun, while the other participating knights could only camp on the riverbank outside. Only the local great nobles and the father and sons of the Northern Duke, Rickard Stark and his eldest son Brandon Stark, and his second son Ned Stark, who had just agreed to a marriage alliance, were eligible to attend the welcoming banquet.
Viserys, along with his brother, received the greetings and pleasantries from the duke and his sons.
If he weren't preoccupied with the upcoming tournament, he would have been very interested in carefully observing these unfortunate three. He couldn't remain as calm as usual, so he bluntly and rudely gave them nicknames in secret: the roasted one, the hanged one, and the stupid one.
His mad father had roasted Rickard like a leg of wild ox at a banquet, slowly over a raging fire. Brandon, who was indeed handsome but still a far cry from his brother, was made into a hanging swan with a noose around his neck. The extremely brother-obsessed Viserys felt no sympathy for their fates. They were the representatives of local forces challenging the central royal authority: they dared to lead troops to King's Landing, clamoring to kill the brother who had seduced Lyanna?
"If they dare to pull that again, I'll make sure they don't even have a grave," Viserys thought, reaching for the red wine on the table – he wanted to taste the blood-red liquid.
"Not yet, Viserys," Rhaegar noticed his brother's action and stopped him, whispering, "You can have your first sip of wine when you become a knight."
That's a long way off, he thought, but understanding his brother's good intentions, he nodded obediently. His gaze drifted to the family from the North.
Without Brandon's tall and handsome younger brother, Ned... Viserys was grateful that he had raised his brother and Lyanna's orphaned child under the guise of being a bastard, and since he currently wanted to win him over to disrupt the engagement, he wouldn't alienate him for now.
He sat beside his brother. Both wore velvet jackets with wide lavender sleeves for the banquet, layered over tight-fitting silk and linen thick tunics. Their silver hair and royal jewels pinned to their jackets shone together. Viserys thought that, both in appearance and in character, his brother outshone all men, including Robert, who was favored by countless women: he was wearing a dark green jade stag brooch, draped a black velvet cloak with gold thread, looking every inch the part as he spoke to the Duke of Stark, who considered himself his future father-in-law, his blue eyes filled with joy, it was clear that the injuries bandaged under the cloak were no longer painful and completely healed.
Why couldn't The Mountain have been more forceful? For example, grabbing his damn iron spike warhammer and smashing it in his face----
While cursing Robert, Viserys absentmindedly poked at the honey-glazed roasted chicken in front of him, pondering how to kill The Mountain, when he suddenly thought of someone who might be able to become his helper. So, Viserys began to search for his target in the crowd: he soon saw the sisters, Catelyn and Lysa. Both had auburn hair and wore long velvet rose-colored brocade robes, with dazzling gems sparkling on their necks. Especially Lysa, with a pair of dimples on her delicate face, shyly holding her cup and gazing at another young man who was standing very close by ---- he was younger, short, and thin, with dark hair and a handsome appearance. His gaze flickered between Catelyn and Brandon, the heir to Winterfell, with a look of resentment and pain.
Him, Viserys thought.
Viserys officially colluded with Littlefinger here.
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(End of Chapter)