Time returned to its course.
**Rushing Stream Castle.**
*Boom, boom, boom…*
Amidst a series of rapid drumbeats, Count Blackwood stepped into the hall of Rushing Stream Castle.
Inside the upper chamber of the hall,
Rhaegar sat at the highest seat, resting his face against one hand while crossing one leg over the other.
"Ah~"
Rhaenyra peeled a grape and fed it to his mouth.
Rhaegar glanced at her in surprise before opening his mouth to accept the grape.
Rhaenyra was being unusually attentive today.
She rolled her eyes and sat back in her seat.
*Tap, tap…*
Helena knelt before the table, mumbling to herself as she played with two small stones.
**Below.**
Count Blackwood lifted his head, taking in the sight of the three Targaryen heirs.
Seeing that no one acknowledged him, he bowed respectfully and spoke on his own, "House Blackwood greets you, Your Highness."
Rhaegar smiled slightly and peeled a grape for himself.
The hall fell into complete silence.
Only Helena's soft murmuring could occasionally be heard.
Count Blackwood frowned slightly, feeling the weight of the moment.
His gaze swept over Robb and Aemon, realizing that this meeting was far from what he had imagined.
The intimidation was thorough.
After a brief moment of contemplation, Count Blackwood took a deep breath and redirected his greeting, "Your Highness, Princess, it has been a long time. May the Old Gods bless your beauty."
He bowed his head respectfully, though his eyes flickered upward.
At his words, Rhaegar turned to Rhaenyra with a smirk.
Rhaenyra's earlobes reddened, and she shyly turned her head away, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.
It was true—House Blackwood had once been one of her staunchest supporters.
However, after the Succession Council of **111 AC**, their relationship had gradually grown distant.
Still, House Blackwood continued to send yearly greetings and respectable gifts.
A subtle way of maintaining ties with Rhaegar and keeping the door open.
She stole a glance at Rhaegar, only to find him still looking at her.
Covering her forehead with one hand, she shot him a glare before responding with composed dignity, "May the Old Gods forgive your sins, Count Kells."
Count Blackwood's full name was Kells Blackwood.
Receiving a response, Kells' tense brows eased slightly. He took the initiative to speak, "Princess, the envoy from Rushing Stream Castle invited me here for negotiations. May I ask what guidance you have for me?"
He was eager to steer the conversation toward business—to determine whether this visit was a blessing or a curse.
Rhaenyra remained silent.
Rhaegar tapped his fingers on the table before finally speaking for the first time.
"Lord Count, your house waged war against House Bracken without royal consent, refused mediation, defied your liege lord, Lord Grover Tully's command, and even directly engaged in battle with Rushing Stream Castle's forces."
With each accusation, his fingers struck the table with greater force.
Each crisp sound pounded against Count Kells' heart like a war drum.
At last, Rhaegar stopped tapping and his tone turned icy.
"Lord Count, should I take this as an act of rebellion from you and your house?"
**Silence.**
A brief, oppressive silence.
Kells' heart pounded, and for the first time, he regretted coming to negotiate.
This wasn't a discussion—this was a trial.
Swallowing hard, Kells responded in a steady voice, "No! House Blackwood remains loyal to Targaryen rule, without a shred of treasonous intent."
Under another's roof, one must lower their head.
And, truthfully, he meant every word.
Before entering Rushing Stream Castle, he had seen the three dragons with his own eyes.
Especially the massive black-scaled beast, The Devourer, standing on its hind legs at a height rivaling a small fortress.
Such magical creatures were beyond human opposition.
Rhaegar's voice rose sharply, "And yet, you defied royal decree, attacked your liege lord, and mobilized your army to camp outside Rushing Stream Castle!"
**Thud!**
Kells immediately fell to his knees, lowering his head.
"Your Highness, the orders were mine alone. The responsibility is entirely mine to bear."
By agreeing to come to Rushing Stream Castle, he had already accepted that he would not leave unscathed.
Defying both the Crown and House Tully came at a price.
Rhaegar gazed down at him, his expression unreadable.
Quick to confess, slippery as an eel.
"Rhaegar," Rhaenyra leaned in to whisper softly in his ear, "we need House Blackwood's forces to crush House Bracken."
As she spoke, she slipped him a letter she had been clutching tightly.
Rhaegar sighed, his stern expression easing slightly.
He had read the letter before—it was a raven message from House Bracken.
A letter of defiance.
House Bracken refused to surrender, choosing instead to fight to the bitter end.
A house ready to face fire and blood.
Listening to Rhaenyra's advice, Rhaegar stood up and walked to the edge of the chamber. His voice was cold.
"Count Kells, you will return to King's Landing alone to answer for your crimes. Your eldest son will inherit your title and lead your army in atonement."
He had no desire to interfere further in the fate of a noble who willingly surrendered.
His father and the Small Council would determine Kells' punishment.
As for Samwell Blackwood, he was a promising young man—one who had already pledged loyalty to Rhaegar.
He could be a sharp sword.
Kells slowly closed his eyes, his voice dull with acceptance.
"As you command, Your Highness."
He had already foreseen his own fate and the cost to his house.
But it was worth it.
At least his house would survive.
And more importantly, his family's ancient rival, House Bracken, was about to be destroyed.
Trembling, Kells pushed himself to his feet and walked out of the hall, his back lonely and defeated.
Robb lowered his head, unable to suppress his sorrow.
On the way, he revealed the prince's views on the two families.
The Bracken family had to surrender as soon as possible; otherwise, they would face a grim fate.
"Robb."
Rhaegar looked at him.
Robb raised his head and responded loudly, "Prince, what are your orders?"
"Take the Second Sons and mobilize the troops under Samwell's command. Head to Stone Hedge immediately!"
Rhaegar's mind was clear—his plan was already in place.
"Yes, Prince."
Robb accepted the order and left.
Rhaegar then turned to Aelmon and said, "Gather a thousand soldiers and block the retreat route at the Red Fork."
Aelmon didn't dare refuse and quickly withdrew.
He had just returned to Riverrun, only to be sent out again without a moment's rest.
Now, he had to set off once more—this was exhausting.
Rhaegar paid no mind to how tired they were.
Everyone was doing this for their own family.
"Rhaegar, should we return to Harrenhal first and discuss strategy with Lord Leonor?"
Rhaenyra stepped forward and asked softly.
The Bracken family had a total of two thousand troops, while Riverrun could barely muster a thousand.
Both forces would set out at the same time, and it would take about a day and a night to reach Stone Hedge.
"No need. We'll rest at Riverrun tonight."
Rhaegar declined without hesitation, then turned and smiled. "Lord Leonor serves a merciful king, so his methods will also lean toward mercy."
"I have my own plans."
*Snap!*
A crisp sound rang out.
Helena stood frozen, staring at the two stones in her hands, now shattered from the impact.
She murmured blankly, "They broke."
Rhaegar glanced at her curiously, then chuckled, taking her hand and ruffling her soft, wavy silver hair.
Helena looked utterly confused, allowing his large hand to tousle her hair without resistance.
"Forget it. I'm not dealing with you two."
Rhaenyra couldn't stand seeing the siblings so close. She shot Rhaegar a glance before striding away.
Rhaegar simply smiled and ignored the meaning behind her gaze.
The maester once said: *In youth, it is noble to remain true to oneself.*
…
A day and a night passed.
**Stone Hedge.**
A castle situated south of the Red Fork and Kneeling Man, near High Heart and Acorn Hall, and east of Riverrun.
Built on a hillside, the castle had a natural barrier to the south, where a ridge stretched along the landscape.
The Bracken army had crossed the ridge and set up camp five miles south of Stone Hedge.
Meanwhile, the forces from Riverrun had arrived first at the banks of the Red Fork, cutting off any northern retreat from the castle.
With the army at its gates, Stone Hedge remained steadfast and unmoving.
The gates were shut tight, the atmosphere lifeless and silent.
*Screech!*
Rhaegar soared in on Devourer, his black robe billowing in the wind.
After raiding the Three Daughters, he had grown fond of loose black robes—practical, durable, and easy to move in.
Today, a great battle was likely, so he had donned his black robes in advance.
*Boom!*
Devourer landed on the muddy ground, sending dirt flying in all directions.
As soon as Rhaegar dismounted, Samwell hurried over.
With deep respect, he said, "Prince, Amos Bracken refuses to leave the castle and fight. Should we launch an assault?"
Rhaegar sneered. "Amos talked big in his letter, and now he wants to hole up in his castle?"
Half of the ink on that letter had been spent denouncing the kingdom's injustice.
The other half was filled with curses against the Blackwood family.
Not a hint of remorse—he seemed eager to start a war.
Robb approached and said seriously, "Prince, Count Amos has forced many civilians into Stone Hedge. It seems he wants to make you hesitate."
"A disgusting trick."
Rhaegar spat in disgust and said firmly, "Send a messenger to the castle. Tell Amos to meet me at the gate for a talk."
Whether the talk worked or not didn't matter.
Going through the formalities first would allow them to justify their actions later.
If dragonfire reduced the castle to ashes, public opinion would frame it as an unavoidable necessity.
"Yes, Prince," Robb responded.
He sent a knight loyal to House Bracken, a bastard from one of their vassal houses, to deliver the message.
After a long wait—
The bastard returned with Amos's reply: he agreed to meet.
But with two conditions.
The discussion had to take place under the gatehouse, and Rhaegar could only bring one dragon.
That way, Amos could retreat into the castle at any moment.
*Screech…*
Rhaegar looked up.
Syrax and Dreamfyre circled above, their slit pupils locked onto Stone Hedge.
"No problem," Rhaegar said with a smirk. "I'll meet him."
**Rhaegar smiled and called upon Robb and a few guards.**
…
They arrived at the gates of Stone Hedge.
Amos Bracken stood beneath the battlements, his face grim, surrounded by a large group of soldiers.
Rhaegar approached slowly, stepping onto the drawbridge with a smile.
Beside the bridge, the Devourer stood still, its green vertical pupils gleaming with a terrifying chill.
Robb followed with his sword drawn and announced in a loud voice:
*"Before you stands Rhaegar Targaryen, eldest son of Viserys I, the Breaker of Chains, the Ruinmaker, and heir to the Iron Throne!"*
Facing traitors and rebels, he deemed it necessary to exert pressure.
As expected, Amos froze for a moment as he processed the string of titles.
Rhaegar remained calm, long accustomed to such introductions.
Aside from his birthright, the other two titles had spread from Essos after the burning of the Three Daughters—one in praise, the other in condemnation.
With less than five meters between them, Rhaegar commanded, *"Amos, release the civilians within the city, and you will at least be granted a clean death."*
Amos gripped the hilt of his sword tightly and, with full confidence, declared, *"Prince, if you retreat now, the Lord of Light will forgive your sins."*
Rhaegar was momentarily stunned, suspicion flickering in his eyes. *"The Brackens have changed their faith?"*
Some Riverlands lords worshipped both the Old and New Gods—like the Blackwoods, the Brackens, and the Tullys.
Most of these noble houses, whose sigils bore animals, were descendants of the First Men.
Amos lifted his chin proudly. *"I am under the protection of the Lord of Light. The divine power has granted me strength."*
Shing—
He drew his longsword, pointing it across the bridge at the Devourer, his stance bold and unrestrained. *"The Targaryens were born from fire, but the Lord of Light has also granted me flames."*
*"With wildfire?"*
Rhaegar frowned, doubting that his opponent could truly be this foolish.
*"Wrong!"*
Amos bellowed, as if provoked, shouting, *"Wildfire is merely an alchemical creation! I have the Lord of Light's aid!"*
Utter foolishness.
Rhaegar had already made his judgment and lost all interest in further discussion. He issued one final warning: *"Release the civilians, or Stone Hedge will be reduced to ruins."*
*"Impossible! I am their lord—they live and die with me!"*
Amos was bordering on madness. His sword pointed at Rhaegar, his eyes filled with loathing. *"Targaryen bastard, a spawn of sin!"*
At those words, Rhaegar's expression turned as dark as a stormy sea, his violet eyes burning with killing intent.
Even Robb stiffened in shock.
Inside, he roared in disbelief— *How dare he say such a thing?!*
Amos, emboldened by Rhaegar's reaction, burst into hysterical laughter. *"You are covered in filth! The king will make sure you uphold tradition and breed more of your wretched kind!"*
*"Screeeeech—"*
The Devourer roared in fury, its thick neck stretching forward, dragon head looming over the far end of the drawbridge.
Its green, slit pupils burned with murderous rage, locking onto the foul-smelling Amos.
It sensed its rider's wrath—
A heat, heavy as a volcano, churned within its heaving chest.
Waiting for the moment to erupt.
Amos's vile insults had struck deep, stirring something primal in Rhaegar's heart.
The Targaryen tradition had existed since ancient times.
It was the most condemned aspect of their dynasty.
After Maegor the Cruel had bathed the Faith Militant in blood, and Jaehaerys I had reached a reconciliation, none on the continent had dared to mock or disparage the Targaryens for it again.
Yet now, these words had been thrown in his face, exposing his bloodline's deepest wound.
Rhaegar's violet pupils shimmered with red, a flicker of fire dancing in their depths.
Only one thought remained in his mind.
His voice, hoarse but resolute, followed his intent—
*"Dracarys."*
(End of Chapter)