Rhaegar looked like he was about to burn a baby alive. It had gone wrong, very wrong. Aegon looked at the black dragon and immediately thought of Balerion. He approached cautiously, carefully. That didn't stop the dragon from lunging at him. Luckily, it didn't breathe fire, or his heir would be dead.
Rhaenys was another disappointment.
As soon as she saw the state of her brother, she decided to stay away from the dragons. She tried to approach the silver one, but as soon as the dragon looked in her direction, she chickened out and backed away. Visenya was the only one who managed to approach the dragons without danger. He wouldn't say she claimed any of them, but they weren't aggressive towards her.
The copper one in particular looked at her with curiosity and apprehension. When she tried to tell it to follow her in High Valyrian, the dragon turned around and left. It was a failure, but there was hope for her. Staying at Harrenhal would allow her to deepen that bond. The king's anger was directed at his brother. He lied to him, and he knows he did. The black and white dragons had joined him and his wife.
It had now been a week since Aegon had been on the stretcher, recovering. Maester Qyburn was more competent than he had expected for a man who had been expelled from the citadel.
"How did you manage to hatch them?" he asked his younger brother as calmly as possible. Jaehaerys frowned, as if it were a bad memory.
"With fire. They were on a brazier. Dany used to spend time with them, as if she were incubating them herself," he said. "One night, the fire was stronger, more intense. The flames consumed us both. We weren't burned, and at dawn there were three dragons around us," he told the truth, half of it; he didn't need to know everything.
"That's all?" His brother didn't quite believe him.
"Yes. Do you remember the red star?"
"A sign from R'hllor," Melisandre said. The king did not express that to his brother.
"Yes, the maesters have not discovered what it meant," he told him.
"It was that same night. I don't know if the star gave birth to the dragons or the dragons to the star." His eyes looked up at the sky, hoping to see it again. The star signified the return of magic. "They are related."
Rhaegar accepted that more readily. If R'hllor was involved, then it might have been as Jaehaerys said.
"It's a pity," he said, not knowing how to hatch the dragons at King's Landing.
The red woman gave him the option of sacrifices.
But thousands of men would die for each of the eggs. Why did R'hllor help his brothers and not him? His brother worshipped trees, and trees did not breed dragons; they burned under their flames. He could only think of how his brother's dragons belonged to him.
"Has Aegon recovered well?" asked Jaehaerys.
There was genuine concern on his face. That made the king wonder if he had truly joined the dragons.
"Yes. Your maester is even better than Pycelle," the king admitted. "Aegon will travel in the carriage. He is well enough for that."
"Then I wish you a safe journey. Argentstone is open to you," his brother said.
"Your Grace, my prince," an immaculate approached. Despite running, he did not seem agitated at all. "The great Weirwood. It's burning."
Jaehaerys jumped to his feet. He began to run out of the tower. Rhaegar felt as though he was looking at a horse, not a man. He could see a red figure in the distance near the arcian. The tree was surrounded by fire. Rhaegar wished the wood would turn to ash. His brother deserved a little punishment.
He approached calmly. He needed composure. He was a king, and he couldn't run like his brother, nor did he care that much about the fire.
"I'm sorry, Jaehaerys," his brother said as he saw the prince holding a sword at Melisandre's throat. "Let her go," it was an order disguised as a request. "The weirwood is intact," he said. To his surprise, not even the leaves looked singed. "There is no damage. I will make it up to you." He began to think that R'hllor was not the only real god. And that idea caused him panic. He consoled himself with the knowledge that he was more potent than the other gods. The only miracles he had ever seen came from the hand of the red god.
"My men will escort her out of Argentstone," his brother said. "Forgive me for doubting. But she does not serve you, brother, she serves her god." Rhaegar nodded. He dismissed his words. R'hllor's will was bound to his own.
Rhaegar sent two of his own men with her. They were not fanatics, but they were loyal. Sending followers of the red god could end up with her convincing them to kill his brother's guards.
"That tree is an abomination; it contaminates the presence of the Lord of Light," said the witch. It was the first time the king had seen her so upset.
"The weirwood is the light of Argentstone," Jaehaerys replied. "I hope not to see you here again. It would be a pity to see your entrails on the weirwood," he warned angrily.
"Jaehaerys!" His older brother interrupted. "You have said enough. Melisandre, wait outside the walls," he ordered.
Rhaegar looked at the weirwood. According to his brother, it had removed the curse that hung over Harrenhal. He would have dismissed it from any other man, but his brother was not a talker. And his brother had given birth to dragons.
Rhaegar thought that perhaps his brother sacrificed the people at Harrenhal and disguised it as the curse. Maybe he brought more people than he told him to sacrifice.
'Why do you bless those who worship foreign gods, R'hllor?' His question went unanswered.
Jaehaerys had left, furious. Rhaegar went his own way.
-----
Soon, the king's procession left the walls of Argentstone. Five people fewer. Lyanna, Visenya, and Ser Barristan remained in the city. In addition to the two Knights of the Crownlands who were devoured by dragons in Godswood.
"Sir Barristan," Lyanna called. Visenya was walking away with Daenerys and Jaehaerys. "I have a question I hope you can answer, good ser," she looked both ways; they were alone.
"I will answer as best I can, my queen," the knight said humbly.
"If the king asks you to kill me, will you do it?" Lyanna took a significant risk. She couldn't stop her hands from shaking.
Sir Barristan remained silent. If there was anyone who knew the darkness of Rhaegar, it was him. Sir Barristan stood guard at the door while Daeron was sacrificed.
"I am a knight. My duty is to protect the innocent, not to harm them," he replied firmly.
"Did you protect Rhaella when the mad king raped her? Did you protect my brother? My father?" she spat angrily. "Do you remember Daeron, Sir Barristan?" Her voice became as sharp as Valyrian steel.
"I could never forget him," he said, lowering his gaze.
How his vows had been put to the test. He remembers little Aegon wanting to see his new brother, the newborn Daeron. Barristan didn't know if the crown prince had seen what happened inside the room; he had tried to avoid it.
"And you dare call yourself a knight? To say that you fulfill your vows?"
"No, Your Grace." The old knight was tired. That was why he offered to be Princess Visenya's guard.
He had tried to leave with Daemon, but the king said his son didn't need a guard. "My white cloak has been soiled by time," he admitted shamefully. He looked at the fabric, white and immaculate, but he knew the truth. "It is my wish to make it white again." The queen did not seem to believe him at all.
"Your vows will be tested. As with Aerys, maybe more" were her words before she left.
Sir Barristan wondered if he had to choose between his knighthood and his white cloak. Which was more valuable? The question was complicated.
Which brought him more misfortune? Which made him want to vomit every morning?
'Keeping vows is difficult. If it were easy, everyone could fulfill their duty,' he tried to justify himself, but deep down he knew they were just lies.
He watched the riders ride away. Rhaegar wore a dark green cloak. Barristan couldn't help but remember the Valyrian fire that Aerys loved.
'Will you make this old man destroy what little honor he has left?'