The next day, Rhaegar appeared in the throne room, full of energy. His perfect state during the council was in stark contrast to the King's unstable mind on the Iron Throne. Even the financial minister, favored by Aerys, had to admit that the difference between father and son was like the rising sun and the setting sun. But if it was sunset, would he also have to fall silent? A group of young people, just like Rhaegar, were already gathered around him. They would replace the seven ministers on the Small Council when the new king ascended the throne, and they would continue to hold important positions in King's Landing… Colton thought, there was another way, the merit of supporting a young king.
He looked at Rosart, the head of the Pyromancers, a man the Crown Prince Rhaegar disliked but the King favored, and curled his lips.
Rhaegar was respectful in his attitude, but he no longer cared about his father's mockery and scolding. After the meeting, he went straight to the White Sword Tower's circular meeting room. There, he wrote a letter to his old uncle, Aemon Targaryen, requesting the Night's Watch to look after Viserys. Afterwards, the Crown Prince looked out at the bay, pondering. He wanted to send his brother, who was turning nine, his official birthday gift to The North. This would take some time, and the flame of passion in his chest was restlessly leaping. No, he wanted to send a small, thoughtful gift that a raven could carry, and have it delivered to Viserys as soon as possible.
The Crown Prince finally decided to have the royal workshop quickly forge a Dragon Glass Ring, with their brothers' names engraved on the wall. He also considered that his brother was still growing and had slender fingers, so he ordered the ring size to be about the size of a boy who could marry in his teens. He stubbornly thought that with Viserys's intelligence, he would know his intentions at a glance and know how to wear it.
A white raven, carrying his letter of instruction and wearing this black, crystal-clear ring, flapped its wings across the river plains and the vast snowy fields, finally landing on the windowsill of Winterfell. The silver-haired young prince held the ring in his palm and was overjoyed. He tried it on each finger: his brother wanted him to wear it until he grew up! I will!
Although, right now, Viserys's thumb could fit the ring quite well, he still took it off. After thinking about it, he found a very thin gold chain and threaded it through, wearing it around his neck. Wearing it this way, he could keep his treasure close to his chest, tuck it inside his clothes to protect it, and discreetly take out the chain to hold the ring in his palm and kiss it! Why were all the gifts his brother sent him his favorite?
"I'm going to head north!" The happy young prince said goodbye to Lyanna. As for Robert, who was still recovering from his injuries… Viserys didn't even think about him. Who was Robert?
The girl who didn't have to be betrothed to the Stormlands was currently feeling frustrated because she envied her brother Benjen: The Stark Duke had sent twenty soldiers and his own young son to escort the young prince to the Wall.
"It's not fair! Benjen isn't even as good at riding as I am, so why can't I go?" The little girl mumbled this to herself. The next day, she watched them leave with a wistful look. The little prince, holding the reins of his favorite chestnut pony, stood tall and straight, his silver hair neatly pulled back with a dragonbone clasp, looking quite dashing indeed.
She and the prince, who she was now quite familiar with, exchanged cheek kisses as a farewell. "Tell me what the Wall is like when you get back!"
Benjen, ever the showman, was putting on a display. "Arooo! I'll catch you a legendary White Walker as a gift!"
Lyanna, unable to stand his boasting, retorted, "Make sure the White Walkers don't drag you away!"
While the siblings bickered as usual, Viserys approached the Duke and Brandon to express his gratitude and say goodbye. He was polite and handsome, but lacked any of the childishness one would expect of a child. The Duke thought, I heard his older brother, Rhaegar, was the same when he was young, not fond of playing, and mature beyond his years. The Duke wasn't sure whether Rhaegar was behind the series of tragic events that had befallen Robert, but he had no doubt that the two brothers were outstanding. It seemed the gods still favored King Aerys, throwing out two positive Targaryen coins to consolidate his rule. In recent days, he had repeatedly examined the existing heirs of the Seven Kingdoms, making a comparison. He realized that tying his future to the Targaryen royal family was probably the best choice.
In the letter from his brother, Viserys learned that the spring air of King's Landing had yet to reach The North. Here, the snow was deep, and everything was white. The plains and forests were vast and desolate. To put it bluntly, this place was cold and poor, so poor that it was at the bottom of the Seven Kingdoms.
Viserys had already noticed that the most presentable armor in Winterfell belonged to Brandon. The Winterfell guards who were escorting him didn't even have chainmail, only wearing the lowest level of leather armor. He recalled the neat armor of the Lannister family from top to bottom, and sighed that with this level of military equipment, The North would only be cannon fodder in a war if they weren't exceptionally brave.
The Stark family's territory, though vast, suffered a critical disadvantage: it was sparsely populated, covered in ice and snow, and had incredibly low productivity. If war took a large number of young, able-bodied men, the grain harvested here wouldn't sustain them for more than two years. Without an influx of population and high-yield crops, it would remain impoverished.
Finding a dilapidated hut in a desolate village was considered fortunate for the night. During the long winters of food scarcity, the elderly in the villages might even intentionally wander off and never return. Along the way, he had already seen the remains devoured by beasts, forcing him to think hard about how to manage the North. Of course, his concern was predicated on the understanding that this place must become part of the King's domain. The Starks could hold a nominal position, serving as honorary lords, a gesture made out of kinship.
Viserys, munching on a snow hare, a game animal the Northerners had caught in the woods, for dinner, stared at the roaring fire for warmth. He was talking to the young lord of the North while calculating various methods to bring the North under royal control. He thought coldly, for example, if all the Stark men died without heirs, and I married Lyanna's brother, then with an heir, it would be legitimate to take it over! Then again, if this place fell into utter chaos, the royal army could crush and pacify it. He even considered, if the White Walker army appeared in a dozen years, swallowing the entire North and leaving no survivors… I would evacuate the workforce, then lead the army, throw bombs and kill the Night King. After such an operation, the North would have to belong to the royal domain, wouldn't it?
Just daydreaming, he sighed. My brother would definitely give immediate support, and wouldn't let them die off on purpose. But Littlefinger's words were true: chaos is a ladder, a ladder to one's goals. Therefore, I can't let this land be too peaceful.
He favored the Freys to cause trouble in the Riverlands. As for the North, the family choice was very clear - the Boltons, who had fought the Starks for thousands of years, had once ruled the North under the moniker of the Red King, and were fond of flaying people, but were currently behaving themselves.
Thus, the Dreadfort of the Bolton family became one of the stops at Viserys's request. Benjen was originally unwilling, but Viserys said he was writing a note on the customs of the North, and missed it, not knowing when he'd have another chance to visit. He had to go no matter what. They could meet him at the Black Castle.
…Is that possible? Benjen knew he couldn't abandon the young Targaryen prince, so he deviated from the King's Road.
"You'll be another Stark to enter the Dreadfort," Viserys comforted him. "The last one was the King of the North, Harron Stark, who accepted the Bolton family's surrender."
"This place is rumored to be unlucky," Benjen said unhappily. "They say the skins of several Stark lords are hidden in the Dreadfort's cellar. So, I certainly wouldn't be the only Stark there. Gods, why did you have to come here?"
"Legends usually don't hold up under scrutiny," Viserys said calmly. "For example, you said the Stark lords' skins are hidden in the cellar, which happened during the reign of the Red King Bolton, right? But later, Harrion Stark besieged the Dreadfort for two years, forcing them to surrender from starvation… Do you know what that means?"
Benjen thought for a moment, "Harrion must have retrieved our ancestors' skins and buried them in the Winterfell crypt?"
Viserys sighed. "Couldn't have. Think about it, extreme hunger during a siege, what does that imply?"
Benjen nearly fell off his horse, understanding dawned on his face. Viserys continued, summarizing, "So, it's impossible for the Dreadfort to still have those skins now. You don't need to be afraid."
"Who, who's afraid?" Benjen shouted. "The North remembers! I just remember these things!"
As they were discussing their ancestral history while riding, a message arrived from the advance party. The Stark family, escorting the young Targaryen prince to the Night's Watch, had made a detour to visit Roose Bolton, the Lord of the Dreadfort. They sent Dominic, his eldest son and only heir, who had just returned from years of service in the Vale, to greet them.
Viserys could tell at a glance that the leader was an excellent rider. He rode a white horse, his movements so coordinated that he seemed to have grown up on horseback. He led the way, galloping across the snow, the horse's hooves kicking up a cloud of snow, swift and steady.
The rider pulled up his horse a short distance away, reined it in, and dismounted with practiced ease. He reached out and stroked the horse's mane, seemingly praising it. The horse swished its tail and nudged the knight's hand—a man who was gentle even with his mount. Then, he led the horse towards them on foot.
The young man with brown-grey hair and pale grey eyes bowed to Viserys, then introduced himself to Benjen. His tone was gentle and humble, making the Stark child feel that the Dreadfort didn't seem so terrifying after all.
Viserys stared with his purple eyes, scrutinizing the man more closely, and sighed with a complicated mix of emotions.
The Dreadfort was located at the foot of a volcano and used geothermal heating in the same way as Winterfell. Seeing this made Viserys envious again, and he vowed to bring the technology back to Dragonstone. His attitude, which showed no fear of the rumored horrors and even a desire to explore every corner of the castle, including the torture chambers, made the Boltons feel that this Targaryen dragon was bold and approachable.
The Count was a man with a clean, tidy face, without a single wrinkle. He was pale, due to his long-standing habit of using leeches to "maintain" himself. His pale grey eyes were identical to his son's, and he spoke softly. No one would ever suspect that, in the original history, he would be the one to stab the already severely wounded Robb Stark at the Red Wedding, ending his life.
The count's father's gentleness was fundamentally different from the kindness of his current son. Viserys sighed again.
His sighs reached their peak that evening, after the Count of the Dreadfort hosted them for dinner, when Dominic brought out a harp to play for the guests.
The young man sang "The Brave Danifeline," the song was beautiful, the melody sorrowful—Viserys couldn't help but clench his fists.
He's so much like him. Like his elder brother, gentle and kind, fond of reading, and interested in history. He was skilled in riding and possessed many talents, including playing the harp. The count proudly believed that his son would one day become a champion in a jousting tournament.
Really? Someone like that… the cruel world wouldn't allow it.
Viserys looked at Dominic, as if looking at a mirror image of his brother: because of his compassion, his brother had dueled with the damned Robert at the Trident River and fallen; because of his love for his bastard brother, Dominic would be poisoned by Ramsay, whom he personally brought back to the castle… The world of ice and fire was so cold and cruel, tearing apart and destroying beauty before your eyes.
Viserys wouldn't accept this cruel destruction. He had been fighting tirelessly, vowing to reverse fate. Since Robert had been thoroughly dealt with and had no reason to threaten Rhaegar now, he was determined to try and change Dominic's future as well.