c17: Wrath
Moreover, Viserys Targaryen seemed to have become a completely different person, far more diligent and hardworking than before.
Sir William had served as a sword instructor in the royal court for many years, and long before the fall of the Targaryens he had spent time within the halls of the Red Keep in King's Landing. Because of this, he had practically watched Viserys grow up since the boy was small. In his memories, the young prince had never been easy to discipline. Viserys had been mischievous, restless, and even somewhat unruly very different from his elder brother Rhaegar Targaryen, who had once been famous across Westeros for his calm temperament and scholarly demeanor.
When Viserys first asked him to teach swordsmanship, Sir William had not taken the request very seriously. He assumed the boy would grow bored quickly. Sword training was exhausting and repetitive, and most noble children lost interest after a few bruises and blisters. In Sir William's mind, the prince would likely give up after a few days.
However, the silver-haired boy's display of courage during the later attack had completely changed his opinion.
That moment had left a deep impression on him.
When Viserys personally struck down Kevan Lannister and then attempted to cut off his head but failed, Sir William had been utterly stunned.
The scene remained vivid in his memory.
A small boy with silver hair the unmistakable Valyrian features of the dragonlords stood gripping a longsword almost too large for his arms. His face, which normally looked innocent and delicate, was twisted with determination as he swung the blade downward.
But the sword had not cut cleanly.
Instead, it became lodged in the man's neck.
Blood sprayed everywhere, splashing across the boy's face and clothing.
The contrast between that childlike appearance and such brutal violence was so shocking that Sir William doubted he would ever forget it for the rest of his life.
"Perhaps too many terrible things have happened recently… truly traumatizing him."
The slightly curly-haired middle-aged knight understood that the past months had been filled with tragedy. The royal house of House Targaryen had collapsed during the devastating conflict later remembered as Robert's Rebellion. The death of King Aerys II Targaryen and the fall of the dynasty had shattered the old order of the Seven Kingdoms.
Many things had happened that even a grown man might struggle to endure, let alone a child.
Yet despite the suffering, Sir William could not deny that Viserys had changed completely.
The boy had become serious, disciplined, and relentless in training.
To Sir William, that transformation could only be the result of a deep shock.
And strangely enough, he approved of it.
Sir William had sworn loyalty to the Iron Throne long ago, just as his elder brother had once served faithfully in the ranks of the Kingsguard, the white-cloaked protectors of the royal family.
Because of that loyalty, he naturally hoped the last surviving dragon prince would grow stronger.
Only if Viserys truly became a "dragon" worthy of his name could the bloodline of House Targaryen one day reclaim what had been lost and perhaps take vengeance on those who destroyed their dynasty.
The middle-aged knight stood quietly beneath the shade of the trees, one hand resting on the wooden practice sword at his waist as he fell into thought.
Meanwhile
The elderly Maester Daniel hurried past the garden path.
His steps were unsteady, and he nearly stumbled as he rushed forward. The old scholar merely nodded briefly to Sir William and Viserys in greeting before continuing on his way toward the castle interior.
"Huh?"
Sir William blinked in confusion.
"What happened?"
Viserys had stopped his practice by then.
Breathing heavily from the training, the boy slid his sword back into its scabbard and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
For a long moment he watched the old maester's retreating figure disappear along the garden path.
Only then did he turn and ask casually,
"Won't the Maester trip and fall if he walks that fast?"
Sir William paused slightly and glanced down at his student.
Sometimes Viserys behaved with the maturity of a grown man, speaking calmly and thoughtfully.
At other times, he sounded exactly like the mischievous child Sir William remembered.
Or perhaps
He was simply still a brat after all.
Sir William could not tell whether the prince was deliberately pretending.
In the end, the knight could only shake his head and answer patiently.
"Since the Maester is in such a hurry, something important must have happened."
The instructor's brows slowly knitted together.
"And judging by the look on his face… it's probably not good news."
…
Aegon's Garden within Dragonstone was filled with the fresh scent of pine carried by the sea wind.
Tall black trees rose on every side, their twisted branches casting shifting shadows over the stone paths. Wild roses climbed the walls, while thick thorn bushes formed natural barriers along the garden edges.
In the damp soil near the marshy corners, clusters of cranberries grew low among the weeds.
At one end of the garden, Viserys and Sir William continued their sword practice on the grassy clearing.
On the other side, the young queen Rhaella Targaryen was spending time with her small granddaughter Rhaenys Targaryen, the daughter of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and the Dornish princess Elia Martell.
The quiet garden seemed peaceful.
Yet the hurried arrival of that raven from Westeros meant that the fragile calm surrounding Dragonstone might soon be shattered once again.
Renée had wanted to run across the garden and join her uncle during his sword practice, but the Queen gently held the little girl back and told her she could not disturb him.
The child pouted slightly but obeyed.
The queen's decision was not without reason.
To Rhaella Targaryen, her youngest son Viserys Targaryen had become her final hope after the disasters that had befallen their house. She prayed that the boy might one day grow strong enough to become a pillar of House Targaryen, just like his renowned elder brother Rhaegar Targaryen had once been.
Only then might the dragons return to power and reclaim the Iron Throne from the usurpers.
At that moment
Maester Daniel arrived in a hurry.
The old man's robes fluttered behind him as he walked quickly along the stone path, his steps uneven as if the news he carried weighed heavily on his heart.
When he reached the queen, he leaned closer and whispered urgently into her ear.
Then he carefully handed her the sealed letter he had taken from the raven.
It was an anonymous intelligence report sent secretly from King's Landing.
According to Maester Daniel, the information came from a sympathizer who had outwardly declared loyalty to Robert Baratheon after the rebellion, yet still secretly supported the rightful Targaryen heirs.
The letter described everything that had recently occurred in the capital.
It contained detailed accounts of events inside the Red Keep, including reports of the city's fall during the final days of the war remembered as Robert's Rebellion. Many of the incidents described had happened directly before the informant's eyes, making the intelligence far more reliable than the vague rumors that had reached Dragonstone before.
When the old maester finished speaking, Queen Rhaella looked somewhat doubtful at first.
After all, the royal family had already taken refuge on the island fortress of Dragonstone.
The island possessed a strong fleet still loyal to the Targaryens, while House Baratheon did not command a powerful navy capable of easily attacking the island fortress.
At least for the moment, Dragonstone remained relatively safe.
With a quiet breath, the silver-haired queen unfolded the letter Maester Daniel had brought.
Her purple eyes moved slowly across the parchment.
At first, her expression remained calm.
But after reading only a few lines
Her face suddenly changed.
Her eyes instantly reddened.
A slender hand rose to cover her mouth as tears began to stream uncontrollably down her cheeks.
"Your Majesty!"
Maester Daniel reacted immediately.
The elderly scholar quickly stepped forward and supported her arm, afraid that the queen might collapse from the shock.
The letter contained many pieces of terrible news.
However, the first message written at the top was already devastating enough.
It struck like a blade to the heart.
Queen Rhaella had barely read those lines before her composure completely broke, and she burst into tears.
Beside her stood the small princess Rhaenys Targaryen.
The young girl froze in confusion as she watched her grandmother cry so suddenly. Her wide eyes filled with uncertainty, and she did not know what to do.
Rhaenys was still far too young to understand the terrible events unfolding in the world.
She did not yet know that her father, Prince Rhaegar, had fallen on the battlefield at the Trident while fighting Robert Baratheon.
Even if someone told her now, she would likely be unable to truly comprehend the meaning of such a loss.
Meanwhile, not far away
Viserys and Sir William had already stopped their sword practice.
Seeing the queen's sudden distress, they hurried over from the training field.
Sir William instinctively kept his distance from the letter itself.
As a knight, he understood that matters of intelligence and court intrigue were not always meant for his eyes.
Viserys, however, stepped closer.
The silver-haired boy picked up the parchment that had slipped from the queen's trembling hands.
He read it carefully.
Line by line.
And then he fell silent.
"This…"
The boy's fingers tightened slightly around the letter.
Although some details in his memory were vague, he already knew what this message meant.
In his previous life, he had heard the broad outline of the story.
He knew that what had happened in King's Landing during the final days of Robert's Rebellion was something that could not be changed now especially not by a powerless child stranded on Dragonstone.
That was precisely why he trained so desperately every day.
Not because he dreamed of glorious ambitions.
Not because he longed to avenge the Targaryens.
In truth, since arriving in this world, he had never even seen his father the origin of many tragedies the infamous Aerys II Targaryen, known across the Seven Kingdoms as the Mad King.
Not once.
Before he could even understand what was happening, he had already been hurried onto a carriage and sent away from King's Landing to Dragonstone.
Because of that, he had never carried grand dreams of conquest or revenge.
All he wanted was to change his own fate.
To struggle to survive.
To avoid becoming the miserable exile history remembered as the "Beggar King," wandering the Free Cities until he died in humiliation with molten gold poured over his head by the Dothraki khal Khal Drogo.
"Beasts…"
Finally, the silver-haired boy crouching on the ground clenched his teeth and spoke through them.
At first, he had felt little personal attachment.
When he saved Rhaenys earlier, it had merely been an impulsive decision. He had even considered returning the girl to her parents if royal soldiers eventually caught up with them.
But now
The words written in the letter had turned into a horrifying reality.
His infant nephew Aegon Targaryen had been seized and smashed brutally against a wall, his tiny skull crushed.
His sister-in-law, Princess Elia Martell of House Martell, had been raped and murdered.
The perpetrator was the monstrous knight Gregor Clegane, known across Westeros as "The Mountain," whose hands had still been stained with the blood and brains of the murdered child.
Such cruelty would ignite fury even in the most timid man.
Let alone him.
....
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