Earlier, he had indeed climbed onto the dragon's back in front of everyone and flown away from Dragonstone.
At first, he intended to return to King's Landing, hunt down Larys in the shadows, and slice off his deceitful head with a single stroke.
But he didn't do it.
The timing wasn't right—killing the son of the Hand of the King so recklessly would attract unwanted attention.
With Borros' murder still fresh, he couldn't afford to be linked to it in any way.
Lost in thought, Rhaegar lifted his head and let out a sigh. "Tonight is destined to be restless."
He gazed at the dusk-lit horizon. The fiery clouds of the sunset stretched endlessly, as brilliant as the family words: *Fire and Blood.*
A faint smile played on Rhaegar's lips. Ignoring the heated argument below, he turned and stepped into the tower.
"He" had already left Dragonstone on the back of *Gluttonous One*—there could be no more appearances.
A letter from King's Landing had arrived, summoning the prince back in haste.
It was meant to create an illusion of an impending storm. Was Alicent anxiously awaiting Borros' death, perhaps even pacing in frustration?
---
"I don't want to drink this… Everyone, leave…"
In the king's chamber, the drunken Viserys shook his head repeatedly, rejecting the poppy milk offered to him.
Alicent supported her husband's shoulder, holding a cup as she coaxed, "You need to take your medicine. A little will help you sleep well."
"I don't need it!"
Viserys suddenly erupted in anger, slapping the cup away. The thick, milky-white liquid splattered across the carpet.
Alicent flinched in shock, swallowing her frustration. "I'll come back later."
Feeling wronged, she left her intoxicated husband behind, lifting her skirts as she walked out of the chamber.
She had gone through the trouble of finding Mellos, who had specially prepared the poppy milk to ease Viserys' pain.
Outside the room, Alicent wiped the corners of her eyes and hurried back to her own quarters down the same corridor.
"Your Grace."
Inside the room, her handmaid Talia greeted her softly.
Alicent waved dismissively, as if swatting away a fly. "I'm fine. Go about your work."
She dropped into a chair at the round table, pressing her fingertips against her temples, massaging away her growing headache.
She had just received word—Rhaegar had gotten a letter from King's Landing and had flown there on his emerald-eyed black dragon.
"Damn it. What the hell is happening?"
She cursed under her breath, her mind a tangled mess of worry.
Dragonstone belonged to Rhaenyra, but Rhaegar had a claim to it as well.
With Mellos detained, all outside messages were intercepted by Dragonstone's maester, preventing any from reaching her hands.
Her thoughts spiraled in every direction, her anxiety mounting. "Talia, bring me paper and a quill. I need to write a letter."
She needed to secretly send a message to King's Landing—to question Larys about whether the plan had succeeded.
"As you wish, Your Grace."
Talia nodded and retrieved parchment and a quill from the drawer.
**Knock, knock…**
There was a knock at the door.
Alicent's head snapped up in alarm. "Who is it?"
After a brief pause, a deep, familiar voice responded.
"It's me, Alicent."
"Father?" she murmured in disbelief.
The door creaked open.
Otto Hightower stepped in, his gaze sweeping the room before briefly resting on the paper and quill in Talia's hands.
He said nothing, merely walked over and took a seat across from his daughter, speaking in a casual tone.
"You're writing a letter?"
Alicent lowered her head, unwilling to answer.
"Mellos came to see me," Otto continued, unconcerned about the letter. "He said you seemed… anxious."
The moment Rhaegar left, Alicent had secretly released Mellos, who had taken the opportunity to find Otto and report the queen's unusual behavior—constantly inquiring about raven messages.
Alicent's heart clenched. Her fingers dug into her nails.
"Alicent," Otto sighed, taking her hands gently in his own. There was genuine affection in his voice.
"You have such delicate hands. I never wanted you to ruin them with embroidery, yet you never took care of them."
Shame flushed Alicent's face as she glanced at her palms.
Once smooth and fair, her fingers were now covered in torn skin. Every nail bed was raw and bloodied.
Seizing the moment, Otto's voice softened even further.
"Tell your father—what trouble have you gotten yourself into?"
Mellos had risked coming to him, which meant the matter was no small one.
Otto knew he had to act—to protect his daughter, himself, and their family's interests.
At last, the late-arriving concern shattered Alicent's defenses. Tears welled in her eyes.
"Larys devised a wicked plan… and I was part of it."
Faced with the rare warmth of her father's presence, she let her guard down completely, confessing every detail.
For a long moment, Otto sat in silence.
Then, he took a slow breath and cast a sidelong glance toward Talia. His voice was low.
"Can she be trusted?"
Alicent sniffled, her eyes red and swollen. "Talia has been with me since my youth. She is like a sister to me."
Her youth—back when she served the elderly King Jaehaerys in his final years.
Otto gave a slight nod, his expression growing serious.
"Do not send that letter. Stay in this room. Go nowhere."
"But Rhaegar—"
Alicent objected anxiously, her worry spilling over.
Otto shook his head. His voice was firm.
"Do not interfere. You haven't been exposed—don't do anything reckless."
Borros' cause of death was untraceable. No one could point to a culprit with certainty.
As long as Alicent remained calm and uninvolved, no suspicion would fall on her.
But if she panicked and sent a letter to King's Landing, it would be like handing over evidence against herself.
As for Larys…
A ruthless schemer like him would be better off dead—preferably at the tip of the prince's sword.
---
The sun had set.
Night had fallen.
Inside a chamber in the Stone Drum Tower…
"Mmm… that feels so good…"
Moonlight filtered through the stained-glass window, casting a glow over the entangled figures on the floor, their breaths heavy and ragged.
**Knock, knock…**
Suddenly, an urgent knocking sounded—two light taps followed by a heavier one—then came the fading sound of retreating footsteps.
**"Hmph!"**
A low, muffled grunt signaled the abrupt halt of their passionate embrace.
Daemon pushed himself up from the floor, wiping the sweat from his brow. He grabbed a piece of clothing and wrapped it around his waist.
Approaching the door, he noticed a slip of paper tucked beneath it.
When he opened the door, the hallway was empty—the messenger had already fled.
**"Prince, who dares interrupt us so late at night?"**
A husky, post-pleasure voice purred from behind him, and soon, two soft, ample mounds pressed against his back.
Daemon shrugged, ignoring the woman as he walked to the window and sat on the ledge, his expression unreadable as he examined the note.
His eyes flicked over the hastily scribbled words. As he read, his gaze darkened, the air around him turning heavy with menace.
His most trusted mistress, Baiqu Xiaomei, was an expert in intelligence gathering, having planted spies in many places.
Daemon turned his head, locking eyes with the voluptuous woman standing naked on the floor.
Dark curls, emerald-green eyes, and a chest that could put a dairy cow to shame.
Aly Rivers—a recent acquisition from his royal hunting expedition—a damn fine bedmate.
Aly gazed seductively at the handsome man who had just ravished her, unbothered by her nudity as she sauntered closer. Her red lips parted in amusement.
**"Bad news?"**
As she spoke, her long curls swayed, and her milky-white skin glowed enticingly in the dim light.
Daemon's face remained grim for a moment before he let out a deliberate sigh, feigning sorrow.
**"It's my brother. His condition has worsened."**
**"Illness is nothing to fear—it can be cured."**
Aly's lips curled into a smile as she knelt beside him at the window, her gaze sultry and inviting.
**"You once said you possessed the secret to eternal youth… and that you knew medicine?"**
Daemon eyed her with intrigue, his fingers tilting her chin up.
**"Heh, there is no better healer than me."**
Aly reveled in his dominant touch, giggling softly.
**"The king's affliction stems from a curse. But he is a true dragon—he can be healed by bathing in dragon's blood."**
**"Dragon's blood burns like molten lava. My brother wouldn't survive it."** Daemon's voice held a sharp edge.
He had deliberately broached the subject, testing the bastard daughter of House Strong.
Just moments ago, the information delivered by his spies had confirmed her treacherous nature.
Aly, oblivious to the shift in his demeanor, rested her head on his thigh, her breath warm against his skin.
**"Not just any dragon's blood. I mean the blood of a Targaryen."**
**"Targaryen blood?!"**
Daemon's expression turned ice-cold as his grip tightened around her throat, his eyes flashing dangerously.
**"No! That's not what I meant—"**
Aly gasped, struggling against his hold, her body writhing as she frantically tried to explain.
**"A bastard could be used instead—as long as the bloodline is pure!"**
**BANG!**
Daemon flung her away with force and leaped down from the window ledge, staring her down with cold fury.
**"My brother would never allow such vile sorcery to exist. And you—stay away from him. If you so much as step near him, I will carve your head into pieces."**
This so-called "blood cleansing" was nothing more than a human sacrifice.
He had taken Aly Rivers as a mistress purely for her beauty, but the moment he tested her, she revealed her true colors.
The words of a forest witch could never be trusted.
---
### A Dimly Lit Corridor
A figure with silver-gold hair slipped out quietly.
**"Weird… Father's chambers don't have a pass token?"**
Aemond frowned, murmuring to himself in frustration.
Earlier at dusk, Aegon had taunted him, leaving him simmering with resentment.
With his eldest brother, Rhaegar, absent, there was no one to help him claim a dragon.
Tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep, he finally made a decision—he would sneak off to the Dragonmont and tame a dragon himself!
Ruffling his hair, Aemond's eyes suddenly lit up.
**"Rhaenyra is the Princess of Dragonstone. She controls the Dragon Keepers—maybe she has the token!"**
The castle, the Blackstone gates, and every path to the Dragonmont were guarded by Dragon Keepers. Without the pass token, he wouldn't get past them.
Determined, Aemond slipped down the stairwell, making his way to Rhaenyra's chamber.
**Knock, knock…**
To be cautious, he rapped lightly on the door, heart pounding in his chest as he prayed she wasn't inside.
With Rhaegar gone from the island, Rhaenyra likely wouldn't be sleeping alone—she'd be busy tending to her twin daughters.
A moment passed. No response.
Aemond's face lit up with excitement. Carefully, he pushed open the door.
**Creak…**
The faint sound of the door opening revealed a room illuminated by the flickering glow of a dozen incense candles.
Empty.
**"Perfect!"**
Aemond cheered softly, quickly rummaging through the room.
The bedside table, wardrobe, dressing table…
Finally, in the top drawer of the vanity, he found a dark iron token.
Lifting it to his lips, he kissed it triumphantly.
**"Dragonmont, here I come!"**
After restoring the room to its original state, he wasted no time setting out.
His first stop was the castle gates, where a patrol of Dragon Keepers immediately blocked his path.
Smirking with confidence, Aemond raised the token and declared,
**"I have the pass token. Two of you, escort me to the Dragonmont!"**
The guards exchanged uncertain glances before the captain hesitated, then nodded.
**"As you command, Prince Aemond."**
And just like that, Aemond smoothly slipped out of the castle.