"That's Syrax's roar—Rhaenyra has arrived."
Rhaegar was the first to rise, stepping outside to greet her.
As the Crown Prince left the table, the nobles dared not linger and quickly followed him out.
The castle gates swung open, revealing Syrax landing in the front courtyard.
Her orange-yellow scales shimmered under the fading light, her horns curved backward, and her head held high with pride.
Rhaenyra, clad in black riding leathers, had her long hair braided and coiled at the back of her head. She lifted her chin, exuding confidence.
Both dragon and rider shared the same haughty demeanor.
It was already dusk, and Rhaenyra appeared somewhat travel-worn as she nimbly descended the soft ladder.
Behind her, Jancef followed with a tense expression, her hair disheveled, her steps unsteady.
Clearly, she wasn't faring much better than Jeyne.
"Rhaenyra, was your journey safe?"
Rhaegar strode forward to meet her.
"Safe enough, aside from being abandoned by you," Rhaenyra replied, casually brushing a strand of hair behind her ear before turning to greet Rhea and the other nobles.
She had met them all before—every one of them had once sworn allegiance to her. She knew them far better than Rhaegar did.
Back inside the castle, Jancef inquired about Jeyne's condition before seeking out her close friend with the help of a maid.
Rhaenyra leaned toward Rhaegar and whispered with a smirk, "You flew so fast, I'm surprised Jeyne didn't fall apart."
"That's not on me—she was scared and said she'd rather get it over with quickly."
Rhaegar looked innocent.
Given Jeyne's status, there was no way he would have been careless with her.
Rhaenyra chuckled without replying, instead eyeing him up and down before taking a subtle sniff of his tunic.
She caught traces of mint—Jeyne's scent—mingled with the faint aroma of rice wine. Other than that…
Her gaze swept across the great hall, landing on the noblewomen who had left their seats and gathered in the center.
"Rhaegar, you're quite popular."
She adjusted his collar, amusement flickering in her eyes.
Her younger brother was handsome, highborn, and clearly the source of much competition among noble ladies.
Such trivial matters never bothered her.
After all, in her youth, she had been the object of desire for men across the realm.
From elderly lords in their seventies to boys barely eleven or twelve, all had sought to marry her.
Even Jason and Tyland Lannister had nearly come to blows over her.
She had always wanted to see that fool Jason get beaten to a pulp, but unfortunately, it never happened.
A servant brought over a chair, and Rhaenyra sat beside Rhaegar as was her habit.
Her presence only heightened the excitement of the feast.
The nobles drank, boasting of their achievements, while Rhaegar found himself in an unexpectedly relaxed position.
With Rhaenyra seated next to him, the noblewomen hesitated to approach.
A few bold ones tried, only to be subdued by her commanding presence and retreat in defeat.
Jonal, in particular, was so timid that she didn't dare meet Rhaenyra's gaze. She quietly stood beside old Grell, playing the role of a wine-pourer.
"Rhaenyra, you're as domineering as ever," Rhaegar murmured with amusement.
"Did I say or do anything?"
Smiling sweetly, Rhaenyra gripped a dining knife in one hand while pinching Rhaegar's thigh with the other.
"No complaints at all."
Rhaegar quickly grasped her delicate hand on his thigh, staying perfectly still.
---
### Two Days Later
The wedding at Runestone took place.
Nobles continued to arrive each day, and the stables overflowed with carriages and horses, forcing many to camp nearby.
The ceremony was not held indoors but in the rear garden of Runestone.
The Royces were an ancient house that followed the Old Gods.
A towering, timeworn weirwood tree stood in the garden, its thick branches casting shadows over the gathered guests.
Beneath its sacred leaves, Rhea and Gerold exchanged vows of love.
When they finished, Jeyne, as a witness, placed a floral crown on Rhea's head.
The nobles applauded, offering their blessings.
Smiling, Rhea took Gerold's hand and invited everyone back to the castle for the banquet.
Another grand feast began.
Rhaegar managed to dodge a few rounds of toasts before slipping away to the second floor for some respite.
The second floor was a gathering place for noble ladies, filled with laughter and playful banter.
The balcony featured wide floor-to-ceiling windows.
Rhaenyra, dressed in a red gown, sat gracefully on a rocking chair, one leg elegantly crossed over the other.
"Rhaenyra, why aren't you with Jeyne and the others?"
Seeing her alone, Rhaegar felt a bit surprised and walked up to her.
Rhaenyra held a glass of red wine, gently swirling it. She turned her face away without responding.
"Why aren't you saying anything?"
Rhaegar leaned on the back of the rocking chair, tilting his head toward her profile.
"Move away!"
Rhaenyra snapped, shoving his face with her hand.
"Who upset you?"
Rhaegar grabbed her shoulders, his tone filled with concern.
She had been fine just last night—someone must have offended her.
Rhaenyra remained silent, staring expressionlessly out the window.
Following her gaze, Rhaegar looked outside.
Apart from the region's characteristic valleys and green fields, he could see the weirwood tree in the distance.
A group of children was playing beneath the tree.
Rhaegar frowned slightly but didn't notice anything unusual.
After a moment of thought, he extended his hands and gently wrapped them around Rhaenyra's waist.
Bringing his lips close to her ear, he spoke, his words carrying the warmth of his breath, "Did I do something to upset you?"
Rhaenyra, who usually carried herself as the elder sister and looked after his daily needs, rarely got into arguments with him.
Perhaps feeling uncomfortable from the warmth near her ear, Rhaenyra bumped him lightly with her head and said irritably, "What does my dress remind you of?"
Rhaegar blinked in slight confusion and took a serious look at her off-shoulder red gown.
"It looks great," Rhaegar said sincerely.
"Does it remind you of the Lysian red carpet you gave Jeyne?"
Rhaenyra turned her head abruptly, the two now face-to-face, barely a fist's distance apart, staring into each other's eyes.
Rhaegar froze at her words, a faint bead of sweat forming on his brow.
"You saw the raven from the Eyrie?"
Last night, Ser Elrik had led a convoy through the Bloody Gate and arrived at the Eyrie.
Due to the treacherous terrain, most of the party remained stationed at Moon Gate Castle, at the foot of the Giant's Lance.
Only a dozen men entered the Eyrie, bearing gifts.
Among the treasures was the Lysian red carpet Rhaenyra just mentioned.
Rhaenyra's eyes narrowed dangerously as she enunciated each word: "That red carpet was my gift to you for your eleventh name day!"
"Uh..."
Rhaegar's spine tingled as he instinctively stepped back.
"Get back here!"
Rhaenyra wasn't about to let him escape. She grabbed his collar and yanked him forward with such force that their foreheads bumped together, leaving them staring at each other from different heights.
"The gifts were prepared under your supervision. Do you think I'd believe your excuses?"
Rhaenyra's sharp gaze could cut through steel.
That red carpet was expensive.
She had personally traveled to Lys, going through great effort to acquire it.
"Queen Alicent!"
Desperately, Rhaegar invoked the queen as his scapegoat. With a solemn expression, he said, "The gift list was reviewed by her. She must have added it by mistake."
**(End of Chapter)**