The First Clash with the King

The First Clash with the King

"Thank you, Prince."

With the little prince's guarantee, Arryk offered his sincere thanks and led the two of them into the camp.

His son and daughter had been gone all night. Viserys was furious, but also deeply disappointed.

Not only in his children, but in himself.

As a king, allowing his subjects to wage war without permission was a failure of his own.

As a father, failing to raise his children properly made him useless.

After Queen Alicent spent the night talking him through it, Viserys had, for once, spoken from the heart. He had decided to do something.

When Rhaegar entered the royal pavilion, he saw Viserys sitting in the seat of honor.

He looked around. None of the nobles who had celebrated the day before were there.

Even the ministers he trusted were absent.

"Father, I'm back."

Seeing that his father was in a foul mood, Rhaegar greeted him first.

Viserys ignored him, his cold gaze settling on Illyric, who had come with him.

"White Knight, tell your king: what is the punishment for taking a prince out of camp without permission?"

Illyric dropped to his knees, his heart uneasy. "Your Majesty, it should be treason!"

"Good. You still remember the laws of the kingdom. I thought you'd stopped caring about them long ago."

Viserys laughed in fury. "Guards, take this traitor away and cut off his head."

He was truly furious.

Daemon and the Sea Snake had started a war behind his back.

The ministers refused to accept the heir he had chosen.

His beloved daughter didn't understand her old father's good intentions.

And now even the White Knight who had sworn unwavering loyalty dared to defy him.

He had secretly taken his frail eldest son deep into the Kingswood.

What was he trying to do?

What wouldn't he dare do?

If he wasn't punished severely, the lords and ministers would all follow suit one by one. What would become of the king's authority?

At Viserys's command, footsteps sounded outside the pavilion.

Illyric closed his eyes, resigned to his fate.

He knew the guards at the entrance were coming to pass judgment on him.

Arryk, who had been standing guard beside the king, looked troubled and secretly signaled to Rhaegar.

Though it would disgrace the honor of the white cloak he wore, the little prince was, at that moment, his brother's only lifeline.

Rhaegar kept his promise.

The moment Viserys gave the order, he immediately stepped in front of Illyric.

He feigned confusion. "Father, why are you punishing Ser Illyric? There must be some misunderstanding."

Viserys gave him no quarter. "Silence! Don't think you can wash your hands of this just because I haven't mentioned you."

"I already heard the whole story from the stableboy. Illyric's fate is also your responsibility—you can't escape the blame!"

Rhaegar's expression stiffened. He hadn't expected his little ruse to have been seen through so quickly.

The guards entered the pavilion, swiftly stripping Illyric of his white cloak and taking his sword.

"Stop! You can't treat him like this."

Rhaegar didn't care about anything else. He spread his arms and stood in front of Illyric, who was kneeling on one knee, blocking the guards as they moved to take him away.

"Impudent! Would you defy your father, the king, too?"

Viserys shouted angrily and ordered the guards to take Rhaegar away.

"Let go of me. There's no need to detain me in front of my father."

Rhaegar struggled free. The guards didn't dare hurt the king's son, so they could only seize Illyric, who wasn't resisting.

"Prince, please don't provoke the king any further."

Seeing the situation grow more heated, Illyric spoke solemnly as the guards bound him.

He didn't want the king's Fury of the Sleeping Dragon unleashed on his account.

He wasn't so naive as to expect a young prince to save him.

He had already imagined this fate on the way back.

"I said I'd take responsibility for all the consequences. A Targaryen keeps his word!"

Rhaegar shoved past the guards in his way and strode forward, facing his furious father.

"Father, my illness is cured. Ser Illyric played a vital part in it."

Viserys scoffed. "All I know is that Illyric is a knight. I never knew he studied herbalism."

"Believe me, there's a white hart in the Kingswood. It gave me a blessed fruit, and I recovered my health."

With the tension at its peak, Rhaegar dropped the bombshell, hoping to change Illyric's sentence.

At the mention of the white hart, suspicion flickered in Viserys's eyes. "A white hart cured your illness with a fruit?"

Just yesterday, Prime Minister Lyonel had reported that a white hart had been spotted in the Kingswood.

Jace Lannister had even presented a golden spear, hoping to hunt the white hart with the weapon he had gifted.

Viserys had indeed entered the Kingswood with an escort to hunt.

But he hadn't seen the white hart. He had only hunted an ordinary stag.

His eldest son had left camp before then, so he shouldn't have known about it.

That meant his claim about meeting the white hart might well be true.

Rhaegar had no idea of the thoughts racing through his father's mind. He affirmed, "Yes, a white hart with snow-white fur. I gave it some fruit, and it repaid me with one that could cure my illness."

Then he added, "We're friends!"

"Ha! That's the best joke I've heard all year."

Viserys shook his head and mocked him, not believing his eldest son's increasingly outlandish tale.

Rhaegar's expression was resolute. "Ser Illyric can vouch for me. You can also have the Maester who came with us examine me. I promise I'm recovering."

His confident words moved Viserys. He turned to Illyric, who had kept silent, and asked uncertainly:

"Illyric, while you're still in your armor, tell your king the truth."

Illyric answered, "Everything the prince said is true!"

Viserys nodded slightly, then lowered his head and fell silent.

No one knew what he was thinking.

The pavilion fell briefly quiet. Everyone could clearly hear one another breathing.

After a long while, Viserys looked at Arryk and asked, "Do you think what Rhaegar and your brother said is true?"

"I trust my brother, just as you trust your own children, Your Majesty!"

Arryk answered without hesitation, firmly vouching for his brother.

Viserys said no more. He ordered, "Go fetch the Maester who came with us, along with every physician brought by the other nobles and knights. Not a single one left out."

"As you command!"

Arryk replied loudly, lifted the tent flap, and strode out.

The sudden turn of events eased the tense atmosphere.

The guards exchanged glances, then instinctively formed two lines and stood at attention.

Rhaegar asked Viserys, "Father, do you believe me?"

"If it could make you healthy, I'd hope what you say is true."

Until the matter was settled, Viserys kept his emotions in check as he studied his young eldest son.

In truth, he already believed Rhaegar somewhat.

Two months earlier, after Rhaegar had undergone his routine examination, the Grand Maester had told him:

"The prince's heart is failing badly. If it continues to worsen, he'll be lucky to live past ten."

Viserys had asked whether anything could be done to treat him.

Sadly, organ failure was incurable in this age.

There was no cure, and it couldn't even be slowed.

He had thought his eldest son would die soon, so he had especially avoided seeing him.

As the boy's father, even as king, he lacked the courage to face him calmly.

But then—

Just moments ago, seeing Rhaegar stand his ground and argue his case had amazed him.

That familiar little face was still pale.

But his voice was strong and clear.

The force bursting from him, the resolve in his words—

He truly was a descendant of Old Valyria.