The Bastard

Rhaegar cut off his defense, disgruntled.

"Father grounded me over a few rumors. Isn't that a bit much?"

"Rumors can wound. All sorts of things were being said at the time. His Grace just didn't want you getting into trouble."

Illyric tried to explain.

Rhaegar sneered. "He's afraid someone will fill my head with bad ideas."

Just listen to the nickname they were using now.

"The Sleeping Whelp!"

"Sleeping" referred to how sickly he had once been, while "whelp" carried the double meaning of being young and doomed to die.

Tell me, what should a whelp do first after waking from its slumber?

Naturally, it should eat and eat until it grew into a true dragon.

And then, what sort of nickname should it have?

"The Awakened True Dragon or the Roaring Wrathful Dragon?"

Someone had spread word of Rhaegar's status as the king's eldest son among the common folk on purpose, hoping to stir up trouble.

"Let them call me the Sleeping Whelp. It's still better than the Doomed Whelp."

Rhaegar tried to console himself. Looking Illyric in the eye, he instructed him, "Pay the man every copper he's owed. From now on, tell me right away about any rumors concerning me."

"Understood!"

Illyric's expression grew solemn as he accepted the order.

"Come on. Take me to buy some toys for children, then we'll go to the Dragonpit."

Rhaegar climbed back into the carriage, his already foul mood worsening.

The carriage stopped on Silk Street for a while as Illyric hurried around, buying a whole pile of toys.

He piled them all into the carriage before heading to the Dragonpit.

The Dragonpit stood against the hills, far quieter than the bustling city.

Since the visit was a spur-of-the-moment decision, no one came out to greet them at the Dragonpit's entrance. Only two guards in armor were on duty.

When they saw the royal carriage arrive, one of the guards hurried over and asked, "May I ask which lord has come to visit?"

"Rhaegar Targaryen, eldest son of Viserys I!"

Illyric announced Rhaegar's identity and climbed down from the carriage alone.

Though he hadn't seen the prince's face, the guard recognized the White Knight's white cloak. He bowed respectfully and opened the gate.

The Dragonpit covered a vast area, with many entrances and exits.

There was not only the main entrance, but also caves along the mountainside and open ground by the cliffs...

And other places large enough for dragons to pass through.

The carriage stopped outside the gate, where guards were assigned to watch it.

Rhaegar chose to walk, entering a huge open space as broad as a training yard.

At the far end of the yard stood a towering, magnificent domed building.

They hadn't gone far when the Maester in charge of the Dragonpit and the dragonkeepers came to meet them.

Dragonkeepers raised dragons. Most were descendants of Valyrians, and their families had served the Targaryen family for generations.

They were fluent in High Valyrian and could soothe the dragons' restlessness to some extent. They were responsible for looking after the dragons' food, drink, and other needs.

"Greetings, Your Highness!"

They all bowed.

"Rise. Sorry to intrude. I only want to see what the Dragonpit looks like."

Rhaegar wasn't in the mood to waste time talking with them. He got straight to the point.

"Of course. Maester Pycelle isn't here today, so I'll be your guide."

A young Maester with black hair, black eyes, and a sallow complexion volunteered.

"What's your name?"

Out of basic courtesy, Rhaegar asked politely.

"Menas Waters, Your Highness."

The young Maester gave an embarrassed smile and quietly stated his name.

"Waters?"

Rhaegar paused, remembering that it was the surname given to bastards.

Each region of the Westeros Continent had its own surname for bastards.

In The North, they were all called Snow.

In the Crownlands, they were called Waters.

Rhaegar looked Menas over. His clothes were plain, and some parts were even patched.

It seemed he wasn't getting on very well.

That made sense. Bastards were looked down upon.

Even a well-educated bastard was unwelcome among the Maesters.

Feeling his gaze, Menas's expression shifted. A sense of inferiority welled up in him, and he gritted his teeth in silence.

As a bastard, he had endured countless disdainful looks since childhood.

Just bear it, and it would pass.

"Lift your head. Your parents gave you a face that isn't ugly. Don't be afraid to show it."

Rhaegar spoke suddenly.

Menas obediently lifted his head, keeping his features under control as he gave a modest smile.

"I can't tell you to ignore your birth, because the world will make sure you remember it."

"But you have your own talents. Not just anyone can become a Maester. Don't look down on yourself."

Seeing Menas's inferiority over his birth, Rhaegar offered a few words of encouragement and said no more.

Who you were born to could determine your whole life.

That was a grievous wound, and Rhaegar couldn't help him with it.

Still, his mother had fought to bring him into this world and had given him a measure of honor.

"Thank you, Mother!"

Rhaegar prayed silently for his late mother, then asked Menas to lead the way.

If he wanted to be sad, he could curl up under the covers and cry tonight. For now, he had to serve as Rhaegar's guide. He couldn't let personal feelings get in the way during work hours.

As they walked, Rhaegar asked, "How many dragons are in the Dragonpit right now?"

"Three in all: Dreamfyre, Caraxes, and Syrax."

Menas quickly composed himself. There was no trace of his earlier melancholy as he answered dutifully.

"Take me to see them. I've never been close to a dragon before."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible, Your Highness."

Rhaegar looked puzzled. "Why? Do dragons reject strangers too?"

"That's not the reason. Before you came in, Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon arrived ahead of you. They planned to ride out on their dragons."

Menas told him honestly.

"Rhaenyra's here too? Hurry and take me to her. I want to see the dragons."

At the news that his sister was here, Rhaegar's eyes lit up. He hoped he could pester her into taking him for a ride.

"Of course. The Princess arrived not long ago. If we hurry, we should still make it in time."

Menas worked out the timing and didn't refuse.

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go."

Rhaegar urged Menas to lead the way. The group entered the Dragonpit and headed for an elevated platform about halfway up the hill.

Hurrying as fast as he could, Rhaegar panted as he climbed onto the platform.

He arrived just in time to see several dragonkeepers soothing Syrax and unlocking the shackles around her feet.

Nearby, the crimson Caraxes was ready to go.

Daemon and Rhaenyra, dressed in riding gear, stood between the two dragons, chatting.

"Big Sister!!!"

Rhaegar shouted. Ignoring Illyric's attempt to stop him, he ran excitedly toward Rhaenyra.

At the sound of his voice, Rhaenyra turned around in surprise. "Rhaegar, what are you doing at the Dragonpit?"

Rhaegar came up to her and took her hand with practiced ease. He said smugly, "Didn't I tell you last night? The dragon in my dream said something was wrong at the Dragonpit, so I came to have a look."

"I just got through the gate when I heard you were here too. I thought you'd be watching the tourney."

Rhaenyra watched him with amusement and asked playfully, "So, did you come to see me or the dragons?"

"Of course I came to see you. The dragons come after you."

Now that he was close to two dragons, Rhaegar could hardly contain his excitement. His eyes kept darting from one to the other.

"That yellow dragon must be Syrax, right? She's as beautiful as you."

Compared with Caraxes, whose body was long and slender and whose horns were imposing,

Rhaegar preferred the well-proportioned Syrax, and offered her a flattering compliment.

"Syrax is named after the goddess of harvest. Of course she's beautiful."

Rhaenyra had seen through Rhaegar's little ploy from the start. She folded her arms and asked, though she already knew the answer,

"So, my little brother, now that you've seen me, is there anything else you want?"