**Chapter 218: A Provocation from the Three Daughters**  

The voice was filled with resentment. 

Aegon was clad in leather armor, his long, unkempt hair draping over his shoulders. He wore a hardened expression, barely holding it together. 

Rhaegar turned his head and looked him up and down. 

To be fair, Alicent had good genes. 

All of her children turned out well in terms of appearance. 

Aegon was the same age as him but slightly shorter and leaner. 

Despite looking somewhat disheveled, he carried a distinct air of rebellious nonchalance. 

Feeling Rhaegar's gaze, Aegon grew uneasy, his legs trembling slightly. 

But in order to escape this wretched place, he stiffened his neck and met Rhaegar's eyes with stubborn defiance. 

Finally, Rhaegar turned and walked toward him. 

Aegon shuddered, his body tensing up. 

He knew his request was unreasonable. 

Rhaegar was probably going to beat him up. 

*Sigh…* 

Unexpectedly, Rhaegar didn't lose his temper. Instead, he exhaled softly, his expression easing. 

Looking at Aegon's face, he said gently, "You've lost weight… and gotten a bit darker." 

Aegon froze, uncertain. "What do you mean?" 

Rhaegar placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled. "Holding the front line for a month—you're more of a man now than ever before." 

"Hmph, no kidding." 

Aegon shrugged off his hand, feigning indifference. "Don't think a few compliments will fool me. I'm going back to King's Landing, got it?" 

"Back to King's Landing? And do what?" 

Rhaegar countered, "Go back to sleeping all day? Carousing with whores? Playing the role of a disappointment in our father's eyes?" 

Aegon's expression instantly darkened. His emotions flared as he shouted, "That's none of your business! I don't care! No one cares what I do anyway!" 

Their father never even acknowledged him. 

Wouldn't it be easier for everyone if he just went back and played the role of a useless failure? 

"No! Aegon, you are my brother, not a failure." 

Rhaegar's gaze was firm as he faced Aegon's outburst. He enunciated every word: "You are a Targaryen. You are my brother. No one can call you a failure." 

Aegon hadn't expected those words. 

His eyes darted away, and he stammered, "That's… that's so corny. You think I'll believe that?" 

His whole life, he had lived in Rhaegar's shadow. 

Any slight misstep would earn him a beating. 

Why would Rhaegar suddenly care about him? 

"Believe it or not, that's up to you." 

Rhaegar clasped his hands behind his back, his tone serious. "The Reach is in turmoil. The Three Daughters have invaded Grey Gallows, and Dorne's movements remain uncertain. And you want to run back to a brothel right now?" 

Aegon lowered his head, avoiding Rhaegar's eyes. He muttered defiantly, "That's your responsibility. You're the crown prince. What does this have to do with me?" 

As soon as he said it, Rhaegar's expression turned cold. He raised his hand and slapped Aegon across the face. 

*Smack!* 

The sharp sound echoed. Aegon staggered, nearly falling to the ground. 

"You… you…" 

His cheek swelled visibly. Clutching his face with one hand, he pointed at Rhaegar with the other. 

But after struggling for words, he couldn't come up with anything else to say. 

"Aegon, are you lecturing me about responsibility?" 

Rhaegar grabbed his collar, his voice severe. "Remember this—you are a Targaryen for a day, and you will be a Targaryen for a lifetime." 

"If you enjoy the honor of our name, then you must defend it with your life!" 

Aegon was lifted off the ground like a helpless chick, too angry to fight back. 

Rhaegar ignored his frustration and continued, "You are the only Targaryen man besides me and our father. You have a duty to defend our lands." 

"And if I say no?" 

Aegon's temper flared, his tone rebellious. He looked like a dead pig unbothered by boiling water. 

"Suit yourself." 

Rhaegar released him and said calmly, "Go back to King's Landing if you want. I won't stop you—as long as you're willing to be a failure for the rest of your life." 

With that, he turned and walked away. 

Aegon sat on the ground, clenching his fists in frustration as he watched Rhaegar's retreating figure. 

Just as Rhaegar was about to disappear from sight, Aegon suddenly jumped up and roared, "Fine! I won't leave! I have the name of the Conqueror—I fear nothing!" 

Under the night sky, Rhaegar paused for a moment before continuing forward. 

The moonlight illuminated the slight curve of his lips. 

That was exactly the response he wanted. 

Alicent sought the throne, bearing child after child. 

But to Rhaegar, these siblings were never threats. 

They were his blood. His assets. 

Sometimes, people don't decide what they see or think. 

The one who decides is the person who makes them see or think it. 

Rhaegar wanted Aegon to stand up, so he would stand up. 

The Targaryens were too few to allow for one who simply waited to waste away. 

--- 

A month later. 

A dragon's roar echoed over Bloodstone Island. 

Glutton crouched atop the highest peak, staring at Sunfyre and Sea Smoke as they circled above. 

The two dragons slowly descended, and Aegon and Laenor dismounted. 

Rhaegar stood nearby and asked, "What's the situation?" 

Laenor shook his head grimly. 

Aegon answered first, "Pirates took advantage of the weak night patrols to smuggle supplies. They even sank a patrol ship." 

Rhaegar nodded. 

For some time now, the Three Daughters had been keeping to themselves. 

But at night, smugglers would slip past in small boats, ferrying supplies to Grey Gallows. 

The patrol ships had discovered them several times and destroyed them. 

The issue was, soldiers had started to underestimate the threat of the small boats. 

Last night, a few warships arrived. They sank the patrol ship in record time and delivered supplies to the island. 

A costly lesson. 

A soldier rushed over and reported, "Prince, a small boat has arrived at Grey Gallows." 

"How many people?" 

Rhaegar asked, "Just one?" 

The soldier confirmed, "Yes, just one. He raised a white flag and came ashore." 

"Bring him to me." 

Rhaegar's interest was piqued. 

"Yes, sir." 

The soldier withdrew. 

A moment later, two soldiers escorted a foreign youth with dyed blond hair and dressed in luxurious attire. 

Rhaegar glanced at him and asked, "What's your purpose here?" 

"To declare war!" 

The foreign youth's expression was defiant, speaking a distorted dialect of Valyrian. 

Judging by his hair-dyeing habits, he was undoubtedly from Tyrosh. 

Upon hearing this, Rhaegar, Aegon, and Lannino exchanged glances before bursting into laughter. 

"Rats hiding in caves dare to declare war?" 

Aegon sneered, patting the youth's face in disdain. After being on the battlefield, he'd seen all kinds of people. 

The Tyroshi youth held his head high and said, "In half a month, Dorne will dispatch a fleet, and the Triarchs of the Free Cities will send their finest warriors to reclaim control of the Stepstones." 

Aegon scoffed, "Madness." 

"I'm warning you: evacuate Bloodstone Island now, or you won't escape ruin." 

The Tyroshi youth's voice was thick with threats. 

"Then come. I'm ready for war." 

Rhaegar spoke calmly. 

"You'll die—die without a sound." 

The Tyroshi youth grinned as if cursing them before his own demise. 

"Bastard—" 

"Shut up!" 

A soldier barked, shoving him to the ground. 

"Ugh!" 

Unexpectedly, the Tyroshi youth let out a miserable groan. His eyes bulged, his body convulsed violently, and his face turned beet red. 

Moments later, his head lolled to one side, and he collapsed lifelessly on the ground. 

Lannino reached out to check his breath and said grimly, "He's dead." 

"Call for the maester." 

Rhaegar forced himself to stay composed; it was the first time he'd witnessed something like this. 

The maester accompanying the army soon arrived to examine the corpse. 

After a while, he gave his conclusion. 

"The deceased ingested poison in advance. Judging by the symptoms, it resembles Choker's Draught." 

The maester's face was grave, tinged with astonishment as he spoke. 

There wasn't a single decent person among the Triarchs of the Free Cities. 

Their customs were vile, and their cities were riddled with chaos. 

Besides the slave trade, Lys was infamous for brothels and bed-slaves—and poison. 

Among these poisons, Choker's Draught and Tears of Lys were the most notorious. 

Choker's Draught was a potent toxin that caused death by suffocation within moments. 

Lannino's expression shifted, his tone fearful. "Cousin, remember what he said before dying. The Free Cities may very well try to poison you." 

Too many Targaryens had perished in the wars of the Stepstones. 

Even without going far back— 

Lannino's maternal grandfather, Aemon Targaryen, had been assassinated by the Myrish in his tent. 

Rhaegar's grandfather, Baelor Targaryen, avenged Aemon's death but later complained of side pain during a hunt. 

Upon returning to King's Landing, his condition rapidly deteriorated. Bedridden from severe agony, he eventually died from a ruptured abdomen. 

Though there was no conclusive evidence, the maesters of the Citadel suspected Baelor had been poisoned. 

Aegon was visibly shaken, nervously watching Rhaegar, his lips trembling. "What should we do? Maybe you should return to King's Landing?" 

This was the first time he'd encountered threats involving human lives. 

"What's there to fear? I'm not dead yet!" 

Rhaegar's face hardened as he gave orders. "Be cautious about what you eat and drink. Have the guards stay close at all times." 

Though he said this outwardly, his true thoughts remained private. 

He had no immunity to toxins. If he were truly poisoned, death was inevitable. 

A sudden weight pressed on his chest. 

After a brief pause, his gaze became resolute. He turned to the maester. "Come with me to my tent. I have a message to send by raven." 

"Yes, my prince." 

The maester complied, though concern was evident in his eyes. 

The alchemist guild in Lys produced exceptionally potent poisons, and the Free Cities showed no regard for limits or morals. 

If anything were to happen to the prince, it would be a major blow to the kingdom. 

**Until Dusk** 

Nine ravens flew out from Bloodstone Island, soaring toward the continent of Essos. 

Rhaegar climbed to the mountain peak and approached the Devourer. 

The Devourer glanced at him with its vertical pupils and snorted. 

Rhaegar plopped down beside it, raising a hand to pat its pitch-black scales. 

Gazing at the distant ravens, his eyes turned icy. "If we fight, then let's fight to the bitter end." 

--- 

**King's Landing** 

Inside the council chamber, Viserys urgently convened a meeting. 

Chaos in the Riverlands was escalating. 

House Blackwood and House Bracken were locked in bitter conflict, refusing to heed the mediation efforts of their liege lords, House Tully, or the royal family. 

House Bracken, in particular, was inciting farmers to join the war, triggering uprisings among the common folk of both houses. 

The unrest had spread across much of the Riverlands. 

Thousands of peasants had taken up arms, looting and pillaging like a plague of locusts. 

Viserys, his face livid with rage, slammed the table. "A peasant rebellion has erupted in the Riverlands! How do we handle this?" 

"What is Riverrun's response?" Otto inquired. 

With Lyonel Strong gone, this was his moment to take charge. 

Viserys, still irritated, replied, "Riverrun has stationed troops along the banks of the Red Fork and is negotiating with both Blackwood and Bracken." 

"If old Tully can put an end to their war, then we'll only have to deal with the peasant uprising." 

Otto stroked his chin in thought. "Perhaps we should send some forces from the Crownlands to assist in quelling the rebellion." 

"The Crownlands' forces are tied up in the Stepstones; we can't afford to redeploy soldiers," Viserys objected. 

"It won't take much," Otto countered. "A mere thousand men, led by a capable warrior, would be enough to impose order." 

"Who do you suggest?" Viserys was tempted. 

Otto pondered for a moment before answering without hesitation, "Harwin Strong." 

(End of Chapter)