Chapter 587: Five Thrones


    The siblings left together, leaving Alicent standing in shock. The sight of her second son’s coldness and the distance between them pierced her fragile heart. Tears welled up in her eyes, and her lips trembled.


    ...


    The Council Hall.


    Hena slowly pushed open the door, bathed in the soft light of evening. “Come in,” she whispered, stepping inside with ease. She paused, noticing the embroidery basket she had left in the corner, and settled down happily on the carpet to resume her work.


    Aemond nced around the room, curiosity in his voice as he asked, “Do you often have to deal with government affairs?” With their brother gone and Rhaenyra and Aegon each lost in their own pursuits, it seemed that only Hena was shouldering any responsibility within the vast Red Keep.


    “Yes,” Hena replied casually, a shy smile ying on her lips. “I just sign the papers.”


    “It’s not easy,” Aemond muttered, leaning against the doorframe, momentarily speechless.


    Hena, focused on her embroidery, whispered softly, “You have to go to the Smoking Sea.”


    “Why?” Aemond crossed his arms, puzzled.“To help him and carry on the legacy of our homnd,” Hena answered seriously, her face set with determination. “To ward off the darkness and cold of the future.”


    Aemond’s expression shifted slightly, a flicker of unease crossing his features. He was sensitive to such words—simr warnings hade from the maiden of the House of Aurion, who was rumored to be a fortune-teller. Shortly after that conversation, he had received a letter from Hena.


    After a moment of thought, he asked, “What is this thing you speak of?”


    Hena tilted her head, sensing his guardedness. Aemond shrugged, deliberately concealing his thoughts about the fortune-teller.


    “Okay,” Hena nodded slightly, though her eyes seemed distant. “I saw a disastering from the north.” Her voice grew quieter. “I can’t see clearly what it is... but the danger it brings is no less than that of the Doom.”


    Aemond, now more concerned, pressed on, “What should I do?”


    “I don’t know. What I saw was very vague.” Hena lowered her head, her fingers moving more quickly as she focused on her embroidery.


    “What else did you see?” Aemond asked, a sense of urgency creeping into his voice. With everything that had happened recently—the ck goat, the descendants of Aurion, the divinations—even Hena’s cryptic words added to the mounting pressure he felt.


    “Many things,” Hena murmured, her hand pausing as a sudden nervousness overtook her. She had intended to share these visions with her brother, but...


    In Aemond’s startled and confused gaze, Hena gently stroked her swollen belly and muttered, “He’s here, sitting on a wooden chair.”


    “What?” Aemond’s single eye widened, though he struggled to remain calm. “You’re having a boy, aren’t you?”


    “Maybe,” Hena replied softly, lowering her head and tightening her grip on the tapestry she was embroidering.


    Aemond nced down at her work and saw the image of a fierce ck dragon with scarlet wings. Hena grew more anxious, her face gradually paling as she trembled.


    The siblings reacted differently to the unfolding tension. Aemond, transfixed by the sight, suddenly broke into a smile.


    “My little nephew,” he whispered, a hint of pride and anticipation in his voice.


    ...


    Nightfall in Lys, at the Topless Tower.


    Candlelight flickered in the dim room as Rhaegar sat at a round table in his bedroom, his mind entirely focused on the delicate task before him: the intricate carving of a ne. The steady sound of the carving knife, swish, swish, swish, filled the air as silver-gray steel shavings fell away, the de moving with increasingly precise strokes.


    A soft creak—then the door opened, and Rhaenyra entered, swaying slightly. Her beautiful face was flushed, a drop of fragrant wine lingering on her red lips.


    “Rhaegar!” she called softly, her voice slurred with the effects of the drink. She paused in the doorway, watching Rhaegar, who remained absorbed in his work. Though her head spun, she remembered not to disturb him and tiptoed forward, covering her mouth to stifle a hup.


    Rhaegar, engrossed in his task, was oblivious to her presence. Rhaenyra edged around the table until she stood opposite him, leaning in to get a closer look at what he was crafting. Before her was a ne of Valyrian steel, adorned with three dragon-head pendants.


    It was a family heirloom, a gift from Rhaegar in the days when they had been close.


    Suddenly, one of the dragon-head pendants began to glow faintly, its deep-set pupils shing red. Rhaenyra’s eyes widened in surprise, and she instinctively covered her mouth to keep from gasping aloud. The pendant, modeled after Balerion, had tiny letters engraved on its silver-gray scales, which seemed toe alive. The once-lifeless pupils now gleamed brightly.


    Swish, swish, swish...


    Rhaegar’s face grew pale, a thin sheen of sweat forming on his forehead as he continued to carve the second pendant. With the first pendant’s sess, his movements became fluid, almost effortless. He inscribed the spatial runes on the pendant shaped like Meraxes, wrapping it in his Spirit and infusing it with purified fire magic, connecting the intricate threads one by one.


    Hum—


    The pendant glowed with a reddish light, and Meraxes’s narrow pupils appeared, shimmering with a silver sheen. But the strain on Rhaegar was immense; his body stiffened, and his vision blurred as the toll of Spirit and fire magic weighed heavily on him. Despite his exhaustion, he pressed on, determined toplete the third and final pendant, based on Vhagar.


    One effort, two declines, three exhaustion.


    By now, his Spirit’s power had waned, shrinking from five meters to a mere one. If he didn’t finish now, he couldn’t be sure when inspiration would strike again. His face grew paler as he channeled thest reserves of his fire magic into carving the final pendant. Each scale, each spatial rune, was painstakingly etched, the fire magic binding it all together.


    Cold sweat dripped down his cheeks, and his fingers trembled uncontrobly.


    Hum—


    Finally, the fine inscriptions aligned, and a faint reddish glow emanated from the pendant. Vhagar hade to life, though its eyes remained closed. The pendant’s surface shimmered with a bluish luster, as if the dragon teeth were vying for attention. At that moment, Rhaegar’s strength gave out. His head spun, and his consciousness faded.


    Bang!


    He copsed forward, his forehead striking the table with a dull thud.


    “Rhaegar!” Rhaenyra gasped, frozen in shock for a moment before rushing to catch him in her arms. Rhaegar’s body was drenched in sweat, his eyes fluttering open in a daze. The first thing he saw was Rhaenyra’s anxious face hovering over him.


    In his hazy state, Rhaegar struggled to speak, his thoughts drifting aimlessly. ‘No wonder... there’s a scent of milk and wine,’ he mused weakly before darkness overtook him.


    "Ooh~~”


    Rhaenyra’s concern deepened as a soft, squeaky noise emerged from beneath the table. The curtain draped along the floor rustled, and a tiny silver-haired baby poked her head out.


    “Visenya?” Rhaenyra’s mouth twitched with surprise. She hesitated, torn betweenying Rhaegar down and scooping up her daughter. Ultimately, she reached out to pick up the little one.


    “Ooh~~”


    Visenya, full of energy, waved her tiny arms adorned with white silk, her two small teeth shing as she let out another squeal. Rhaenyra sighed helplessly, cradling her daughter in her arms. As she did, her eyes caught something odd—a small footprint on the back of Visenya’s white velvet dress.


    “Hmm?” Rhaenyra’s eyebrows arched as she nced at Rhaegar’s boots, making a quickparison.


    Rhaegar, still slumped over the table in a post-traumatic daze, was barely able to move. Yet he remained conscious, aware that he had unintentionally stepped on his daughter. It wasn’t entirely his fault—Visenya had been restless, crawling all around the bedroom. At some point, she had dozed off under the darkened table.


    “Rhaegar, you''re really something!” Rhaenyra couldn’t help butugh, amused that he, as a father, had managed to do such a thing.


    “Ooh, ooh, ooh~~” Visenya, unfazed, squirmed in her mother’s arms, searching for her bowl. She had been squished under the table for half an hour and was now hungry.


    Rhaenyra chuckled, giving Rhaegar a yful kick. “I’ll let you off this time,” she teased before carrying her hungry daughter back to the bed. With a practiced motion, she unhooked the back of her dress. Soon, the quiet sound of Visenya nursing filled the room as time slipped by.


    The night deepened, and Visenya eventually drifted into a peaceful sleep, curled up into a tiny ball.


    “Shh!” Rhaegar gasped as he sat up, clutching his head in pain. His temples throbbed, each pulse feeling like an impending explosion.


    “You’re awake,” Rhaenyra observed, approaching him with a cup of warm water, her dress still unfastened. The earlier chaos had sobered her somewhat, but Rhaegar remained groggy, his mind clouded.


    “It’s nothing. First, take a look at these,” Rhaegar muttered, shaking his head as he pushed the Valyrian ne aside, revealing a dragon-taming whip beneath it.


    “Drink the water. It’s good for you,” Rhaenyra insisted, picking up the ne. She noticed how it had undergone aplete transformation, both inside and out. Summoning a thread of fire magic from within her blood, she expertly channeled it into one of the pendants.


    Hum...


    A flicker of consciousness surged through Rhaenyra as she sensed a cramped space, norger than three feet square.


    Rhaegar gulped down the water and exhaled deeply. “Look closely,” he said, his voice weary but tinged with pride. “This might be the best work I’ll produce for years.”


    His Spirit, once powerful enough to project several feet around him, was now depleted. The strain of his recent efforts had taken its toll, and his recovery felt as slow as a snail’s crawl.


    Rhaenyra shot him a concerned nce before turning her attention back to the ne. She explored the remaining two pendants in turn. The Meraxes pendant revealed a storage space of three feet square, while the final pendant, modeled after Vhagar, radiated a faint hum as she cautiously infused it with a wisp of fire magic.


    Hum...


    Her vision expanded, revealing a storage space three timesrger than the others—a full three meters square.


    “Rhaegar, this pendant…” Rhaenyra’s voice was filled with awe. She hadn’t expected such a dramatic difference in capacity.


    Rhaegar smiled, clearly proud, though he attempted to downy his achievement. “It’s probablyparable to Hena’s space bracelet. I doubt I could make it any bigger.”


    “Can I use it?” Rhaenyra asked, her excitement tempered by a hint of worry. The recent conflict with her brother before leaving King’s Landing weighed on her mind.


    “Of course,” Rhaegar replied, leaning back in his chair. He nced at her meaningfully. “I noticed you haven’t been wearing the oldely.”


    Rhaenyra sensed an underlying message in his words but chose not to address it directly. Silently, she removed her current ne and reced it with the new dragon pendant. “How does it look?” she asked.


    “It’s beautiful,” Rhaegar said, momentarily lost in thought. Then, with a more serious expression, he pushed the dragon whip across the table toward her.


    Rhaenyra eyed the whip with skepticism, giving Rhaegar a questioning look.


    “I’m leaving this with you,” Rhaegar said, sitting up straighter as he regained hisposure. “I’m heading to the Smoking Sea, and I need to ensure you and Baelon have something to protect you. Whether it’s this dragon ne or the whip for taming dragons, I want you to be safe if something happens to me or if trouble arises in my absence.”


    Rhaenyra hesitated, shaking her head. “I have the ne. That’s enough.” She knew she couldn’t dissuade Rhaegar from his perilous journey, but she also couldn’t ept the dragon whip. He needed it more than she did.


    “No,” Rhaegar insisted firmly. “The dragon whip has limited use for me. Don’t refuse it.”


    Even if he didn’t leave it with Rhaenyra and Baelon, the dragon-taming tool needed to remain within the House. After the “Dragon w” incident, he wasn’t willing to lose another invaluable treasure.


    Rhaenyra, torn between her emotions, finally took the dragon whip with a resolute expression. Rhaegar’s words had been so tinged with foreboding that she feltpelled to prepare for the worst.