Time passed by, minute by minute, until dusk arrived.
Drip, drip, drizzle…
The sweltering heat faded as the salty sea breeze carried a fine, misty rain.
Maegor's Holdfast – Princess's Bedchamber
The sky was dark and heavy, rain pattering against the glazed windows, producing a crisp, rhythmic sound.
Helena was awakened by the rain. She slowly opened her drowsy eyes, still groggy from sleep.
The wind and rain gradually intensified, making the fishbeam trees sway.
She shifted her body slightly, realizing that the constraining warmth around her was gone.
Looking around in confusion, she found herself curled up on a chaise lounge, a red blanket draped over her.
"Where's my brother?"
No longer in the comforting embrace she had clung to, Helena abruptly sat up and glanced toward the door.
It was shut tight. The room was empty.
Fully awake now, Helena felt a sense of unease creeping in. She muttered softly, "Did he leave?"
"Ahhh!!"
Suddenly, a sharp, piercing scream echoed through Maegor's Holdfast, filled with terror and nearly cracking from the intensity.
Helena's delicate eyebrows furrowed. A bad feeling welled up inside her.
"I need to see what's going on."
Without hesitation, she folded the red blanket neatly, got up, and pushed the door open.
She had been asleep all day—something must have happened.
The sky was unpredictable, shifting between light and dark as strong winds swept in thick clouds, obscuring the setting sun.
"Hyah!"
A group of cavalry galloped furiously westward along the smooth, well-trodden Rose Road, their horses kicking up clouds of dust.
There were only about a dozen riders, all heavily armed knights.
Their armor and shields bore the sigil of three castles.
"Faster! We're almost at Bitter Bridge!"
Ulwyn Peake shouted, his voice laced with urgency. His expression was tense.
He had secretly met with the princess and, in his arrogance, revealed too much.
Given Helena's state at the time, she would not let him off easily.
Growing up in the harsh borderlands of Dorne, Ulwyn had developed a strong survival instinct—something every Peake had to possess.
Before the princess could retaliate and before the king could learn of his actions, he had hastily gathered his men and fled.
By the time anyone sought to punish him, the king's weak nature would prevent him from taking serious action against a mere earl.
Drip… drip…
The sky darkened further as heavy rain began to pour.
Exhausted and out of breath, Ulwyn cursed under his breath. "That Hightower bitch—she has no honor!"
He had tried to seek an audience with the queen, hoping for her protection.
But all she had done was send a maid to dismiss him, making it clear she had no interest in his fate.
"Women are weak. No wonder her four children couldn't defeat a single crown prince!"
Ulwyn seethed with resentment, barely restraining himself from cursing aloud.
If he had been in the queen's position, he would have long since poisoned the prince and secured the throne for his own child.
The so-called Greens? Useless. Even with the backing of House Hightower, they were nothing but failures.
Boom!
The rain intensified, accompanied by thunder and lightning.
Within moments, the sky had turned pitch black, the storm lashing against their faces like needles.
The road became slick with mud, slowing the horses.
"Damn it, could this day get any worse?"
Ulwyn was furious, whipping his horse in frustration.
Just when he thought the night couldn't get any worse—
"My lord! There's a fire ahead!"
Mervyn Flowers, riding at the front, shouted in excitement.
Ulwyn wiped the rain from his face and squinted through the downpour, spotting a faint flickering light a few miles ahead.
The fire was suspended in the air, partially obscured—like a guiding beacon in the storm.
His eyes widened, and he let out a relieved laugh. "Faster! Bitter Bridge is just ahead!"
Bitter Bridge spanned a tributary of the Mander River, built by House Caswell.
For anyone traveling between King's Landing and the Reach, it was the fastest crossing.
A wave of relief washed over Ulwyn as he spurred his horse forward.
As a fellow Reach noble, he was well acquainted with Lord Caswell and knew he could rely on the man for shelter.
---
Before long, a towering castle loomed before them, blocking the entrance to the bridge.
The fire they had seen was coming from torches along the castle walls.
Ulwyn and his men arrived at the gates. Before they could call out, the drawbridge was already lowering.
Boom!
As soon as it hit the ground, a group of soldiers marched out in two orderly lines.
Leading them was a tall, thin man dressed in elegant black robes, his head shaved completely bald.
Ulwyn narrowed his eyes warily.
This was Lord Caswell, the guardian of Bitter Bridge.
Caswell greeted him with a warm smile. "My guards informed me of approaching riders. I wondered who it might be—Lord Ulwyn!"
Drenched and disheveled, Ulwyn replied, "Lord Caswell, my house has sent urgent word summoning me back. I would greatly appreciate a night's lodging."
He crafted a plausible excuse to cover up his escape from King's Landing.
Caswell's smile remained unchanged. "The storm is dreadful. Come inside, get dry, and warm yourself. I'll have hot water and food prepared for you."
"Many thanks for your generosity."
Something about Caswell's smile sent a chill down Ulwyn's spine.
Yet with the storm raging and the road behind him blocked, he had no choice but to dismount and follow him inside.
Caswell was exceptionally welcoming, grasping his hand despite the cold and rain, engaging him in cheerful conversation as they entered the castle.
But the moment Ulwyn stepped through the castle gates, his expression changed.
A terrible realization hit him.
He had forgotten something important.
A hand firmly grabbed Caswell's arm, and a cautious voice asked, "Where are the salt and bread?"
According to Westerosi guest rights, the host was expected to offer salt and bread before he entered the castle as a sign of protection.
Caswell's expression remained unchanged. He simply pulled him toward the castle's courtyard and chuckled, "No need to worry. First, let me take you to meet a guest."
The Caswell family held a baron's title, and their keep was not large—one could see its boundaries at a glance.
However, the dim evening light and the heavy rain limited visibility.
Urwin squinted hard, but he could only make out the vague silhouette of the castle.
Crack!
A bolt of lightning struck, illuminating the scene for a fleeting moment.
"Roar…"
Outside the towering castle, a dragon as massive as a mountain lay coiled on the ground. Its long, thick neck stretched over the castle walls, which stood dozens of feet high. A pair of cold, green slit-pupiled eyes locked onto the courtyard.
Urwin's eyes widened in shock. His body froze in place as an icy chill crept up his spine.
Caswell, ever the gentleman, raised a hand and gestured, "My lord, the esteemed guest is waiting for you."
Fear and dread intermingled in Urwin's chest as he hesitantly turned his gaze forward.
The castle's gates were wide open, with torches burning on either side, casting a warm glow.
A figure stood there—silver-haired and clad in black. His back was straight as a pine tree braving the stormy night.
With his hands clasped behind him, he turned around with a kind smile.
A hearty laugh echoed through the rain. "Lord Peake, I've been expecting you."
---
King's Landing, the Red Keep
Helena, her silver hair unkempt, hurried down the stairs.
She hadn't had time to tie it up, and it bounced with each step in a fluffy disarray.
A maid had just delivered the news—Aegon, drunk and reckless, had caused a terrible incident.
"You bastard! Look at what you've done!"
Reaching the doors of the hearth hall, she heard Leonor's furious roar from inside.
Helena paused, surprised—she had expected to hear her father or mother's wrath first.
"Princess!"
Ser Stephan and Ser Lorent of the Kingsguard stood guard at the door and greeted her respectfully.
Helena nodded and signaled for the White Knights to open the door.
Inside the hearth hall, all the guests had already been dismissed.
Aside from the king and queen, only royal family members and the small council remained.
As soon as Helena stepped in, she saw Commander Harwin Strong of the City Watch kneeling on the ground while Hand of the King, Leonor, pointed at him and berated him furiously.
Harwin's eyes were empty, his handsome face bruised and battered.
Not far away, a sobbing maid knelt, covering her face in terror.
The scene left little room for misinterpretation.
Helena's eyes widened, a question mark forming in her mind.
She turned her head and saw her father's face, dark with rage, his body trembling with fury.
Her mother's expression was grim as she stood protectively in front of Aegon.
"Helena, my daughter!"
Alicent gasped, abandoning a shivering Aegon to pull her daughter into a tight embrace.
After such a nightmarish evening, she clung to her innocent daughter as though trying to shield her from the filth of the world.
Helena was stunned, completely lost.
Little Daeron toddled over, his small brow furrowed in worry.
Hugging his sister's leg, he whispered, "Aegon is doomed."
It took Helena a long moment to process the situation.
She had refused to attend the afternoon's feast and had missed many events.
By sunset, the sky had turned a murky gray.
Servants were clearing away the leftover food and moving tables and chairs back inside the castle.
With so much activity, the occasional commotion was inevitable.
Aegon had slipped away from the godswood, returning alone to the tower.
On his way, he encountered Celena Hightower, who had been separated from her companions. He grabbed her, attempting to force himself on her.
Just as he was about to succeed, a second scream rang out.
Harwin Strong, drunk from the feast, had returned alone to rest in the Hand's Tower.
A maid cleaning the room had become his unfortunate target—he had pinned her to the bed and violated her.
By the time the guards arrived, Harwin had already pulled up his trousers and fallen into a drunken sleep.
Helena was utterly stunned, overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation.
Aegon assaulting Celena. Harwin raping a maid…
"You beast! I told you to find a proper wife, and you disgrace yourself by defiling a servant!"
Leonor roared, his fury nearly bursting his lungs.
Harwin hung his head in silence.
Seeing his son's lack of response, Leonor's rage exploded. He kicked Harwin hard in the chest.
"Worthless! You're not fit to be my son!"
The powerful strike sent Harwin tumbling across the floor.
Rhaenyra and Laenor stood to the side, watching in shock.
The twins clung tightly to their respective mothers' legs, their eyes squeezed shut in fear.
No one had expected the normally upright and honorable Harwin to commit such a heinous act.
Leonor turned to the king, bowing his head in shame.
"Your Grace, this is my failure as a father. I have raised my son poorly, and now a scandal has shamed the court."
To assault a maid within the Red Keep was tantamount to insulting the royal family.
Viserys shot a glare at Aegon before speaking in a grave tone.
"This is not your fault. Every father has a son who causes him grief."
In truth, Viserys even felt a twisted sense of gratitude toward Harwin.
Had it not been for Harwin's assault and the commotion it caused, half the Red Keep wouldn't have been roused.
If not for that, Aegon would have gone beyond mere harassment—he would have been the second rapist of the night.
Alicent, still holding Helena, spoke in a hushed but firm voice.
"Viserys, now is not the time for reflection. We must deal with this matter swiftly."
"How?" Viserys snapped, his fury uncontainable. "I should have him castrated on the spot!"
His enraged gaze landed on Aegon.
To lay hands on a noble daughter of his mother's house—how dare he?
Aegon shivered, his face turning deathly pale.
"I didn't—I wasn't thinking! I don't even remember what I was doing!"
He wasn't lying.
His head had been spinning from the alcohol, his body burning with heat. He had only wanted to return to his room and relieve himself.
Then, by sheer misfortune, he had stumbled upon Celena Hightower.
And in that moment, he had lost control.
(End of Chapter)