Ice and Fire: Reign of the Dragon.

Chapter 420 True Purpose
The dark cell deepest in the Red Keep never sees sunlight all year round, and the frost on the stone walls never melts even in midsummer. The light of the torches flickers in the humid air, distorting human figures into hideous monsters.

Maika was chained to the rack, the shackles on his wrists had long since worn bloody marks. His silver hair was soaked with sweat and stuck to his pale cheeks, but his purple eyes still burned with stubborn flames.

Lord Brynden stood in the shadows, his only remaining eye glowing strangely in the darkness. The executioner beside him held a long whip soaked in salt water, the tip of the whip hanging down to the ground like a poisonous snake ready to strike.

"Your father is ill, and the kingdom needs unity, but you," Brynden's voice was low and cold, like a ghost crawling out of the grave, "are creating divisions, my foolish nephew."

Meka sneered, with a hint of sarcasm on his lips: "Unity? You can't even tolerate the son of an illegitimate child, what unity are you talking about?"

Brynden did not answer. He slowly raised his hand, signaling the executioner to proceed. The executioner nodded slightly, and the black whip drew a sharp arc in the air -

Snapped!
The first whip hit Maeka's back, and the sound of flesh tearing apart was particularly harsh in the silent dungeon. Maeka's back muscles instantly tensed, but he clenched his teeth and didn't even groan.

Galwyn Corbray stood aside, his white robe gleaming coldly in the firelight. His face was as hard as steel, showing no emotion, but his fingers holding the sword tightened slightly.

Roland Crakehall frowned. This Kingsguard, known for his bravery, rarely showed a trace of pity. He looked at Brynden and whispered, "My lord, is ten lashes too heavy?"

Brynden's one eye darted over the White Knight. "What do you think I am punishing you for? For his arrogance? For his disrespect?"

The executioner whipped Meka again, leaving another bloody mark on his back.

"No, I am punishing him for his stupidity." Brynden's voice was cold. "The kingdom is in turmoil, and he has made the royal family a laughing stock for the dignity of a bastard's son."

How could Brynden not see what this brat was thinking? The princes and even the nobles close to the royal family questioned the bloodline of the illegitimate son. They were either questioning his qualifications, or worried about the internal strife in the royal family, or worried about the recurrence of the inheritance issue. So Maekar used this drastic method to prove to people Garin's martial arts, and someone in the royal family was looking after Garin.

But this brat was not thoughtful enough. His self-righteous cleverness would actually cause adverse effects that he could not control.

Maika suddenly raised his head, a hint of sarcasm flashing in his purple eyes: "So, I should be like you, hiding in the shadows and playing tricks?"

The executioner's whip fell for the third time.

By the tenth lash, Maika's body was already bloody, but his eyes were still stubborn. The door of the dungeon was suddenly pushed open.

Garen Targaryen stood at the door, his black hair disheveled and his purple eyes flickering under the torchlight. His chest rose and fell violently, and it was obvious that he had run all the way here.

"Stop!" His voice was trembling, but firm, "His Highness Meka is doing this for me."

Brynden's one eye turned towards him. The crow tilted its head over his shoulder and looked at the breathless boy. Its scarlet eyes seemed to be able to see through people's hearts.

"Child," Blood Crow's voice softened a little, "this is not the place for you to come."

Garin did not flinch. He stepped forward and looked directly into the one eye that terrified the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms. "If Targaryen blood is precious, it should not be shed for political games."

There was dead silence in the dungeon.

Brynden was silent for a moment, then chuckled. "You're very brave."

He turned to Roland Kreher: "Take him away."

Roland put his big hand on Garin's shoulder. The boy struggled to look back. The last thing he saw was the sneer on Meka's face and the bloodstain on his chest.

After the flogging, Maika was untied by the iron chain and fell heavily to the cold ground. His upper body was already torn, but he still managed to stand up and refused the help of the servants.

Brynden put away his whip and stared at him with his one eye. "Remember the pain of today. Next time, your stupidity and recklessness may cause more bloodshed."

Maekar sneered and spat out a mouthful of blood foam: "Don't worry, Lord Bloodraven. I will remember who is protecting the Targaryen bloodline today and who is trampling on it." Brynden did not answer. He turned and left, his scarlet robe as dazzling as blood in the darkness.

As Maekar was dragged to the confinement room by his servants, the sheep thief roared angrily in the dragon's lair, as if he could feel his partner's pain.

In a corner where no one was paying attention, Garin clenched his fists, and a hint of determination flashed in his purple eyes under his black hair.

Moonlight shone through the iron bars of the high windows of the detention room, cutting pale streaks on the stone floor. Maekar Targaryen lay on his side on the simple but clean bed, the whip wounds on his body burning with every breath.

Outside the Red Keep's confinement room, late at night.

The stone steps of the dungeon glowed a cold blue-grey in the moonlight. Garin Targaryen moved along the wall, holding tightly in his arms a jar of analgesic ointment mixed with mint and honey that he had stolen from the Maester's Tower. The jar was a little hot in his palm, as if he was holding a ball of fire.

At the end of the corridor, two Kingsguard stood like statues. Garin held his breath, waiting for the moment when the clouds covered the moon, and slipped through the shadows behind them. The Kingsguard's cloak brushed his cheek lightly, carrying the smell of steel and leather.

The lock of the detention room door was heavier than he had imagined. Garin's fingers trembled in front of the keyhole, and the medicine jar almost slipped out.

"A late night visit to the punished prince"

Garin froze and turned around. Lingol Varezes was standing behind him. His silver beard shone coldly in the moonlight, and his cloak with the silver dragon laurel leaf emblem did not move at all, as if he had been waiting here for a long time. "It seems that the rumors are wrong. Garin is actually a very brave child."

Garin's heart nearly stopped, and the ointment fell to the ground with a plop.

"Prime Minister," he stammered, backing away with his back against the cold stone wall.

Lingol bent down to pick up the ointment, and stroked the logo on the bottle with his fingertips. "Stealing the Grand Maester's medicine and trespassing into the prince's confinement room." He said slowly, "Your father taught you to protect yourself, and this is what you did?"

Garin lowered his head, his black hair falling over his eyes. "Your Highness Maekar was punished because of me."

"Oh?" Ringol raised his eyebrows. "Then do you know why he wanted to provoke Reg? Why did he force you to fight? Why would he rather be whipped than explain?"

Garin raised his face blankly.

The Prime Minister sighed. "Because the Royal Council is debating whether to recognize your inheritance. Maekar knows that Reg is soft-hearted but indecisive, Brynden is suspicious but respects strength, and the others are watching their reactions, so he staged this drama."

Garin was stunned: "You won't stop me?"

"Why should I stop you?"

Ringol smiled, opened the medicine bottle, put a little ointment on his fingertips and sniffed it. "The maester's formula?" He shook his head and put the ointment in his arms. "It's useful, but it's too mild. Maekar, who is impatient, will be tortured to death."

The Prime Minister took out a small black jade bottle from his sleeve and put it into Garin's sweaty palm. "The extract oil of fire dragon pepper and bay leaves is mixed with a special ointment," he suddenly lowered his voice, "it was originally used for small dragons whose scales are not hard enough."

Garin's eyes widened. Dragon medicine is not something most people can bear.

"It's been diluted." Lingol seemed to see through his thoughts, "It will burn like being burned by dragon fire when applied, but the wound will scab tonight and will be completely healed within three days. It will not itch or scab." The Prime Minister then dropped a brass key into Galen's hand, "Your Highness Meka is stubborn, you have to be steady."

Moonlight leaked in through the crack in the door, illuminating the figure of Maika lying on his side on the bed. The whip wound on the young prince's back was hideous, and his silver hair was stuck to his pale cheeks by cold sweat.

"He showed the whole King's Landing three things," Ringol said in an inaudible voice, "first, you do have the courage of dragon blood; second, Reg will protect you; third," he looked at Garin meaningfully, "even the most arrogant Maekar recognized you. Although the effect was not very good, it achieved the goal. You should really thank the child."

Galen nodded heavily.

(End of this chapter)