Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 267: Head-on Confrontation

Chapter 267: Head-on Confrontation

Halfway through the funeral, a guest arrived late. Daemon docked at Storm's End Castle on a three-masted sailing ship, bringing with him a considerable cargo of goods.

A grief-stricken Borros ignored the arrival and sent his wife, Lady Elenda, and their two daughters to greet Daemon.

As Daemon entered the castle's forecourt, the cremation pyre blazed brightly, casting an eerie glow against the gloomy sky.

At the sight of the visitor, Aegon, visibly irritated, wrinkled his face and shouted, "Daemon, how dare you appear before me!"

He lunged forward, fist raised to strike. His sudden action stunned everyone present.

"Aegon!" Aemond exclaimed, shocked by his brother's impulsiveness.

Aegon, however, saw only Daemon’s hateful figure. Daemon, with a playful glint in his eyes, waited for his nephew to approach.

Aegon’s punch missed, leaving him open.

"Fool!" Daemon sneered, yanking Aegon's arm and driving a knee into his chest.

Aegon's face turned pale as he staggered, feeling his heart momentarily stop. Daemon followed with a slap that sent Aegon sprawling onto the patio floor, silver hair disheveled.

"Daemon, stop it!" Laena cried out in shock, remembering the Queen's hatred from the last time Daemon had taught Aegon a lesson.

The crowd finally reacted. Rhaenyra watched in disbelief, her eyes wide with confusion.

Aegon... how dare you?

That’s Daemon! If you want to challenge him, you need to weigh your own strength first.

Daemon heard Laena’s cry and paused, mockingly kicking Aegon with the tip of his foot. "My dear nephew, do you think you're your brother, mimicking his disrespectful words to me?"

"Daemon, you bastard!" Aegon groaned in pain, curling up on the ground.

Daemon's face darkened. He crouched down, yanking Aegon's collar and gripping his jaw.

That bastard has been looking for trouble ever since he took office as Commander of the Narrow Sea. I've tolerated him long enough.

"Daemon, think about what you're doing and stop," Laena pleaded, rushing over with her belly in her hands. She pushed her angry husband away, fearing the consequences.

Daemon took two steps back, looked at Aegon with contempt, and sneered, "He started it. It is my duty to teach my disobedient nephew a lesson."

At this point, no one could remain passive. Borros stepped forward, his sadness replaced by anger. "Demon, this is my father's funeral. Show some respect."

Daemon ignored the wailing Aegon and walked towards the pyre with a straight face. Passing a servant, he took a bouquet of flowers and threw it into the flames, clasping his hands to recite the eulogy.

At least he had the decency to do so.

Borros glared angrily, turning his anger towards Rhaegar. "Prince, is this your Targaryen etiquette, disrupting the funeral of a loyal servant?" he demanded in a deep voice.

"Lord Borros, it was Aegon and Daemon who started the fight. It was never our intention to cause a disturbance," Rhaenyra interjected, trying to defuse the situation and prevent Rhaegar from taking the blame.

Rhaegar remained composed, his expression impassive as he glanced briefly at Rhaenyra. He knew he had to handle this himself. Borros did not deserve a calm explanation, nor did he merit the courtesy Rhaenyra had shown.

Predictably, Borros ignored her words, his anger directed solely at the Targaryens. "Daemon is the king's brother and Aegon is the king's second son, yet they show no respect for the Baratheon name!" he spat.

Rhaenyra's face darkened, ready to retort, but Rhaegar intervened. "Enough, Rhaenyra," he said firmly, gripping her waist and moving her behind him.

He knew arguing about right and wrong would only escalate the situation. He turned his cold gaze to Daemon. "Don't you have anything to say, uncle?"

Daemon finished placing the bouquet, his expression indifferent. "A disobedient nephew needs to be educated," he replied flatly.

"Aegon may be foolish, but he is not the only one who is disobedient," Rhaegar responded, his tone measured but wary. He suspected there was more behind Daemon's recent behavior.

"Prince, my father's body is still being cremated. You owe me an explanation!" Borros insisted, his face flushed with anger.

Rhaegar's eyes narrowed as he looked at the Lord of Storm's End. "Lord Borros, what kind of explanation do you seek?" he asked, his voice cold and unyielding as he stepped closer, towering over the other man.

Borros hesitated, remembering the recent roar of the dragons, and his breath caught. Rhaegar's piercing purple eyes bore into him, and he could feel his resolve weakening.

"Lord Boremund was a tolerant man. I believe he would want you to exhibit the same heart," Rhaegar said, his voice calm but firm.

The tension was palpable as no one dared to interrupt. Everyone knew of the friction between Lord Borros and Prince Rhaegar, but they never expected it to escalate into a confrontation.

Daemon watched with interest, feeling no guilt, only contempt for Borros. He was a Targaryen, and he would not bow to anyone.

Rhaegar's way of handling the situation resonated with him deeply. It was a display of strength and authority, befitting their house.

"Roar..."

The thoughts of humans were complex and strange, but the thoughts of dragons were more pure. Sensing his master’s displeasure, Cannibal let out a warning roar. His long, thick neck descended, and his dark head loomed over Rhaegar, casting a shadow over the prince.

A pair of eerie green eyes glared at Borros, the dragon ready to unleash destruction at its master’s command.

Facing the fierce dragon, Borros swallowed hard, cold sweat running down his spine. At that moment, his thoughts raced, recalling his father’s words: "The Targaryens never lacked an army because they rode the dragons."

His father had fought alongside King Jaehaerys I, defeating Dornish armies by the thousands. The world, having enjoyed peace for so long, had forgotten the wrath of dragons.

Borros resisted the urge to flee, trembling as he lowered his proud head. "Prince, this is merely a small incident. It will not affect the generations-long friendship between the Targaryens and the Baratheons," he said, his voice shaky.

He yielded. The status of a lord did not permit him to act recklessly and publicly challenge a Targaryen heir.

Rhaegar remained silent, hands folded in front of his belly, staring as if he hadn't heard Borros. The Cannibal grinned, revealing sharp teeth, its breathing synchronized with its master’s.

Seeing the dragon's bared fangs, Borros's heart raced. He hastily added, "Prince, the funeral is over, and a sumptuous feast awaits in the castle!"

He was at a loss for words, unsure how to beg for mercy. Seeing his dilemma, Rhaenys broke away from her husband's grasp and interceded. "Rhaegar, Borros is as generous as his father. Don’t misjudge him."

First, Aegon and Daemon fought; now Borros was being targeted by a dragon. The rapid turn of events left most people's heads spinning. The atmosphere had soured, and the air felt tense and cold.

Borros, hearing his cousin’s voice, felt a glimmer of hope and moved towards it. But Rhaegar’s voice stopped him in his tracks. "Lord Borros, where are you going?"

Borros froze, not daring to move. Rhaegar exhaled deeply, his voice softening. "I apologize to you and your late father for the ill-advised actions of my brother and uncle. I hope you won't be offended; they did not mean to disturb."

Rhaegar’s sincere apology shifted the blame away from Aegon and Daemon. Borros, eager to end the confrontation, responded quickly, "No matter, the feast is about to begin. Let us move to the castle."

He had lost face in front of all his bannermen and wanted to leave the scene as soon as possible. "As you wish, my lord," Rhaegar replied, his demeanor returning to its usual gentle and elegant state.

The desired deterrent had been achieved. Borros forced a smile, unable to face his bannermen, and walked back to the castle under the watchful eyes of his guards.

"Gentlemen, let us go as well," Lady Elenda said, embarrassed, leading the way back to the castle with her two daughters, trying to maintain the guests’ mood.

Her husband’s character flaws and moodiness often led him into situations without an easy escape. Soon, the guests, having witnessed enough excitement, dispersed with their own thoughts.

The courtyard was left to the Targaryen members. Daemon took Laena’s hand, gently stroking her slightly bulging belly, feeling the new life within.

Rhaegar glanced at him, not in the mood for conversation. Daemon's arrogance and unwillingness to heed advice was a constant source of tension.

Aemond and Daeron helped Aegon to his feet and stood beside Rhaegar. Unlike the strained relations with Aunt Rhaenys and Lord Corlys, or the animosity with Uncle Daemon, Rhaegar offered them a sense of security. The massive black dragon was a clear deterrent to anyone who dared to offend him.

"Daemon, don't think I don't know what you're up to. I won't let you get away with it," Aegon spat despite his battered appearance, glaring at Daemon with anger.