Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 331: Rhaenyra’s Special Status

Chapter 331: Rhaenyra’s Special Status

Rhaegar's eyes twinkled as he instructed, "Take good care of it. I've recently acquired an ancient book about dragons. I'll study it and discuss it with the maesters."

The ancient tome had been acquired by Syrio at a high price, traded by an orphan whose father had explored the Smoking Sea.

"Can you heal it?" Rhaena's eyes widened with hope as she cradled the young dragon.

Rhaegar made a thoughtful gesture and smiled, "Perhaps."

After settling the twins, Rhaegar glanced over to see Rhaenyra finishing a piece of pie and tilting her head back to gulp down some wine.

Rhaegar's heart clenched, but he forced a smile. "Well, Rhaenyra and I have something to discuss. You two take the young dragons and go play outside."

"Okay," the twins said in unison and obediently ran out the door.

Once they left, Rhaegar straightened and sighed, his frown deepening as he turned to Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra, oblivious to his concern, selected another piece of dessert and fed it to herself, her mouth too small to accommodate the whole treat, leaving a smear of cream at the corners of her lips.

Even so, she seemed content, far from her usual demure self.

Rhaegar sat beside her, feeling a mix of frustration and concern. "Rhaenyra, Alicent asked you to entertain the guests. Would you like to get some fresh air?"

"Alicent can handle it alone," Rhaenyra replied, unmoved.

Rhaegar took a deep breath and waved to Sara, the young girl standing silently nearby. "Call Maester Orwyle, please."

Sara nodded and left the room.

Rhaenyra's behavior had changed dramatically recently. Her appetite had increased, she was listless, and her temper had become unpredictable. Although she had always enjoyed sweets and had a fiery temper, the change was now too pronounced. Her mouth was either chewing on delicacies or spewing curses.

As they spoke, Rhaenyra finished her dessert in a few bites and reached for a piece of strawberry pudding.

Rhaegar noticed the stack of five or six porcelain plates around her. Gripping her wrist gently but firmly, he said, "Rhaenyra, you've already eaten a lot of sweets. You'll make yourself sick if you continue."

She used to eat three meals a day with an occasional late-night snack, and one or two bites of sweets were enough. Now, she was consuming an alarming amount, with no regard for meals, eating what would have been a day's worth in the past.

Disturbed from her indulgence, Rhaenyra's eyes filled with irritation. She glanced at his hand on her wrist, frowning in dissatisfaction. "I'm hungry."

"You're not hungry; you're craving," Rhaegar corrected her, pointing to her small belly under the silk nightgown. "If you keep this up, you'll ruin your figure."

Once flat and smooth, her belly was beginning to show signs of excess.

"Rhaegar, you dislike me!" Rhaenyra's eyes widened, and she played dirty.

Pah!

While Rhaegar wasn’t paying attention, Rhaenyra grabbed a piece of cream and slapped it onto his face, smearing it with a look of defiance.

"Rhaenyra, you're not a child anymore," Rhaegar scolded, leaning back to avoid her mischievous hand, now covered in cream.

Creak-

The door to the room opened, revealing Sara standing outside with Maester Orwyle. Rhaegar glanced over and noticed a voluptuous figure in a red robe beyond the two.

Splat

Rhaenyra, pouting, grabbed a piece of cake and slapped it onto Rhaegar’s chest. Exasperated, he took a cloak from beside the bed, covered Rhaenyra, and straightened her loose nightgown.

"Come in," he said, once everything was in order.

Orwyle entered, carrying a small satchel. Rhaegar wiped the cream from his lapel and said gravely, "You know the princess's condition. Please check her thoroughly."

He suspected that Rhaenyra was either ill or had been upset in some way. Her face was flushed, her eyes misty with tears, and she bit her lower lip. "I'm not sick," she insisted, her earlier anger giving way to tears.

Feeling a pang of sympathy, Rhaegar gently embraced her. "Let the maester check you. We all want to make sure you're okay, right?"

Rhaenyra shook her head, burying her face in his arms, sobbing softly, a stark contrast to her usual bright and domineering self. She seemed like a small, aggrieved girl.

Rhaegar kissed her forehead and signaled Orwyle to proceed quickly. With Rhaegar's support, Orwyle had risen to the position of Grand Maester, sitting on the Small Council, making him a trusted ally.

Orwyle’s examination was thorough and efficient. Finally, he concluded, "The princess is very healthy. It seems that insomnia and dreams may be causing her distress."

"Is that all?" Rhaegar asked, surprised.

"Not a single problem," Orwyle confirmed.

A sudden thought struck Rhaegar. "Could it be... something else?" he asked, eyeing Rhaenyra's stomach expectantly.

Orwyle shook his head. "Prince, the princess shows no signs of pregnancy right now."

With limited means of detection, the only option was to wait. Disappointed, Rhaegar sighed. "Thank you, Maester. You may retire."

Orwyle, perceptive as always, silently exited the room.

As he passed by, the red priestess standing guard outside spoke politely, "Prince, why don’t you let me take a look?"

Rhaegar glanced at her and flatly refused, "Stay away from Rhaenyra or be immediately deported back to Volantis."

Despite the friendship he had built with the temple of R’hllor, he heartily loathed and rejected red priestess. He would never consent to any red priestess being near Rhaenyra at this moment.

The red priestess was not annoyed. She surveyed the siblings calmly and whispered, "A true dragon will usually draw the sustenance it needs."

"What are you muttering about?" Rhaegar snapped, narrowing his eyes.

"Nothing."

Leaning on the doorframe, the red priestess said disparagingly, "I’ve examined the sanctuary inside the castle. Those two priests of the Faith of the Seven are still clamoring for a bronze statue to be cast for the Holy Mother. Are you really not considering converting to the R’hllor Faith?"

"No! Never. At least not now. You can leave."

Rhaegar feigned anger and issued an expulsion order. The Faith of the Seven had been rooted in Westeros for a long time, and they had reached an agreement with him with great difficulty, so how could he arbitrarily jeopardize it unless there was a need and enough benefits?

The red priestess knew she did not have enough leverage and left resentfully.

Sara, understanding the situation, followed, closing the door behind her. For a moment, the room fell silent, leaving only the sounds of Rhaenyra’s sobbing and Rhaegar’s comforting words.

Rhaenyra wept silently, her head arching around in Rhaegar’s arms as she tried to find a comfortable position to rest. She had been so anxious lately that she couldn’t find a moment’s peace.

After a while, she choked out, "Aren’t you going to accompany the guests?"

Rhaegar slowly smoothed her messy hair and said seriously, "Let the guests go to hell. It's enough for me to stay with you."

He didn’t understand why Rhaenyra was like this, but he knew she was upset and needed him by her side.

"You are the heir. You should go out." Rhaenyra tightened her arms around his waist, her voice firm but her grip revealing her true feelings.

Rhaegar saw through her small mind and asked softly, "Rhaenyra, what’s wrong?"

Rhaenyra looked up with teary eyes, glaring at him with a grudging look before shrinking back into his arms like an ostrich.

After a few moments, Rhaegar heard her muttering, "Father favored you even before you were born, and even after you were born in a coma, you were still the center of his attention..."

Her voice trailed off as she continued, "Because you were a boy, you easily took my throne..."

She huffed again, "You’re so good, smarter than me, and even I, who should hold a grudge, can’t help but care for you..."

"Rhaegar, you were unfaithful to me. You owe me..."

As her voice gradually stopped, Rhaenyra fell asleep with a slightly furrowed brow against Rhaegar’s chest.

After hearing her hidden complaints, Rhaegar tightened his embrace and touched his forehead to hers. At least now he knew what she was thinking.

If she felt better in her heart, Rhaegar’s heart was more at ease.

After a moment of silence, Rhaegar murmured softly, "Until the tournament is over, I'll stay by your side and not go anywhere."

He gently picked her up and placed her on the bed to rest. He stared at her for a while, feeling drowsiness creep in.

At the last moment before closing his eyes, a familiar murmur reached his ears.

"I don’t blame you..."

...

Unconsciously, a dream began to unfold.

The scene: a room in the Red Keep.

Rhaegar looked around, bewildered by the familiarity of the room. Where a bed should have been, there was a cradle.

Rhaegar approached the cradle and saw a sleeping baby swaddled inside.

“What are you doing?”

A familiar voice startled Rhaegar.

“Princess, it’s time to feed the little prince.”

“You can go. I’ll handle it myself.”

Rhaegar relaxed. It wasn't the people in the dream who had noticed him, but someone speaking outside the door.

Crunch

The door opened, and a delicate silver-haired girl entered, holding a bowl of warm goat’s milk.

“Rhaenyra?” Rhaegar was surprised.

This Rhaenyra was around 8 or 9 years old, with a delicate and cute face, her purple eyes focused with a gaze beyond her years.

She moved closer to the cradle, a flash of disdain crossing her face as she looked down at the baby.

“You took away Mother,” she muttered, reaching out hesitantly to pinch the baby’s nose.

Rhaegar watched in amazement. The baby was definitely him. Had he unknowingly been a victim of Rhaenyra's childhood jealousy?

Unable to breathe through his nose, the baby woke up, his tiny hands groping clumsily. He couldn't open his eyes due to congenital deficiencies and, even when he tried to cry, could only manage a faint whimper.

After struggling for a while, the baby grabbed Rhaenyra’s hand that was pinching his nose and licked it with his tiny tongue.

“Ugh!” Rhaenyra shivered in disgust and let go.

Breathing freely again, the baby gasped and clutched Rhaenyra’s hand, nibbling on it more vigorously.

Rhaenyra frowned at her helpless brother. Then, as if struck by a thought, she drew back her hand, now covered in saliva, and looked down at the baby arrogantly.

With a mischievous smile, she dipped her fingers into the goat’s milk and teased the baby by placing them near his mouth.

The baby eagerly babbled and sucked on her finger, clearly starving.

Amused, Rhaenyra continued to dip her finger into the goat’s milk and tease the baby, who sucked it down hungrily, oblivious to her antics.

In this way, the baby endured the mockery and finished the small bowl of goat’s milk. Exhausted, he fell back to sleep, snoring lightly.

Rhaenyra’s cheeks flushed as she lay by the cradle, occasionally poking the baby’s face, her earlier disdain replaced by curiosity and a hint of affection.

Rhaegar observed everything, a weight lifting from his heart.

Fortunately, he wouldn’t be murdered by his own sister.

It was also at this moment that Rhaegar coldly recalled some intimate details of his childhood.

Grinding his teeth, he muttered, “No wonder she’s always tormenting me!”