Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 347: Uncle vs Nephew!

Chapter 347: Uncle vs Nephew!

The death of a bastard did not cause a widespread sensation.

In truth, the impact was minimal. The members of House Swann in the audience gasped in shock, and the Lord of Swann was so furious that he pounded his thighs heavily. His shrill, mean-spirited wife, however, was more pragmatic. She pulled her husband back, not wanting to cause trouble over a bastard.

Rhaegar scanned the crowd, a grin spreading across his face. He retired for a break, allowing the next match to begin.

The third match pitted Cole, clad in silver-gray armor, against Medrick Manderly, the eldest son of the Lord of White Harbor. The Manderly House had played a minor role in the Battle of the Stone Steps Islands and had avoided much attention in recent years.

Medrick, heir to White Harbor, was handsome and tall, with silver and white armor bearing the crest of the merman, holding a trident. He was known as one of the best knight in the north.

Cole and Medrick fought head to head, their riding skills evenly matched. In the final charge, both fell from their horses simultaneously. Cole landed and quickly swung his morningstar, smashing Medrick's hand-and-a-half sword and claiming victory.

Several more tournaments followed, showcasing the best knights from every realm in the kingdom. All manner of tactics and strategies were on display.

Daemon participated once more, facing Willam Royce of the Vale. Willam was a distant cousin of Yorbert Royce, Warden of the East, and had participated in numerous confrontations and sieges against the Mountain Clans. He was one of Rhaegar's preferred candidates for the Kingsguard.

Unfortunately, Willam's skills were not first-rate. He lacked Daemon's determination and ruthlessness. After a few rounds of charging, he was knocked from his horse.

The tournament entered its final round of competition.

Four knights were chosen to face each other.

Rhaegar versus Cole, and Daemon versus the bastard Bronn Storm.

...

On the high platform, the crowd watched the bout with eager anticipation.

Viserys beamed, his eyes darting between Rhaegar and Cole in the tournament arena. He raised his glass repeatedly, delighted by the match between his eldest son and the former commander of the Kingsguard. He planned to conclude the tournament by discussing Cole's potential inclusion in the Kingsguard at the Small Council.

In the lower position, Rhaenyra sat demurely, Helaena in her lap.

Helaena occupied Rhaegar's seat, her face pressed against Rhaenyra's belly as she tried to listen to the fetus. After a long attempt, all she could hear was a "gurgling~~" sound. Lifting her head, she saw Rhaenyra chewing a pastry with a thoughtful expression.

"Is the baby hungry?" Helaena murmured, sitting up straight.

Behind them, Aemond, who had left his fiancée behind, interjected, "It's Rhaenyra who's hungry."

Having bonded with Sheepstealer, Aemond's confidence had grown, and the gloom in his eyes had given way to a subtle arrogance.

"Boy, no one will think you're stupid if you keep your mouth shut," Aegon said, looking irritated as he held up a half-empty mug, mocking his brother mercilessly.

Aemond raised an eyebrow and retorted, "Aegon, I wasn't talking to you."

"Ha, like you're the only one allowed to talk nonsense," Aegon shot back, smacking his lips.

Since the last warning incident, the relationship between the two brothers had sunk to the freezing point, and they rarely spoke unless it was to exchange barbs.

Distracted by the bickering, Rhaenyra picked up a glass of wine and raised it to her lips, quickly spitting it out and replacing it with a cup of clear tea to rinse her mouth. She could argue with Rhaegar all she wanted, but she was determined to avoid any harm to the fetus in her womb.

...

On the martial arts field, the battle was in full swing.

Rhaegar and Cole had already charged each other several times, their shields shattering from the impact and both eventually being thrown from their horses.

"Sword!" Rhaegar shouted, and his squire promptly handed him Truefyre.

Cole, a melee expert with a sharp mind, spat bloody foam from the corner of his mouth and took a deep breath. "Prince, you better be careful."

"Bring it on!" Rhaegar grinned, eager to test Cole's skill.

Cole's gaze was steady as he stepped forward, closing the distance with measured steps before launching his morningstar in a quick, precise arc.

Dangang-

Rhaegar leaned back, sliced through the morningstar's chain with Truefyre, and shifted his stance.

"Aha!" Cole bellowed, swinging the morningstar back to strike Rhaegar around the waist.

The morningstar's small iron ball could incapacitate with a single strike.

Danglang-

As the morningstar descended, Rhaegar raised his sword to block it, and the spiked iron ball collided with the dark blade.

"You lost!" Rhaegar shouted, stepping forward and kicking Cole in the abdomen, then slashing at his chest armor.

Sparks flew as the blade cut deep dents into Cole's steel plate-like armor.

Cole's expression darkened. He retreated, twisting his waist to swing the morningstar again.

Rhaegar, anticipating this move, bent his knees to avoid the incoming iron ball, closed the distance, and thrust Truefyre against Cole's throat.

The Valyrian steel blade pierced the neck guard, pressing against Cole's skin.

Cole froze, feeling the sharp blade and the trickle of blood.

Danglang!

The referee struck the gong and announced, "Congratulations to Prince Rhaegar for defeating Ser Criston Cole!"

Cole's bravery was renowned across the Seven Kingdoms. As the former commander of the Kingsguard and a champion in many tournaments, he had won the admiration of countless nobles and knights. His humble origins as the son of a steward in Blackhaven, and his previous favor with Princess Rhaenyra, made him an object of envy.

When the match ended, Cole remained stiff, Rhaegar's Truefyre still at his neck.

After two tense seconds, Rhaegar removed his helmet and slowly withdrew the sword, a smirk on his lips.

Cole was about to move when the glowing tip of Truefyre came before him again, stopping him in his tracks.

Splat...

The tip of Rhaegar's sword sliced off Cole's faceplate, revealing his still handsome but weathered features.

Rhaegar held his sword at Cole's neck, his eyes dancing with amusement. "Cole, you were breaking bones three years ago. Have you grown old, or has too much sea breeze dulled your martial skills?"

Born in 82 AC, Cole was now 39, only a year younger than his Uncle Daemon.

Cole dropped the morning star and smiled bitterly, "It is you who have grown up, Prince."

He recalled the image of the young Prince venturing out to tame the Cannibal, but now everything had changed.

Seeing Cole's humbled state, Rhaegar's smile became more sincere. "Welcome back. I will discuss your position in the Small Council."

"Thank you very much, Prince." Cole replied, surprise mixed with a complicated expression.

Despite his merits, he should have returned to King's Landing long ago, even if only as a gold-cloaked officer. There was no real conflict in the Stepstones, and dealing with pirates and smugglers felt like a waste of his skills.

Cole had repeatedly asked to be transferred back to King's Landing, only to be denied by the Small Council.

Rhaegar withdrew Truefyre and turned to greet the cheering crowd.

The truth was, Cole couldn't return to King's Landing because of Rhaegar's influence. As a child, Rhaenyra had often boasted to Rhaegar about Cole's handsomeness and bravery, describing him as the Kingsguard of her dreams.

Rhaegar had never been a big-hearted child, clinging to the slightest grievance. Catching Cole in a mistake had been his chance.

After three years of exile by the sea, it was finally time for Cole to return to King's Landing.

...

On the high platform, Viserys applauded excitedly, celebrating his eldest son's victory over Cole.

Though Viserys was not skilled in the martial arts, he judged the skill of his younger brother Daemon and the Kingsguard. He knew his son's martial prowess was remarkable, but he hadn't expected him to be so formidable.

Daemon, a martial artist in his own right, had once been bested by Cole's morningstar.

"Oh! Brother is the best!" Helaena cheered loudly, boldly expressing her admiration.

Aemond clapped alongside his sister, looking at Rhaegar with envious eyes and resolving to intensify his own training.

In contrast, Rhaenyra and Aegon's reactions were muted.

Aegon scoffed, tilting his head back to drink more wine.

Rhaenyra glanced at Rhaegar, her hand caressing her belly, and secretly rolled her eyes.

He had told her that Cole wouldn’t return to King’s Landing, but if he hadn't played petty games, Cole would have rejoined the Kingsguard long ago.

As these thoughts crossed her mind, a slight smile curled her lips, easing the frustration she had been feeling.

...

Enjoying the cheers of thousands, Rhaegar stepped down from the field with his sword.

Next was the second match of the finals: Daemon versus the bastard, Bronn Storm.

Bronn was a big, burly man with a full beard, reminiscent of the late Lord Boremund. Daemon didn't care who he resembled and treated him as just another opponent.

Their duel was unorthodox, marked by recklessness. Despite his rugged appearance, Bronn was a skilled rider and quickly unseated Daemon.

Daemon refused to surrender and grabbed a longsword and shield to continue the fight. Bronn, wielding a sword as wide as a man's palm, swung with brutal force.

It was less a knightly duel and more a brawl, with Daemon employing ruthless tactics. He cunningly blinded Bronn in one eye and then delivered a brutal kick to his opponent's groin. The men in the audience winced as they heard the sound of the blow.

Watching from below, Rhaegar subconsciously tightened his grip, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. His uncle's fierce engagement was both impressive and intimidating.

"Roar--"

A muffled dragon's roar echoed through the arena, as a massive pitch-black dragon pierced through the clouds, stirring up a gust of wind. Rhaegar looked up, shaking his head with a smile.

Danglang!

The referee struck the gong, signaling the final round of the tournament. The squires helped the wailing Bronn off the field, and Daemon, gasping, discarded his shattered shield and remounted his horse.

Rhaegar rode onto the field, eyeing his uncle, who seemed to grow stronger by the minute. "Not taking a break?" he inquired casually.

"Strike while the iron is hot, don't delay," Daemon replied, staring at Rhaegar like a predator eyeing its prey.

"What a big mouth," Rhaegar taunted. "Come on, let me see what you've got."

Danglang!

The referee struck the gong again, and the drummers beat their drums intensely, their shouts blending with the inspiring music:

"Prince Rhaegar of House Targaryen versus his own uncle, Prince Daemon! The old and new noble bloodlines collide!"

"Roar..."

A huge scarlet dragon soared across the sky, spewing Dragonfire at the clouds and letting out an exuberant roar, sensing its rider's frenzied emotions.

"Roar..."

"Roar..."

The Blood Wyrm's roar set off a chain reaction. From the shore of God's Eye Lake, other dragons rose into the sky: the golden Sunfyre, the light blue Dreamfyre, the cobalt blue Tessarion. Each dragon flapped its wings and hovered proudly, their vertical pupils burning as they looked down on the white stone buildings below.

Danglang!

Forcing back their fear and excitement, the referee struck the gong again, pushing the atmosphere to its peak.

"Hyah!"

Rhaegar's eyes were cold as he clenched his horse's belly and sped forward.