Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 41: Sneaking Away for a Trip

Chapter 41: Sneaking Away for a Trip

As she left Rhaegar's room, her already heavy mood seemed to worsen.

All she longed for was to return to her chamber, immerse herself in a steaming bath, and curl up under the comforting warmth of her covers for a restful night's sleep.

The day had proven to be too much for her.

As the morning dawned, a new day unfolded.

Greeting Cole, who stood guard outside her door, Rhaenyra entered her room with a weariness that weighed heavily upon her.

Absentmindedly removing her jewelry, she instinctively poured herself a cup of wine from the nearby table.

In the midst of her actions, her attention was suddenly drawn to a package lying conspicuously on the table.

The sudden appearance of the package piqued Rhaenyra's curiosity, and she took a cautious look around the room.

Satisfied that she was alone, she carefully pinched a corner of the package, causing its contents to spill out onto the table.

Among the items were a set of simple hemp garments and a piece of parchment with a rudimentary map on it.

Examining the map closely, Rhaenyra was astonished to find that it detailed the layout of the secret passageways within the Red Keep, including her very own room.

Following the map's instructions, she located a wall adorned with a carved mural that, when pressed, revealed a concealed doorway leading to the night-shrouded exterior of the fortress.

Beyond the door was a staircase whose descent was shrouded in mystery.

A mischievous smile graced Rhaenyra's lips as she contemplated the adventure that lay ahead.

An avid explorer by nature, she relished the thrill of discovery - a sensation akin to flying astride a dragon.

Determined to indulge her curiosity, Rhaenyra shed her elaborate gown in favor of the humble hemp garment.

Satisfied that there was no discernible odor emanating from the garment, she ventured out and slipped into the hidden passageway that awaited beyond her room.

Navigating the shadowy tunnels, she passed the chamber where Balerion's colossal skull rested, and finally reached a secluded corner of the Red Keep.

There she encountered a figure cloaked in black, patiently awaiting her arrival.

At the sight of the familiar face, Rhaenyra gasped in astonishment.

"Daemon?"

Her uncle's presence took her by surprise.

With a mischievous grin, Daemon extended an invitation. "Would you care to venture out and explore unseen sights?"

Though hesitant at first, Rhaenyra was swayed by the prospect of adventure.

Daemon's teasing only fueled her resolve.

"I'm not afraid," she replied defiantly. "Lead the way."

With a nod, Daemon pulled on his hood and motioned for her to follow.

Excitement mingled with apprehension as Rhaenyra trailed behind, eager to join their clandestine escapade.

...

Daemon led the way through the bustling Silk Street, the heart of the city's nighttime activity.

Compared to its daytime counterpart, the street was alive with a cacophony of sounds and a riot of color. People bustled about, merchants hawked their wares, and the air was thick with the scent of spices and exotic goods.

Despite her royal upbringing and training in etiquette, Rhaenyra was taken aback by the scene before her.

The crowded alleys teemed with a variety of characters, from merchants haggling over prices to street performers entertaining the masses. Men and women revelled in the festivities, heedless of the judgment of onlookers, their extravagant antics drawing curious glances.

Shielding her face from the occasional waft of filth, Rhaenyra could not help but marvel at the vibrant chaos surrounding her.

Peering through the gaps between her fingers, she soaked up the sights and sounds of the bustling Silk Street, realizing that she had never experienced anything like it before.

As they explored further, they came upon a bustling circus where a crowd had gathered to watch a theatrical performance centered on the Targaryen royal family.

The stage was alive with activity as actors brought the Targaryen saga to life. Amidst the colorful spectacle, two men took on the roles of children, while a clown in a white dress portrayed a whimsical princess.

With exaggerated gestures and playful banter, the lead actor told the story in a comical tone.

"Now, let us delve into the saga of the mighty Iron Throne and consider who shall claim its seat," he announced theatrically.

"As our benevolent king names his own daughter as heir, the former queen, burdened with a lethargic son, fades into obscurity."

"But lo and behold, a new queen appears, bearing a healthy son of her own! So the question arises: Who will inherit the throne?"

"Will it be the king's sibling, his daughter, or perhaps his sons from different wombs?"

In the midst of the play's climax, the two actors portraying the children engaged in a lively scuffle, each proclaiming his identity with gusto.

"I am Aegon, bearing the name of the conqueror, embodying majesty and power!" one shouted.

"And I am the slumbering dragon, scion of the king, ready to unleash my wrath upon you!" declared the other.

The audience erupted in cheers and applause, swept away by the theatrical fervor.

However, Rhaenyra was unable to share in the excitement, her smile fading as she watched the spectacle unfold before her, her understanding of the performance eluding her.

As the actor portraying Rhaegar pinned his opponent to the ground, he delivered his lines with dramatic flair.

"I am the king's eldest son, unmatched in skill and power!" he proclaimed, his words echoing across the stage.

Below him, the actor playing the opponent writhed and begged for mercy, adding to the intensity of the scene.

The audience, caught up in the drama, grew increasingly animated, their cheers echoing through the air.

Rhaenyra couldn't help laughing, her dissatisfaction evident as she glared at Daemon. "A lame joke, and you brought me to see it?"

Daemon replied nonchalantly, "Indeed, it's just a joke. But many commoners believe that male heirs like Rhaegar and Aegon should inherit."

"It matters little what they believe," Rhaenyra retorted, eager to move on from the uninspiring spectacle.

As they continued on their way, Daemon's voice drifted back to her. "If you aspire to rule someday, their beliefs have meaning."

"Psh, sometimes I wish I could shed the weight of being the heir," Rhaenyra remarked, her tone tinged with self-deprecation.

"Hehe, relinquishing that position would only elevate others," Daemon remarked pointedly.

Rhaenyra shot him an unhappy look. "And that includes you!"

Daemon merely grinned, his expression unchanged.

Fed up, Rhaenyra grabbed a jar of preserves from a nearby vendor and hurled it at him before turning and scurrying away amid the din of the bustling street.

Despite the commotion, her cathartic outburst was met with cheers that echoed her sentiments.

Daemon's face remained impassive as he deftly dodged the vendor and took up the chase, his steps quickening to match hers.

...

As the night grew late, Helaena, tired from playing, had retired to her bed, and Rhaegar, left alone, turned out the light and settled down to rest.

As he drifted off to sleep, Rhaegar found himself once again in the grip of a dream.

In this dream, he wore a white robe and held a sword tightly in his hand. His surroundings were littered with broken weapons and lifeless bodies, a scene of carnage and chaos.

Bewildered and disoriented, Rhaegar was overcome by a sickening wave of blood and death, the stench assaulting his senses.

Bowing his head in disgust, he noticed a faint speck of blood creeping across the pristine white fabric of his robe, seemingly materializing out of thin air.

Before he could investigate further, the stains began to spread rapidly, multiplying in number until they consumed half of the once pristine robe, ominously dripping crimson droplets.

A chilling gust of wind swept through the Dream Realm, causing the stained robe to billow and flap, shrouding Rhaegar's head in an eerie veil.

As Rhaegar witnessed this eerie spectacle, he was struck with an inexplicable terror, his heart pounding in his chest as fear gripped him.

As the cold wind swirled around him, Rhaegar's mind raced with panicked thoughts.

"If I don't move, the blood will stain me," he realized as a wave of fear coursed through him.

Desperately, he tried to dodge the impending fall of the tainted robe, scrambling away in a desperate attempt to escape its grasp.

But no matter how fast he moved or how far he ran, the robe loomed ominously over him, its half-white, half-red form trailing closely behind him like a sinister shadow.

With each step, Rhaegar's heart pounded louder in his chest, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as he fought against the relentless pursuit of the bloodstained robe.

But try as he might, he could not outrun its relentless advance, his efforts proving futile against the unseen forces at play.

A profound sense of helplessness washed over him, rendering him immobile as the blood-soaked robe hovered ominously above him, ready to descend upon him at any moment.

"No!" he cried in terror, his voice echoing through the room as he jerked awake from the nightmarish vision, his body drenched in cold sweat.

Rhaegar winced as he tried to sit up, his fingers accidentally brushing the tender scab on his back, causing a sharp hiss of pain that brought him back to reality.

"Another nightmare..." he muttered through clenched teeth, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes as he clenched his fists against the agony coursing through him.

With a frustrated sigh, he buried his face in the pillow, his heart heavy with the weight of his torment.

But just as he began to drift back into the restless embrace of sleep, a strange sound caught his attention - the melodious call of a cuckoo drifting in through the open window.

His brow furrowed in confusion. "Cuckoos?" he wondered aloud, his senses sharpening as he strained to discern the source of the unfamiliar sound.

But the rhythmic melody persisted, its cadence disturbingly consistent and out of place amid the usual cacophony of cicadas that filled the Red Keep.

A feeling of uneasiness settled over him, the dissonance of the birdsong setting his nerves on edge.

"There shouldn't be cuckoos in the Red Keep..." he murmured, a flicker of concern creeping into his voice as he considered the anomaly.

Something wasn't right.