Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 450: Relic – Dagger of Grudges

Chapter 450: Relic – Dagger of Grudges

The next morning.

In the tower bedroom, Rhaegar sat at his father's bedside. Viserys lay in a restless sleep, his forehead furrowed, his lips parted, his grunts pitiful. Rhaegar's face tightened with concern as he hurried to check on him.

Crack!

The door opened softly and Helaena entered. She was wearing a green dress, her long silver-blonde hair cascading unkempt over her shoulders.

Helaena looked down at the bed, her voice low. "How is he? Has Father woken up?"

Rhaegar shook his head, carefully giving his father a small sip of water. Viserys swallowed reflexively, easing his dry throat and making his breathing smoother.

Helaena looked sideways at the gauze-covered window. Outside, Yronwood lay in ruins, a burnt-out wasteland littered with broken limbs and shattered bones. Her gaze shifted down to the sill beneath the window and the wall at its base.

Aemond was curled up against the wall, sleeping fitfully and muttering. The previous night had been too much for him. He had lost an eye and was still in shock, insisting on staying in the same room as his father and older brother.

"Mmm..."

A cool breeze blew through the window, causing Aemond to wake in pain. He looked up sharply, glancing at the bed with his right eye.

Rhaegar met his gaze, gently wiping their father's mouth. Aemond sighed in relief, touched his stitched left eye, and struggled to sit up.

"Gently," Helaena whispered, moving forward to help him.

Aemond pouted, holding back tears. "Sister," he complained softly.

Rhaegar had treated him the previous night. The left eye was beyond repair, removed, and the wound stitched. Aemond had lost the eye permanently.

"Shh," Helaena said gently, kneeling to embrace him. "Don't cry. You're a man now."

Aemond sniffled, fighting back tears, fearful of being mocked.

Helaena stroked his head and cheeks with deep compassion. Rhaegar watched quietly, a smile forming. "Aemond is very brave. He saved Father and himself, even at such a cost."

"I know," Helaena replied, her eyes distracted as she looked at Rhaegar. "His strong will has always set him apart, and it will only make him stronger."

Aemond, not fully understanding but afraid of being ridiculed, pulled away from Helaena’s embrace.

Crack!

The door opened again, revealing three figures. Cole stood solemnly, his posture impeccable. The Cargyll brothers, both seriously injured in the previous night's battle - one in the hall and one in the courtyard - stood with him. Cole, more skilled in the martial arts, had suffered only minor injuries and had taken over as the king's guard.

"His Grace is in a coma. Please be careful," Cole said in a hushed tone.

Rhaenys nodded, stepping into the bedroom first. Daemon followed, giving a sidelong glance and teasing, "Do a good job, former Commander of the Kingsguard."

Seeing them, Rhaegar managed a smile and greeted them naturally. Both had arrived the night before, just in time to help quell the rebellion in Yronwood and assist in defeating the attacking Dornish forces. Without their help, he wouldn’t have managed, and Helaena would have been overwhelmed.

Daemon cast a casual glance at the bed and asked, "How is my brother?" His tone was ambiguous, betraying his uncertainty.

Rhaegar shook his head. "Not very good. I suspect he was so frightened that he refuses to wake up."

"Are all the Maesters dead?" Daemon asked, irritation creeping into his voice. He didn't understand how his weak brother could have ended up in such a dire situation, even while leading dragons into battle.

"The Maester is dead. He was the only one," Helaena answered calmly.

Daemon didn't acknowledge her, instead focusing on Aemond, paying special attention to his blind eye. "One eye," he said, "maybe it will make you see the world a little more clearly."

Aemond, sensitive and wary, felt the scrutiny of his uncle.

"Okay, don't be so hostile when you first meet," Rhaenys interjected, her impatience cutting through the tension.

Daemon looked up, feigning interest in the ceiling. Rhaegar, unwilling to escalate the situation, raised his hand to calm his sister and brother. He knew exactly what kind of person his uncle was—someone who might exploit chaos to knock a six-year-old nephew off a dragon's back.

Rhaegar shook his head and smiled, his eyes hardening with ferocity. As long as his father was alive, Daemon played the role of a good uncle and protector. But if anything were to happen to his father this time...

No one would be better off.

Rhaenys walked over to the bed and looked at her cousin, who was breathing weakly. She sighed and said, "Without a Maester's diagnosis, Viserys will be in trouble. It's time to escort him back to King's Landing."

"That's what I was thinking," Rhaegar agreed. "Father is not well, and he can't rest in Dorne."

The news of Qoren's death would soon spread throughout Westeros. When that happens, Dorne will fight back with all their might. At this thought, his expression turned cold.

Rhaegar took his father's hand and asked, "How many prisoners were taken last night? How many members of House Uller were among them?"

House Uller had provoked him, conspiring with House Yronwood to assassinate his father. Such betrayal could not go unavenged.

Rhaenys frowned slightly and answered truthfully, "There were over 500 prisoners in total, including more than a dozen from House Uller. The mastermind Harmen Uller, his five sons, and seven bastard children are among them."

Hearing this, Rhaegar drew a silver dagger from his back and sneered, "These pigs are quite fertile."

He threw the dagger at Aemond and said, "Harmen Uller is mine. The rest will be dealt with one by one with this dagger."

Aemond was stunned but picked up the dagger. It felt smooth and warm, like jade. He examined it closely. The dagger was a foot long, all silver and white, and very light. The handle was finely carved with dragon scales, far smoother than Sheepstealer's scales. The blade was half-moon shaped, with blood grooves on both sides and a rippling surface.

"Valyrian steel?" Aemond exclaimed in surprise.

"Yes," Rhaegar confirmed calmly. "It's yours. Use it to protect yourself."

"Really?" Aemond asked excitedly. "Does it have a name?"

"No, you can think of one yourself," Rhaegar replied, looking serious. "Use it to avenge yourself and kill the brutes of House Uller!"

This was no ordinary dagger. It was a relic, a dragon tooth dagger stained with blood, activated by the Explorer System.

System panel record:

[Scales of Meraxes]

Exploration progress: 100%
The relic discovered is a dragon tooth, stained with blood.

[The Fallen Dragon]

Quality: Rare (Blue)

Below epic level, relics can be activated directly, so...

"Congratulations, the fallen dragon has been successfully activated, and you have obtained..."

[Old Grudge]

Quality: Rare (Blue)
Function: Valyrian steel
Comment: "Contains the resentment of a dragon. Complete the backlog of grievances and you will receive a blessing from the dragon spirit."

Rhaegar had tried to uncover what the blessing of the dragon grudge was but never found out. Deciding not to dirty his hands with the blood of House Uller beyond killing Harmen, he gave the dagger to Aemond, thinking it might compensate for the loss of his eye and his bravery in protecting their father.

Aemond, hearing the dagger was for him, played with it lovingly, his eyes shining with admiration.

Valyrian weapons! Ten years ago, House Targaryen possessed only three:

The family sword, Blackfyre, Dark Sister, and a dragon horn dagger always carried by his father.

Even now, only Rhaegar, the eldest brother, wields a sword and spear, while the two sisters each have a sword.

Aemond smiled, imagining himself showing off to Aegon later.

"All right, I'll be right back." With his brother's orders in mind, Aemond left the house with a fierce and threatening air about him. Someone would have to pay for his lost eye.

As soon as Aemond left, the atmosphere in the bedroom subtly changed. Daemon's gaze drifted to the Dark Sister at Rhaenys' waist and he smacked his lips. That had been his sword, a gift from his grandfather Jaehaerys.

"It's time to scour the Free Cities and find a weapon worthy of my status," Daemon mused to himself.

Rhaenys, not caring about him, turned to her nephew and asked, "After you return your father to King's Landing, what will you do about Dorne?"

Sunspear had fallen, and Prince Qoren was dead. As always, Dorne would not easily submit.

Rhaegar looked directly at his aunt and said suddenly, "I am deeply sorry that Laenor was killed."

Rhaenys clenched her fists, a wave of grief and anger washing over her. Dorne!

Hearing this, Daemon refocused, watching his nephew with interest. He had come to Dorne to avoid boredom on the Narrow Sea, joining his cousin in battle.

He hadn't won any significant victories, but he had enjoyed the opportunity to compensate for taking Tyrosh in front of his brother.

"Haha," Daemon chuckled, eager to see what his nephew would say next.

Ignoring him, Rhaegar stared out the window, expressionless. "Father was almost killed. The only reason the Dornish nobles dared to rebel is that the Targaryens have not been ruthless enough."

Many Dornish nobles had been forced into submission during the First Dornish War. Even those who refused had secretly colluded with commoners against the Iron Throne.

Rhaenys's heart sank. She hesitated before asking, "What do you want to do?"

"What else can we do?" Rhaegar responded rhetorically, then smiled.

Rhaenys, Daemon, and Helaena all noticed something was off in his demeanor.

Rhaegar's smile faded. His gaze shifted from the window to the three people in the room. "I want to recreate the Dragon's Wroth!" he declared.