Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 485: Dragon Horn

Chapter 485: Dragon Horn

“Huh?” Little Daeron was shocked. His oily fingers pointed at himself, innocently asking, “Me?”

“Pfft!” Baela laughed out loud, clearly enjoying the moment.

Rhaena blushed, clinging to her father’s arm and huddling up shyly.

The three children laughed and played, gradually getting to know each other better.

The Lords reacted in different ways.

Laena smiled gently, quietly observing little Daeron’s expression and stroking her daughter’s cheek. A marriage to the royal family would be a significant bond connecting the three parties.

Daemon’s face flushed, and he forced a smile. “My child hasn’t even made a decision yet, and you’re already making plans.”

Little Daeron shrank his neck and put down his pig’s trotters, feeling the weight of an unavoidable situation.

Viserys was delighted. “If you are willing to give up your succession, I will negotiate with Lord Corlys.”

Corlys said earnestly, "The three children grew up together, so they are very compatible in both sentiment and status."

At first glance, it seemed like a harmonious family.

Daemon wanted to scold them for their presumption, but he decided to hold back. After careful consideration, he chose to be patient.

The situation improved and Corlys' mood lifted. He even took a sip of wine to comfort himself. Velaryon had no shortage of heirs with the blood of the merman king, but he wanted one with dragon blood, preferably one who could forge a closer relationship with the royal family. For decades to come, under Rhaegar's reign, Velaryon would enjoy the honor of being second only to the royal family.

Conversely, the royal family lacked a fleet that could sail the seas, and it was essential to win over House Velaryon. The Dragonlords and the sea families had been perfect partners since the time of the Free Cities. Otherwise, their ancestors would not have risked following the exiled Aenar to Westeros.

After a brief moment of thought, Daemon made up his mind and rubbed Rhaena’s head, reluctantly saying, “Adoption is fine, but she must be raised by Rhaenyra until she comes of age.”

It was inevitable that his daughter would marry one day. Marrying her to the youngest son of his brother would be a good match. The only condition was that she be raised in the royal family and have a Targaryen heart.

Corlys frowned slightly at the news, obviously not very happy about it. If she is adopted, she should be raised on Driftmark. Otherwise, just changing her surname, who knows what she’s thinking? If she is an ungrateful wretch, his Sea Snake will be eaten by his son-in-law, and the family line will be extinguished.

Daemon looked at him with a fierce gaze, not afraid to meet his eyes. His first wife, Lady Rhea of Runestone, had been an arrangement made by Queen Alysanne, his grandmother. There was no shortage of people who wanted him to use his offspring to seize Runestone. But he didn’t like that Bronze woman, and she was wary of him.

However, the Sea Snake was now in trouble and had come to him for help. His true nature had already fallen to the lower class.

Viserys looked around and gave Rhaenyra, who was watching the proceedings, a subtle wink.

Rhaenyra was taken aback for a moment but quickly composed herself. She rose and said, “I am Rhaena's foster mother. She will live with me to learn the court's etiquette better.”

Both Corlys and Daemon were surprised. The mention of court etiquette was just a pretext. Rhaenyra, as the Princess of Dragonstone and future Queen, was in a better position to raise Rhaena than Driftmark or Tyrosh. With Rhaenyra, Rhaena would be guaranteed a higher status and fewer obstacles.

Daemon had to admit that the offer was tempting. It had been decided long ago that Rhaena would be raised by Rhaenyra.

While the men hesitated, the women took action.

Rhaenys stood up gracefully, placed a hand on her husband's shoulder, and asserted, “Rhaenyra is the foster mother of both girls. It goes without saying where they will be raised.”

Laena agreed wholeheartedly, “The children will grow up with Rhaenyra and form a deep bond with the newborns from a young age.”

Bang! The wine glass hit the table lightly as Rhaegar finally spoke, “Agreed.”

The bloodline of ancient Valyria had returned to the continent of Essos. With Aegon and Aemond in charge, the Sea Snake and Daemon were indispensable. But...

Daemon glanced at his nephew and saw the smile on his face, narrowing his eyes involuntarily. He thought to himself, 'I should have beated my nephew when he's young.'

Rhaenyra had taken good care of Rhaegar, but he had never had a full childhood.

With no objections, the matter was settled.

Baela and Rhaena were delighted. They cheered, “Princess!” and ran to Rhaenyra, their faces beaming with joy. One of them took Baelon, who was fast asleep, in her arms, while the other took Aemon, who was being naughty, and they volunteered to help care for the babies.

Rhaenyra was also very happy, stroking the two little girls she had raised alongside the twins, a slight smile on her lips.

Corlys watched silently, giving up on his unrealistic demands. Raising the girls with Rhaenyra was acceptable, as long as they maintained a heart that protected House Velaryon. Rhaena had half of Velaryon's blood in her veins. Blood is blood, he thought, believing the matter to be settled.

However, it was not yet enough.

Rhaegar smiled and said, “Rhaena is the daughter of Daemon and hatched the young dragon Morning. It would be wrong to deprive her of her right to ride her own dragons.”

“But the Dragon Code cannot be tarnished. There can be no loopholes.”

Corlys’s face changed slightly, and he said anxiously, “Prince, what do you mean by that?” If they strictly followed the Dragon Code, his little plan would be doomed.

Viserys and Daemon looked at him simultaneously, their eyes full of surprise and a hint of doubt. It was a bit inappropriate to bring up the Dragon Code at this time. House Velaryon should not have been holding the dragon in the first place.

Rhaegar ignored all the stares and said frankly, “Rhaena is the adopted daughter of Rhaenyra. She changed her surname after being adopted and will be married to Daeron, thus becoming part of the Targaryen royal family.”

“So Morning still belongs to her.”

Hearing this, Corlys's eyes flashed, and he let out a sigh of relief.

Then Rhaegar continued, "Daeron and Rhaena's second child after marriage can be adopted by House Velaryon, but since Rhaena has already been shown leniency, the adopted child's cradle can no longer contain dragon eggs."

Some traditions cannot be bent. Rhaena, as one of us, can have dragons. But the next generation cannot.

Corlys frowned, understanding the implications. Viserys and Daemon, on the other hand, looked pensive. Rhaena is Daemon's daughter, so she has the right to tame dragons. By taking Laenor's name, she would automatically lose that right.

Rhaegar retained Rhaena's rights to maintain the alliance between the Sea Snakes and Daemon. Rhaena would still be a member of the royal family, marrying Daeron. However, the two adopted children could not continue the dragon-taming rights from their mother Rhaena in accordance with the Dragon Code since they would only be Velaryons.

At first glance, it seems cruel to take the highest honor away from a newborn. Rhaegar could only say that changing families was a very complicated matter. To protect the rights of the royal family, sacrifices are inevitable.

"I agree!" Daemon was the first to speak, everyone looked at him.

He took a sip of wine with a calm expression on his face. He was only concerned with the rights of his own children. And the children of his children? That wasn't his business. Children and grandchildren will take care of themselves. He had no interest in fighting for a grandchild who didn't even exist.

Viserys also said, “It’s reasonable. Rhaena is the royal family’s expection, and she shouldn’t expect more.”

Corlys was saddened and knew he could not argue. He had already made a fortune by being so bold as to demand Rhaena.

On second thought, the immediate territory of the royal family extends beyond the Narrow Sea, and House Velaryon, also a descendant of Valyria, is an indispensable link. If the descendants are worthy, they can marry back into the royal family. Though the Targaryens had a special family tradition, it was impossible for every generation of male and female heirs to be married internally. He won Rhaenys's favor with his charm, after all.

So he gladly accepted.

...

The moon hung high in the sky, surrounded by a tapestry of twinkling stars.

Late that night, the dinner party finally came to an end.

As a result of the successful negotiations at the table, the three parties had forged a strong alliance for the time being. Peace terms with Braavos, the strengthening of the Stepstones garrison, and the resumption of trade with the Free Cities had all been agreed upon.

With these key points secured, the royal family-led alliance was poised to rapidly expand its military and political power. This would lay the foundation for the Targaryens' strategy of invasion, colonization, and expansion.

“The envoy from Braavos will leave tomorrow. See the Sea Snakes off properly,” Rhaegar instructed, yawning as he walked alone down the corridor to his chambers. He was exhausted after the day’s work. The war was over, negotiations had been successfully concluded, and yet, his father’s sudden decision to abdicate weighed heavily on his mind.

"What a life of work! I can't rest for a moment," he thought.

Back in his bedroom, Rhaegar stripped off his clothes and threw himself onto the soft goose-down bed. Rhaenyra was not there; Baela and Rhaena, upset by the day's events, had insisted on sleeping with their foster mother and the two babies. Little Daeron, eager to join in the fun, had been unceremoniously grabbed by the collar and handed over to Ser Erryk. The seven-year-old boy was no match for the spirited four-year-old Baela, much to the embarrassment of the Targaryens.

Rhaenyra had conceived in April and given birth in August. The twins were born in mid-December, and their nameday celebration was approaching. It was now the year 122 AC, and Rhaegar was a year older. The 17-year-old heir prince was soon to be promoted to the role of a true Dragonlord.

"I'm so tired," Rhaegar murmured, closing his eyes. He snapped his fingers.

Pop!

The fireplace ignited, and the scent of incense wood filled the room, dispersing the dampness. Rhaegar, drowsy, gradually fell asleep. Just before he drifted off, a thought crossed his mind: King's Landing, adjacent to Blackwater Bay, typically experienced snowfall and freezing temperatures in winter. It was already January, yet not a single snowflake had fallen, and the temperature remained unusually warm.

“The climate is pleasant. The people can enjoy a good winter,” Rhaegar thought.

Pop!

As he fell asleep, the flames in the fireplace flickered and danced seductively. In his dreams, he found himself in a familiar, misty fog on a bloody battlefield. Wearing black Valyrian steel armor, he held Truefyre and Dragonclaw in each hand. A scarlet cloak hung behind him, rustling in the wind like the blood of a thousand lives.

Crackling—

Suddenly, a thunderclap resounded, and red lightning streaked across the chaotic sky. Fog obscured his vision as light rain began to fall, washing away the broken limbs and bones on the ground.

Rhaegar took a step, his boot sinking into the mud, creating a small puddle. Rainwater and blood mixed together, forming a small stream that splashed a bit of water onto his cheek. He felt a chill, as clear as the coolness of the water.

“Where am I?” he wondered aloud. The scene looked eerily familiar, reminiscent of the dreamlike landscape he dreamed in the Starry Sept.

"Roar!"

Suddenly, a high-pitched roar echoed through the fog.

Rhaegar immediately looked up.

A shadowy figure darted through the mist, too quick to discern.

Rhaegar’s eyes widened, letting the rain fall on his face as he whispered, "A young dragon?"

If he wasn’t mistaken, it seemed to be a young dragon the size of a shepherd dog. Unfortunately, the thick fog obscured his view.

"Roar..."

Another roar echoed through the night.

Rhaegar reacted quickly, turning towards the sound.

A blue shadow zipped past, splitting into different directions before disappearing into the depths of the fog.

This time, Rhaegar saw it clearly.

It was a young dragon with blue scales, about the size of a large dog.

"Where did this dragon come from?" Rhaegar muttered to himself.

His first thought was Dragonstone. The nest in the Stone Drum Tower housed over a dozen dragon eggs of various ages. Silverwing and Vermithor had gone into hiding on Dragonmount, and it was possible that they had hatched a young dragon.

Rhaegar even considered Braavos, the Smoking Sea, and Sothoryos.

The three dragon eggs of Dreamfyre had gone missing and had not been found. According to Syrio's speculation, they were likely in the hands of the former Sealord of Braavos, who had mysteriously died in a wildfire.

The Smoking Sea was known to be a dragon's lair, home to the Fourteen Flames. Before Morghul flew out, it was unknown if it had laid any eggs.

Sothoryos was another possibility. The giant dragon skeleton there had always seemed mysterious.

The cave walls were carved with symbols of evil blood sacrifices, and three dragon eggs had been discovered there. One of the eggs, dark red, had fossilized before hatching. The other two had hatched around the time of the Doom, but the young dragons likely didn’t survive.

Rhaegar frowned, pondering the possibility of an inaccurate age estimation.

He regretted not having had more time to explore Sothoryos thoroughly. He had only ventured to the northern half and the surrounding islands, not the core region or the south. There could still be dragons there.

The appearance of these two young dragons in the fog puzzled him. Who could have predicted that the Red Comet would descend, amplifying the tide of magic? The world was brimming with magic, leading to an explosion in dragon numbers. Like Stormcloud, Tyraxes, Morning, and Moondancer, young dragons had been hatching with increasing frequency.

Rhaegar pondered how to find these young dragons.

Suddenly, a deep, resonant horn sounded, echoing through the foggy battlefield.

Rhaegar listened intently. The sound was ancient, heavy, and imbued with a sense of heat.

As the horn echoed, the fog began to change.

"Roar!"

Roar...

The fog gradually dissipated, revealing two distinct dragon cries of pain cutting through the rain.

Rhaegar squinted, and his vision shifted.

He saw a vast sea under a dark, smoky sky. A rainy night in a ruined town, centered on a palace...

A ruined palace of black Dragonstone, the floor cracked and broken, with a shattered altar at the center.

Whoo-hoo-hoo...

A five-foot-long horn, shaped like a dragon’s horn with black and blood-red stripes, was enshrined on the altar. Though no one was playing it, the horn echoed with an ancient melody, its dark exterior glowing with a faint red light.

Rhaegar was momentarily stunned and recalled reading about a magical item in an ancient book.

With a sudden inspiration, he blurted out, “The Dragon’s Horn!”