Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 486: A Cheap Deal Between Brothers

Chapter 486: A Cheap Deal Between Brothers

The next day, the weather was clear. Rhaegar lay in bed, drifting in and out of a light sleep.

Knock, knock...

The door was knocked on, light and orderly.

Rhaegar woke up with a start.

“Shh!”

Rhaegar's head was spinning as he pressed his hand to his forehead, gasping. It felt like a hammer had struck him, leaving a migraine in its wake.

He shook his head, waiting for the dizziness to subside, and muttered, “A mist place, a young dragon and a horn!”

A sudden flash of inspiration cleared his mind immediately.

Rhaegar sat up abruptly, half-believing, “The dragon's horn... could it be in the Smoking Sea?”

Last night's dream seemed connected to the prophetic dream at the Starry Sept. The last time, he had a premonition that Rhaenyra would give birth prematurely. Last night, his vision expanded.

A land shrouded in mist, two young dragons without masters, and the Dragon Horn, an artifact comparable to a treasure.

Rhaegar did not dare to be negligent and took out an ancient book stored in his space necklace—a dragon training manual written by a Dragonlord family.

Flipping through the pages carefully, his hand paused at an illustration.

“Dragons nest in various places. The Dragonlord will not imprison his own companions, or he will face severe punishment... When war comes, sound the horn of the dragon to summon distant companions. Only those of Dragonlord blood may touch it!”

The pages were densely covered in ancient Valyrian writing, describing the existence of the dragon horn in a way that aligned with the dragon's habits.

Rhaegar glanced over the page and stopped at the simple illustration next to the text. It depicted a giant horn, its surface engraved with minute patterns, exuding an ancient and mysterious atmosphere.

He examined it closely, his eyelids twitching. The dragon horn in his dream was 70% similar to the illustration in the ancient book. The only difference was that the black horn in his dream had a different pattern engraved on its surface.

“It really is a dragon's horn,” Rhaegar thought, stunned. He closed the book with a bang.

Knock, knock...

As he pondered the meaning of last night's dream, there was another knock on the door.

Rhaegar took a deep breath, adjusted his state of mind, and said calmly, “Come in.”

Dreams have a reason. Since I dreamed of the dragon's horn, I might be able to dream of its general location in the future.

Crack!

The door swung open, and a figure in a white dress stepped inside.

Helaena's face was tense as she carried a covered plate in her arms, her big, clear eyes darting around the room.

She squeezed through the doorway and peered at Rhaegar in bed, trying to gauge his mood.

She looked amusingly out of place.

Rhaegar smiled and waved, “What are you looking at? Come on in.”

In the vast Red Keep, she was perhaps the only one who found any joy.

“Then I'll come in.”

Helaena tiptoed into the room.

It was modest, but the room had a full, curved, and upright back, and the door closed behind her.

Rhaegar adjusted his long hair and glanced at her.

Helaena wore a simple, slim white dress that outlined her well-proportioned body.

The baby fat on her face had disappeared, and her freckles had faded, revealing her fair and beautiful complexion.

Her silver-gold curls cascaded behind her head, loosely tied at the roots with a rubber band, giving her a fluffy look.

Rhaegar smiled, thinking to himself, what a lazy girl.

At 14, most noble families were already engaged or married, but she still seemed to drift through her days in a daze.

“Brother, I brought you breakfast.”

Helaena walked shyly to the bed, opened the lid, and presented the tray.

Classic white bread, milk, and ham.

Rhaegar drank the milk in one gulp, then looked up and down at Helaena, who hesitated to speak, and smiled, “If you have a request, tell me.”

If you're being nice to me, it must be...

You have a favor to ask.

He knew his sister very well, she was not lively, her thoughts were always written all over her face.

Helaena lowered her gaze, stealing glances at her brother as she whispered, "Last night, mother and father were together."

As she spoke, she nervously tapped her index fingers together.

Rhaegar paused, the piece of bread halfway to his mouth, struck speechless.

He nearly choked on the milk he had just swallowed.

Was this her idea of a joke, and at such an expensive breakfast?

Realizing her blunder, Helaena's head drooped, her cheeks brushing against her collar as she murmured a plea, “Brother, Father needs someone with him. Please, don’t confine Mother.”

“Is that why you came?” Rhaegar surmised.

Without hesitation, Helaena nodded. “If Mother stays locked in that dark room, she’ll lose her mind.”

Her small hand crept to rest on his lap, her touch tentative, like a timid puppy seeking comfort.

Their mother had been confined to the dark room again just that morning.

Her brothers, Aegon and Aemond, lacked the courage to plead with Rhaegar, leaving her to bear the responsibility.

Rhaegar sighed, recognizing the true purpose of her visit.

He caught her gently probing hand and held it firmly, his tone serious. “Mistakes must be punished. It is mercy enough that Alicent only in solitary confinement.”

If not for the love of his father and siblings, he might have resolved the matter with poison.

Helaena bit her lip, her eyes pleading.

“No,” Rhaegar said firmly.

“If you can’t accept that, you may leave now.”

He snapped the lid back onto the breakfast tray and handed it to her.

Helaena recoiled slightly, agitated, and edged towards the goose-down mattress.

Rhaegar's expression darkened. “Leave. I need to dress.”

The pleasant atmosphere from earlier had evaporated.

Helaena nodded silently, set the tray on the round table, and walked slowly to the door.

She muttered under her breath as she opened it.

“Aegon’s lying. My pleas are futile.”

“Believing his lies…”

With a determined look, Helaena stepped out, resolving to confront the falsehoods with her Long Summer sword when she returned.

As soon as she stepped out the door, an impatient voice rang out.

“Alicent must atone for her sins in the chapel. Tell someone to move her to the quiet room in the inner hall to pray, and send two holy sisters to watch over her.”

Helaena's eyes widened with surprise.

Without waiting for confirmation, Rhaegar barked, “Get out!”

“Okay.”

Helaena, thrilled, dashed away.

In the bedroom, Rhaegar took a bite of bread, chewing thoughtfully.

Alicent may be a bit foolish, but at least she lacks any real power.

Father is nearing abdication and might retire to Dragonstone or Harrenhal to recuperate, where he'll need care.

Alicent will have to leave the Darkroom eventually, if only out of respect for Aegon and Helaena.

His siblings had been invaluable to him.

Whether in the Narrow Sea War or the Dorne War, they had proven their worth.

Even last night, Aegon’s performance was heroic, taunting the Sea Snake's reproductive abilities.

Aegon was indeed a reliable second brother.

...

It was a sunny morning.

Rhaegar had just finished breakfast and was about to change into his regular clothes when he left the room.

“Prince.”

Erryk stood at the door, dressed in silver armor and a white robe.

Rhaegar asked with concern, “How is your injury?”

Erryk held his head high and said confidently, “It's not serious.”

Rhaegar smiled and stepped out.

After taking a few steps, a strange feeling tugged at his heart.

Erryk was the commander of the Kingsguard, and he wouldn’t be here without reason.

“Is something wrong with Father?” Rhaegar asked.

Erryk bowed his head and said in a low voice, “Your Grace summoned Prince Daemon this morning, which delayed the fleet's departure from Driftmark.”

“I see.”

Rhaegar slapped his forehead and sighed. “Take me to see him.”

Abdication was a significant event, and even the smallest detail could be debated for days.

'Let’s go take a look.'

“Yes, Your Grace,” Erryk replied, leading the way.

...

The King's Bedroom

"He is my child and will soon inherit my throne. You must love him as much as you love me."

"How can you say the word 'love' so easily?"

“Don’t interrupt. I’ll teach you how to be an adviser!”

“I admit my guilt, but I should not be punished by having to swear allegiance to a boy.”

The bedroom, adorned with explicit wall paintings and filled with the strong scent of incense from the hand warmer, felt oppressive. Viserys panted heavily, facing Daemon, who appeared completely unconcerned.

“You brat! You’re not a child anymore. Do you have to drive me to my grave?”

“Don’t you dare die, or the white-robed man outside the door will say I committed kinslaying and stabbed the king.”

Daemon crossed his arms and looked at his brother, who sat on the edge of the bed with a raised eyebrow and a wry smile.

When they were younger, he had advised Viserys to exercise more and develop a strong physique. But his brother never listened, preferring banquets and tournaments instead. Now, he was paying the price.

Viserys coughed angrily. “Where are Rhaenys and the others? Have they left yet?”

“Not yet,” Daemon replied casually.

“You must prepare early. My body can't hold out for long. Rhaegar must succeed to the throne as soon as possible.”

Viserys’ breathing grew labored, and he began to speak through clenched teeth.

Daemon couldn't bear to watch, so he stepped forward to help him breathe more easily, whispering, “You’re not going to die so easily. Don’t be so self-deprecating.”

He had learned that the Smoking Sea might have a cure for his brother’s condition and had sent a scout to Tyrosh that very night, hoping for results soon.

“Don’t sweet-talk me. Give me something practical.”

Viserys opened his hand and said bluntly, “Rhaegar will meet with the emissary and see the Sea Snake off. You will help him.”

Daemon remained silent.

Viserys continued, unfazed by his brother's lack of response. “I’m very pleased that Rhaena and Daeron are engaged. It’s a good way to unite our two houses.”

“Three parties,” Daemon emphasized, asserting his own importance in the equation.

“Okay, three parties,” Viserys conceded, as if placating a child. “Has your daughter Baela considered an engagement with the twins?”

Baelon, the eldest, and Aemon, the second eldest, were both excellent marriage prospects, strengthening the ties between Rhaegar and Daemon and easing any lingering animosities.

Daemon scoffed, about to retort with something akin to “a tiger's daughter can't be matched with a dog's son,” but Viserys interrupted his thoughts with a deep gaze that made him uncomfortable.

“Laena mentioned that your eldest son turned her down.”

“Is that so? What a pity,” Viserys said, a note of disappointment in his voice.

Daemon snorted. “Your son is very different from you. He’s more like the Arryn bitch of the Vale, always proud and petty.”

“Watch your tone,” Viserys warned, his eyes narrowing as he revealed a painful truth. “Don’t forget the stupid thing you did once, attacking a six-year-old child, which is lower than the cheapest whore in Flea Bottom.”

“Huh!”

He spat out, mimicking the act of spitting phlegm. “Compared to you, even a whore is better.”

Daemon took a deep breath, reminding himself repeatedly, 'This is my brother, my brother.'

Had anyone else dared to mock him so, he would have already plunged a sword into their eye.

Seeing that Daemon wasn't going to respond, Viserys was about to kick him when he shouted, “Are you listening to what I'm saying?”

“What?” Daemon replied, feigning ignorance.

Viserys roared, “Do your duty to Rhaegar and don't disgrace your title of Prince.”

Daemon sneered, “When did I ever have a title of Prince, the Prince of the City?”

Though Tyrosh was under his control, it still belonged to the Kingdom in name. The only Targaryen to hold the title of Prince was Rhaenys, as the Master of Dragons. Neither he nor Aegon of Bloodstone had such a title.

The only one with a formal title was Rhaenyra, Princess of Dragonstone. The rest of the Targaryens were simply called Princes and Princesses, and he was no exception.

Sensing the discontent, Viserys coaxed, “When Rhaegar ascends the throne, he will make you Prince of Tyrosh.”

“I want you to give it to me!” Daemon turned his head, his eyes burning with intensity.

Viserys was at a loss for words and said helplessly, “Okay, but you have to promise to control your temper.”

“I have one condition.”

“Say it, as long as it’s not too much.”

Daemon, straightforward as always, said, “Laena is having trouble conceiving, so I request the right to marry more women and produce more offspring for the family.”

Viserys was taken aback and frowned. “Did you promise Rhaena that you would adopt her to marry more wives?”

No wonder he agreed so readily.

Daemon nodded, his voice blunt. “I want a son. You made me lose a son. Do you remember?”

In the same year that Rhaegar was born, Mysaria, the White Worm, was pregnant with his child. He had even stolen a black dragon egg that belonged to Rhaegar, which was later retrieved by his niece Rhaenyra. Viserys ordered Mysaria to be deported to Lys. On the way, they encountered a storm at sea, and she miscarried. It was a fully developed boy.

Daemon had always been resentful, and after failing to seduce his niece Rhaenyra, he conceived a malicious plan to kill Rhaegar for his own child. Fortunately, he failed.

Daemon’s eyes flashed as he glanced at his silent brother, unsure whether to feel glad or sorry that he had failed.

After a long pause, Viserys broke the silence, disappointed. “Does Laena know you have such thoughts?”

She was a good woman and almost became his second wife. Laena had done right by Daemon, bearing him two daughters who survived childbirth. She was pregnant and rushed to Tyrosh to support Daemon's invasion. She lost a son and almost her life.

Daemon said indifferently, “She doesn’t know, and even if she did, I believe she would understand.”

Bang!

Viserys slammed the bed frame and gritted his teeth. "What woman could possibly understand that? You're hopeless!"

He had thought that Daemon was slowly learning to be a better man by helping Dorne. The facts proved he was still the same bastard.

Daemon scoffed. "Remember, it was your son who suggested this kind of marriage. That Arryn bitch in the Vale is so pregnant that she can't take it anymore."

"I said watch your language!" Viserys was furious.

The Vale was his wife Aemma's family and their most loyal ally.

Daemon snorted. Jeyne Arryn, a treacherous woman. Before his ex-wife, the Bronze Bitch, died, the two most important women in the Vale were so close they might as well have worn the same dress. If it weren't for the existence of Jessamyn, he would have thought that the Bronze Bitch and the Arryn Bitch were a pair.

His animosity towards Jeyne Arryn stemmed from repeated attempts to take control of Runestone City, which she thwarted every time, even expelling him from the Vale. Despite the help of Jobert Royce, the Warden of the Valley, Jeyne remained an obstacle, even seducing his niece’s husband.

Daemon's voice grew conflicted. “Do you want to see my bloodline die out?”

“You…” Viserys was furious but couldn’t argue with that. His uncle Aemon Targaryen had only one daughter, Rhaenys. It should have been a branch of the Targaryen main line, but it was only supported by Rhaenys, who married outside the family. It existed in name only.

Viserys gritted his teeth. “I promise you, but only you can marry another wife.”

“Haha,” Daemon smiled contentedly. He knew his brother wouldn’t refuse him.

Viserys, even angrier, scolded, “You still have the face to laugh. If the Sea Snake and Rhaenys find out about this, what will they think of you?”

Daemon’s eyes darkened. “You don’t need to worry about me. You should be more concerned about your eldest son. He’s a real pain in the ass.”

Not to mention the Arryn bitch from the Vale. The silly girl born to Alicent is clearly a natural Green member, but she is hanging out with her good nephew.

Viserys was confused. “What?”

“Nothing.” Daemon shook his head. He was not so low as to gossip behind his back.

Let's wait the silly girl’s belly starts to show and his brother and nephew are worried.

Crack!

The door opened, and Rhaegar peered through the bead curtain, curiously surveying his father and uncle.

“I’ll leave first,” Daemon said arrogantly, turning to go.

Viserys did not stop him and asked his eldest son, “What’s the matter?”

Rhaegar watched Daemon's retreating figure, sensing that the two had been plotting behind his back. After a moment's hesitation, he remembered the two young dragons in his dream and said, "I had a dream. After saying goodbye to the Sea Snake, I flew to Dragonstone to take a look around."

There might be dragons.