Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 509: The Dragonlord’s Oppression

Chapter 509: The Dragonlord’s Oppression

Spicetown, the Harbor.

A royal ship with three red dragon banners was moored at the harbor, and Erryk, captain of the Kingsguard, was overseeing the unloading of cargo. Nearby, Rhaenys walked with the Sea Snake, their gazes fixed on a single figure.

“Roar!”

Syrax flapped its wings, its topaz-colored scales shining brightly in the sunlight, flamboyant and beautiful. Rhaenyra stood beside the dragon, holding her infant daughter and cooing softly to her.

Half an hour earlier, Rhaegar had departed with Helaena and Aemon on their dragons. Unwilling to remain in Driftmark, Rhaenyra decided to set off for King’s Landing.

“Rhaenyra, be careful on the road,” Rhaenys said, her voice heavy with guilt. The assassination attempt on her nephews and niece had taken place on her land, and she couldn’t escape the blame.

Rhaenyra smiled reassuringly. “When this is all over, I will bring Rhaena back.” She didn’t trust Driftmark’s safety and had her children pack their belongings.

Sea Snake, pale and leaning on his crutches, limped over. “The Iron Throne is surrounded by wolves. Your Grace has a plan, but as a queen you need to give more advice.”

Rhaenyra didn’t hesitate. “The assassin who harmed my son was on a Braavosi ship.”

Sea Snake’s words were just short of accusing Rhaegar of acting impulsively. However, Braavos was also one of the culprits. If the three dragons could deter them, she would support Rhaegar’s actions.

Sea Snake sighed and stepped back, speechless. Rhaenys, understanding her husband’s worries, felt helpless. Volantis and Slaver's Bay were allied and eyeing the Disputed Lands. Provoking Braavos could be dangerous.

“Your Grace, we are ready to depart,” Erryk reported after the cargo was loaded.

“Thank you,” Rhaenyra replied, grabbing the soft ladder extending from Syrax’s saddle with her bare hands.

Suddenly, Daeron stepped out of the crowd, full of apologies. “I still have to serve as a wine steward. The watch on Driftmark is over, so I’ll return to King’s Landing to console my nephews.”

Rhaenyra looked around before asking, “Have you found Aegon yet?”

“The patrol soldiers are still searching,” Daeron admitted, blushing with embarrassment. After ensuring Baelon's safety, Aegon had slipped away alone. Though still on Driftmark, he had lost contact.

He wasn’t in any danger; the assassins had been killed. This wasn’t the first time Aegon had disappeared.

Rhaenyra was speechless but said nothing. She immediately climbed onto Syrax’s back.

As the dragon took to the sky and the ship sailed out of the harbor, the Sea Snake and the others watched them depart.

On the vast sea, the royal ship, like a red crystal, sailed back alone.

Roar!

Syrax led the flight, soaring above Blackwater Bay to escort the ship safely. On the deck, many guards looked up in awe. Flanking the bright yellow dragon were two smaller ones, one emerald green and the other pale green. They resembled leaves, highlighting Syrax's nobility and grace.

...

Inside the Cabin.

Bang! Bang!

Arrows struck the targets set up in the corridor, embedding themselves in the straw man's chest. Baela, holding a Myrish triple crossbow, clenched her lower lip, directing her frustration at the straw target.

“Great, right in the bull's-eye,” Baelon commented.

“Don't praise me, it's too close,” Baela replied, dismissing the compliment.

Baelon stood farther away, on his toes, peering through the window at the three dragons in the sky. His ears twitched as he sensed Baela wiping her sweat. Yearning in his eyes, he joked, “You should really ride a dragon with Aemon. He's the only one having any fun. I wonder how he'll feel when he gets back.”

Baela put down the crossbow, her mood sour. “Forget it. No matter how good you are at riding a dragon, you’re still running for your life when you get off.”

She thought about being chased through the city that morning and wished she could disappear into the ground. Baelon, looking away, commented, “That's different. You should ride a dragon if you have one. My father says there’s no rush to hone your martial arts.”

“Tsk, you think everyone is like you, with the Kingsguard protecting you?” Baela retorted indignantly, glancing at Ser Arryk standing at the end of the corridor.

Baelon, embarrassed, said, “That’s not what I said.”

Compared to the three brothers, the sisters did not have Kingsguard specifically assigned to protect them. Their foster mother, Rhaenyra, had made efforts to increase the number of female companions and escorts who usually accompanied them.

Baela, feeling awkward, said, “Is not that, I just feel a little...”

She trailed off, unable to express her grievances. She walked to a cabin door and leaned against it. Through the wooden door, faint sobs were audible. It was her sister Rhaena’s room.

Baelon walked silently to her side and held her hand in silent comfort. He could feel her struggle to suppress her emotions.

Baela looked out the window and suddenly said, “I hate my father.”

“Why?” Baelon asked, looking up.

Baela turned her head away, hiding her tears. “He betrayed my mother and left Rhaena and me to fend for ourselves.”

Rhaena's succession was being questioned, and their parents were absent. Even when they were in danger and needed their parents' love the most, they only received a little from their foster mother, Rhaenyra.

She and Rhaena had their own parents, and thinking about the root of everything, she deeply resented her father in Tyrosh.

“This...” Baelon felt sympathy and couldn't agree with his elders' actions.

The two held hands and leaned against the hard door. The low sobs behind the door provided a poignant background music.

...

Late at Night in Braavos.

A roar of anger echoed throughout Braavos, accompanied by the flickering of beautiful green fire. The Titan of Braavos burned, its bronze armor and rope grass skirts consumed by flames, leaving only charred remains. Fires raged in the ports, devouring goods in the warehouses and merchant ships at anchor. The garrison rushed out, only to be engulfed by Dragonfire in an instant. For a time, the entire Free City was reduced to a living hell of wailing and flames.

...

The Sealord's Palace

Under the night sky, three dragons pierced through the clouds, destroying the heavily fortified army and landing safely in the fountain square. Cannibal, black as coal with dead, lifeless green eyes, stood like a mountain. Its breath, tinged with green fire, inadvertently evaporated the fountain.

Dreamfyre and Sheepstealer, one on each side of the black dragon, lay on their sides, their vertical pupils surveying the surroundings. Whenever the wind stirred, sulfurous Dragonfire appeared in an instant.

Inside the Sealord's Great Hall, Sealord Sparda shouted at the maidservants to quickly put on his armor, his heterochromatic eyes fixed on the outside world. “Damn it! What’s the Iron Throne doing, sending three dragons to attack for no reason!?” Several advisers trembled, cursing the sudden appearance of the enemy.

“Shut up!” Sparda was hysterical under the immense pressure of the dragons. Outside the window, the three dragons were motionless, like stone sculptures carved by the hand of death. But their enormous, bronze-colored eyes seemed to extinguish the free life of everything in heaven and earth.

Through the greenish Dragonfire of the surrounding buildings, Sparda could see some detailed images.

The black dragon raised its back and slowly crawled to the ground. A silver-haired figure sat firmly on the dragon’s back, even when the dragon swayed. Suddenly, the figure stood up tall, slid down the dragon’s back, and held the reins. At the same time, two other dragon riders followed closely behind on the backs of the other dragons.

Sparda clung to the glass window, staring intently without blinking, afraid of missing a single detail. Under the dim night sky, the silver-haired figure walked towards the Sealord’s Palace, looking up at it. In an instant, Sparda saw the pair of cold purple eyes and broke into a cold sweat. He knew that the other party had discovered him.

“Gulp...” Sparda swallowed hard and asked, “Has the rescue letter been sent? When will the Iron Bank send someone?”

One of the advisers stepped forward, trembling. “The messenger has already been sent, but I don’t know if he can safely pass through the streets burned by Dragonfire, and...”

He stopped mid-sentence. The Iron Bank was rich and powerful, but it couldn’t immediately send out an army, let alone a suicide squad that could contend with three dragons.

“Bastard!!” Sparda, shocked and furious, pounded the balcony with all his might. Then he turned, making a swift decision. “Follow me and meet the king of the Iron Throne.”

If you can't beat them, you have to join them. He had recently received secret reports from Volantis and Pentos and noticed the frequent trade with Slaver's Bay. The Sealord had already guessed the Iron Throne's intentions.

Outside the Palace

The gates of the Sealord's Palace were wide open. Sparda, his face ashen, led a group of advisers with cramped legs out of the palace. At the bottom of the palace steps, three silver-haired figures had already arrived, arms crossed, looking up at their host.

“Roar...” Dreamfyre stretched its neck, its wings supporting it as it crawled forward, its light blue dragon head level with the Sealord's palace. After several years of growth, this older female dragon had made great strides in size. Over 100 meters long from head to tail, it had become the third adult dragon after the Cannibal and Vhagar, climbing to the top tier in combat power.

Swish! Rhaegar unsheathed his sword, Truefyre, from his waist. The ruby glowed, and he aimed it straight at the new Sealord, who stood on the edge of several frightened advisers. The sound of the sword was like a signal. Helaena followed suit, unsheathing her sword, the Long Summer, its slender blade glistening with cold light.

Dreamfyre's pupils constricted, and the dragon's head slowly lowered, its mouth converging into a ball of light blue Dragonfire.

At that moment, Rhaegar tilted his head and said softly, “Sealord, would you like to talk?”

Sparda's heart skipped a beat. His legs froze in place, and he hesitated to agree.

Shifting perspectives, although Rhaegar and his party were clearly below the high platform, their presence and the looming threat of the dragons made them seem higher, dominating the Sealord and his retinue.

...

King's Landing, Red Keep

Rhaenyra had just finished washing and was slipping into a soft silk nightgown. She took a sip of strong wine, preparing for bed. Raising children was tiring enough, but dealing with assassination attempts made her feel like she had failed in her duties.

Knock, knock!

There was a knock on the door. Rhaenyra called out, “Elinda, come in.”

Creak

The door opened, and a thin maid entered. More accurately, she was a lady-in-waiting. Elinda carefully closed the door behind her, holding a letter. “Your Grace, the Black Swan of Lys.”

“Give it to me.”

Rhaenyra took the envelope, and a black and white rose medallion came into view. Johanna Swann, the famous courtesan of Lys, known as the “Black Swan,” had become a key ally after the war in the Narrow Sea. Rhaegar's army had installed her as the rightful Grand Master of Lys, and she had pledged loyalty to Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra opened the letter and read it carefully. Her frown deepened, and soon she was furious. “That bastard Daemon has betrayed Laena after all.”

Bang!

The letter hit the table, and Elinda caught a glimpse of the contents.

“White Worm is pregnant, and the Prince Tyrosh is planning a wedding.”

Elinda was shocked and lowered her head in shame. Laena was one of the councilors in Lys, partly due to her position and partly because Lady Mysaria, known as “White Worm,” had almost broken with Daemon. Now that Mysaria was pregnant, her marriage to the royal family seemed unstoppable.

"Damn bastard!" Rhaenyra's anger flared and she let out a rare swear word. In recent years, she and Laena had become close friends, sharing similar fates. Seeing her friend's rights violated made her feel indignant.

Elinda's body trembled as she placed the letter on the candle flame to burn it. Rhaenyra sighed and raised her hand to her forehead. “Forget it, I'll deal with it later.”

Elinda whispered, “I'll do it. Sara is taking care of the little princess.”

Hearing this, Rhaenyra patted her friend's shoulder, feeling a bit relieved. The maids who served the Princess were also divided into different classes. The highest status was naturally the ladies-in-waiting, girls from noble families who had received a good education.

Elinda came from House Massey in the Crownlands and was one of the ladies-in-waiting who had grown up with Rhaenyra. In private, the master and servant had a very good relationship.

Rhaenyra sat down at the table and suddenly asked, “How are Rhaena and Maekar?”

“The children were scared.”

Elinda replied, “Lady Rhaena is still crying in her room, and the little Prince is already asleep.”

“Haha, Maekar can eat and sleep through anything,” Rhaenyra smiled helplessly.