Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 511: Night Visit to the Dragonpit

Chapter 511: Night Visit to the Dragonpit

Godswood, Red Keep.

The moon shone brightly, the stars were few, and all was quiet.

Under the sturdy heart tree in the Godswood, a sloppy girl with black curly hair paced back and forth, circling the trunk. The ground was covered with fallen red leaves that rustled under her steps. Nettles marveled; it was the first time she had seen such a place.

After a while, the sky grew darker.

Grumble~

Her empty stomach rumbled. Nettles tightened her belt and sat down on the ground.

Tap, tap...

From the Moon Gate, light footsteps approached. A small figure with silver hair poked its head out, bathed in the moonlight.

“Baelon!”

Baelon was startled by the sudden shout and quickly looked around, putting his finger to his lips. “Shh, don't make a sound.”

Nettles patted her bottom and stood up, her eyes shining. “I'm starving. Did you bring any food?”

“Of course.” Baelon looked pleased with himself and took out a bag from behind him. Then his face fell slightly. “It's all leftovers from the kitchen. There's bread and bacon.”

He scratched his head and handed it over with a sheepish look.

“It's good to have something to eat,” Nettles said, grabbing the bag and quickly crouching at the base of the wall to eat. The food was good; besides the bread and bacon, there were pickles and fruit.

Baelon squatted down beside her, watching curiously. “Nettles, is it good?”

Nettles glanced sideways and said, “I've never eaten such soft bread in my life.”

She slammed her fist into her chest, stretching her olive-colored neck, and swallowed it down with a gulp.

“Belch~~”

The discomfort disappeared, and Nettles let out a long belch, mumbling, “Eating so well, I’m afraid I’ll be punished by heaven.”

Baelon rested his hands on his chin, a look of novelty flashing in his eyes. Nettles was a new friend from the common folk. Her mother was a prostitute, and she was an illegitimate child and a thief. Because she had helped him avoid an assassination attempt, he had agreed to help her sneak into King's Landing.

Nettles continued to eat, savoring every drop of juice from the fruit, chatting as she ate. “Have you had a chance to console the two sisters?”

Naturally, she was referring to Baela and Rhaena.

Baelon watched her eat the yellowed apple, core and all, and replied, “Baela is asleep, and Rhaena is still crying.”

In many ways, Nettles and his two foster-sisters seemed to inhabit different worlds.

Despite her small size, dark complexion, and plain face, Nettles was actually 13 years old—seven years older than Baelon and four years older than Baela and Rhaena.

According to Nettles, her mother was getting old and struggling to earn money. Nettles was used to living on nine meals spread over three days. If she hadn’t been so clever and learned to steal, she might have been even shorter. But being short had its advantages—it made her harder to catch.

Her crooked nose and scars were the result of a failed theft attempt, where she was beaten by a brothel client.

Under the moonlight, the two of them squatted by the wall. Nettles, like a big rat, sniffed out every last bit of food. She even ate the crumbs off her hands.

Baelon was silent, thinking about how to repay her for her help.

Finally, Nettles finished eating and casually put the silk bag into her arms, saying, “Hey, do you have any money on you?”

“My name is not 'Hey.' That’s rude,” Baelon frowned, but honestly handed over two gold coins. “It’s just a little. The Red Keep doesn’t need money.”

Nettles snatched the coins, her dark eyes full of greed, and laughed, “Of course the Red Keep doesn’t need money, but you can’t live without it outside.”

Two gold dragons were worth a year's earnings for her mother. The royal family was rich!

Baelon reacted. “You’re leaving, but you don’t have any friends in King’s Landing?”

He wanted to ask his mother to let Nettles stay on as a maid.

“Forget it.” Nettles stood up and packed her things. “The Red Keep is wonderful, but it’s not for me.”

She paused, thinking for a moment. “I heard that His Grace has opened a royal school for orphans to study in.”

Baelon was taken aback by the question and answered honestly, “Yes, but the curriculum is very demanding."

And the Maesters are not very welcoming to girls. Even though father has repeatedly requested it, very few women have been admitted.

"That's it then," Nettles said, patting Baelon on the shoulder with determination. "You help me get out of the Red Keep, and I'll try to get into the academy."

She had sneaked out of the Driftmark to change her fate. Staying in that dark, dank alley would mean a life of beatings and theft, or worse. The pride in her bones told her that stripping for money was too humiliating. Inexplicably, that pride had always carried her through.

Seeing Nettles so determined, Baelon sighed but agreed, "Okay, you can come with me."

He had already bribed Ser Arryk, so getting in and out of the Red Keep wasn’t difficult. The two of them walked out of the castle through a secret passage. Arryk had been waiting for a long time, his cold face making Nettles feel uncomfortable.

Bang!

After a long time, the secret door closed. Arryk’s expression was stern, contemplating how to warn the Prince against such actions in the future. He was now the personal Kingsguard of the heir to the throne, a position of great importance, as his brother Erryk had previously protected the young king.

Baelon was still recalling the image of Nettles being crammed into a crate and carried on a boat to be smuggled into King's Landing. It was a very inspiring decision, much like Baela training hard with the crossbow, constantly striving to improve.

Baelon took a deep breath and made his decision, paying attention to Arryk’s gaze. “Ser Arryk.”

“What is your command?” Arryk asked, his expression serious.

Baelon looked up and said, “Starting tomorrow, you'll teach me how to practice martial arts.”

Just like Ser Cole had taught Uncle Aemond. Arryk was filled with a sense of honor at the news, and without hesitation, he said, “No problem!”

He paused, then reminded Baelon, “We should go to bed early so we can get up early for morning practice tomorrow.”

Arryk had taken on the responsibility of a fencing teacher. Baelon nodded and added, “We’ll have to get up early tomorrow and check on Maekar. He was really scared today.”

Arryk, who never said no, responded decisively, “I’ll speak to Ser Steffon tomorrow and take you to see Prince Maekar.”

Baelon tilted his head. “Ser Steffon?”

...

The Scene Shifts

“Ser Steffon, you mustn’t run around.”

At the Bronze Gate of the Dragonpit, Maekar slipped through the open gate, turning to give the Kingsguard, who was holding a horse, a few last words of advice.

Steffon, his face dark with fatigue, tied up the horse and followed the Prince in silence.

Seven hells! Why did he have to go through this? He had been on patrol all night and worked overtime during the day. Finally, when evening came, the little Prince insisted on going to the Dragonpit.

Steffon sighed inwardly, rubbing his swollen, dark-circled eyes. His already mature face looked even more weathered.

Maekar, seeing the Kingsguard following him, scrunched up his face and entered the Dragonpit first.

...

Inside the Dragonpit

“Roar...”

A young emerald dragon climbed the iron bridge on the roof, roaring at the full moon. Maekar, with his short legs, looked up in awe at the dragon above him.

“Prince!”

Suddenly, a greeting sounded from the side. Maekar was startled, his face turning pale.

Maester Maynard of the Dragonpit stood nearby, his pale face showing signs of humility. “What brings you here at this late hour?”

Maekar, recognizing the man, patted his chest in relief. “Maynard, you scared me.”

Maynard, the head of the Dragonpit and a long-time acquaintance, looked apologetic. “It's getting late. Is the little Prince out to see the dragons at night?”

“Yes!” Maekar replied, looking around at the empty, dark surroundings. “I want to see the young dragons without owners.”

Having lost his dragon egg, Maekar was determined to tame a baby dragon.

Maynard hesitated for a moment but reluctantly agreed. “I'll show you around, but then you have to go back to bed.”

“Okay!” Maekar agreed eagerly.

At this point, Ser Steffon, looking exhausted, arrived. Maynard nodded respectfully to the White Knight and ordered the Dragonkeeper on duty to bring the young dragons.

Currently, the Dragonpit housed several young dragons. There were the Trickster, Moondancer, and Morning, all with owners, and three unowned dragons with bad tempers.

“Roar!”

“Roar!”

Suddenly, two different roars echoed throughout the Dragonpit.

Hoo-hoo!

Maekar looked up to see a silvery dragon emerge, shining in the moonlight like a crystal carving. The Dragonkeeper ran out, clutching a staff, soothing the restless young dragon in High Valyrian.

Before Maekar could take in the sight, the moon was obscured by a pair of scarlet wings.

“Roar!”

Like the deep black of the night, Dragonfire cut through the sky. Thick, pungent smoke filled the air, burning the already old walls. In the blink of an eye, a young dragon with black scales and blood-red dorsal fins and wing membranes burst out.

“Bloodwing, be quiet!”

The old Dragonkeeper, his face calm, slowly approached with a bamboo staff in hand.

“Roar!”

Iragaxys roared, the chains on its neck and hind legs rattling as the furious dragon struggled against its restraints, creating a scene of chaos.

“Prince, get back!” Steffon’s spirit lifted as he quickly covered Maekar, retreating with him.

Maekar didn’t resist, hiding under Steffon’s white robe while watching with wide eyes.

Creak, creak...

The shadow of the silver dragon crashed into the wall, its claws piercing the stone and revealing its true form: a young dragon with a silvery white body and a lithe posture. Its golden pupils contracted, fixed on the black dragon below.

The Dragonkeeper struck his staff and spoke soothingly, “Stormcloud, return to the nest.”

“Roar!”

Stormcloud obediently jumped to the floor, confronting Iragaxys from a distance of several dozen meters. Iragaxys's pupils were cold and unemotional, thin streams of Dragonfire escaping its snout. It crouched, ready to fight.

The two young dragons, one silver and one black, both had violent temperaments. Whenever they met, there was a risk of losing control.

Maynard hobbled over, introducing them one by one, “That’s Stormcloud, a hatchling from Dragonstone.”

Maekar chimed in immediately, “That one is Iragaxys, the young dragon my father caught. It’s the most ill-tempered dragon in the Dragonpit.”

Maynard was momentarily stunned and then laughed helplessly, “That’s right.”

"Roar!" “Roar!”

The two young dragons continued their standoff, their arrogance growing. Stormcloud was older, over ten meters in length, and had officially entered sub-adulthood. Iragaxys, who spent most of its time in the dungeon, grew even faster and was now about the same size as Stormcloud.

Maynard crouched down and said with concern, “Prince, the two young dragons are dangerous. You should go back to the Red Keep.”

The two dragons, full of fighting spirit, were indifferent to the Dragonkeepers, but Maekar was still young, and even a small scratch could be significant.

Maekar held Ser Steffon’s white robe tightly, his eyes flicking back and forth between Stormcloud and Iragaxys. He shook his head. “There’s another dragon. I want to see that one.”

“Are you sure? That dragon is still sleeping.” Maynard groaned.

Maekar nodded vigorously, “I don’t want to miss it.”

The two young dragons in front of him were too restless to pay him any attention. His intuition told him there was a more suitable young dragon waiting for him.