Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 515: Fooling Daemon

Chapter 515: Fooling Daemon

Tyrosh

Prince's Palace, Water Bridge.

A graceful figure stopped by the bridge, gazing down at the calm surface of the water. The bridge, the first in Tyrosh, spanned the estuary from east to west. The Prince's Palace, located on the east side of the bridge, was flanked by green willows, all completed during the reign of the new prince.

Plop!

The figure threw a small stone, causing ripples to spread across the calm water. Mysaria sighed and placed her pale hand on the Dragonstone fence.

From afar, her appearance was striking. She wore a long dress with a floral pattern on a blue background, and a thin, snow-white neck wrapped in a silk scarf, covering as much of her pale skin as possible. Because of her skin color, she was called the “White Worm.” She stood alone by the bridge, lamenting the unpredictability of fate.

Behind her, she heard a familiar sound of footsteps—steady and powerful. Mysaria turned her head slightly and saw Daemon, dressed in black.

“You're here again. You're wasting your time as a mistress,” Daemon said calmly, leaning against the railing of the bridge, observing his mistress's changing moods.

Mysaria turned her head away in disgust, her emotions running high. "I want to be left alone. Don't make things difficult for the others."

"Don't think so badly of me," Daemon leaned forward, his voice carrying a hint of meaning. "Why is that? Why have you suddenly changed so much, as if you were a different person?"

Mysaria felt a surge of helplessness at his pointless question. "Who leaked the news of my pregnancy?"

After her first unexpected miscarriage, she had broken up with Daemon. In the years that followed, they maintained a business relationship. She also had contact with Otto Hightower, playing both sides to her advantage, which allowed her to buy her first house and stone building in the flea bottom.

When Daemon conquered Tyrosh, he approached her again, asking her to become the Master of Whisperers. The reason she had broken with Daemon in the first place was that he didn't have a stable position and was at the mercy of his brother, the king.

But now, Daemon was the Prince of Tyrosh, and she was naturally willing to join him. Their relationship was rekindled, and after years of hard work, they confirmed she was pregnant a few months ago. However, she didn't want the news to get out so quickly.

Daemon looked away from her questioning gaze and admitted, "I'm the one who leaked the news."

Mysaria's careful efforts to keep her pregnancy secret had been for naught. Infuriated, she raised her voice, "Daemon, I'm just your mistress. Have you ever thought about me?!"

Who was she? A foreign dancer, once a prostitute and an intelligence agent, with a background as lowly as could be. In contrast, Daemon's original wife was the only daughter of the most powerful lord of Driftmark and a rider of the great dragon Vhagar. In Daemon's circles, he was the highest-ranking presence. Laena was close friends with the current queen, with the entire House Velaryon and its allies behind her. What could Mysaria possibly compete with?

Daemon was silent for a moment, clearly understanding the weight of her words.

Mysaria was furious, grinding her teeth. “Why didn't you wait until my baby was stable and everything was settled before you spread the news?”

Once she gave birth to a son, he would immediately be the next heir to Tyrosh. How could Laena and her family tolerate this? She was just a commoner, without the protection of a dragon or high status, vulnerable to any assassin.

“Unmarried and pregnant, the child would be a bastard,” Daemon said, leaning his head to the side, resting his elbows on the fence. “I had to spread the news first, and then I'll marry you in a dignified manner.”

For years, he had slept with many women, even delaying Tyrosh's development, earning a bad reputation. Of course, his reputation wasn’t any better in the past—Prince of the City, Rogue Prince, Lord Flea Bottom.

But that was when he was the second son and couldn’t change his situation. He didn’t care what others thought, enjoying life to the fullest. It was not a different from a kind of self-deception.

Today, he ruled Tyrosh, one of the nine Free Cities. As the bloodline of Baelon, The Spring Prince, he had established another branch of the Targaryens. In the past, he had no chance, but now he had one. He had to prove to his brother, nephew, and parents, who favored his brother, that he could do better.

Daemon Targaryen did not make things worse. He only pretended to be a failure, but he was actually more capable of greatness than his brother. For this reason, a qualified successor was the most important thing in his grand plan.

Seeing Daemon so confident, Mysaria felt a sharp pain in her heart and was unable to speak for a moment. Daemon saw this and said seriously, "You and the child will be safe. I won't give in."

"Then you should marry me immediately and give me a title!" Mysaria breathed heavily and used the opportunity to make her request.

Daemon had already anticipated this and said calmly, “I'm already planning a wedding, so don't worry about the status of your name.”

His brother had given him special privileges before he abdicated. Even his good nephew Rhaegar could not go against it.

Mysaria was still not satisfied and emphasized, “I said right away, a ceremony, a wedding room.”

A formal wedding takes at least a month to organize. She was afraid that there would be more complications.

Daemon frowned and said coldly, “I am a prince, not a poor boy from Flea Bottom. I don’t have to hide when I marry a woman.”

“But I'm a prostitute,” Mysaria shot back angrily, revealing her background. “Your whims will drag me into danger.”

She was a third party who had risen to power. If she didn't act in secret, she would be suffocated in her sleep. The lower one's social status, the more sensitive one's sense of danger. Mysaria could feel countless pairs of eyes staring at her. It was Daemon who had exposed her, the White Worm, to the public.

Daemon, annoyed by the argument, said with great patience, “Then you should also understand that after marrying me, you are no longer a lowly prostitute.”

He didn't care about a woman's background, but his children could not be humiliated because of it. No matter how lowly a worm is, if it hides under the protection of a dragon, no vulture or hyena will dare to look at it.

“Forget it. You and I don't see eye to eye.” Mysaria sighed again, truly wanting to leave. When the baby was born safely, she would come out from the dark.

Daemon ignored her and leaned against the edge of the bridge, quietly watching the boats of all sizes coming and going on both sides. The two of them didn't speak for a while.

Mysaria, feeling uncomfortable, took a deep breath. “I want to be alone. Do you have anything else to do?”

Daemon glanced at her sideways and said bluntly, “Waiting for someone.”

“Who is coming?” Mysaria's eyes instantly sharpened, and she became extremely alert.

Daemon opened his mouth, just about to answer.

Whoosh!

A gust of wind with an ash-like smell swept through the sky, blocking his words. Daemon looked up and said lightly, “They’re here!”

As soon as he finished speaking,

Roar!

A pair of black dragon wings slowly enveloped the harbor, each flap sending a wave of searing heat through his clothes.

Mysaria's eyes widened in surprise, and she almost dropped her jaw.

“Cannibal, land!” A cold voice echoed, like a drop of jade falling on a plate.

The black dragon circled the sky once, then slowly landed at the end of the gangway. But that wasn’t the end.

“Roar…”

A slightly smaller pale blue dragon leisurely flew over, like a blue sky spirit, lowering its body gracefully.

When the two dragons landed, Mysaria finally recovered from the shock. She had seen dragons before. She had even had the pleasure of riding with Daemon's in Caraxes.

But dragons as large as the Cannibal and Dreamfyre, she had only seen in the shadows when Laena ran to Tyrosh to question Daemon.

Mysaria took a deep breath and said with emotion, “I heard in my early years that Your Grace on the Iron Throne tamed the world's largest wild dragon when he was young. It is truly worthy of his reputation.”

In her former life, she was too lowly to have the chance to see it.

“Let's go. I'll show you around.” Daemon's mouth curled up slightly, and he was looking forward to the purpose of his nephew's visit.

...

A few minutes later, Rhaegar and Daemon met at the end of the bridge.

Rhaegar stood tall, his long silver-gold hair flowing naturally, his purple eyes surveying the scene with an air of calm authority. Daemon, holding the hilt of his sword at his side with one hand, looked up at his nephew with a calm and collected expression.

Neither spoke at first, and the atmosphere grew so tense that it was hard to breathe.

Mysaria, wrapped in a silk shawl, stood quietly behind Daemon, watching the two men as they faced each other.

Noble. Arrogant. Not just noble, but arrogant to the extreme. It was a trait that came from their otherworldly bloodline and unyielding spirit.

In contrast, Helaena stood next to Rhaegar, occasionally straightening her pleated skirt or looking down to pick at dirt from under her fingernails. The confrontation between uncle and nephew? She didn't care and didn't even seem to notice it.

Finally, the stalemate was broken.

Rhaegar's lips curled up in a smile, remaining silent. Daemon sighed in resignation, and with evident reluctance, knelt down and bowed, saying, “Your Grace.”

As he spoke, he raised his head high and looked straight into his nephew's eyes. This was his last show of defiance.

Rhaegar immediately smiled and reached out to help his uncle up. “Don't worry about the formalities.”

“Heh,” Daemon snorted, clearly not buying his nephew's words.

Rhaegar, suppressing his uncle's arrogance as usual, went straight to the point: “I heard you're getting married.”

He looked sideways at Mysaria, sizing her up. “Is this Lady Mysaria?”

A closer look revealed she was a striking woman. Her hair was tied up at the back of her head, her figure was slender and charming, and her pale skin added to the allure of a delicate beauty.

Just standing there, without explaining her background, she exuded a more noble temperament than the average lady.

Feeling the king's gaze, Mysaria forced herself to remain calm and gave Daemon a secretive glance.

Rhaegar withdrew his gaze and waved his hand dismissively, “Don’t be nervous, I have no ill will.”

He was merely curious about the woman who had captivated his uncle and even driven him to steal a dragon egg. Seeing her today, he couldn’t help but draw a parallel to Lys’s Black Swan. Perhaps both women had risen from humble beginnings to their current status through their own resourcefulness.

Daemon, with a stern expression, declared possessively, “She is pregnant with my child. I want to marry her.”

It was as if he feared his good nephew would disrupt his plans.

Rhaegar smiled reassuringly. “It doesn't matter who you marry. My father made an exception for you, and I have no objection.”

After all, marrying the White Worm didn't betray his father's plan of solidifying the royal family's absolute rule.

Daemon's eyes narrowed as he pressed, “Then what is your purpose in coming to Tyrosh?”

He couldn't imagine any reason beyond the marriage.

“Smoking Sea,” Rhaegar responded, his tone serious. “Volantis and Slaver's Bay intend to disrupt the order of the Disputed Lands. I plan to take this opportunity to send troops and reintegrate Volantis and the Smoking Sea into the territory of ancient Valyria.”

Volantis and Slaver's Bay were not the primary concerns. It was the wild young dragons of the Smoking Sea, the ancestral lands of the Lands of the Long Summer, and the dragon horn that haunted his dreams that mattered.

Daemon's vigilance began to fade as he processed the new enemy: “The Tiger Party and Elephant Party in Volantis are allied, and there are remnants of the Triarchy in Slaver's Bay.”

“You, me, and Helaena are enough to end the war,” Rhaegar said confidently, speaking for Helaena as well. “The Smoking Sea is dangerous. After we take Volantis, you and I will explore it together.”

“How will the spoils be divided?” Daemon asked directly, not hesitating to seek his share of the benefits.

Rhaegar was prepared. “House Velaryon's fleet will accompany us. The royal family will get 50% of the harvest, and I will claim all the special items.”

“That’s too much,” Daemon objected, frowning at the mention of special items.

Rhaegar’s expression remained unchanged as he raised a finger. “If we capture a young dragon, you will have priority in taming it for your descendants.”

Taming a young dragon was always easier than hatching an egg.

Daemon considered this and then added his condition, “I want you to suppress Rhaenyra and not interfere with my plans.”

“I’ll do my best,” Rhaegar replied smoothly, knowing full well the implications. Suppressing Rhaenyra was out of the question; he had planned to be the one pulling the strings from the start.

Dear Uncle, you are the pioneer of this power struggle, he thought, a faint smile playing on his lips.