Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 588: Your Mother Must Have Been a Beauty

Chapter 588: Your Mother Must Have Been a Beauty

“What did you discover on your trip to Sothoryos?” Rhaenyra asked, lowering her gaze and shifting the conversation.

“Fortunately, we encountered an old dragon,” Rhaegar replied, catching her intent and smiling. “If the opportunity arises, the children could try to tame it.”

The 300-year-old Uragax, a wild dragon without a rider, had honed its skills in both combat and survival over centuries. Capturing it had been no small feat; only the Cannibal's superior abilities had made it possible.

“There really is a wild dragon?” Rhaenyra’s eyes reddened, her voice thick with emotion. But as a mother, her thoughts immediately turned to her eldest son, Baelon, who had long desired an adult dragon of his own.

“Mm-hmm,” Rhaegar said, his chin lifting with pride. Adding an adult dragon to the House, one with the potential for a long life, felt even more significant than conquering a new territory.

Rhaenyra couldn’t help but laugh at his proud expression.

“Ooh~~”

Visenya stirred, shifting her position in her sleep. Rhaenyra glanced at her daughter and chuckled. “She doesn’t look like a dragon at all—more like a little piglet.”

“You’ll have to deal with that later,” Rhaegar said with a grin, propping his chin on one hand as he watched his daughter sleep. She had inherited her mother’s grace. He remembered how, as a child, he had nearly been smothered beneath those long, supple legs.

Rhaenyra sat down beside him, the dragon-taming whip still in her hands. After a moment of contemplation, she spoke abruptly. “If you’re planning to leave, you should call Baelon back.”

“Why?” Rhaegar frowned slightly.

Rhaenyra’s expression was serious. “He’s your eldest son. With you away, it’s only right that I take care of him.”

She had been opposed to Baelon’s departure for Myr from the start, and now seemed like the perfect time to bring him home.

“No,” Rhaegar replied firmly.

Rhaenyra looked puzzled, not understanding his refusal.

Rhaegar shook his head before explaining, “He’s better off in Myr than in King’s Landing or Lys.”

Baelon was growing up, and it was time for him to learn and mature away from home, whether he ended up with a dragon or not. Maekar was thriving in Volantis, as Tyland, his adviser, had reported. Baelon, as his eldest son and heir to the Iron Throne, needed to set an example—especially since his siblings all had dragons, and he did not. Proving himself elsewhere would strengthen his authority and earn the respect of his siblings.

Rhaenyra, less strategic in her thinking, countered, “He could learn from me.”

“No!” Rhaegar’s tone was unyielding. He had known Rhaenyra since childhood and understood her well. While she could raise a good son, she might not be able to nurture a strong heir.

He had already made arrangements: Jeyne would oversee Myr, with Baelon and his sister Daenerys under her care. With Jeyne’s iron-fisted rule over the Vale, there was no one better suited to guide and serve as a role model for the children.

"Why?" Rhaenyra demanded, her voice tinged with indignation.

Rhaegar remained silent. He couldn’t tell her that he doubted her abilities or that he was entrusting their eldest son to Jeyne’s care instead. If he did, there would be no peace between them.

“Rhaegar, you’re always so high and mighty,” Rhaenyra muttered, her fingers absently stroking the pendant around her neck as she struggled to suppress her rising temper. The discussion about the children had shattered the fragile harmony between them.

Rhaenyra bit her lower lip and sat down beside him. Rhaegar remained motionless, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.

Rhaenyra closed her eyes, gently leaning her head against his chest, trying to find a comfortable position to snuggle in. They hadn’t seen each other for a long time and would soon part again. She wanted to bridge the growing distance between them.

But Rhaegar felt uneasy, as if ants were crawling all over his skin. He leaned back slightly, but Rhaenyra stopped him with a gentle hand.

“Rhaegar~~” she murmured, deliberately softening her tone as she rested her forehead against his neck.

“Ahem!” Rhaegar’s face flushed with discomfort, and he abruptly stood up. Rhaenyra, caught off guard, blinked in surprise.

“You should rest. I’ll head down to the harbor and check on things. The Sea Snake should be arriving soon,” Rhaegar said, taking a deep breath before turning to leave.

He didn’t fully understand why he felt this way—whether it was his exhaustion, the lingering tension from their last argument, or something else. But with Rhaenyra so close, he couldn’t relax. He didn’t want to continue this delicate dance of closeness and distance.

Bang!

The door closed behind him, and Rhaenyra was left in stunned silence. Tears welled up in her eyes as she clutched the pendant in her hand, her mind racing. She had never been treated like this before. For the first time, she felt a deep, chilling loneliness.

...

It was early in the morning.

"Woof, woof~~"

Rhaegar was abruptly awakened by a wet, slobbery sensation on his face.

“What in the—?” he mumbled, groggy and half-asleep, as he opened his eyes to find a small black dog playfully jumping around him. Rhaegar sat up, disoriented, realizing he was covered in thick hay. He glanced around and saw that he was in a relatively clean stable.

“Sshhhh…”

Rhaegar took a moment to gather his thoughts, trying to remember how he ended up here. Then it hit him—he, the king of a great kingdom, had fallen asleep in a stable.

“Shame on you,” he muttered to himself, rubbing his forehead as he staggered out of the low-ceilinged room.

As soon as he stepped outside, a familiar figure came into view. Before Rhaegar could speak, the other person beat him to it.

Aemond leaned casually against a horse post, a playful smile on his face. “I didn’t expect your tastes to change so quickly.”

Rhaegar shot him a cold look, his expression a mix of irritation and embarrassment. “If you have something to say, say it. If not, get out of here.”

Aemond's grin widened, his words dripping with mockery. “I heard that someone got kicked out of the palace and had to sleep on the streets for days when they first arrived.”

Rhaegar’s glare intensified, but he remained silent, refusing to dignify the taunt with a response.

Aemond, emboldened by Rhaegar’s silence, continued, “But honestly, I don’t blame you. If it were me, I’d rather sleep with an animal than that stupid woman.”

Bang!

Before he could finish, Rhaegar’s fist crashed into Aemond’s face like a hammer. With a dark expression, Rhaegar grabbed Aemond by the back of the head and slammed him against the horse post. “If you talk nonsense again, I’ll rip out your tongue,” he warned, his voice deadly serious.

Aemond winced in pain, blood trickling from his mouth. The blow had stunned him, reminding him of Rhaegar's formidable strength.

Rhaegar released him, letting him fall into the hay. “You’re here, so don’t make things difficult,” he growled.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Aemond replied, the fight knocked out of him. He struggled to his feet, sighing in resignation. “When do we leave?”

“You’re not going,” Rhaegar said flatly, not even bothering to look up as he scooped water from a nearby sink to drink.

“Helaena told me to go with you to explore the Smoking Sea,” Aemond insisted, his tone shifting to seriousness.

Rhaegar splashed some water on his face, then reached out to pat Aemond’s shoulder. “You stay. The House needs a Warden,” he said, his voice firm.

Aemond watched as Rhaegar wiped his wet hand on his shoulder, then sighed, “I should go with you to the Smoking Sea.”

Rhaegar withdrew his hand and asked pointedly, “If I go, how many dragons does the House have left?”

Aemond frowned, about to respond, but then paused, realizing the implications. There were many dragon riders in the family, but not enough to leave their holdings unprotected. Laena and Helaena were pregnant, their dragons temporarily grounded. Sunfyre was seriously injured, and Aegon had gone to Harrenhal for his honeymoon. Syrax and Tessarion were hardly worth mentioning in battle. If Rhaegar and Aemond both left, only Daemon and Rhaenys would remain to defend their territories.

Reading Aemond’s thoughts, Rhaegar added, “Aunt Rhaenys has sent word that Daemon will join us.”

That would leave only Meleys, the sole remaining adult dragon.

Aemond’s expression darkened, the weight of responsibility settling heavily on him. He realized that the Targaryen holdings on both sides of the Narrow Sea needed at least two full-grown dragons to ensure their safety.

“Aemond, the House needs a Warden for now,” Rhaegar said, his voice firm as he slammed his fist into Aemond’s chest. “I want you to swear that you will serve my eldest son, now and in the future.”

Rhaegar knew that, despite his confidence, anything could happen on the Smoking Sea. He couldn’t afford to leave things to chance.

Aemond remained silent, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

Rhaegar's gaze was deep and unwavering. "Swear your loyalty to Baelon. If you break this oath, your fire will be extinguished in the darkness."

“I swear...” Aemond’s single eye, dark and inscrutable, met Rhaegar’s. “If I break my oath, my fire will go out in the darkness.”

“Very well.” Rhaegar smiled, then reached into his robe and withdrew a stone tablet, placing it in Aemond’s hands. Aemond looked down at it, noting several lines of High Valyrian script. The first two words translated to “Bronze.”

A spark of interest lit in Aemond’s eye as he carefully studied the tablet.

“You’re already proficient in binding spells,” Rhaegar remarked, his tone light but encouraging. “You’ll master the rune system quickly.”

Among their siblings, after Rhaenyra and Helaena, Daeron had been the third to learn the “Bronze” rune. But with the shifting circumstances, it was now time to teach Aegon and Aemond as well.

“Thank you,” Aemond murmured, turning his head to express his gratitude.

Suddenly, a deafening roar echoed across Lys, reverberating for miles.

“Roar...”

A massive, scarlet, snake-like creature soared through the clouds, hovering above the city. Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm.

Rhaegar’s words faltered as he looked up, his eyes narrowing at the sight.

“Land, Caraxes!” A figure atop the dragon commanded with a sardonic smile, his arms outstretched to the wind.

"Roar!"

Caraxes unleashed a torrent of Dragonfire, descending with a dramatic flare. With a loud pop, the dragon landed before the people of Lys, flames still licking around it. From within the scarlet blaze, a man and his dragon emerged, striding forward with ostentatious confidence.

Only Rhaegar saw what lay beneath the display. Daemon’s spirit had transformed, brimming with renewed vitality.

“Dark Sister!” Aemond’s eye blazed with intensity as he noticed the sword strapped to Daemon’s back—the legendary blade of their House.

Rhaegar followed Aemond’s gaze, realizing for the first time that Daemon was indeed carrying the Dark Sister, the ancestral sword of House Targaryen.

...

The Harbor

The massive fleet of House Velaryon was docked, its sails furled and hulls creaking softly against the piers.

“Hurry up, and be careful with the crates,” Addam commanded, his brow furrowed as he directed the sailors unloading the cargo.

“Roar!”

A scarlet dragon suddenly swooped overhead, its roar piercing the air as its claws scraped against the solid stone floor of the harbor. The sailors glanced up in alarm, then collectively exhaled in relief.

Addam echoed their sentiments, muttering to himself, “Meleys...”

Bang!

Rhaenys, clad in black armor, dismounted from the dragon’s back with practiced ease. She removed her leather gloves and strode purposefully toward the young man who was watching her with a mix of admiration and awe.

“Princess!” Addam quickly bowed, not daring to meet her gaze.

Rhaenys waved a hand dismissively, her tone calm but commanding. “Look up. Let me take a good look at you.”

“Yes, Princess.” Addam hesitated briefly before lifting his head, revealing a young and handsome face.

Rhaenys paused, slightly taken aback by the resemblance to her husband. She reached out and gently touched his face, her expression softening with mixed emotions. “You have a distinctive face. Your mother must have been a beauty.”

Startled by her gesture, Addam quickly stepped back, careful not to overstep his bounds.

“Rhaenys!”

A deep voice called out from above. Sea Snake descended from the deck, his gaze briefly settling on Addam before turning to his wife. His expression was stern as he asked, “Have you finished your work?”

“Not yet, my lord.” Addam, sensing the shift in atmosphere, wisely withdrew from the scene.

The Sea Snake’s demeanor remained composed as he approached Rhaenys, his usual calmness masking whatever thoughts lay beneath.