Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 611: Baelon and Silverwing

The meeting was drawing to a close. The advisers filed out, each lost in their own thoughts.

"Lord Corlys," Rhaegar called out, smiling at the striding figure at the front of the line.

The Sea Snake paused, puzzled. "Yes, Your Grace?"

"Let's talk for a moment. It's about the Stepstones." Rhaegar waved his hand, signaling for the other advisers to leave them.

Sea Snake frowned but followed dutifully. In no time, they came to a halt around the corner. Rhaegar's smile faded, and he got straight to the point. "Peace reigns in the Seven Kingdoms, but not in Essos and Sothoryos, where bandits and pirates are everywhere."

"Trees attract wind. It's a natural phenomenon," Sea Snake replied, drawing on his vast experience with political struggles. "When you're on the edge of the Storm, you have to be prepared at all times."

The world had changed beyond recognition. Westeros was united, with the Seven Kingdoms now pledging allegiance to House Targaryen. House Targaryen also controlled the Narrow Sea coast and the Forest of Qohor in the heart of Essos. Yet, the kingdom’s power made it a target.

The Free Cities, led by Braavos, had formed an alliance, slandering House Targaryen and inciting the people of Essos to rise against the ancient Valyrian Dragonlords who once enslaved them. Meanwhile, the continent of Sothoryos remained a barbaric land where the remnants of the Triarchy had rebuilt the Three Cities Alliance. If left unchecked, they too could become a serious threat.

Rhaegar saw the entire picture clearly and didn't hesitate to point out the dangers. "Aegon wrote to me that a group of pirates has risen in the Stepstones, likely mercenaries from the remnants of the Triarchy."

The Triarchy had been torn apart by internal strife, with the powerful and wealthy at odds with the slave owners and mercenaries. The sellswords, uninterested in rebuilding cities that weren’t theirs, had plundered ships and wealth before fleeing to the Stepstones, where they caused trouble. Their location was advantageous, stuck between the Narrow Sea and the only passage to Sothoryos, ensuring they could always find enough to sustain themselves.

Rhaegar's voice hardened. "I won't tolerate anyone acting recklessly in my territory. Their presence has seriously affected maritime trade."

"I want you to command the fleet of House Velaryon and regularly clear them out."

The Sea Snake regained his composure. "No problem, Your Grace."

He would send Addam to deal with the threat and prove to the world that House Velaryon was still formidable. That little red Kraken was nothing but a flash in the pan.

Rhaegar smiled slightly and offered his support. "Call Daeron. His dragon is ready for battle."

"Yes, Your Grace." The Sea Snake allowed himself a smile at the mention of 'bold Daeron' and gladly accepted the king's goodwill.

After losing his son and daughter, House Velaryon had fallen from power. But thanks to his granddaughter Rhaena and Daeron, the Cupbearer, the two young dragonriders had kept the family's name alive. Velaryon had proved it was still relevant to the kingdom.

...

Midday had passed.

In the Dragonpit, sunlight streamed through the drawbridge, casting diamond-shaped slivers of light across the magnificent hall. The Dragonkeepers, serious-faced and disciplined, stood in two rows, each holding a bamboo staff.

Baelon stood at the center, his head held high with pride. Behind him, a boy and a girl stood on either side, both with silver hair and purple eyes. Their fair, innocent faces suggested they were no more than three or four years old.

A low rumble echoed through the hall. As the Dragonkeepers began their hoarse chanting, a dull thud resonated from one of the dragon pits. The pit itself was dark and gloomy, with the vague outline of something massive looming indistinctly within.

Baelon stared straight ahead, holding his breath.

Boom.

The ground trembled slightly, like the beat of a heavy drum.

"It’s here." Baelon’s body tensed as he saw the slender, horned crown emerge from the shadows, reminiscent of his mother’s dragon, Syrax. A large, powerful wing extended, gripping the Dragonstone floor.

“Brother...” The girl's voice trembled as tears welled in her eyes. She clung to the boy next to her, sobbing. The boy’s small mouth quivered, and he couldn’t hold back any longer. The next moment, the siblings, who looked nearly identical, broke down, hugging each other and crying hoarsely.

Baelon, at this moment:...

"Roar..." The dragon, halfway emerged, paused suspiciously as if sensing the children's distress.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, Daddy’s here!” Aegon suddenly appeared, scooping up the two precious children in his arms.

"Woohoo..." The siblings wept, burying their faces in their father’s chest as they wiped away their tears.

Baelon, stunned and frustrated, accused, “Uncle, you’re disturbing me.”

The three siblings were supposed to see dragons, and the one capable enough would tame it. But now...

“Tough luck, eldest nephew,” Aegon said, his face thick with an almost comical smugness. “I can’t just let them cry, can I?”

“You...” Baelon was momentarily speechless, angered by his uncle’s brazenness.

While the uncle and nephew exchanged words, Rhaenyra approached gracefully, interrupting. "Pay no attention to him. Idiots will drag your intelligence down to their level." She had just dismounted from her dragon and was dressed in a black, scale-like dragon-riding suit. Her silver braids tied back, she exuded a heroic air of competence.

“Fine,” Baelon muttered, lowering his head. Looking at his childish, giggling uncle, he added helplessly, “You’re right. He’ll still outmaneuver me with his tricks.”

Rhaenyra smiled. "Silverwing is a good choice. Have you made up your mind?"

Baelon was momentarily speechless.

“Roar!” The long-awaited Silverwing finally emerged from the dragon pit, its two pairs of backward-extending horns towering high. The dragon let out an annoyed roar at the crowd.

Covered in emerald green scales, with two sturdy silver-gray wing membranes, Silverwing’s fearsome head tilted upwards like a mountain. The dragon bore the marks of many battles—dents on its neck and a broken horn—but despite the scars, its silver-gray wings remained in perfect condition, exuding a sense of majestic, ruined beauty.

Baelon was mesmerized, struggling to find the words to refuse. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been lured by his good uncle Aegon to tame the dragon.

“I have to go. I can’t stay until the end of the banquet,” Aegon said with a grin. He kissed the pair of children in his arms and beamed, “Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, say goodbye to everyone.”

“Bye...” The two little ones obediently waved their hands as they nestled in their father’s arms.

“Good boy, you’re so clever.” Aegon, whether anyone responded or not, joyfully carried his children out of the hall.

Rhaenyra sighed, placing a hand on her forehead, too weary to pay her half-brother any more attention. He let the Stepstones go unmanaged, spending his days indulging in pleasures with his wife and children.

The children bore the Targaryen name, born of Aegon and his concubine Daena. Though Rhaegar refused to acknowledge Daena’s illegitimate dragonlord surname, it didn’t change the fact that the two children were half Targaryen and half Aethyrys.

It was an unconventional marriage that had brought fresh blood into the family.

...

Red Keep, Council Hall.

Rhaenyra, still clad in her dragon rider's attire, arrived with Baelon.

Creak.

The door swung open from the inside, and Tyland stepped out carefully, his meticulously combed golden hair gleaming in the light. He maintained a polite smile but didn’t forget to turn back and remind, “Your Grace, I will inform Prince Aegon that he should accompany me to Slaver's Bay.”

“Lord Tyland?” Baelon greeted, curious. "What are you doing in Slaver's Bay?"

Tyland then noticed the Queen and the Heir Prince. He hurriedly bowed, smiling sheepishly. “Nothing, just... fighting crime.”

“I see,” Baelon replied, deciding not to press further. He then added, “When you return to Volantis, give Maekar my regards.”

Baelon’s younger brother was far away overseas, and Tyland rarely had the chance to see him.

Tyland’s expression suddenly grew serious. “I will make sure he gets the message.”

With that, Tyland departed, a relieved look on his face. After the morning meeting, overseas advisers like him and Otto would have to take the ship back, a far more comfortable journey than remaining in King's Landing.

“Stop staring; your father is getting anxious,” Rhaenyra said, gently ruffling her eldest son's hair. She suddenly realized he had grown to chest height. As a teen, he was even sturdier than Rhaegar had been at the same age, a testament to his exceptional talent.

...

Entering the council hall, Rhaenyra's eyes were drawn to the striking red carpet from Lys that covered much of the room.

“Mother!” A little girl with silver braids sat on the carpet, dropping her toy in surprise.

A soft thud followed as a white-haired child tumbled onto the carpet.

“Owwww!”

The baby, just one year old and still teething, had fallen and rolled over, her wide eyes filled with confusion.

“Visenya, what are you doing?” Rhaenyra’s eyelids twitched as she quickly scooped up the dazed baby, brushing the dust from her tiny white clothes.

Rhaegar, seated behind his desk, couldn't help but shake his head at the scene. His third daughter had inherited Rhaenyra’s delicate beauty but, unexpectedly, had also inherited—and perhaps even surpassed—her mother’s spirited personality. She was a bit too rough around the edges.

Visenya got up, patted the dust off her hands, and grinned. “Aegor is so sturdy, and he already knows how to call me sister.”

She then reached for the ‘toy’ her brother had dropped and expertly cradled him in her arms.

“Ooh...” Little Aegor’s eyes widened as he struggled weakly.

“Oww!” Visenya opened her mouth wide and playfully nibbled on her brother’s tender cheek, enjoying the sensation of her teeth grazing his soft skin. She was careful not to go too far, leaving his face only reddened, with no lasting marks.

Rhaenyra couldn’t bear to watch any longer. She guided her youngest daughter to a corner and glared at Rhaegar. “You’re too indulgent with her.”

“Ahem...” Rhaegar coughed to hide his embarrassment and joked, “That’s not so bad. When Aegor grows up, he’ll definitely respect his sister.”

“That’s not funny. Aegor will be terrified.”

Rhaenyra crossed her arms, looking ready to reprimand him. Rhaegar’s smile faded slightly under her gaze.

"You’re not helping. A three-year-old and a one-year-old—they won’t understand reason."

“I don’t want to deal with you,” Rhaenyra muttered, rolling her eyes, but then she broke into a smile. She moved closer, opened her arms, and hugged her brother, whom she hadn’t seen in a while.

Rhaegar, full of questions, couldn’t help but ask, “Are we done?”

“Yes, Qohor has all the supplies it needs,” Rhaenyra replied, now at ease. She sat sideways on his lap, wrapped an arm around his neck, and beamed. “Baelon contacted Silverwing. The female dragon is very fierce.”

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