Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day - Chapter 221: Lys’ Crisis

“What brings you here?” Rhaegar asked, suspicion in his voice.

Jeyne took a deep breath before she spoke. “Rhaenyra couldn’t get the troops together, could she?”

Rhaegar chuckled. “You always know, don’t you?”

“There are no secrets in King’s Landing,” Jeyne replied frankly, unafraid to displease him.

Rhaegar nodded, acknowledging the truth in her words.

“You want to counterattack the Triarchy, but your forces are inadequate,” Jeyne analyzed, her concern evident. “The Dragonkeepers have 1,200 men, and the Second Sons only a few hundred. Even without the King’s support, your influence should allow you to muster about 1,000 men.”

“That’s about three thousand men at best,” Rhaegar mused.

“Still far from enough to ensure the defense of Bloodstone Island,” Jeyne pointed out.

Rhaegar listened intently, recognizing the accuracy of her assessment. After a moment, he replied, “The Triarchy is a coalition of three city-states with scattered forces. They can be defeated.”

Jeyne took his hands in hers, her soft cheeks reflecting her concern. “Rhaegar, I am not here to dissuade you.”

Rhaegar braced himself. “Then what?”

Jeyne’s eyes flashed with determination. “I have brought two hundred Knights of the Vale to King’s Landing. Take them with you; they will strengthen your position.”

The evening sun cast a warm glow on the steps of the Dragonpit as Rhaegar’s gaze followed hers. At the foot of the steps stood two hundred fully armed Knights of the Vale.

“Prince!…” The knights shouted in unison, beating their spears against the ground in a resounding drumbeat.

Rhaegar was taken aback. “If you give me all the knights, who will protect you?”

“You need them more than I do,” Jeyne said firmly.

Rhaegar sighed, his concern palpable. “Jeyne, I may not bring them all back alive.”

Jeyne approached him, cupping his face in her hands, her voice soft but firm. “Just return with news of triumph.”

“You think I can win?” Rhaegar asked, doubting his own chances without his father’s support.

“You are a true Targaryen. You will win,” Jeyne replied with unwavering conviction, her eyes filled with affection.

Rhaegar’s breath hitched, his heart pounding. He recalled an old saying: understanding is the most important thing in love.

Jeyne moved even closer, their faces almost touching. She whispered, “You said we must follow our hearts. You can’t escape me.”

Rhaegar frowned slightly.

“Let go of your doubts,” Jeyne continued, more spontaneous than he expected. “You can marry both of us.”

She leaned in and kissed him deeply, their lips and teeth mingling in a tight embrace.

Moments later, Jeyne glanced at the Knights of the Vale and softly said to him, “Let’s go back to the Red Keep.”

Rhaegar, lost in thought, said in a hushed voice, “Alright then.”

…

The next day at dawn, delicate dewdrops clung to the tender buds outside.

Inside the bedroom, Rhaegar’s body was slick with sweat, his chest rising and falling violently. He slumped back in the rocking chair, his eyes unfocused.

“Rhaegar, it’s dawn,” came Jeyne’s slightly raspy but sticky voice.

She straddled the rocking chair, their bodies close together, her arms wrapped around his neck. Their sweat-soaked hair was tangled.

Rhaegar tilted his head back, sweat pouring into his eyes, his breath hot and labored. He was exhausted from their night together.

After a moment, he gently stroked Jeyne’s back and murmured, “You’re insatiable.”

Jeyne buried her head against his chest, inhaling deeply. “I can’t help it. I needed this too.”

Outside, she was known as the Maiden of the Vale, but in the privacy of their room, she had indulged fully in her desire for him.

After a few moments of tenderness, Rhaegar’s eyelids fluttered open.

Jeyne quickly lifted herself off him and said worriedly, “Rhaegar, you’re still young. Don’t exhaust yourself.”

Taking a deep breath, Rhaegar pulled away from their intimate embrace.

Jeyne was more than satisfied, but he knew he was an addict and had to restrain himself.

As he wiped the sweat from his body, Rhaegar said, “I’ll be leaving soon. Stay safe and don’t wander off alone in the Red Keep.”

“I’ll wait for your good news,” Jeyne replied, sinking back into the rocking chair, her eyelids heavy.

With a last look, Rhaegar left the room, the door closing behind him with a soft thud.

Despite her pain, Jeyne made her way to the bed, lay down and called softly, “Skylar, come here for a moment.”

The door creaked open, and a brown-haired girl entered.

Jeyne covered herself with a thin quilt, placed a goose feather pillow under her waist, and bent her legs to raise her hips. Once she was settled, she instructed, “Fetch me a cup of tea from Maester Mellos.”

“Yes, my lady,” Skylar replied, quickly returning with a tray holding a steaming cup of tea that smelled faintly medicinal.

Jeyne took the tea, blew on it, and drank it in one big gulp. As she finished, she noticed Skylar’s strange gaze.

Jeyne smiled at her maid, who had been in her service for a month. “It’s pregnancy tea. I don’t want any surprises.”

She wants her garden to bloom beautifully, but the soil isn’t ready for seeds just yet.

Skylar nodded and left with the tray.

Exhausted, Jeyne lay back on the bed and soon fell into a deep sleep.

…

Three days later, on Bloodstone Island, a warship anchored at the coastline as soldiers boarded in an orderly manner. Rhaegar, clad in armor, gazed out towards Essos.

“Rhaegar, you’re a mad fool for disobeying father’s orders!” Aegon ran up from behind, his voice sharp with anger.

Rhaegar turned to him and replied, “I’m leaving you 3,000 men to garrison Bloodstone Island. That should be enough.”

“Are you even listening to me?” Aegon shook his head, exasperated. “If father finds out you’re attacking Tyrosh with just two thousand men, he’ll kill me.”

Viserys’ orders had arrived two days earlier, but Rhaegar had mobilized only twelve hundred Dragonkeepers and six hundred Second Sons, plus two hundred Knights of the Vale, totaling exactly two thousand men.

Aegon received another order: Watch Rhaegar and stop him from leaving, or I’ll break your legs!

Aegon was still frantic when Laenor stomped up to the armorer. “Cousin, the ships are ready,” Laenor said, hesitating. “I can’t disobey the King’s orders, so I can only help you with cover and distraction against the Triarchy.”

Rhaegar had sent him 1,000 soldiers and 10 ships to approach the Triarchy. However, Laenor could not go into battle, only cause a disturbance at most.

Rhaegar patted his shoulder and laughed, “That’s enough.”

“Rhaegar, you’re really going to get me killed.” Aegon ran his hands through his hair, jumping up and down anxiously.

Rhaegar placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I will bear all the consequences myself. I won’t drag you down.”

Aegon still refused. Unable to persuade him, Rhaegar dragged him to a corner and said in a deep voice, “Aegon, you are my brother, father’s oldest son besides me.”

Aegon blinked, unsure.

Rhaegar leaned in close and whispered, “Guard Bloodstone Island well. If anything happens to me, you will have to shoulder the burden of protecting our family.”

“What?” Aegon’s eyes widened, thinking he had heard wrong.

Rhaegar’s face was solemn. “If I win, you are my most capable ally. If I lose…”

He paused, not finishing the sentence.

Aegon was startled and filled in the rest in his mind. If Rhaegar is defeated or even killed, then he would have to take over.

Seeing Aegon’s realization, Rhaegar compelled him, “So, can we hold Bloodstone Island?”

Aegon’s attitude shifted dramatically, and he quickly nodded. “Yes! Unless the enemy steps over Sunfyre’s and my corpse.”

“Very well, my dear brother.” Rhaegar smiled, leaving the agitated Aegon to his thoughts.

Everything was ready. The soldiers boarded their ships, preparing to set sail.

Rhaegar looked around, his posture tall and commanding.

Swish! In the next moment, he unsheathed his sword Dragon Claw and shouted, “All of you, the target is the Kingdom of the Three Daughters! Make Essos remember their fear of dragons!”

“Roarrrr…” A series of four dragon roars resounded through the sky as a massive shadow crossed the sea, heading into the distance.

Suddenly, the wind and clouds surged wildly, creating waves and swells. The soldiers, inspired by the sight, felt their courage swell and shouted, “Attack the Triarchy! Conquer Essos!”

With the heart of the army at his command, Rhaegar waved his sword and shouted, “Set sail, set sail!”

“Ooooohhhh!” The horn of sailing was blown, and the fleet set off.

…

Three days later, in Tyrosh.

Scorpion crossbows were mounted on towers throughout the city-state. The harbor was cleared of all ships, and slave troops blocked the main road as the first line of defense. Dense ranks of black-armored soldiers, holding spears and shields, stood in neat formations. These soldiers, expressionless and cold, were the elite Unsullied.

Beside them stood a brocade-robed old man, clutching a whip engraved with an harpy. “Damned Myrish cowards, fleeing from battle,” he cursed, counting the Unsullied. A fat, dark-skinned governor from Myr had fled, taking his five hundred Unsullied with him.

Lysandro, who followed behind the old man, commented indifferently, “It’s understandable. He didn’t want to sacrifice the Unsullied he’d bought with his family’s wealth.”

“Enough about him. I’m going back to the air raid shelter,” the old man said uneasily, leaving his slaves and Unsullied to guard the harbor.

Lysandro watched him retreat, then raised his whip. The three thousand Unsullied had been purchased jointly.

The brocade-robed old man had bought a thousand for himself, while Lysandro and the four governors of Myr had each bought five hundred, making a total of two thousand.

With a crack of his whip, Lysandro commanded, “Unsullied, follow me!”

Five hundred Unsullied stepped forward. Lysandro led them to a remote shore where several small ships were moored. He had no intention of staying in Tyrosh to fight dragons. He planned to escape as well.

…

The once prosperous and bustling Tyrosh was now eerily silent. The old man in the brocade robe, along with high-ranking officials and wealthy merchants, hid in an air-raid shelter, praying for the Unsullied to fend off the dragon.

They had received reports of warships and dragons heading straight from Bloodstone Island to Tyrosh. Patrol ships had spotted the fleet’s trajectory.

“Can you hear anything outside?” one of the bigwigs asked, growing restless.

Yet, the sea outside the harbor remained empty. No fleet appeared.

…

Meanwhile, in Lys, one of the three cities of the Triarchy, the harbor was filled with cargo ships. The city was brightly lit, with green houses and brothels echoing with sounds of pleasure. The sea remained calm.

In the darkness of the night, a warship approached from afar. Standing on its deck, Rhaegar, dressed in black robes, his eyes filled with murderous intent, surveyed the city.