Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day - Chapter 227: Make You Queen

Putting away his status screen, Rhaegar smiled.

A increase in strength was indeed a great thing.

“Roar…”

The Gray Ghost roared, its pale gray body looming over Rhaegar, its vertical pupils flashing with curiosity.

Normally shy and timid, this dragon preferred to move around the eastern shore of Dragonstone Island. Its favorite place to hide was among the clouds and mist.

“Shy dragon, thanks to your efforts,” Rhaegar said, supporting himself on the ground with both hands and looking up at the Grey Ghost with a smile. This family member was still very kindhearted.

As soon as he had reached the east coast, the Gray Ghost had sensed his presence and come to him. The dragon had played a crucial role in their attack on the Triarchy; without its help, Cannibal’s firepower alone would not have been enough.

The Gray Ghost flicked its tail, its amber pupils staring at Rhaegar with an expression of affection and familiarity.

Rhaegar reached out a hand and raised it high. The Gray Ghost, understanding his intent, lowered its head and pressed its muzzle against his palm in a gentle gesture.

“Come with me, Gray Ghost,” Rhaegar said, rubbing his light gray scales and speaking softly.

The Gray Ghost, usually alone on Dragonstone Island, had nowhere else to go. It might as well follow him, forming a new deterrent against their enemies.

“Roar…”

The gray ghost cocked its head, seeming a bit confused.

As Rhaegar continued to stroke it, the dragon began to relax, its massive body dropping to the ground.

Man and dragon looked at each other, a bond forming between them. Rhaegar kept his smile, showing his kindness and gratitude to the Gray Ghost.

The dragon’s nostrils exhaled warm air, and its pupils reflected Rhaegar’s image.

First, the long silver-gold hair, then the beautiful face…

Time passed slowly.

The reflection in the Gray Ghost’s eyes completed the upper half of Rhaegar’s body, but the lower half remained unseen, its revelation delayed.

Suddenly, the sleeping Cannibal opened its eyes, staring menacingly at the Gray Ghost. With a thunderous roar, “Roar gah!”, it sent waves of hot air blasting across the mountaintop, nearly knocking Rhaegar off balance.

“Cannibal!” Rhaegar shouted urgently, trying to calm the furious dragon.

The Gray Ghost, startled, froze and forgot to flap its wings. It jumped back, hiding behind Rhaegar with its head tucked under its wings like an ostrich burying its head in the sand.

Cannibal’s green eyes glinted with aggression as it slowly approached, its fierce snarl revealing sharp teeth.

“Partner, calm down,” Rhaegar said quickly, stepping in front of Cannibal and reaching out to restrain its wrath.

He couldn’t let Cannibal attack the Gray Ghost. The disparity in their power was too great, and it could easily end in tragedy.

“Whew!” Cannibal snorted, glaring at Rhaegar with its vertical pupils.

Such a foolish partner, is he really going to hook up with other dragons behind its back?

Rhaegar sensed Cannibal’s displeasure clearly, feeling its thoughts through their shared bond.

With a determined expression, he said, “Gray Ghost is our ally, remember? We burned down three free trade city-states together just yesterday. We need him.”

Cannibal’s gaze flicked between Rhaegar and the trembling Gray Ghost, and its anger slowly abated.

Standing tall, Cannibal spread its black wings, stretched its neck, and let out a commanding roar to the sky.

The Gray Ghost, still trembling, prostrated itself on the ground in submission.

Rhaegar smiled in relief, knowing Cannibal’s resistance had dissipated. With the Valyrian steel sword “Truth” on his back, he approached Cannibal and climbed onto the saddle.

Looking up, he saw the sky was clear and vast, filling his heart with a sense of boundless possibility.

“Let’s go, aim for the sky!” Rhaegar shouted with renewed vigor.

“Roar!” Cannibal roared, its massive wings beating as it soared into the sky.

“Roar!” The Gray Ghost shrieked, flapping its wings and following at a distance.

One man and two dragons hovered above Dragonstone Island, their joyous laughter and roars echoing in the air.

…

Three days later.

Inside the castle on Dragonstone Island, on the open-air balcony, Rhaenyra stood in a red dress, her silver hair intricately braided behind her head. Her eyes, cold and distant, were fixed on the horizon.

In the sky above the east coast, two dragons, one black and one gray, danced through the clouds, playfully chasing each other.

Footsteps approached. Rhaegar walked slowly towards Rhaenyra, carefully observing her expression. She remained unaware of his presence, her small hands gripping the railing so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Three days ago, Rhaegar had returned to Dragonstone Island. His first visit was to see her. They had embraced tightly, sharing their feelings. Then he mentioned Jeyne.

“Bastard!” Rhaenyra’s face hardened at the thought of Jeyne, her grip on the railing tightening as if it were Jeyne’s neck. She had three best friends: Alicent, who married her father, Viserys; Laena, who married her uncle Daemon; and Jeyne, the traitor who dared to seduce her brother Rhaegar.

“Rhaenyra, you’ve been on a hunger strike all day,” Rhaegar said worriedly, reaching for her hand.

“Get off!” Rhaenyra snapped, shaking off his hand. “I don’t need you to care.”

Rhaegar bowed his head, chastened. He knew he deserved her anger. “Rhaenyra, I can’t undo what happened, but I want to talk.”

“What is there to talk about?” Rhaenyra retorted, turning her head away, her anger barely contained. “Send Jeyne back to the Vale or don’t come see me.”

She wouldn’t accept anything less. Jeyne had to leave King’s Landing and never return.

Rhaegar gently took her hand. “Rhaenyra, you’ve been with me since childhood. You’re the only one in my heart.”

Her heart ached at his words. She turned, raising her hand to slap him. But Rhaegar didn’t flinch, his eyes calm and steady. In that gaze, Rhaenyra’s resolve wavered. She couldn’t bring herself to strike him.

Rhaegar had made a mistake, but he was still young. The blame lay with Jeyne, that shameless woman. She had failed to properly discipline her brother, and now she had to suffer for it.

“Rhaegar, you’re an asshole!” Rhaenyra shouted, turning away again. Despite her anger, she couldn’t forget how well Rhaegar had treated her. Before attacking the Triarchy, he had planned for her future, showing how much he cared.

She couldn’t let a single indiscretion ruin their bond.

“Rhaenyra, don’t be angry with me. We shouldn’t be divided,” Rhaegar pleaded, squeezing her hand gently.

Rhaenyra refused to meet his gaze, her voice filled with bitterness. “What are you trying to say? That you want to have it all?”

Her greatest fear had materialized. It wasn’t just jealousy—monogamy had been the rule in Westeros for centuries. Only Aegon the Conqueror had dared to break it. The Targaryen tradition had always clashed with the world’s norms, often resulting in severe repercussions.

During the reign of Aenys I, half the continent’s nobility revolted under the banner of the Faith of the Seven. Aenys fell ill from the stress, and his brother, Maegor I, usurped the throne, leading to a brutal reign marked by usurpation and murder. Peace was only restored when Jaehaerys I reconciled with the Faith, agreeing to monogamy while the Faith tacitly accepted some Targaryen customs. This delicate balance was vital.

Rhaenyra feared that Rhaegar’s actions could shatter this fragile peace. It would be more disastrous than the invasion of Dorne or the conflicts with the Free Cities.

Rhaegar sensed her worries and shook his head. “My power isn’t enough to challenge the Faith of the Seven,” he said sincerely.

But his words had a different implication. He wasn’t rejecting the possibility outright, merely acknowledging that he wasn’t strong enough yet. If the Targaryens regained their former glory and commanded a thousand dragons, he would think nothing of conquering the world, let alone defying the Faith.

“Then what do you mean?” Rhaenyra demanded, turning sharply to face him. “You can only marry one.”

Her face changed as a thought struck her. “You’re not done with Jeyne, are you?”

Rhaegar quickly denied it. “I’m not old enough to marry. Jeyne’s situation is different…”

Before he could finish, Rhaenyra’s anger surged, and her composure shattered. She noticed the Dragon Claw sword at Rhaegar’s waist and, in a flash, drew it. She gripped the hilt tightly, the tip of the sword pressed against Rhaegar’s throat.

“Say that again, I dare you,” she hissed, her body trembling with rage.

Rhaegar remained calm, letting the sword rest against his throat. “Rhaenyra, hear me out,” he said solemnly. “Jeyne will always rank below you. I have a plan that suits you better.”

“You’d better make yourself clear,” Rhaenyra demanded, her eyes red with emotion, giving him a chance to explain.

Rhaegar took a deep breath and spoke clearly. “I want you to be queen.”

Rhaenyra was stunned, momentarily speechless. The heir was Rhaegar—how could she be queen?

“The chaos in the world never ends. Chaos is both a disaster and a stepping stone,” Rhaegar said, his eyes deep and resolute. “The rebellion in Dorne and the Triarchy Kingdom will not stop; it will inevitably erupt again.”

With determination, he gently pressed the sword tip against his throat and continued, “I want to conquer new territories, and I want you to be queen.”

His plan could involve taking Dorne, with its “Princess of Dorne” system, or one of the free-trading city-states. He envisioned giving this new land to Rhaenyra to govern. They would both be rulers, siblings reigning over their domains.

Rhaenyra was taken aback, not realizing the extent of Rhaegar’s ambition. “Has the success of the Triarchy attack made him arrogant?” she wondered.

At first, the idea of becoming a queen made her heart race and her grip on Dragon Claw tremble. Fortunately, Rhaegar had the foresight to press the tip of the sword away from his throat.

But then, she pushed the thought aside and refused. “No, you’ll never get rid of me.”

She dismissed the possibility of becoming a queen, realizing that truly managing a kingdom would only distance her from Rhaegar, leaving Jeyne to benefit.

Rhaegar set aside the dragon claw and embraced her. “I never want to be apart from you,” he said sincerely. “You’ve always wanted to be a queen, haven’t you?”

He knew Rhaenyra well. She admired the Queen of Visenya and Nymeria, the past ruler of Dorne. A new territory needed a lord, and he preferred it to be a blood relative rather than nobles with shifting loyalties. This would help spread the Targaryen bloodline and establish firm rules and restrictions.

“Why don’t you ask Jeyne?” Rhaenyra retorted, her frustration clear.

Rhaegar’s eyes were steadfast. “Jeyne belongs to the Vale. You and I are born of fire. The wind and rain cannot extinguish our flame; we are destined to burn together.”