Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day - Chapter 228: Baratheon’s Difficulties

Clang—

Dragon Claw fell to the ground.

Rhaenyra’s heart trembled at Rhaegar’s words, and she couldn’t hold her sword any longer. Deep down, she knew the truth.

Her eyes reddened as she looked at Rhaegar, her voice quivering with emotion. “Rhaegar, you’ve wronged me.”

The temptation of becoming a queen was undeniably strong, but she couldn’t bear the thought of Jeyne benefiting from it.

“Rhaenyra, even if you don’t believe in me, you should have confidence in yourself,” Rhaegar said, gently lifting her by the waist and setting her on the railing.

Rhaenyra clutched his collar, tears streaming down her face. Rhaegar looked up at her with a serious expression. “We still have time, and I’m not going to let you settle for less.”

“I respect you, I love you. I will never abandon you,” he continued. “But you are too important to me.”

Rhaenyra’s tears flowed freely as she buried her head in his shoulder, sobbing. The idea of ruling a kingdom alongside Rhaegar was irresistible.

“If I have a kingdom and Rhaegar by my side, I have no reason to refuse,” she thought.

Until then, Jeyne would have to return to the Vale and not share in her triumphs. Rhaegar was still three years away from adulthood. Until then, Rhaenyra would be in control.

…

Noon.

The hot summer winds swept across the island, making the air heavy and sweltering.

“Mmm, delicious,” Rhaenyra mumbled between bites.

A small round table was laden with various dishes, and Rhaenyra, knife and fork in hand, was devouring the food. She hadn’t eaten in a day and was famished.

Rhaegar watched her with a smile, arranging food and pouring wine for her. The warmth of the moment filled him with a single thought: “My sister is really cute when she’s not angry.”

A gust of wind whistled past, ruffling Rhaenyra’s hair at her temples as the airflow reached the open-air balcony.

Both siblings lifted their heads and looked up.

“Roar…”

A thunderous dragon roar echoed, and a massive dark green shape appeared in the sky above Dragonstone Island.

Rhaenyra’s eyes widened as she swallowed the crab meat in her mouth. “Laena?” she said in surprise.

Rhaegar stood and walked to the railing, looking up at the enormous dragon.

Green scales, leathery skin, a mountainous body…

It was Vhagar.

Vhagar’s cold eyes glided over the castle, descending slowly.

Moments later, with a ground-shaking thud, Vhagar landed on a cliff next to the castle.

“Rhaenyra!”

Laena, wearing a red strap around Vhagar’s broad spine, smiled and waved from the balcony.

Unbuckling the chain around her waist, Laena gracefully climbed down from the dragon’s back and strode towards the castle.

Rhaenyra and Rhaegar watched her approach, exchanging looks of disbelief.

Rhaenyra wiped her mouth and said, “Laena hasn’t visited in a long time.”

“You’re the host. Go greet her,” Rhaegar said, pulling out her chair with a shrug.

“Got it. And you won’t have to sleep on Dragonmont tonight,” Rhaenyra said with a contented smile, straightening her skirt as she stood.

Rhaegar sighed with relief and gestured for her to proceed.

He had spent four days camped out at Dragonmont with Cannibal and Gray Ghost. When Rhaenyra was angry, there was no castle to sleep in, let alone a bed.

Rhaenyra and Laena met in the castle’s first-floor lobby.

“Laena!” Rhaenyra beamed, embracing her friend warmly.

Laena returned the smile and patted her back, though she couldn’t help but wonder at Rhaenyra’s unusual warmth today.

Circumstances had changed for the three friends. Alicent had become a stepmother, and Jeyne had seduced Rhaegar. Laena was married to Daemon, but at least she and Rhaenyra were not entangled in any romantic drama. They were the only good friends left.

After exchanging pleasantries, they quickly got down to business.

Laena turned to Rhaegar, her eyes filled with admiration. “Cousin, your attack on the Triarchy has become legendary. I regret fleeing that day.”

Rhaegar, with two dragons and two thousand men, had plundered Lys, burned Myr, and ravaged Tyrosh. The audacity of his actions shocked everyone.

The three victimized city-states spread word of Rhaegar’s “evil deeds” throughout Essos. Soon, nobles in Westeros also learned of the devastating attacks.

The Triarchy’s strongholds lay in ruins, and the Battle of the Stepstones had come to an end. Rhaegar Targaryen’s name would be recorded in the annals of history on both continents for generations to come.

Rhaegar smiled at Laena’s praise, but his tone was dismissive. “It doesn’t matter. My father didn’t support me, and neither did House Velaryon.”

Rhaenyra and Laena exchanged glances, sensing the underlying frustration in his words.

“Rhaegar…” Rhaenyra admonished gently, squeezing his hand. This kind of talk was fine in private, but there was no need for Laena to hear it.

Rhaegar winked at her and changed the subject. “What’s this about ships in the Gullet?”

“Is it Robb and his men?” Rhaegar asked.

Laena shook her head. “It’s more than that. There were a dozen ships filled with slaves. The royal fleet intercepted them.”

She explained that she and her mother had been patrolling the Gullet and the Narrow Sea when they encountered the ships. The decks were filled with slaves armed with crude weapons. If not for their tattered clothes, she might have mistaken them for pirates.

The King’s fleet had arrived in time to intercept the slave ships, resulting in a brief skirmish.

Rhaegar was taken aback. “It seems the liberated slaves have come to us.”

His mood lifted. He needed those slaves—not only were they not beholden to other lords, but they were also loyal and hardworking. The most loyal laborers were those who were given equal rights.

“I’ll go check it out. You two talk,” Rhaegar said, striding out of the castle with renewed vigor.

“Roar!” Cannibal’s dragon roar echoed as it hovered above the castle. Vhagar, perched on the cliff, eyed the pitch-black dragon coldly.

Recognizing his opponent, Vhagar growled but turned away to lie down, too old to continue the fight.

Rhaegar stepped into view of the dragons. Cannibal landed cautiously before the castle gate, eyeing Vhagar warily. The two dragons acknowledged each other, setting aside their grudges.

Rhaegar mounted Cannibal, and the dragon flew out over Dragonstone Island.

…

From Dragonstone Island, they flew over neighboring Driftmark and arrived at the Gullet, a narrow strait between Driftmark and the tip of the Sharp Point.

More than twenty large ships were anchored outside the channel, hesitant to approach. Within the channel, five warships were lined up, their soldiers’ bows drawn and ready.

“Roar!” Cannibal descended like a meteor, its roar reverberating through the strait.

“Prince Rhaegar! The Breaker of Shackles!”

As soon as they saw Cannibal, the men on the ships recognized Rhaegar and shouted with joy. The slaves on the large ships fell to their knees in reverence, with their chains broken by Rhaegar and their desire for freedom rekindled. Following Rhaegar’s command, they had sailed to Westeros, yearning for acceptance and the chance to live in peace.

“Gentlemen, I’m here to escort you into Blackwater Bay,” Rhaegar called out.

He guided Cannibal over the royal fleet. At the forefront of one of the battleships stood a young man with black hair, surrounded by soldiers.

Rhaegar peered down and identified him, “Jon Baratheon? You are Jon Baratheon, right?”

Jon, dressed in thick armor, looked up and confirmed, “It is I, Prince.”

Rhaegar, in high spirits, overlooked Jon’s past offenses. “Make way through the Gullet. These are my men and followers.”

“Prince, forgive me, but I cannot comply!” Jon’s expression was stern. “The King has decreed that no cargo or merchant ships are allowed into Blackwater Bay, except for our warships.”

This was Viserys’ precautionary measure to secure the channel and prevent any unwanted elements from entering.

Rhaegar frowned, understanding the reasoning but disliking Jon’s rigid stance. After a moment’s thought, he offered, “I will vouch for them. Let them through.”

Jon remained resolute. “No, Prince, I cannot.”

Rhaegar was taken aback. “My guarantee isn’t enough?”

“The King’s orders are explicit, Prince. I cannot disobey.”

Jon stood firm, his eyes cold.

Rhaegar, instead of getting angry, chuckled and clapped. “Interesting. You’re deliberately making this difficult for me.”

Few would dare to defy Rhaegar, considering his identity and the dragon he commanded. If Jon continued to block the way, it seemed intentional.

Cannibal lowered its altitude, and Rhaegar issued an ultimatum. “My men are going in. Will you let them pass, or not?”

Jon’s face paled slightly, and he swallowed hard as he felt the dragon’s breath hot on his face.

A white-bearded, rotund old man hurried over, whispering urgently into Jon’s ear, “Even Borros wouldn’t dare defy the heir to the throne. You should retreat quickly.”

Rhaegar fixed a cold gaze on the old man. “Who are you?”

The old man quivered, his voice trembling, “Reporting to the Prince, I am Lord Bar Emmon of Sharp Point.”

Sharp Point is the seat of House Bar Emmon in the crownlands.

Rhaegar’s eyes narrowed as he recognized the name. He recalled the Bar Emmon House history:

During the reign of Maegor I, they were among the few nobles who supported him. After Maegor’s death, they retreated to Sharp Point. Later, under King Jaehaerys I, the family sought pardon and realigned with the crown. During the Great Council of 101 AC, they had supported Princess Rhaenys’ claim to the throne.

Rhaegar knew the Bar Emmon House had a reputation for being opportunistic. They were close allies of House Baratheon in the Stormlands and loyal to Rhaenys.

He realized that Jon Baratheon’s defiance was likely influenced by this old lord. However, Rhaegar’s eyes flashed with a steely resolve, and he dismissed the old man with a curt nod.

Jon, after listening to Lord Bar Emmon’s advice, lowered his head and shouted, “Yes, the fleet will withdraw now!”

Rhaegar lifted his chin, saying nothing, as Jon ordered the ships on either side to pull back. Only Jon’s warship remained, slowly navigating towards the Sharp Point.

Just then, Rhaegar’s voice cut through the air, “It’s too late to retreat now!”

Jon, startled, looked up.

Rhaegar’s face was stony, his lips barely moving as he commanded, “Dracarys!”