Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day - Chapter 233: The Sisters Arrive Riding Dragons

The green dragonfire swept across the battlefield, carving a scorched canyon and igniting green flames. Inside Harrenhal, the wildfire burned relentlessly, roaring with ferocity.

The dragonfire outside the city and the wildfire within created a terrible echo, transforming the area into a green-flaming purgatory.

Unlike the finite wildfire, the dragon’s flames seemed endless. Cannibal’s eyes glowed fiercely as it showed no mercy to the fleeing figures below.

Rhaegar, his sword in one hand, glanced at the chaos in Harrenhal. “It’s really wildfire,” he thought.

Thanks to his extensive education, Rhaegar understood the destructive power of wildfire all too well. He knew it was a rare alchemical product, rumored to contain a hint of magic. Its terrible destructive power and unstable nature had long led to its ban by the Citadel’s maesters.

Watching the blazing wildfire from afar, Rhaegar could feel the intense heat and pungent smell. “After today, Harrenhal will need massive reconstruction,” he thought, sighing for Lord Lyonel.

Wildfire could burn through wood, stone, and steel, and water could not extinguish it. Harrenhal had already suffered extensive damage in the aftermath of the Conqueror’s War. The facilities House Strong had built over the decades would now be lost to the wildfire. Repairing the castle would cost a fortune.

…

Inside Kingspyre Tower, the temperature in the lord’s bedroom grew warmer and warmer after Alys River’s departure.

Grover lay by the window, anxiously watching the chaos below. In his heart he cursed, “A bunch of useless children and grandchildren, why don’t they lead the army to rescue me?

After the attack on the camp that night, he had fled to Harrenhal under the protection of the guards. The Bracken House laid siege to Harrenhal and incited the people to attack the town.

Though the Blackwoods were more reasonable and did not participate in the night attack and siege, they were even more hateful.

The Lord of Blackwood had stationed his army outside Riverrun, blocking the path of House Tully’s army and effectively preventing support for Harrenhal. He sat back and watched the Bracken House’s evil deeds, hoping to reap the benefits.

There were 2,000 men left at Riverrun. Together with the bannermen Grover had gathered, he could probably build an army of 5,000 men. If one of his two sons could stand up and take charge, they could repel the Blackwoods’ army and, in a matter of days, come to rescue their old father from the besieged city.

But if they had that kind of ability and courage, they wouldn’t useless sons.

Bang…

Grover knocked heavily on the wall, his heart burning with fear.

“Ahem…”

A cough rang out, pulling him back from his panic. Grover’s spirits lifted and he looked back at the solid wooden king-size bed. On the bed, Lyonel’s chest rose and fell violently, his eyes glazed over, and he was coughing hard, his neck strained.

“Lord Lyonel!”

Grover hastily helped him turn over and patted his back to clear his breath. Lyonel’s face turned red as he held his breath, finally managing to spit out a mouthful of thick phlegm and take a deep breath.

“What time is it?” Lyonel asked, panting heavily, his eyes blank. He vaguely remembered the attack on the camp and falling from his horse, returning to Harrenhal and being treated by a maester. He had been unconscious for several days, his mind a jumble of confusion.

Grover looked sad and said, “We are trapped. The Bracken House does not want to let us go.”

“Has the kingdom’s support arrived?” Lyonel cleared his mind, thinking first of reinforcements from King’s Landing. With Viserys’ character, even if he was weak, he wouldn’t tolerate his bannermen openly rebelling.

“Support…”

Grover’s face turned bitter, unsure of what to say. The raven had been sent out, but the kingdom had been in war for years, and the Riverlands, Vale, and other kingdoms had depleted their troops. Gathering a large army to put down the rebellion would take more than a few days.

Seeing his expression, Lyonel understood the situation, sweat breaking out on his forehead. He also felt the heat.

“Roar!”

A loud and clear dragon roar echoed across the northern shore of God’s Eye Lake, spreading throughout Harrenhal. Lyonel’s eyes lit up at the sound, and his voice was harsh: “It’s a dragon’s roar.”

When the Targaryens ruled Westeros, they never relied on an army; it was the dragons that ruled the skies.

“Help me up. The castle is on fire; I have to organize the men.” Lyonel supported himself with his left hand and struggled to get up.

Grover reached out to support him, not refusing his request. The dragon had come. He finally felt a little relieved.

Noon arrived.

“Roar…”

The Cannibal circled Harrenhal, scorching the ground wherever it flew.

Charred bodies piled up at Harrenhal’s front gate, occasionally punctuated by the anguished howls of the wounded. Rhaegar stood on the battlements, one hand covering his mouth and nose, his hair shielding his eyes from the smoke.

After a relentless bombardment of dragonfire, the enemy army had collapsed and fled in panic. Hundreds of Bracken soldiers lay dead, with more than a thousand killed among the attacking mob. The rest had scattered, too numerous for the Cannibal to kill.

Rhaegar’s priority was the safety of Harrenhal, not the slaughter of a fleeing mob.

“Prince, the fires are still raging. We must leave the city,” Harwin said as he ran up to the battlements, his face gray with soot and worry.

Sand was the only thing that could weaken the wildfire, and the soldiers were doing their best to contain it. But the fire in the Godswood was hard to put out.

The Godswood, a sacred grove within the walls of castles throughout the Seven Kingdoms, was a place of prayer and worship for those who followed the old gods. In the center stood a weirwood tree with a face carved into it, surrounded by other trees and flowers. Harrenhal’s Godswood covered twenty acres and included numerous pines and sentry trees.

The wildfire had spread through the Godswood and threatened the castle’s five towers.

Hearing this, Rhaegar nodded. “How is Lord Lyonel? I hear he is injured.”

Lyonel Strong was a dedicated and responsible Hand of the King, and Rhaegar had great respect for him.

Harwin’s eyes brightened with a mixture of relief and sorrow as he replied, “Father has just awakened. I have ordered him and Lord Grover to be evacuated from the city.”

“That’s good.” Rhaegar sighed in relief.

“Roar!”

“Roar…”

Suddenly, two piercing dragon roars echoed over Harrenhal. Rhaegar and Harwin raised their heads simultaneously, searching for the source of the sound.

In the clear blue sky, a massive dragon with pale blue scales soared over the vast God’s Eye Lake, ruffling the clouds. At the same time, a slightly smaller golden dragon glided low over the surface of the lake before rising into the air.

On the backs of these dragons sat two Targaryen women, one older and one younger. Rhaegar’s keen eyes recognized them instantly. “Rhaenyra, Helaena?”

The light blue dragon was Dreamfyre, and the gold one was Syrax.

Dreamfyre, being larger, flew faster and soon arrived at Harrenhal, wings beating powerfully.

“Brother!” Helaena called in her clear, youthful voice. She wore her hair in a bun and a simple white dress, and sat happily in Dreamfyre’s newly added saddle.

“Helaena, what brings you here?” Rhaegar called to his sister, leaning against the battlements.

“Roar…” Syrax arrived next, landing heavily on the walls and creating a gust of wind. Rhaenyra, sitting in Syrax’s saddle, held on tightly and said, “She insisted on coming and outran me.”

Rhaenyra had planned to come alone, but Helaena had joined her after hearing that she was going to Harrenhal to find Rhaegar. As soon as Helaena heard the news, she eagerly flew out of King’s Landing on Dreamfyre.

Dreamfyre landed gracefully on the city wall and lowered its neck for Helaena to dismount. Unfastening the chain around her waist, Helaena slid down Dreamfyre’s smooth back instead of using the soft ladder.

“Brother, why didn’t you call me when you came to Harrenhal?” Helaena asked, running to Rhaegar and hugging him tightly.

“Princess,” Harwin greeted her respectfully.

“Hello, Ser,” Helaena replied, nodding before looking back at Rhaegar with curious eyes.

Rubbing his forehead, Rhaegar said, “I’m here to quell a rebellion, can’t you see the chaos below?”

Helaena, unaware of the destruction, looked puzzled. She had been so focused on flying with Dreamfyre that she hadn’t noticed the devastation.

“Rhaegar, what happened to Harrenhal?” Rhaenyra asked as she climbed down from Syrax, frowning at the flames still raging in the Godswood. From the color of the flames, she had initially thought they were dragonfire.

Rhaegar sighed and rubbed Helaena’s head. “The Bracken House found the wildfire and nearly breached the gates. The Strong House suffered greatly.”

Rhaenyra looked around, taking in the scorched earth and the devastation. “I should have come with you,” she whispered.

“If you had, the three dragons might have burned the entire rebellion to ashes,” Rhaegar replied with a wry smile. “But now, go meet with Lord Lyonel. We’ll spend the night outside the city.”

“Alright,” Rhaenyra and Helaena responded in unison.

…

Into the Night

The north shore of God’s Eye Lake was lit by a sprawling campground, campfires flickering against the night sky. Soldiers patrolled both the castle and the campsite, while servants were busy organizing the salvaged goods.

Inside the largest tent, Lyonel lay on a simple wooden bed, his freshly changed bandages stark against his skin. Surrounding him were Rhaegar and his two sisters, Harwin and Grover.

“Prince, it’s a good thing you got here when you did. It would have been all over otherwise,” Grover said, raising a glass of red wine in a toast.

Rhaegar nodded in recognition, tapping the tabletop. “My lord, the raven sent to your family should have reached them by now. We should hear news soon.”

Despite his skepticism about the abilities of the two Tully sons in Riverrun, Rhaegar hoped they would at least make a move to help their father.

Grover’s face tightened and he waved his hand dismissively. His two incompetent sons might see his predicament as an opportunity to take control of Riverrun rather than to save him.

Lyonel, speaking weakly but with determination, interjected, “Prince, with your escape from the Stepstones, the Riverlands can launch a counterattack.”