Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day - Chapter 240: When the Sun Sets, Your Bloodline Will Be Over

Boom…

A pillar of ghostly green dragonfire descended, crossing the narrow suspension bridge and crashing into the stone city gate.

“No! Get out of the way!” Amos Bracken, shocked by the approaching flames, shoved the guards aside and threw himself at the open gate.

Zira…

The relentless dragonfire slowly melted the stone gate. As the flames roared, Rhaegar, clad in black robes, stepped forward, his face cold and unyielding.

Behind him, Robb and the guards fell to the ground, shielding their heads from the searing heat.

“Roar…”

The dragonfire ceased, and Cannibal let out a low, menacing growl, flapping its pitch-black wings. Rhaegar approached the city gates.

The dragonfire had incinerated a group of soldiers, leaving only charred remains. The stone gatehouse above crumbled, its surface twisted and molten.

Bang…

Rhaegar kicked open a burning wooden gate and found Amos Bracken trembling at the foot of the wall.

“Come out, Lord Amos!” Rhaegar’s voice was icy as he grabbed Amos by the collar and lifted him up.

“Let me go, I am a follower of the Lord of Light!” Amos’s feet dangled from the ground, his eyes wide with terror as he struggled against Rhaegar’s grip.

“It doesn’t matter who you follow. I have no intention of killing you now.” With the rebel leader in his grasp, Rhaegar’s anger simmered, replaced by cold determination.

“Release Lord Amos!” The soldiers defending the city rushed down the stairs, forming a hesitant semicircle around Rhaegar. None dared approach, wary of the black dragon glaring at them.

Ignoring the soldiers, Rhaegar spoke softly, “Amos, you have insulted me and you will not die easily. He threw Amos to the ground in disgust.”

Swoosh…

Rhaegar drew his sword and pointed it at the cowering Amos. He looked at him with contempt, as if he were already dead.

Before Amos and the assembled soldiers, Rhaegar made a chilling proclamation. “When the sun sets, your bloodline will be over!”

His words were like shards of ice piercing the silence. A gust of wind ruffled Rhaegar’s long silver and gold hair. Amos and his soldiers fell silent, all eyes fixed on the young heir, their expressions a mixture of fear and awe.

Rhaegar’s eyes were cold and detached, ignoring the fear, anger, and pleas around him. He turned and walked calmly out of the Stone Hedge, his black-robed figure radiating resolute authority. No one dared follow or speak. The weight of his words hung in the air.

On the suspension bridge, Robb stood and asked with suppressed anger, “Prince, shall we attack immediately?”

“Let us wait,” Rhaegar replied, his voice calm. “Let Stone Hedge have the last sunset.”

Robb was confused. “Sunset?”

He looked at the guards, who shared his confusion. They hadn’t heard Rhaegar’s explanation, but his determination was unmistakable. The sun was still rising, nearing its zenith around 10 am.

Moments later, Rhaegar returned to the army encampment. As he dismounted, he was surrounded by Samwell and other officers.

“Prince, does the Bracken House intend to resist to the end?”

“When will we attack the city?”

The questions buzzed around him like flies. Rhaegar’s gaze remained fixed on a distant hill. He ordered, “Reinforce the patrol. Don’t let a single man escape.”

The officers, sensing an imminent battle, were elated. Only one noticed something different about Rhaegar.

Rhaenyra stepped onto the muddy grass and grabbed Rhaegar’s shoulders. “Rhaegar, do you have something to tell me?”

Their eyes met, reflecting each other’s determination. After a moment’s silence, Rhaegar blinked and smiled. He wrapped his arms around Rhaenyra’s waist and buried his head in her hair. “Nothing, just a trivial matter.”

“I can handle it for you,” Rhaenyra whispered, holding him close.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a dirty task,” Rhaegar replied, lifting his head and pointing to the distant hill. “The evening sun will add much color tonight.”

Patting her slender waist, he released her and strode toward the hillside. In Rhaenyra’s uncomprehending eyes, he added, “Take care of Helaena. We don’t need Syrax and Dreamfire this time.”

He alone would ride the dragon, bringing the Bracken House the dragonfire they deserved.

…

Stone Hedge, Great Hall

Amos burst through the door like a mad dog, yelling, “A maester, fetch me the maester!”

A servant, head bowed, whispered, “My lord, the maester has disappeared.”

“Bastard, no sign of him at this hour!”

Amos’ hair was disheveled, his eyes darted nervously around the hall. “Call the Red Witch and that stupid pig.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The servant, sensing his master’s unstable mental state, quickly retreated.

Amos breathed heavily, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. The fear of Rhaegar’s words gnawed at him. He had to act or face dire consequences.

He pulled a token from his pocket and clutched it tightly. Made of iron and engraved with a fiery red heart, it felt warm and heavy in his hand.

“The Lord of Light will bless me…”

Murmuring a prayer, Amos dashed out of the hall through a side door.

The castle was eerily quiet. Servants hid in their rooms, a stark contrast to the usual bustle.

Ignoring the silence, Amos ran to the forest of sacred trees in the center of the castle. The small forest, a few acres in size, was filled with pine and birch trees. In its center lay the stump of a felled weirwood tree, its bright red leaves scattered like blood on the ground.

Amos’ face twisted with conflicting emotions as he stared at the stump. The Bracken House had long worshipped the Old Gods, but the arrival of the Red Witch had changed everything. Her miracles in the name of the Lord of Light had overshadowed the glory of the Old Gods.

Against the advice of his bannermen, Amos had cut down the sacred weirwood, abandoning the Old Gods for the Lord of Light.

Treading on the red leaves, Amos steeled himself.

Soon, the forest echoed with the sound of footsteps. Hundreds of soldiers halted at the edge, guarding their lord.

Two distinct figures stood in the forefront. One was a towering, bear-like man in gray robes. The other, a striking red-haired sorceress, wore a beautiful red robe.

“Lord Bracken,” the Red Witch spoke, her voice a sultry whisper. Her white, lithe thighs peeked out from under her red robe as she moved, her tone inviting and seductive.

The gray-robed fat man shivered and covered his ears, unable to bear the sound. His name was Tru, expelled from the Citadel for an accidental wildfire outbreak during his experiments.

Amos’ face was grim. Struggling to maintain his composure, he asked, “Red Witch, can the Lord of Light you spoke of really make my army impervious to Dragonfire?”

The Red Witch, shaken by his grip on her shoulders, gently placed a finger on his lips. Amos stepped back, confused.

“Do not worry. The Lord of Light is the one true God. You must believe in His greatness,” she said confidently. Bending down, she picked up a fallen leaf. “The old gods never protected you, but the Lord of Light shows you the future.”

She held the leaf up into the sunlight. With a whoosh, it burst into flame.

“Watch. This is your destiny,” she said, throwing the burning leaf to the ground. The dry red leaves quickly caught fire, crackling as they burned.

Startled, Amos kicked the leaves away and hid next to the Red Witch. She smiled at him, her eyes glowing.

The leaves burned out, but the fire spread to the felled weirwood stump and ignited it. The Red Witch stepped forward and waved her hand over the flames.

With a hiss, the fire roared to life and engulfed the stump. The Red Witch smiled and gestured invitingly to Amos.

Half believing, half skeptical, Amos approached the burning weirwood and stared into the flames. The heat was intense, making it hard to breathe.

As he watched, a vision formed in the fire. Amos’ tense expression relaxed as he became mesmerized by the sight.

No one knew what he saw, but he was convinced.

The Red Witch placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered in his ear, “Do you believe now?”

Amos nodded, spellbound. “I believe that the Lord of Light is the one true God.”

He suddenly remembered something. “Prepare the sacrifices, as many as needed.”

“Fifty will suffice,” the Red Witch replied, her eyes shimmering. “But they must be pure bloodlines of the ancestors.”

“Who will meet the requirements?” Amos asked.

“You recently married. I remember you have a bastard son.”

“Use him,” Amos agreed without hesitation.

“As you wish, my lord.” The Red Witch bowed, her robe parting to reveal curves that glowed like flames.

Amos watched her greedily before turning to Tru. “Tru, come here!”

Tru approached reluctantly with a bitter expression on his face.

The Red Witch walked past him and Tru quickened his pace, bowing his head. His intuition screamed that she was dangerous, very dangerous.

Amos, still staring at the flames, ordered, “Prepare all the stored wildfire and tell the soldiers to carry it to the walls.”

Catapults were ready on the walls. Amos planned to use them to hurl wildfire at the dragon.

Tru didn’t dare argue. He followed orders without question, his spirit was already broken by forced servitude.