Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day - Chapter 251: Cold Treatment

Gulp Gulp~

Leaving the Dragonpit in a carriage, Rhaegar passed through the crowded Silk Street on his way to the Red Keep. As they traveled, he lifted a corner of the curtain to observe the changes on the street.

“What are you looking at?” Rhaenyra asked, sitting opposite him, her legs crossed beneath her black skirt.

Rhaegar glanced back at her, catching a glimpse of her fair skin under the skirt. “King’s Landing has really changed. It used to be full of rats crawling through filth. Now, it’s much cleaner.”

He continued to gaze out the window at the transformed city.

“It’s all because of you,” Rhaenyra said with a proud smile. “A year ago, I couldn’t step outside without worrying about dirtying my boots.”

Repairing public toilets, hiring sanitation workers, fixing houses—all of these were Rhaegar’s initiatives. Rhaenyra was well aware of his contributions.

Rhaegar shook his head modestly, though he couldn’t help but smile. “Lord Otto deserves praise. He made the biggest sacrifices to fund these improvements.”

“Hmph, it’s because you’re full of cunning plans,” Rhaenyra laughed, recalling the abuse and attacks Otto had endured over the past two years. Civilians had splashed filth on his courtyard gates and filled his grounds with dead rats and sparrows as threats. This had been Otto’s dull and humiliating daily life.

Helaena, who had been dozing, roused herself and asked blankly, “What’s wrong about Grandfather?”

“Nothing, we’ll be back at the Red Keep soon. Don’t fall asleep,” Rhaenyra said, patting her cheeks to stay awake.

She couldn’t hide her joy. Otto had endured two years of humiliation, and despite the success of his efforts over the past year, Rhaegar had claimed most of the credit. By gathering women and children and using them to shape public opinion, he had overshadowed Otto’s achievements.

Otto, hoping to finally receive recognition, had gone to the Small Council to apply for acknowledgment of his contributions. However, since the proposals had originally been Rhaegar’s ideas, Otto’s efforts went largely unrecognized, leaving him as the ultimate laborer without the desired acclaim.

…

Red Keep

The guards saw them approaching and promptly opened the gates.

Rhaenyra took Rhaegar’s hand and said softly, “We’re home.”

Rhaegar nodded, quietly feeling the bumps of the carriage as it rolled forward.

As they entered the front garden of the Red Keep, the coachman tightened the reins.

Ser Steffon, a member of the Kingsguard, stood by and announced in a loud voice, “Welcome Rhaegar of House Targaryen, Breaker of Shackles, Ruin Maker, Prince of Harrenhal, and heir to the Iron Throne. And his two sisters, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Princess Helaena Targaryen.”

As the proclamation ended, the carriage door opened from the inside.

Rhaegar shifted his position and looked around the courtyard of the Red Keep.

The courtyard was cold and empty; the nobles who used to gather to compete and watch were nowhere to be seen. The carriage was facing the gate of the Red Keep, which was tightly closed.

Seeing the situation, Rhaegar commented, “Oh, it’s really quiet!”

After half a year away, revisiting the place where he grew up revealed a different kind of scenery – one that was noticeably colder.

As they disembarked from the carriage, the Kingsguards dispersed into the front yard, waiting solemnly. Rhaenyra and Helaena poked their heads out and looked around curiously.

Helaena, still very innocent, asked softly, “Where did those lords go?”

In her memory, the forecourt was always crowded with people wandering around every day.

“Hush, be quiet,” Rhaenyra said, pressing down on her small head. She knew someone in the Red Keep didn’t like her brother.

Rhaegar opened his arms and smiled, “Get out of the carriage first, ladies.”

“Well, brother, hold me,” Helaena said, happily jumping into Rhaegar’s arms. He caught her steadily, took half a step back, and placed her on the ground.

Turning around, he clapped his hands at Rhaenyra. She looked uneasy and whispered, “I’ll help you ask father for justice.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Rhaegar said with a reassuring smile. He took her hand, hooked his other arm around her legs, and lifted her out of the carriage.

He didn’t concern himself with the details. The answers would come when he saw his father.

Creak.

The front door of the Red Keep opened, and a thin, bald man in a black tuxedo stepped out.

Rhaegar looked over at the sound of the door, his expression unchanged.

When the man saw the handsome and upright Rhaegar, his eyes lit up. He quickly walked down the steps to Rhaegar, extending his hand but then hesitating, afraid of being too forward. After a pause, he solemnly nodded and said in a deep voice, “Welcome back, Prince.”

Rhaegar lifted his hand to shake it, looking the man up and down with a smile, “Lord Caswell.”

“Please, the King is waiting for you in the Throne Hall,” Caswell said, a bit agitated, his voice rising slightly.

Rhaegar leaned in and whispered, “Thank you, my lord.”

In Caswell’s delighted eyes, Rhaegar led Rhaenyra and Helaena into the main door.

“Lord Caswell is warm-hearted and meticulous, a good man,” Rhaenyra commented as they walked some distance away.

Rhaegar thought for a moment and agreed, “The House Caswell of Bitterbridge, one of the oldest noble families of the Riverlands, would be a loyal partner.”

Lord Caswell had shown him favor long ago. His family had close ties with Oldtown and House Hightower, and Rhaegar hadn’t paid much attention to them before. Seeing him today refreshed his previous impression.

…

He passed through the empty banquet hall and walked along the corridor adorned with the crest of the three red dragons.

“Your Grace, with the prince’s name day approaching, it’s only fitting to notify the entire realm,” said one voice.

“The prince has been living in Harrenhal and is busy with business…” another voice added.

“If the princess invites him personally, the prince might find time to attend…” suggested a third.

The throne room was just ahead, and familiar voices of discussion echoed through the corridor.

Rhaegar walked slowly forward until the solid wooden doors of the hall appeared in front of him. At the entrance, Kingsguard Arryk Cargyll stood watch. He immediately spotted the prince.

“Arryk, long time no see,” Rhaegar called out, his eyes alight.

Unable to conceal his emotions, Arryk’s face lit up with joy. “Prince, you’re back.”

“Open the door. I can hear them discussing me inside,” Rhaegar said, lifting his chin and placing his hands behind his back.

“Yes, Prince,” Arryk replied, gripping the handle and pulling the door open.

The door opened with a creak, startling those inside.

Viserys sat upright and expressionless on the Iron Throne, where blades were densely packed. Below him, Lyonel and Otto occupied important positions to the left and right. Other royal advisers were present, including Rhaenys Targaryen, the Master of Dragons; Jasper, the Master of Laws; and Grand Maester Mellos.

Rhaegar stood at the doorway, scanning the room with a slight smile.

The hall fell silent as the advisers exchanged glances, no one daring to speak first.

“My lords, it has been a long time,” Rhaegar greeted calmly, then strode into the hall.

He passed by a few advisers, nodding in turn. Rhaenys held her head high and gave him a knowing look.

Reaching the Iron Throne, Rhaegar looked up at his father, the King of the Seven Kingdoms.

Viserys gazed at his eldest son with a solemn expression, exuding the majesty of a king.

After a moment of silence, Rhaegar spoke, “Father, I am back.”

Viserys looked furious and said in a deep voice, “Rhaegar, I thought you were going to be a brat for the rest of your life.”

“A lifetime is too long. I’m more generous,” Rhaegar joked, then added despondently, “If I don’t come back, I’m afraid the doors of the Red Keep will not open for me next time.”

Viserys’ face hardened. “No next time. Otherwise, don’t even come near the Red Keep.”

Rhaegar sighed, noting the changes in everyone’s expressions—Lyonel’s joy, Rhaenys’s relief, Otto’s calmness, and Jasper and Mellos’s silence. He quickly assessed the situation.

Viserys and Lyonel exchanged a look and nodded slightly.

Lyonel, with a shy belly laugh, announced, “Prince, his majesty has prepared a dinner for you, to welcome you back.”

“Excellent,” Rhaegar agreed casually.

“Hmph!” Viserys snorted coldly. “Retire, get some rest, and dress sharply for the dinner.”

“Yes, father,” Rhaegar replied with a smile, nodding to the royal advisers before exiting the hall.

With that, the father-son relationship was restored, and it was time to move on.

Rhaenyra and Helaena were still waiting outside.

As soon as Rhaegar left, the discussion in the hall resumed, shifting from doubts about the prince’s return to planning the celebration details—whether it should be a banquet or a tournament.

…

It was late.

In a remote attic of the Red Keep, a creaking sound echoed as the door was pushed open. Alicent, dressed in a green robe, stepped out with a grim expression.

“The banquet is about to begin. I must get things under control,” she said coldly, and quickly disappeared around the corner of the stairs.

In the attic, a chair faced the wooden door. Larys smiled and wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. News of the prince’s return to King’s Landing had spread like a storm through the Red Keep.

Her Grace the Queen, unable to contain herself, had sought a way to reconcile.

With that in mind, Larys leaned back in his chair and muttered, “If you want something, you have to fight for it. Looking ahead and looking back is not a good idea…”

He shivered and closed his eyes, savoring the moment.

…

In the prince’s bedroom, the familiar layout and the warm fire burning in the fireplace created a cozy atmosphere. Rhaegar sat in front of the dressing table, small, delicate hands behind him combing his long hair.

“Rhaenyra, a simple tie is fine. There’s no need to tie it any other way,” Rhaegar suggested softly, wincing as his hair roots ached from the tugging.

“Oh, I’m sorry if I hurt you,” Rhaenyra replied, easing the force on her hands. She pulled his long hair over her hand, tying it into a low ponytail with a thin rope.

“Suit yourself. The feast is about to begin,” Rhaegar sighed, giving up the struggle. He scooted back on the stool, resting the back of his head against a warm, soft patch.

The temperature was just right, warmer than the fireplace. Rhaegar liked it so much that he turned his face sideways and rubbed it repeatedly.

“Rhaegar, be honest,” Rhaenyra scolded, reaching for his ear. How are you going to meet people if you keep rubbing on me?