Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day - Chapter 254: Inheritance

Celine was filled with regret. She should have insisted on annulling the marriage; at least then, she might have found happiness.

Since marrying Laenor, she spent most of her time alone or witnessing him flirt with his personal knight. The very thought made her stomach churn.

Laenor and Laena were close, often listening to their sister. Reluctantly, Laenor sat back down beside Celine, forcing a smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll have a baby.”

Celine’s eyes were numb with disappointment. “Can you?”

Laenor’s forced smile faltered as he took a long gulp of wine. The words stung. A man couldn’t admit he couldn’t perform, but… he truly couldn’t. Despite his efforts, he couldn’t muster the desire to be with his wife. This filled him with guilt and made him avoid her even more. People tend to run from their flaws.

The room fell into an awkward silence until Viserys broke it by introducing a new topic. “Daemon, you should cherish your wife. She’s a treasure.”

Daemon’s slight conflicts with Laena hadn’t gone unnoticed by Viserys. “As it should be,” Daemon replied lightly.

Rhaenyra, stroking Laena’s flat belly, smiled. “When the baby is born, what will you name it?”

“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?” Laena asked, her eyes sparkling.

“You’ve already thought of a name?” Rhaenyra was surprised.

“Of course, I think about it all the time,” Laena said, pressing Rhaenyra’s hand. “If it’s a girl, we’ll name her after you.”

“What about a boy?” Rhaenyra asked, intrigued.

Laena turned to Rhaegar, who was eating his melon. “A boy will be named Rhaegar. It’s a good, strong name.”

Rhaegar, feeling the attention on him, humbly said, “My name is quite common, not as noble as you say.”

Viserys’s face darkened. “Rhaegar, your mother chose that name before she died. Don’t belittle it.”

“Sorry, father,” Rhaegar apologized immediately.

Viserys, still annoyed, said to Laena, “Use the name Rhaegar. I hope your child will be just as remarkable.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Laena said gratefully.

Viserys waved it off, his affection for the name Rhaegar evident. It was the name his wife had called out on her deathbed. For her, he had foregone naming his eldest son after his father, Baelon Targaryen.

The mood of the feast brightened after this exchange. Rhaenyra and Laena chatted a bit more before Rhaenyra returned to her seat, her eyes burning with a different intensity as she looked at Rhaegar.

“What’s the matter?” Rhaegar asked, feeling a shiver run down his spine.

Rhaenyra shook her head and folded her hands on her belly.

Rhaegar understood immediately and shook his head. Rhaenyra and he aren’t even married yet. They cannot follow Laena’s example.

“Rhaegar, be careful,” Rhaenyra warned. “I don’t want to stain my dress or drink tea again.”

Rhaegar, hesitantly, said, “I have a small fortune. I can afford dozens of dresses.”

The maester had advised against drinking too much moon tea, so it’s usually just a matter of changing clothes or taking a shower.

“I don’t care. I’m not accommodating you anymore,” Rhaenyra said sternly.

Rhaegar smiled helplessly. The feeling of impending trouble was not pleasant. Often, he couldn’t do as he wished. Rhaenyra held the initiative.

…

Three days later, it was midday at the Dragonpit. Rhaenyra and Rhaegar entered under the escort of the Dragonkeepers. Rhaegar’s name day had already passed, and the recent family feasts had doubled as his celebration. Now, Rhaegar was preparing to return to Harrenhal for the upcoming tournament.

King Viserys had announced the tournament across the Seven Kingdoms, inviting nobles from all corners to attend. Due to some nobles residing in remote areas, the event was scheduled for mid-summer, half a year away, to ensure everyone had ample time to travel.

Inside the Dragonpit, Rhaegar immediately heard a sharp dragon roar, followed by Daemon’s low voice. “You are Caraxes, a mighty dragon.”

Rhaegar continued walking, observing the dim interior of the Dragonpit. Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm, was prostrate on the ground, his snake-like neck stretching and his slender body twisting. One of his wings flapped normally while the other drooped, shackled and secured by a steel collar.

During the last dragon battle on Driftmark Island, Caraxes had suffered severe damage to one of his wings.

After two years of recuperation on the rocks of Driftmark , his wing was repaired, but it was so distorted that it couldn’t keep balance. Recently released from captivity, Daemon had been the first to visit his dragon, and was disappointed by Caraxes’ condition.

Daemon had taken drastic measures, binding Caraxes with chains and amputating the deformed part with an axe, then bandaging the wound. The dragon’s roar during this procedure was said to be heard throughout Driftmark, nearly provoking the sleeping Vhagar.

Daemon’s methods, though extreme, were somewhat effective. Dragons are resilient and can heal over time. Caraxes was silent for another year, but its wounds were mostly healed and its bone grafts were in good shape. In another year and a half, it would be able to fly again.

As Rhaegar approached, he saw Daemon rubbing the scarlet scales of Caraxes. Daemon wasn’t alone; his two daughters were with him. The introverted Rhaena clung to Daemon’s coat, looking at Caraxes with a mix of fear and envy. Baela, bolder, circled around Caraxes’s neck, observing intently.

After a while, Baela asked, “Father, when will my sister and I’s dragon eggs hatch?”

She had a green egg, while her sister had a red egg with black spots. Neither showed signs of hatching.

Daemon replied, “Don’t be anxious. The dragon egg will choose its owner and the time of its birth.”

“When is that?” Baela looked puzzled.

“I don’t know,” Daemon said flatly.

“No?” Baela exclaimed, surprised that her seemingly omnipotent father didn’t have an answer.

Daemon remained calm, murmuring, “Be patient. You are my daughters, and it is your destiny to become dragon riders.”

The probability of a dragon egg hatching is not high, especially when placed in a baby’s cradle. This tradition, dating back to when Rhaenys placed eggs for her brother Jaehaerys, had little success.

Over the years, only Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra had successfully hatched eggs in their cradles. Daemon himself, his brother Viserys, their cousin Rhaenys, and many nieces and nephews, including Rhaegar, had failed.

The dragon egg in the cradle tradition had become more of a symbolic blessing for future generations.

Baela nodded earnestly. “Alright, I’ll go back and take good care of the dragon eggs.”

“Me too,” Rhaena agreed, raising her hand.

Rhaegar approached, deliberately deepening his footsteps to announce his arrival.

Daemon turned his head at the sound, seeing his nephew and niece coming together. He glanced at them briefly before turning away, uninterested. Except for his brother Viserys, no one in House Targaryen paid him much heed, and he reciprocated the sentiment.

Rhaenyra and Rhaegar exchanged a look, curiosity evident in their eyes. The tension between Daemon and Laena and Laenor had been palpable at the recent family banquet.

Rhaenyra took the lead, asking, “Uncle, why aren’t you with Laena?”

Daemon frowned. “Pregnant women are moodier than dragons.”

Baela and Rhaena hurriedly greeted him, explaining, “Grandmother is with Mother. They have something to discuss.”

After the Battle of the Stepstones, the kingdom was at peace. When the Sea Snake stepped down as Commander of the Navy, Viserys had invited him to become te Master of Ships.

Sea Snake had declined, citing the need to recuperate, and stayed on Driftmark. Rhaenys, as the Master of Dragons, traveled between King’s Landing and Driftmark, occasionally acting as godmother to several of her cousins. It was a demanding role, but she managed it to keep the Targaryens and Valyrians united.

Picking up on the subtext, Rhaenyra’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Uncle, did you and Laena argue about the baby?”

Daemon shook his head impatiently. “You’re supposed to be heading back to the Riverlands. Hurry up and go.”

Rhaenyra tugged at Rhaegar’s sleeve, winking. Daemon seemed anxious.

Rhaegar’s thoughts aligned quickly. He asked bluntly, “Laena wants to name the baby as Laenor’s heir?”

Daemon’s hand, which was stroking Caraxes, paused. He turned his head, eyes cold.

Rhaegar spread his hands, smiling. “Looks like I guessed right.”

Laenor couldn’t have children, and the Velaryon House needed an heir. Laena’s child was the perfect candidate, possessing both Velaryon and Targaryen blood.

“You guessed wrong, but you’re close,” Daemon admitted, annoyed. He took his daughters’ hands and said, “Corlys wants me to name one of my daughters, or Laena’s unborn fourth child, as the heir to House Velaryon.”

“That doesn’t seem harsh. Your child would legally inherit Driftmark,” Rhaegar reasoned.

Daemon’s eyes narrowed. “Would you let your child give up their family name for a piece of territory?”