Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day - Chapter 262: Alicent’s Rage

As evening fell, two dragons soared from the Isle of Faces toward the moonlit Harrenhal Castle. The gates of Harrenhal stood wide open, and a procession of wagons, loaded with goods and trunks entered the castle in an orderly line.

From above, Rhaegar watched the long line of loaded wagons being pulled into the courtyard. Cannibal landed gracefully, and Rhaegar dismounted to help an exhausted Rhaenyra down from her dragon.

As they walked back to the Kingspyre Tower, Rhaegar wondered aloud, “Did Old Tully really send so many gifts?”

He knew Old Tully’s character well enough to find it surprising. The man was notoriously stingy and would not easily part with such a large sum.

“Hmph, of course not,” Rhaenyra replied with a cold snort, her voice tinged with jealousy. “It’s a gift from your Highgarden rose, a hundred wagonloads of it.”

“Margaret?” Rhaegar frowned slightly, filtering out the bitterness in Rhaenyra’s tone. “Why would she send so much for no good reason?”

He had no plans to visit Highgarden and no intention of getting involved romantically. Receiving such a generous gift felt awkward.

Rhaenyra leaned sullenly on Rhaegar’s shoulder and murmured, “Why else? It’s your irresistible charm.”

For years, noblewomen had coveted Rhaegar’s attention, and Rhaenyra had long since grown indifferent to it.

“Forget it,” Rhaegar said, shaking his head. “Make sure you send a gift back so we don’t seem ungrateful.”

With that, he hoisted the weary Rhaenyra onto his back and left for the tower.

…

Time flew by, and half a month had passed.

In King’s Landing, within the vast halls of the Dragonpit, a young voice echoed persistently.

“Stormcloud, can I touch you?”

“Stormcloud, try this—it’s better than lamb…”

The silver-haired, green-clad Aemond wore a hopeful smile, his eyes fixed nervously on the dragon just a few meters away.

“Roar…”

The young dragon, covered in bright silver scales, lay prostrate, its golden eyes staring indifferently at Aemond. The dragon’s small claws gripped the stone floor as it listened to Aemond’s attempts at communication.

After three years of growth, Stormcloud had reached the size of a horse. Despite being a young dragon, Stormcloud had been kept in the Dragonpit. Aemond, the only Targaryen without a dragon, frequently visited, hoping to bond with the creature.

“Stormcloud, I brought you a goat,” Aemond said, his voice steady despite his growing frustration.

Ignoring Aemond’s words, Stormcloud remained impassive. Determined, Aemond ordered the Dragonkeepers to bring in a goat.

“Baa…”

The goat, tied with a hemp rope, wiggled its fat body. Aemond took the twine and led the goat toward Stormcloud, speaking in High Valyrian, “Stormcloud, Dracarys!”

The dragon, however, continued to creep towards its crypt, showing no interest in Aemond or the goat.

People choose dragons, and dragons choose people. Clearly, Stormcloud did not recognize Aemond as its master.

“Stormcloud, Dracarys!” Aemond shouted again, his frustration growing. All his siblings—Aegon, Helaena, and Daeron—had their own dragons. Feeling increasingly overlooked, Aemond couldn’t bear the disappointment in his parents’ eyes.

Stormcloud remained indifferent, its tail lazily coiled under its long neck, eyes closed in a feigned sleep.

“Stormcloud, rise! Obey my commands!” Aemond yelled, shoving the goat closer to the dragon.

His yelling finally provoked the young dragon. With a mighty roar, Stormcloud opened its icy pupils, turned its body, and unleashed a fierce blast of silver-gray Dragonfire.

“No, no, no!” Aemond cried out, shocked. Instinctively, he turned and fell to the ground, narrowly avoiding the searing flames.

The goat, however, was quickly roasted and turned into a blackened charcoal. Aemond curled up on the ground, avoiding the direct impact of the Dragonfire, but his green cloak caught fire from the sparks.

“Ahh! It’s so hot!” Aemond got up quickly as the flames died down, unbuttoning his cloak as he ran.

“Prince, I’ll help you!” One of the Dragonkeepers rushed forward, almost stunned by the dragon’s unexpected aggression.

Stormcloud’s usually aloof and mild character didn’t suggest he would breathe fire so readily.

After a moment of scrambling, Aemond managed to rip off his burning cloak and stomped on it in frustration.

“Take Stormcloud back to the dragon pit,” said the older Dragonkeeper. “He’s not fit to tame anymore.”

Dragons are proud creatures. When they don’t recognize someone, they never will. A dragon that breathes fire at a potential rider is nearly impossible to tame.

Aemond, still furious, stomped on the charred cloak, cursing, “Damn, damn…”

He just wanted to tame a dragon like his siblings, but it was proving to be so difficult.

“I’ll get it!” Aemond muttered, gasping for breath, his eyes filled with frustration.

Suddenly, a muffled dragon’s roar echoed through the kingdom, coming from the direction of the Dragonpit. The Dragonkeepers rushed to open the doors.

A huge black dragon, as dark as charcoal, descended from the sky, its sharp feet landing with a burst of hot sparks. Aemond turned, panic in his eyes, staring at the massive creature. The panic quickly turned to envy and jealousy.

“Roar…” The black dragon roared lowly, bent its lofty back, folded its wings, and crawled into the Dragonpit. Its fierce green eyes showed disdain for the confined space.

Aemond ran to the side, hiding beside the Dragonkeepers, watching the silver-haired figure on the dragon’s back. His eyes lit up, and he shouted, “Brother!”

Rhaegar, standing on high ground, had already spotted the boy. As Cannibal crawled to the edge of the Dragonpit and settled, Rhaegar slid down and walked towards his foolish younger brother.

Aemond hurried to greet him with a bright smile. “Brother, why did you suddenly come back?”

“What, don’t you welcome me?” Rhaegar teased, taking off his cloak and casually tossing it to Aemond.

Aemond caught the cloak obediently, hugging it as he followed Rhaegar. “No, I missed you.”

“Oh, I think you miss the dragon,” Rhaegar said, noticing the burnt and crushed cloak, guessing that Aemond had failed in his attempt to tame Stormcloud.

“You see through everything,” Aemond said sheepishly, scratching his head. “Brother, Stormcloud doesn’t like me. Can you take me to Dragonstone Island?”

This was his plan. On Dragonstone, there were three unowned dragons, including the formidable bronze fury Vermithor. Aemond wanted a real dragon, not a baby Stormcloud.

Rhaegar glanced at him and said, “I can take you to Dragonstone Island, but there’s no guarantee you’ll be able to tame a dragon.”

Aemond had faced ridicule from Aegon and many disapproving stares. The three dragons on Dragonstone Island were adults, making the task even harder.

“It doesn’t matter. I won’t give up,” Aemond said excitedly. At ten years old, he could see things more clearly. Aegon, though his brother, was unreliable. If he wanted to succeed, he had to rely on Rhaegar.

…

Red Keep, Banquet Hall

Viserys was arranging the wine for the dinner, a smile on his face as he directed the servants to set up the place.

The sound of high heels echoed menacingly.

Viserys’s smile froze as Alicent, dressed in a green gown, descended the stairs. Her curly hair trembled with each step, and her grim expression betrayed her foul mood.

“Alicent, you should be with Aegon,” Viserys began.

Alicent’s eyes, filled with sadness and anger, flashed as she retorted, “You are the one who should be with Aegon; you are his father.”

Viserys rubbed his forehead. “Aegon is a man, not as fragile as you think.”

“What do you mean, not as fragile as you think?” Alicent exclaimed angrily, nearly dancing with agitation. “It’s all because of your good brother! He attacked Rhaegar before, and now he’s injured Aegon, and you’re just going to let him do it?”

At that moment, Rhaegar and Rhaenyra entered the hall together, followed by a small entourage: Helaena, Aemond, and Daeron. Aegon wasn’t there. Rumor had it he’d been beaten and was bedridden.

Viserys glanced at the arriving children and tried to soothe his wife. “Daemon has changed. He is the Lord of the Narrow Sea and is responsible for the Stepstones.”

“His responsibility is to wound Aegon, his own brother’s child?” Alicent would not relent, her voice rising.

A few days ago, Aegon had returned to King’s Landing by ship, bruised and swollen. The guards revealed that Daemon had beaten him on Bloodstone Island. Daemon had mobilized the garrison to attack the Triarchy’s pirates, but Aegon had delayed the attack, allowing the pirates to escape. In a rage, Daemon had publicly beaten and humiliated Aegon.

Alicent’s children were her bottom line, and Daemon’s actions had frayed her fragile nerves. She couldn’t stop thinking about Aegon’s physical and mental humiliation and demanded Daemon be held accountable.

Viserys sighed helplessly, his head aching. Daemon had sent a letter explaining that Aegon’s actions over the past year had undermined the defense of the Stepstones. Viserys had reconciled with his brother, believing Daemon was right to discipline Aegon.