Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Roar!

Several dragons let out a long howl, their pupils wide and alert as they looked at the Dragoneater. To be precise, it was a man and a dragon standing in front of the Great Pyramid.

“Syrax, what's wrong with you?” Rhaenyra, sweating profusely, lay on the dragon's saddle, concerned for her beloved. Syrax shook its head and lay down on the ground. It didn't know either, but the magic of the horn had calmed the ferocity in its bones.

“Sheepstealer, move!” Aemond gripped the reins tightly and urged the dragon on.

“Roar...” The Sheepstealer glanced at the Blood Wyrm and reluctantly moved. Caraxes snorted sharply, looking at the dragon cub with narrowed eyes.

“Quiet, Caraxes,” Daemon commanded, calm and collected. He sensed danger in the sound of the horn. He had already lost the chance to take revenge by not killing his one-eyed nephew initially. If he continued, his good nephew would not sit idly by.

...

“Cannibal, you never learn.” Rhaegar leaned back, elbows braced against the hard scales, teasing the dragon.

“Roar...” Cannibal let out a muted roar, as if in protest. It is a cannibal. Is it wrong to be greedy?

Bang! The half-meter-tall horn was thrown away, tumbling to the ground and breaking into pieces like a melon rind. Under the scorching black fire, the horn material burned out large and small holes, and the yellow gold melted into a liquid. This is the side effect of the Dragon Dance, which is too much for the mortal world to bear. If Rhaegar were not a dragonborn, he would have been burned to death.

“Put me down,” Rhaegar patted the dragon's head and looked down at the other dragons.

“Roar...” Cannibal snorted heavily, and its body slowly slithered down, its head resting flat on the ground.

Daeron, who was closest to the dragon, swallowed involuntarily. “Gulp~” The black dragon crouched down, and at first glance, it looked as if a mountain of coal had collapsed and would bury them at any second.

“It’s so scary.” Daeron’s face turned pale, and he rubbed against Tessarion's scales. Tessarion was no better off than the rider, trembling and curling up into a cobalt blue ball. The dual deterrent of the Dragoneater and the dragon dance was simply too much for a young dragon to bear.

The other adult dragons were much better off. Syrax obediently lowered itself to allow the rider to slide off its back.

“Rhaegar, are you okay!?” Rhaenyra rolled off the dragon and ran up to him, carrying The Realm’s Delight over her shoulder.

“I had a dream.” Rhaegar smiled, put the dragon whip back on his shoulder, and opened his arms to welcome her. “It was peaceful, not as good as your dragon fighting.”

“Nonsense.” Rhaenyra threw herself into his arms, her eyes misty with tears. “If anything happened to you, everyone would suffer.”

Still not satisfied, she clenched her fists and punched his chest.

Thud! Rhaenyra cried out in pain.

“Huh? What’s going on?” Rhaenyra was confused by the sight, first holdingRhaegar’s red, clenched fists, then examining his body.

Rhaenyra's eyes widened as she lifted Rhaegar's hem, revealing his dragonborn form. His skin was pale as paper, with angular muscles that were particularly defined.

“Rhaegar, you’ve grown,” she said, her eyes narrowing slightly. She pinched Rhaegar’s right chest, then moved to his left. The black scales were arranged like a stalwart shield. Rhaegar looked down to see seven black dragon scales growing from his chest, protecting his heart.

Rhaenyra quickly covered him with her body, turned around, and glanced back, whispering anxiously, “Has your bloodline been refined again?”

Rhaegar’s bloodline was too pure, and the dragon’s nature was hidden in his bones. Once the purity exceeds the upper limit, his spirit will also be affected.

“It seems so,” Rhaegar replied. He touched his chest. The scales were not smooth but rough and hot, like a metal shield exposed to the sun on a hot day. But he didn’t feel out of control; his mood was stable and peaceful.

“Rhaegar, don’t lie to me.” Rhaenyra was still very worried.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” Rhaegar was unusually serious, holding her hand and pressing it against his chest. The calm and orderly heartbeat proved he was not lying.

He silently opened the explorer panel.

Rhaegar Targaryen

Talent: Dreamer (Gold)

Bloodline: Dragonborn (+62%)

Runes: Bronze (Green), Serpent (Blue), Dream Eater (Purple)

Blood Sorcery: Binding Spells (Blue), Dragon Dance (Purple)...

Relics: Blood and Fire, Dreamscape, Pure Water...

Comment: “Ancient bloodline, good at making up for deficiencies.”

Rhaegar’s bloodline bar had risen again, and his bloodline purity increased. From 61% to 62%, the “+” in front of the number still existed.

“The Dragon Dance greatly stimulated the blood,” Rhaegar mused, gratitude for Daenys rising to new heights. She must have sensed something and had gone to great lengths to get him to listen to the Dragon Dance.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Of course.” Seeing Rhaegar’s confident expression, Rhaenyra let out a sigh of relief and whispered, “What are you going to do about Daemon and Aemond?”

The behavior of the uncle and nephew was extremely bad. She tried to mediate between them, but when that failed, she took sides, fighting whoever was winning to stop the dragons from making a last-ditch attempt.

“You’ve worked hard,” Rhaegar said, understanding his sister’s mind. He hugged her delicate waist, giving her a warm embrace. For some reason, perhaps the music of the Dragon Dance that soothed his dragon nature or it was the spirit he had gained after his dream, Rhaegar felt calm as a spring. He was not disturbed by the anger over the fake dragonlord and the internal strife in the house.

Rhaenyra listened to the sound and felt the pressure on her chest, leaning unnaturally into the embrace. The feeling of being pinched was both annoying and fascinating.

...

“Uncle, you started this, didn’t you?” Rhaegar's voice was calm as he looked at Daemon, who had dismounted from his dragon.

Daemon placed his hands on his stomach and replied with regret, “Yes, I should have acted decisively.” He thought about the escape of the ugly mud dragon and calculated that he had a 70% chance of success with Caraxes.

“It’s good that you admit it,” Rhaegar nodded and then turned to Aemond, his expression cold. “You should be in the east of Essos, not leading Dothraki cavalry to invade Meereen.”

The source of the turmoil was essentially Aemond. If he hadn’t led the Dothraki cavalry to attack the city, the war wouldn’t have spread, and the three dragons wouldn’t have clashed. At most, it would have been a slave revolt, easily suppressed by the Unsullied.

Aemond listened to the accusations and retorted, “I wanted to help you, but Daemon attacked me!”

“Oh?” Daemon glanced at him and sneered, “Do you want to see the city walls that your dragon burned down? I was only attacking the invaders.”

"Daemon, you think you can threaten me because you're older?" Aemond's voice was cold, and his one eye flashed with anger.

“That’s right.” Daemon smiled, looking at his one-eyed nephew with a tilted head, deliberately provoking, “So, what do you want to do?”

Swish! Aemond's anger flared, and he unsheathed the sword at his waist. The Scarlet Forger’s blood-red groove gleamed with a sharp edge, as if a bloody scent permeated the air.

Bang! “You can’t even hold a sword properly, you idiot.” Daemon showed satisfaction and suddenly kicked Aemond’s wrist, sending the Scarlet Forger flying.

“No!” Aemond was shocked, not expecting Daemon to play by the rules. The sudden move stunned both Rhaenyra and Daeron.

“Oh, two idiots,” Rhaegar sighed with regret. “Let’s all take a nap.”

“Gurgle.” The toad popped out of his head, its dead fish eyes glowing. Rhaegar placed his palm under his lips and gently exhaled.

Hoo— The invisible gas swirled up a wisp of gray sand, which drifted into the nostrils of the two. Daemon and Aemond felt their heads buzz and their bodies fall back.

Plop! Plop! Two muffled sounds as their heads hit the ground with pinpoint accuracy.

“Magic!” Daeron exclaimed.

“Mm-hmm,” Rhaegar smiled. “Take Aemond down, and I’ll teach you a few tricks when I have time.”

“Yes, brother!” Daeron, full of energy, carried Aemond’s heavy body away.

“Roar...” Sheepstealer, stunned and looking around at the people present, wanted to rescue its rider.

"Roar..." Cannibal saw its intentions and opened its mouth wide, growling. The Sheepstealer immediately became obedient and slumped back.

Rhaegar did not sit idle. He kicked the sleeping Daemon and sighed, “When he wakes up, tell him to go back to King’s Landing. I wonder how he will face our father.” Daemon had attacked Rhaegar before, and now he had done the same to Aemond. Rhaegar had no desire to judge his uncle; he would let their father handle it.

Rhaenyra hesitated but ultimately did not refute him. Daemon had become more agreeable in recent years, doing his best to respect her and Rhaegar, but Aemond had hired a killer to assassinate White Worm, and Rhaegar had protected his brother.

The conflict between Daemon and Aemond put Rhaegar in a difficult position. It would be better to leave it to their father in King’s Landing to decide.

“Your Grace,” the Sea Snake approached from afar, flanked by a group of Unsullied. Rhaegar glanced at them and asked, “How is it going?”

He was distracted, thinking about ancient Valyria. Reading Daena Aethyrys' dream memories had confirmed that there was a dragon horn in The Lands of the Long Summer. The dream dragon's horn had the power to calm the dragons of the Fourteen Flames. The House's internal strife stemmed from the dragons that gave House Targaryen the courage to fight. If he could obtain a horn, he would not have to worry about the dragons being used against the House.

The Sea Snake, sweating and with clenched teeth, reported, “The rebellion has been initially suppressed. The Great Masters and the slave soldiers have been arrested, and the Dothraki cavalry have all left the city.” The 5,000 Unsullied were enough to sweep through Slaver’s Bay. Meereen, with only 2,000 or 3,000 men, was insignificant.

Rhaegar nodded in response, then suddenly remembered, “What about Aegon?”

“Prince Aegon...” The Sea Snake was speechless for a moment, then said, “You should see for yourself.”

Rhaegar’s face changed slightly. He turned and mounted the Cannibal.

...

In the ruins, the broken golden dragon lay gravely injured, moaning weakly.

“Sunfyre, my Sunfyre...” Aegon couldn’t hold back his tears as he called out to the blackened dragon horn.

“Roar...” Sunfyre's pupils were dilated, and his body was wracked with pain. Unable to move, he could only lift the tip of his tail. The tail, once covered with pale pink dorsal fins, was now burnt bare.

With a thud, the dragon’s tail hit the ground and slid gently to the feet of its rider. Aegon looked at it, his heart sinking. “Sunfyre!” Both man and dragon were badly injured, huddled together to keep warm. This was the scene Rhaegar found when he arrived.

“Don’t cry. It won’t die,” Rhaegar said, helping Aegon to his feet. “I have a way to help Sunfyre heal.”

“Really?” Aegon’s eyes were streaming with tears, and blood oozed from his bandaged stomach.

“I’m not lying.” Rhaegar summoned the Serpent to carefully treat Sunfyre. Dragons were the most powerful magical creatures. As long as they didn’t die on the spot, they could heal even the most serious injuries. At worst, he would ride the Cannibal to Sothoryos and hunt some wyverns. The meat was good, and the wounds would heal quickly.

Hearing this, Aegon's tense spirit relaxed, and he felt dizzy. He had been through a lot that day: entering the city, being attacked, chaos, and Sunfyre being injured. It had caused significant trauma to his fragile heart.

“Go to sleep. Get some rest.” Rhaegar sighed softly, putting Aegon in his arms and resting his head on his chest. What else could a brother do?

Aegon sobbed, mumbling in a daze, “Mommy~”

Rhaegar's face darkened, his heart filled with mixed emotions. Alicent had not been a good mother. All the children lacked love. Of all the children, Aegon, the most spoiled, had the deepest affection for her and often visited Harrenhal, despite their frequent arguments and bad partings.

“Aegon is getting older, past the age of marriage,” Rhaegar thought silently, considering the danger Aegon had been in today. If the assassin's dagger had pierced his heart or throat instead of his belly, he would have lost a brother, and a bloodline of the house would have been cut off.

His mind flashed to the obedient face of Daena Aethyrys. Pat! Rhaegar knew what he wanted to do. He slapped Aegon on the back of the head, and with a dazed look in his eyes, asked, “Aegon, do you want another wife?”

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