GOT King of Dragon

After leaving Laegor's room, Rhaenyra felt her spirits sink even further. 

She wanted nothing more than to return to her room, take a hot bath, and curl up in her warm bed for a good night's sleep. 

Today had been too oppressive for her. 

Once she woke up, it would be a new day. 

Cole was standing guard outside her door. Rhaenyra greeted him briefly before stepping into her room. 

As she removed her earrings and other accessories, she instinctively poured herself a glass of mead from the table. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she suddenly noticed a bundle placed conspicuously on the desk. 

The unexpected package caught her attention. She glanced around the room. 

After confirming there was no one else there, she cautiously pinched the corner of the package and tilted it upside down. 

Out fell a set of coarse, patched-up clothing. 

There was also a piece of white paper with a simple map drawn on it. 

Rhaenyra picked up the paper and, to her surprise, discovered it was a guide to one of the secret passageways in the Red Keep. 

The map's markings pointed to a location right within her own room. 

She walked over to the marked spot, which turned out to be a wall decorated with carvings. 

She reached out and pushed firmly. The wall gave way, opening to reveal the night view outside the Red Keep. 

Beyond the wall was a staircase enclosed by an iron railing, leading to an unknown destination. 

Rhaenyra's lips curled into a smile, intrigued. 

She loved exploring—it gave her the same rush as flying on dragonback. 

Returning to the desk, she removed her ornate gown and slipped into the patched-up coarse garments. 

She gave the clothes a sniff. Thankfully, there wasn't any strange odor. 

After disguising herself, Rhaenyra stepped out through the secret passage. 

The dark corridor stretched ahead. Along the way, she passed a chapel that housed the skull of Balerion the Black Dread... 

Eventually, she arrived at a hidden corner of the Red Keep. 

There, a cloaked figure had been waiting for quite some time. 

As Rhaenyra studied the figure, the person turned around, revealing a familiar face. 

"Daemon?" 

Rhaenyra whispered in surprise. 

Daemon smiled and suggested, "Shall we go out for a walk? See some sights you've never seen before?" 

Glancing back hesitantly, Rhaenyra wavered. 

She felt that sneaking out with her uncle in the middle of the night wasn't exactly proper behavior. 

Noticing her hesitation, Daemon teased, "What's the matter? Are you afraid to leave? Do you want to go back and play the little princess instead?" 

The subtle jab hit a nerve. Gritting her teeth, Rhaenyra declared, "I'm not going back. Let's go." 

"Excellent." 

Daemon pulled his hood over his head, turned, and began leading her out of the Red Keep. 

Rhaenyra followed closely behind. Her heart was uneasy but also thrumming with excitement. 

---

Daemon led them to the infamous Silk Street, known far and wide. 

Unlike the free trade atmosphere of the daytime, the nighttime Silk Street was bustling with noise and chaos, teeming with all sorts of people. 

The two weaved through the crowded alleys, passing countless vendors and street performers. 

Some couples were even engaging in acts of passion in plain sight, completely unbothered by onlookers. 

Their positions were... quite eye-catching. 

Rhaenyra, raised with royal decorum, was utterly shocked. 

Her propriety prompted her to raise her hand, shielding her face to avoid sullying her eyes with such sights. 

But her curiosity made her part her fingers, sneaking a peek through the gaps. 

When else would she ever witness such scenes? 

The pair strolled leisurely, stopping here and there, until they arrived at a crowded stage where many had gathered. 

On the stage, actors were performing a play about the Targaryen royal family. 

The performance had reached its most exciting part. 

Two actors portrayed children, while a jester played a princess dressed in white. 

The main actor moved comically, narrating the story in an exaggerated tone: 

"Now let's talk about the mighty Iron Throne and whose rear end will claim it!" 

"Our benevolent king has named his daughter—a girl—as his heir." 

"The former queen gave birth to a son who sleeps the day away." 

"And the new queen? She gave birth to a son as well—a healthy boy!" 

"So, which heir will claim the throne?" 

"The king's brother? His daughter? Or his two sons from different mothers?" 

At this point, the two actors playing children began shoving each other, shouting their names. 

"I am Aegon! I bear the name of the Conqueror and the strength of a man!" 

"I am the sleeping dragon! The king is my father! Feel the wrath of the slumbering dragon!" 

The scene reached its climax. The audience roared with laughter and applause at the ridiculous performance. 

But Rhaenyra's smile gradually faded as she stared at the play in confusion. 

Soon, the actor playing Rhaegar pushed his opponent down, straddling him while swaying back and forth. 

He shouted, "I am the king's eldest son! No one can compete with me!" 

The actor on the ground flailed and begged for mercy, rolling around dramatically. 

The crowd's enthusiasm only grew, their cheers louder than ever. 

Rhaenyra's expression turned grim as she silently observed the mockery on stage.

--- 

Rhaenyra's smile completely faded. She glared at Daemon in dissatisfaction and said indignantly, "A boring joke? You brought me here just to see this?"

Daemon replied calmly, "It is indeed a joke, but many commoners believe that as male heirs, Rhaegar and Aegon should be the successors."

"What they think doesn't matter."

Rhaenyra retorted, unwilling to watch the dull performance any longer.

Daemon followed behind her and said casually, "If you plan to rule the realm one day, what they think becomes critically important."

"Ugh, sometimes I really want to just let go of the burden of being the heir," Rhaenyra said with a self-deprecating tone.

"Heh, if you give up that position, it'll only benefit others," Daemon said, his tone carrying a hint of implication.

Rhaenyra shot him a glare and said unhappily, "Including you!"

Daemon curved his lips into a faint smile and didn't deny it.

Seeing his shameless attitude, Rhaenyra grabbed a candied fruit from a nearby vendor and threw it at him before taking off at a run. 

Amid the noisy clamor, the sound of the young woman's exhilarated cheer could still be heard as if she were venting her emotions.

Daemon, expressionless, brushed past the protesting vendor and quickly followed her.

---

**The Red Keep.**

As night deepened, Helaena grew tired from playing and went to bed. Alone in his room, Rhaegar also turned off the lights and lay down to sleep.

As soon as he rested his head on the bed, Rhaegar once again found himself in a dream. 

In the dream, he was wearing a white robe and holding a sword. 

Looking around, he saw a battlefield littered with broken limbs and corpses—a sea of blood and mountains of dead. 

Confused and overwhelmed, Rhaegar felt nauseated from the stench of blood. 

He bent over to vomit, and as he did, the smooth white robe draped over his body, revealing a small, speckled bloodstain that seemed to appear out of nowhere. 

Rhaegar noticed it immediately. 

Before he could examine it further, the bloodstain, initially just a tiny dot, began spreading outward, growing larger and larger. 

In the blink of an eye, it had soaked half the white robe, and drops of dirty blood began falling to the ground. 

A cold wind suddenly swept through, lifting the white robe, which fluttered ominously over Rhaegar's head. 

Witnessing this scene, an inexplicable fear gripped Rhaegar. 

"When the wind stops, that blood-soaked robe will fall on me, covering my face and head with filthy blood."

The thought flashed through his mind, and Rhaegar took off running, desperate to leave the robe behind. 

He thought that if he ran far enough, the robe wouldn't touch him when it fell. 

However, the half-white, half-red robe seemed to have chosen him as its target. 

No matter where he ran or how fast he went, the robe hovered above his head, waiting for the moment the wind would die down. 

A feeling of helplessness filled his heart, and Rhaegar could no longer muster the strength to run. 

The robe began to descend. 

"No!" 

A cry of alarm echoed through the room as Rhaegar jolted awake from the nightmare. 

Trying to sit up, he accidentally pulled at the scabs on his back, and the sharp pain immediately brought him back to reality. 

"Ugh, another nightmare!" 

Tears welled up in his eyes as he pounded the pillow in frustration. 

The pain was unbearable! 

*Coo-coo, coo-coo…* 

As the pain finally began to subside, the sound of a cuckoo bird came from outside the window. 

Rhaegar frowned in confusion. "It's usually cicadas this time of year. Where did a cuckoo bird come from?" 

*Coo-coo, coo-coo…* 

The birdcall continued, rhythmic and unbroken. 

Something felt off. 

Rhaegar suddenly realized: there were no cuckoo birds in the Red Keep—they had all been eaten by those useless cats. 

---

(End of Chapter)