Get comfortable, turn the page, and let’s see what this story has been hiding 🔥 ✦ Vaelor waved to his new guard detail and trotted away.
Lady Rhea looked him over once, then said nothing and led her son into the ship’s cabin.
By coincidence, the sky was gradually darkening.
Vaelor was full of expectation.
He thought his mother had some special warning for him.
In the end, she only told him to rest properly and not appear before the king’s family with dark circles under his eyes.
“Oh.” Vaelor stood there for a moment, then returned to his room with disappointment difficult to hide.
Before leaving, he leaned against the doorframe and swept one last glance around the room.
‘Are we sure nothing is wrong?’ Lady Rhea pretended not to see and began making her bed.
“Good night.” Vaelor waved his little hand and shut the door perfectly behind him.
The moment he turned away, he was deeply speechless.
He knew it.
His mother was not entirely reliable.
Nor was she overflowing with maternal love.
“Fine.
Children do not hold grudges against adults.” With both hands clasped behind his back, Vaelor soon comforted himself.
So what if he had to sleep alone and often had nightmares?
He was now a child blessed by the panel.
Later that evening, Vaelor returned to his chamber.
“Come see.
I used the extra grass to fill a pillow for you.” Old Martha breathed out, stood, and beat at her aching waist.
“Good!” Vaelor answered loudly.
He ran to the bed and saw that the Ula grass in the basket had vanished, replaced by a sleeping mat and a small pillow.
The mat was a little over three feet wide and about four feet long.
The pillow was round and plump, stuffed full of grass blades.
Vaelor kicked off his little boots, lay down on the blue-backed mat, and rolled over it.
Then he hugged the pillow and breathed deeply.
It smelled of fresh grass, with a sweet scent like mint beneath it.
“Martha, your hands are wonderful.” Vaelor smiled brilliantly and rolled back and forth like a child who had stolen lamp oil, utterly satisfied.
Old Martha was exhausted and her eyes were swimming.
Seeing him content, she rose to leave.
“If you are pleased, then sleep.” “Bye-bye!” Vaelor did not try to keep her, only gave a sweet childish farewell.
Clack.
The cabin door closed, and the light dimmed at once.
“Heh.
Let us hope for a good dream tonight.” Vaelor lay down with satisfaction, his head resting on the Ula grass pillow while his hands and feet swept over the mat.
Gradually, sleep rose over him.
Without noticing it, he closed his eyes, his breathing settling into soft snores.
Two days passed in a blur.
The Prince Vaelor cut through the waves, sailed down the narrow sea, and entered the Gullet leading into Blackwater Bay.
Water surged and struck the hull.
The salty sea wind blew in bursts.
Vaelor was wrapped up tightly and leaning against the deck rail, watching the sea.
Compared with two days earlier, he looked far more energetic.
His cheeks were rosy and healthy.
Every so often, he shouted at the sea, then giggled at himself.
“Martha told me you did not wake from nightmares these past two nights.” Footsteps came from behind him.
Lady Rhea, wearing leather armor, approached and showed a rare trace of concern for her son.
Vaelor turned back and answered obediently, “That’s right.
I slept very soundly.” He reached back and patted the basket behind him.
Lady Rhea was surprised, but did not ask further.
The boy had developed a strange habit.
Everywhere he went, he carried a basket almost as tall as himself.
She had ordered the old septa to inspect it.
It held only a rolled-up grass mat and a pillow, neither too heavy nor too light.
Noticing his mother’s gaze, Vaelor looked up at the sky and whistled, quietly turning his back.
Whether he slept properly or not depended on that basket.
His dark circles were gone.
He would cherish it while it lasted.
Lady Rhea rested both hands on the rail and looked toward Blackwater Bay.
“We are nearly at King’s Landing.
Are you nervous?” “No.” Vaelor answered without hesitation.
King’s Landing was his first home.
He had been born there and grown safely until the age of three.
What was there to fear in going home?
Lady Rhea lowered her head and looked at her son, her expression turning serious.
“In your heart, you should know you are a Targaryen.” Vaelor was caught off guard.
He looked down at his clothes.
Black garments.
Little black boots.
At his collar, the three-headed red dragon of House Targaryen.
Add his silver-gold shoulder-length hair and violet eyes, and he looked Targaryen at a glance.
Lady Rhea’s expression was difficult to read, as if words had lodged in her throat and demanded to be spoken.
Vaelor lowered his head and realized where the problem lay.
Ever since Queen Alysanne arranged the betrothal between her grandson Daemon and Lady Rhea, the marriage had carried the seed of a succession dispute.
Daemon had taken a wife.
He had not married into House Royce.
Any child born of that marriage would naturally bear the name Targaryen.
But Lady Rhea was a woman, and a child who followed the father’s name might one day place Runestone beneath a different banner.
When that day came, where would House Royce stand?
Vaelor thought until his head hurt, but he had no solution for the moment.
In a small voice, he asked, “Then you arranged guards because you want to leave me in King’s Landing, right?” As long as he stayed far from Runestone, House Royce could choose a suitable cousin as heir.
The sudden guard detail was a parting protection.
Lady Rhea nearly laughed from anger.
With unconcealed disdain, she said, “Do not think me as shameless as a Targaryen.
Though I do not like admitting it, you are my son.” “Really?” Vaelor’s eyes lit up.
He threw himself against his mother’s straight legs and confirmed it again.
“You are not sending me away?” “I have never said such a thing.” Lady Rhea shook her head.
Who had spread those rumors and frightened the child like this?
Whatever his mother was thinking, Vaelor was very happy.
“Then how will you handle the inheritance?
You usually ignore me.” If his mother had no intention of stripping him of his claim, then he could still remain at Runestone in the future.
King’s Landing was good, but it belonged to someone else.
Runestone, where his mother lived, was the root that let him stand.
“I have no plan.” Lady Rhea crossed her arms and answered very simply.
“When you were born, you were weak.
I thought you would die young.
Keeping you close would only have wasted feeling.” “Ah?” Vaelor stared, nearly losing his composure.
His mother had kept her distance because she had reached the wrong conclusion too early?
“It is a trivial matter.
No need to dwell on it.” Lady Rhea coughed lightly and shifted the subject.
“What I mean is this: once we reach King’s Landing, the king will certainly urge you to stay.
The choice is yours.” Vaelor fell silent and understood a little.
At present, the royal family was thin.
There were only two adult male members: his uncle Viserys and his father Daemon.
Vaelor was eight full years old.
At this point, he was unlikely to die in childhood.
It was only natural for the royal family to want him recalled.
Thinking of the conversation above, he asked, “Then should I stay or not?” “As you wish.” Lady Rhea’s expression did not change, but her eyes remained fixed on his pale, soft face.
Vaelor was clever enough to declare his position immediately.
“I will not stay.
Beat me to death and I still will not stay.” Great things were best done while developing quietly, out of sight and out of the line of fire.
King’s Landing was a great pit, and his small body could not fill it.
“Hmph.” Lady Rhea frowned and set her face sternly.
“There would be no place for you there anyway.
Just like that bastard they drove away.” Her words were harsh, but the upward curve of her mouth betrayed her.
“We are only going hunting this time, and visiting old friends and family along the way.” Vaelor hugged her leg and nodded like a chick pecking grain.
No need to guess.
The bastard his mother mentioned was Daemon.
As the king’s younger brother, he had been driven away during the struggle over succession.
There were too many twists hidden in that.
At the moment, he was still hunting crabs in the Stepstones.
Lady Rhea glanced at her son, surprised by his quickness and faintly proud as well.
The child she had borne was smarter than that bastard.
Her son could return to King’s Landing, but if he stayed there, he would only become an eyesore.
By birth order and male-line preference, Vaelor was the eldest grandson of Baelon the Brave and the eldest great-grandson of the Old King Jaehaerys I.
His claim stood ahead of Princess Rhaenyra’s.
After Queen Aemma died, Daemon had been driven out over the Heir for a Day incident, yet King Viserys had directly named his daughter heir to the Iron Throne.
The royal family had not even informed mother and son at Runestone about Queen Aemma’s funeral.
Now the king’s daughter sat firmly as heir, and the new queen Alicent had given birth first to little Prince Aegon and then to Princess Helaena.
Only now had they remembered the nephew they had left behind.
That was hardly honorable conduct.
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CREATORS’ THOUGHTS EmberHollow Thank you for reading.
I hope this chapter pulled you deeper into the story.
Stick around, because there’s still a lot waiting just ahead.