A Song of Ice and Fire: Wrath of the Sleeping Dragon

Viserys was being pursued by three vicious mercenaries.

Meanwhile, on the other side.

Queen Rhaella, heavily pregnant, had laboriously returned to her bedchamber. With the help of two handmaidens, she removed her elaborate outer garments and changed into a pure white velvet nightgown before carefully lying down on the soft bed.

"My child..."

Her silver-gold hair spread out, and the woman quietly lay on the bed, her beautiful pale purple eyes gazing at the ceiling above.

Her eyes still held an unshakable sadness, one hand caressing her swollen belly, slightly lost in thought.

Rhaella's mental state was truly worrisome, as she sometimes vented her anger at Viserys without reason or inexplicably burst into tears.

The woman had endured too much and showed signs of madness.

But now, Rhaella's mental state was relatively clear.

"I don't know if bringing you into this world... is right or wrong."

Her homeland had been destroyed.

With time passing, Rhaella also knew that Robert Baratheon, across Blackwater Bay, wouldn't easily let her and her son go.

At present, the warships outside were engaged in battle, perhaps the navy Baratheon had built was already in pursuit.

Rhaella herself was just a fragile woman. She didn't understand the war and rarely inquired about political matters while staying at the Red Keep. She was utterly ignorant of the so-called bigger picture.

However, she also understood that the barren Dragonstone had no people or resources, making it impossible to defend.

But where could they go?

She didn't want to give up Dragonstone, even resisting the idea to the point of near madness. Giving up Dragonstone meant voluntarily leaving Westeros and admitting the change of power in the Iron Throne.

She feared her heart would break, and hope would vanish.

But now, she regretted letting the child inside her come into this world. Their fate in the future might be worse than that of a commoner.

It's just... the child was already so big; Rhaella couldn't bring herself to give it up.

This was the motivation that could sustain a woman with a heart like dead ashes to keep living.

Next to Queen Rhaella's bedchamber were the handmaidens' rooms, and several guards patrolled the corridor.

This area was located in the main castle's upper level on Dragonstone. Going up through the stone stairs, one would reach the map table room, where Aegon the Conqueror had once planned the conquest of Westeros.

Outside, the sounds of battle were deafening.

"Seven Gods, protect us."

Rhaella Targaryen lay on the bed, her silver-gold hair spread out, her chest heaving gently, and then she touched her forehead and whispered a prayer.

She prayed for victory in this war.

While Rhaella was lost in her thoughts, something unexpected happened outside her bedchamber. First, a cry of enemy attack from downstairs alerted the guards outside her room.

"Who's there?!"

The guards responsible for protecting the queen seemed to have discovered something, drawing their swords and shouting loudly.

The next second.

The sound of weapons clashing and screams erupted outside Queen Rhaella's bedchamber.

"What's happening?"

The pregnant Queen Rhaella was startled by the sudden commotion outside and quickly sat up on the bed, pulling her clothes together.

Her face was as pale as paper, frightened once again.

Ever since the Usurper's War began, Rhaella had not slept well. Over the past few years, especially during the last six months since fleeing to Dragonstone, she had been living in constant fear, terrified that enemies seeking her life would appear at any moment.

"Could it be that our fleet has been defeated?"

Rhaella thought that the fleet loyal to House Targaryen had been defeated, and the enemies had stormed Dragonstone.

"Protect the queen!"

However, as a fierce battle raged outside her bedroom door, no one could answer Queen Rhaella's question.

Boom!

The next moment, the wooden door of the bedroom was shattered.

A bloodied soldier from Dragonstone fell to the floor, an axe embedded in his chest.

...

The mercenary company that had launched the attack had accurately located Queen Rhaella and Viserys, and a fierce battle had ensued.

Meanwhile, Viserys was desperately trying to evade the enemy pursuers.

In a room devoid of any light, darkness swallowed Viserys' silhouette. The room was uninhabited, and the air was filled with the scent of decay and dust.

Huff~

Huff~

The silver-haired boy hid in a dilapidated wooden crate, his chest heaving as he panted softly. He left a small gap to keep an eye on the outside world.

He had just faced the mercenaries in a panic and hid in this uninhabited room, hoping to deceive them.

However, to Viserys' disappointment, he heard the voices of the mercenaries outside the room.

"Damn that little brat, he's fast!"

Viserys had run so quickly that the mercenaries had tried to surround and capture him.

However, they had failed, which meant that the silver-haired boy had not escaped from the area and must be hiding in one of the rooms.

"Hmph—"

"He's hiding here. He can't escape. Search each room!"

A large, tall mercenary with his face painted and a commanding presence waved his hand, ordering his two remaining companions to search a room each, hoping to find the young boy quickly and behead him to complete their contract.

"Find him, and then finish him!"

After all, the longer they lingered, the more dangerous it became.

"I should have gone with Darry. I hate dealing with kids."

Another mercenary, his face wrapped in black cloth, wearing tattered leather armor and a short sword at his waist, complained while gesturing.

"Why didn't they send me to deal with the queen? Maybe I could have..."

"Heh heh..."

The mercenary emitted a strange laugh, revealing his yellowed teeth, and an unbearable stench emanated from his unwashed body. The atmosphere had relaxed considerably.

Having dealt with the castle guards, they felt that killing Viserys was all but guaranteed. What could a seven-year-old child do if he hid?

Holding a large toothpick in his hand.

What, did he want to pick the teeth of his lordship?

However, the tall mercenary didn't have time for such jokes with this repulsive fellow. He glared at him and then opened a door to search for Viserys.

Another mercenary, skilled with a crossbow, was also growing impatient. He had a volatile temper and snapped at the repulsive man.

"Stop talking and get to it."

The voices of the mercenaries were especially clear outside the room where Viserys was hiding.

Then the door creaked open.

Viserys hid in the crate, his heart racing, tightly gripping the custom-made short sword in his hand.

Through the small gap, he could see the firelight in the corridor and the man who had just entered the room from outside.