Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

His words carried a subtle note of pride, echoing softly in the air.

"Rhaegar, did you help conceal my movements during the fire?"

Rhaenyra's gaze dropped, a sheepish confession dawning as she realized the gravity of the situation.

"Who else but I, your kinswoman, would bear the burden of your nightly troubles?" Rhaegar's face grew stern, his voice demanding attention.

"Silence now, who dared to betray my whereabouts?" Rhaenyra interjected, her hand muffling her brother's voice as she sought out the informer.

Rhaegar dodged her touch with a shake of his head, his gaze piercing. "No fortress is impregnable, sister. Have you acted foolishly only to cower at the prospect of discovery?"

"I never anticipated this, I merely sought respite," she murmured, her words tinged with regret.

The question stirred Rhaenyra's tender emotions, leaving her lost in thought, her words barely audible.

"Was Daemon... unkind to you?" Rhaegar asked, his concern evident.

"He didn't succeed. Ser Erryk intervened just in time," she replied, her hand soothing Rhaegar's hair as she forced a smile.

The evening's events unfolded unexpectedly.

Once she had admired and trusted Daemon.

But learning the truth behind the matter left her with a lingering sense of unease and reflection.

Rhaegar's anger at Rhaenyra's reckless plunge into another's plan simmered as he spoke with an air of indifference.

"Without timely intervention, do you think the tale of you and Daemon patronizing a brothel would have spread far and wide by morning?"

"I slipped away through a hidden passageway, unnoticed..." Rhaenyra's fingers fidgeted, tension knotting her muscles.

Rhaegar's tone remained blunt. "If no one knew, then who informed me?"

"Daemon, the secret watchers, those who tipped me off..." Rhaegar trailed off.

"While you ponder, consider the three factions that are watching you tonight. There are no secrets in this matter," Rhaegar said plainly, prompting her to remain silent.

She wasn't naive; she had simply put too much trust in Daemon.

The sudden revelation of her uncle's hidden agenda took her by surprise.

Had Rhaegar not secretly intervened tonight, she shuddered to imagine the consequences. What twisted version of the rumor would be circulating by dawn?

"I apologize; I was under stress and sought solace in a walk," she confessed, her realization swift but heavy.

"It better be. Daemon has long coveted the throne, and you've been served up like a plump morsel," Rhaegar retorted, his despondent gaze fixed on his sister.

At the sight of her being manipulated like a puppet, Rhaegar's once proud demeanor crumbled, replaced by a deep sense of humiliation.

"What kind of look is that? I am still your sister," Rhaenyra retorted, her voice tinged with wounded pride.

Bristling at the contempt reflected in her brother's eyes, Rhaenyra felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Rhaegar watched her inner turmoil in silence, his head shaking in quiet resignation.

A sneer slipped past his lips, reigniting Rhaenyra's anger, her laughter now laced with frustration.

Rhaegar met her gaze with a sideways glance, a flicker of understanding passing between them.

For an instant, memories of their past, of caring for each other, flooded their minds, tugged at their hearts.

But the moment quickly shifted.

Rhaenyra's eyes welled with tears as she sank to the ground, wrapping Rhaegar in a gentle embrace, her voice thick with self-reproach. "I am deeply sorry for my foolishness. I need your guidance to deal with the aftermath."

"Your value is paramount. You must learn to value yourself," Rhaegar sighed, his words heavy with concern.

"I'm sorry... truly sorry," Rhaenyra sobbed softly.

"I cannot always come to your aid in time," Rhaegar lamented.

Pressing her tear-stained cheek against the softness of her brother's hair, Rhaenyra whispered hoarsely, "Sister, do not fail father again.

Rhaegar choked back his emotions, his arms wrapped around his sister's trembling form, a vow slipping from his lips. "I will stand by you to the end."

As Rhaegar's gentle touch caressed her back, his words pierced her heart.

Reflecting on the night's indulgence, Uncle Daemon's deception, and now the comfort of her brother's embrace, Rhaenyra's emotions churned and tears flowed.

Burying her face in the curve of Rhaegar's shoulder, she wept softly, her grief soaking his collar.

With a helpless smile, Rhaegar glanced at Erryk, who bowed silently and withdrew, discreetly closing the entrance to the secret passageway behind him.

To stay any longer would be rude.

Leaving through the main door was risky with Cole still on guard.

The secret passageway offered a cautious escape.

The tears continued to flow until Rhaenyra's sobs subsided, leaving her drained of strength and Rhaegar's collar wet with her grief.

Rhaenyra rubbed her nose against her brother's collar, her red and swollen eyes showing the effects of her tears.

Rhaegar's expression was one of desperation. "I think it would be wise for both of us to change into clean clothes."

"Huh?" Rhaenyra's confusion was evident as she glanced at Rhaegar's blouse, stained with tears and snot.

Looking at her own rough, patched linen dress, she realized her state of disarray.

"Turn around while I change," she instructed, quickly maneuvering Rhaegar onto his back.

Moving to his blind spot, she shed her linen dress, exchanging it for a nightgown she had retrieved from the closet.

After tossing another nightgown to Rhaegar, she urged, "Wear this for now, as I don't have any pajamas for you."

Pulling off the pink nightgown that covered his head, Rhaegar's expression darkened and he rejected the offer outright. "With my back injury, I prefer to sleep without clothes."

"No, you're staying with me tonight and you're wearing clothes," Rhaenyra insisted, reaching out to begin the exchange.

Rhaegar resisted vehemently. "No, I'd rather sleep alone without them."

The banter continued until the candles flickered out, plunging the room into darkness.

Rhaenyra wrapped Rhaegar, who wore nothing but tiny pants, in her arms and closed her eyes with measured breaths.

Rhaegar, forced into the role of a reluctant embrace, shifted and squirmed until he found a comfortable position to rest his face against.

In the silence of the room, neither sibling spoke, awaiting the embrace of sleep.

...

The next day dawned.

In the early hours, a scout rushed into the Red Keep to deliver a message to the Hand of the King.

Lyonel's expression turned grim as he quickly sought out Viserys, who was in the midst of breakfast.

With a heavy face, Lyonel relayed the news from the night before.

"A scout reported that Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon were seen wandering Silk Street last night, eventually visiting a brothel."

"Curiously, the same brothel later went up in flames, and while Daemon managed to escape, the princess was nowhere to be found."

Viserys' features hardened, his emotions unfathomable.

He was well aware of his brother's nature - ruthless, capable of anything.

He shook his head, forcing a strained smile. "This is a lie; we are being deceived."

"I fervently hope so, Your Grace," Lyonel replied, the gravity of the situation weighing on his demeanor.

Viserys sensed the gravity of the matter at once.

Unlike Otto Hightower, Lyonel would not implicate Rhaenyra, the Heir Apparent, for the sake of his own grandson. His every action was marked by impartiality and integrity.

"Demon! A ravenous wolf!" Viserys slammed his fist down on the table, a wave of rage coursing through him.

The mere thought of Daemon's involvement with his daughter ignited a primal rage within him, urging him to seek immediate retribution.

Still, a semblance of rationality prevailed, and he spoke skeptically, "It cannot be true. Rhaenyra probably slipped away while Daemon was busy in the brothel."

He refused to entertain the idea that his daughter would engage in such debauchery, let alone with Daemon.

"That's what worries me. The circumstances surrounding the fire are suspicious, with rumors suggesting it was intentionally set," Lyonel remarked thoughtfully.

"Daemon's departure from the brothel coinciding with the start of the fire, coupled with reports of his apparent injuries, raises further questions," he continued, his tone grave.

"In contrast, the princess's disappearance without a trace leaves us with no evidence of her presence at the brothel," Lyonel concluded.

Viserys seized on that glimmer of hope, his smile masking a simmering anger. "Since no one can attest to Rhaenyra's presence, we have no proof of her involvement. It seems we have cause for relief."

Beneath his facade of composure, a deep-seated rage simmered.

"Summon Rhaenyra; tell her her father invites her to breakfast," Viserys ordered the servant at the door, his intent clear - to gauge his daughter's reaction.

At this point, regardless of the truth, Rhaenyra's innocence remained paramount. As a father, he had to affirm that unequivocally.

With that established, he would determine the course of action in this delicate matter.

"No need, that's exactly what I want," a voice said from the doorway, and Rhaenyra entered gracefully, her demeanor unflappable, her smile as bright as a blossoming flower.

Viserys was taken aback. "Rhaenyra, what brings you here?"

"Did you not invite me to breakfast, Father? Strange question indeed," Rhaenyra replied, gracefully taking a seat on a round stool, betraying no hint of vulnerability despite her recent actions.

Viserys and Lyonel exchanged glances, both sensing an undercurrent of unease in the air.