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Game Of Thrones: I Became a Crown Prince For a Day

[ In the prequel to Game of Thrones, titled "Dragon Family," Rhaegar defies the odds by surviving despite being destined to die young. Despite his sickness and loss of birthright, he refuses to surrender, embarking on a quest to explore and conquer the Seven Kingdoms. Along the way, he discovers the secrets of the Black Death's Skull, gaining a 50% increase in fire resistance from the dragon's legacy. He also encounters the auspicious white deer, receiving blessings for a long life. Delving into Blackfire and the Dark Sisters, he acquires the King's Gaze and the Knight's Oath. Rhaegar's journey sees him riding dragons, claiming the Iron Throne, and resisting the manipulations of opportunists. As winter approaches, he remains resolute, ready to face whatever challenges come his way atop his dragon steed. ] (*Important Note* In the original narrative (Lore), the one day heir prince was named Baelon, in honor of Viserys's father. However, the author, disliking the name Baelon, opted for Rhaegar, inspired by the Prince Rhaegar in Game of Thrones.) ("I don’t own this fanfic, it's merely a translation. I didn’t do the translation, but I wanted to read it on Webnovel, so I uploaded it here.")

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Chapter 433: Relics of the Dragonless

Lady Alyssa's words turned the tide and secured her position with a powerful statement of a potential heir. The status of a widow who remarries is very different from that of one who remains unmarried, especially in a house without a male heir. If she were indeed pregnant with a boy, he would be the logical successor.

After some discussion, it was decided that Lady Alyssa would serve as the regent. The attendant summoned the Maester to care for the new regent and escort her to her room for rest.

Margaery's smile froze as she stood in place, feeling a pang of discomfort. A promising situation lost to an unexpected pregnancy. Why did it have to be now?

Rhaegar noticed her expression and said lightly, "Keep an eye on her. Ensure she doesn't get hurt and doesn't contact outsiders."

Margaery took a deep breath and nodded, signaling her understanding. The Tyrell bloodline must be kept pure and protected.

With the internal power struggle in Highgarden resolved, it was time for the nobles of The Reach to take action. Rhaegar, saying nothing further, summoned Donald of Horn Hill to depart. Many nobles were still absent, and it would be prudent to wait until everyone had arrived.

The nobles, unwilling to object, busied themselves organizing the troops they had brought.

...

Three days later, Highgarden was a bustling center of military activity. Outside the white walls, armies flying colorful banners stretched across the landscape, numbering between 20,000 and 30,000 men.

Nobles from The Reach had been arriving for the past three days, each bringing their own men and horses. The great nobles arrived with between 1,000 and 3,000 men each, while the lesser nobles brought anywhere from a few dozen to a few hundred. In all, they had assembled a well-equipped coalition army of 30,000 men.

Inside the castle, hundreds of noble lords gathered, each clad in heavy armor. Rhaegar sat at the head of the assembly, with Margaery and Helaena at his side. Lady Alyssa was absent, resting in her bedroom due to her pregnancy.

The Maester had confirmed that she was two months along. The news had spread, causing Margaery's smile to fade like a rose battered by wind and rain.

Rhaegar glanced at her, musing on the old Tyrells' remarkable ability to perpetuate their lineage. True to their family motto of "Growing Strong," they were adept at procreation. Turning his attention to the gathered lords, he observed Thaddeus, Donald, and Ormund, each in their distinctive armor.

Thaddeus was plump, Donald burly, and Ormund appeared idle. The latter two each carried a Valyrian steel sword at their waists, their formidable presence evident.

Rhaegar addressed the gathering in a serious tone. "Lord Thaddeus, the army will be leaving soon, and we need someone reliable to oversee the rear."

"As Regent and heir to the throne, I hereby appoint you Warden of the South, charged with keeping the peace in the Reach."

The title of Warden was an honor bestowed upon powerful lords when a ruling house was in trouble. Lord Jobert Royce of Runestone held the title in the Vale.

Hearing this, Thaddeus dropped to one knee, his round face aglow with excitement. "I swear on the honor of House Rowan that I will not betray your trust."

With a regent above him, the title of Warden of the South was the highest honor a noble could receive. Rhaegar smiled and said, "I'll leave Highgarden in your capable hands. I am confident in your ability to maintain law and order and manage the rear."

"The Reach coalition will advance to the front lines, and I will take full responsibility for the rear."

"I believe in you."

Rhaegar gently raised his hand, signaling for Donald to help Thaddeus to his feet, and smiled warmly. With the old Tyrell gone, The Reach was leaderless. Leading the coalition army to avenge the old Tyrell's death was a pleasure, but maintaining order at the rear was equally crucial.

Thaddeus, with his stature and experience, was better suited to stay behind and serve as the Warden than to go to war.

Rhaegar smiled as he gave his first command. The commander of the Coalition Army would undoubtedly be chosen from two strong candidates. Both men, recognizing the gravity of the moment, straightened their backs and took on their most heroic postures.

Rhaegar smiled as he gave his first command. The commander of the Coalition Army would undoubtedly be chosen from two strong candidates. Both men, recognizing the gravity of the moment, straightened their backs and took on their most heroic postures.

Focusing on Donald, Rhaegar said, "It is said that you are an expert archer and that you have successfully wiped out the Salty Dornishmen in the Red Mountains several times."

The Salty Dornishmen were remnants of the original Dornish inhabitants, having retreated to the mountains and living by hunting. They were short, dark-skinned, and bore a resemblance to the pre-Rhoynar Dorne people.

Donald looked solemn and replied earnestly, "I have organized three raiding parties of over 100 men each and participated in eight counter-attacks against Dorne along the border."

His credentials marked him as a veteran.

"Your bravery is evident to all. You will make a fearless leader of the army," Rhaegar nodded, then turned to Ormund. "Lord Ormund, you have organized sea trade and are more adept at large-scale military operations. You should be the commander of the Coalition Army."

"Yes! I will not disappoint you," Ormund replied eagerly.

"Go out and check the provisions. The army is about to set out," Rhaegar waved his hand dismissively.

Donald frowned slightly. He had hoped to be the commander, but the importance of the vanguard role was not lost on him. In contrast, Ormund's face lit up with a complacent smile as he left the room.

Rhaegar observed everything silently, refraining from lowering himself to explain. The relationship between the lord and his bannerman in The Reach was tenuous, similar to that in the Riverlands, and House Tyrell's rule was not as solid.

Thaddeus had been promoted to Warden of the South, making Donald, as an ally, unsuitable to lead the coalition. Ormund, though a nuisance, was still capable. He would serve as a counterbalance until an heir to Highgarden was established.

"I'm doing this to honor the loyalty of the old Tyrells," Rhaegar thought to himself.

With the rear guard and front commander agreed upon, the vast coalition army in The Reach quickly mobilized like a well-oiled war machine. Each noble lord managed their private army, ensuring readiness. Margaery, too, stepped back to help Thaddeus inventory the military supplies.

The magnificent hall, paved with white stone, suddenly grew quiet. Rhaegar watched the busy servants and noticed a familiar face in the corner of his eye.

He was tall, stout, and had a serious yet somewhat naive expression.

"Prince, I have returned from the Citadel," Tru bowed, his Maester's robe tightly stretched.

Rhaegar smiled and asked, "You've regained your Maester status. Everything went well?"

Tru had gone to the Citadel in Oldtown in June, and it appeared he had regained his lost honor.

"Yes, I got my chain back," Tru showed the Maester's necklace on his chest, adorned with links of black iron, bronze, red copper, gold, silver, and Valyrian steel, each representing recognition in different fields.

Rhaegar was genuinely pleased for him. A wealth of knowledge is another kind of treasure.

"While I was at the Citadel, I saw and heard things that I need to report," Tru said, hesitating.

"Tell me," Rhaegar urged.

"These are just wild guesses, for your reference," Tru began, then took a wooden box from his breast pocket, speaking timidly. "I saw a cargo ship at the Weeping Dock, and the people on board spoke a dialect that was not the common tongue of Westeros."

This dock, rarely used and belonging to the Citadel, immediately raised Rhaegar's suspicions. His eyes narrowed as he recognized the seriousness of the situation. He took the box from Tru and opened it, eager to see what was inside.

"This is the relic of Maester Vaegon," Tru explained. "It was hidden in a false floor beneath his bed. It took some effort to find it."

Rhaegar opened the box, revealing a stack of unsealed letters, a few sheets of parchment covered in scribbles, a Valyrian steel ring, and half a gold mask. The Valyrian steel ring, very light, was a Maester's recognition of his studies at the Citadel. The half gold mask had been a symbol of Vaegon's doctorate, worn on his face for many years.

Rhaegar touched each item, but no voice came to his ears. He sighed lightly, treating it with a normal attitude. He recalled Saera Targaryen's reminder that Vaegon, the Dragonless, had been researching some strange contraptions at the Citadel, and had told him to find them when he had the time.

As a Targaryen himself, he believed that Saera wouldn't say that without reason.

After his great-grandfather's death, the only two children left were Saera and Vaegon. It was not surprising that the siblings were in contact with each other. He took out the letters and checked them one by one. The sender was always Jaehaerys I.

From 78 AC to 103 AC, there was a letter almost every year, inquiring about the rebellious son. The letter from 103 AC was no longer in Jaehaerys's handwriting but in the delicate script of Alicent.

Rhaegar pursed his lips and carefully stored the letters. His great-grandfather had died in 103 AC, bedridden and dependent on his maid Alicent for his daily needs. Unable to write letters himself, he had to ask Alicent to do it for him. This last letter expressed a father's longing for his son and his hope that Vaegon would return to see him before he died.

Unfortunately, the old king's wish was never fulfilled. Vaegon, only having studied for many years, was even weaker than his father and already bedridden. Rhaegar sighed softly, his feelings mixed. The second half of his great-grandfather's life had been somewhat bleak.

His only remaining son, Vaegon, died shortly after his father. The last daughter, Saera, resented her father and never set foot on the continent of Westeros again.

Even at the Great Council of 101, only three bastards were appointed. At the end of his life, his great-grandfather was confused, grabbing Alicent's hand and calling out Saera's name, thinking his daughter had returned from across the Narrow Sea to see him. Alicent, who looked a bit like her, became the old king's servant during his final days.

Therefore, even though she was not married to Viserys at that time and did not have Rhaenyra as a playmate, her position at court was still high.

"Alas," Rhaegar sighed, feeling a lump in his chest. He took a few parchments to examine. The first and second pages were covered in scribbles, depicting a hideous dragon and a strange sea map, respectively. The third and fourth pages contained written explanations.

"The Citadel rejects magic, and there are those with evil intentions towards dragons.

I can't get to the deeper levels of the Citadel. They're not just jealous of my talent, they're also afraid of my background. Don't want me to study the occult? Eat shit, there's nothing I can't learn without you.

Sothoryos is suspected of having a wild dragon. The Citadel sent a fleet to sail far away, but they were destroyed by a huge wave halfway through the journey."

Rhaegar's spirits lifted when he saw the words "wild dragon." The last parchment was the only one with both scribbles and writing.

"To go north, you must go south. To reach the Westerlands, you must go east. To move forward, you must move backward. To see the light, you must pass through the shadows."

Rhaegar frowned, not understanding. "North and South, West and East... Light and shadow."

On the parchment, there was a sketchy map of Westeros, Essos, and Sothoryos. In particular, there were markings for Asshai in Essos, The Land of Always Winter in Westeros, and a small corner of Sothoryos.

"Wild Dragon?" Rhaegar skipped over Asshai and The Land of Always Winter, focusing on the continent of Sothoryos. During his hunt for wyverns, he had found the remains of a dragon and fossilized dragon eggs that had broken out of their shells.

Rhaegar's eyes grew intense as he said, "The Citadel observes dragons and is hostile to them and It is likely that there are dragons in Sothoryos."

(Word count: 2,094)