Chapter 40: Daenerys Targaryen

Queen Rhaella, having suffered numerous blows, found it difficult to recover from her heartache. Her spirit had reached the edge of collapse, and there were even faint signs of madness.

There is no greater sorrow than a broken heart.

When the silver-haired woman herself had given up on her will to live, even the Seven Gods could not save the queen from her predicament.

In the end, Rhaella Targaryen became delirious, constantly repeating the names of those who mattered most to her in her short life.

Her handmaiden Joanna, her first love Bonifer, her brother and husband Aerys, and her sons Rhaegar and Viserys.

Finally, she took her last breath on her sickbed.

However, Queen Rhaella had a brief moment of clarity before her passing.

She seemed to understand that she was about to leave this world and tearfully held her infant daughter, who had taken her life, and gave her a beautiful name.

Daenerys Targaryen.

The swaddled infant had her eyes closed, her wrinkled face not looking particularly pleasant, and her silver hair clung to her scalp.

She was born amidst a storm and finally let out a loud cry as she curled up.

At the same time.

Boom—

A sudden thunderclap exploded in the sky above Dragonstone, lightning illuminating the entire sky as heavy rain poured down.

Many were startled, the master-at-arms seated outside even dropping the object in his hand.

He quickly bent down to pick it up.

It was a small wooden figure he had whittled with a dagger in his spare time.

It vaguely resembled a woman, but it lacked facial features, making it impossible to discern her identity.

...

Far away.

King's Landing.

A jet-black raven flew through the pristine blue sky, gazing down at the enormous city beneath it. It cocked its head slightly, its feathers ruffled by the high-speed airflow on both sides.

Flap, flap—

The raven then lowered its altitude, eventually arriving at the Red Keep atop Aegon's High Hill in King's Landing.

Rustle...

The disheveled, graying beard fluttered in the wind. Grand Maester Pycelle looked incredibly worn, his legs trembling as he walked over.

He tossed a treat to the raven and then removed the message from its leg.

Grand Maester Pycelle unfolded the letter, glanced at it briefly, and upon understanding its contents, his face changed dramatically.

His legs seemed to recover instantly, and he quickly gathered his robes and strode towards Maegor's Holdfast.

Several passing handmaidens witnessed this miraculous scene and stood dumbfounded in their tracks.

It was a letter from Storm's End, and it brought terrible news.

The royal fleet, overseen by Stannis and responsible for its construction, had been attacked by the Targaryen fleet while resting at Storm's End in preparation for weathering the storm.

...

The enemy had unexpectedly launched an attack from the sea, riding the storm to execute a near-perfect example of naval warfare. They demonstrated both boldness and cunning, willing to endure the storm's damage for the sake of annihilating the Baratheon fleet in one fell swoop.

Stannis had never anticipated that the Targaryen fleet would appear so suddenly on the waters of Shipbreaker Bay like divine intervention, with the fearsome storm serving to conceal their movements.

The outcome of this battle was the sinking of the royal fleet - one that the Iron Throne had invested heavily in and had high hopes for - into the depths of the sea.

Grand Maester Pycelle, of course, understood the gravity of the situation.

Having betrayed the Targaryen family, he knew that if they ever returned to power, he would likely be one of the first to die.

But the old man was not yet ready to die.

Thus, the fearful Grand Maester cast aside his façade of 'feeble steps' and hastily rushed to the Red Keep to report the matter to the new king, Robert Baratheon.

...

"What?!"

The young king, who was enjoying a drink in his chamber in the Red Keep, was shocked to hear this news.

He quickly stood up, snatched the letter from Pycelle's hands, and began to examine it.

The atmosphere in the king's chamber became tense. The servant responsible for pouring wine, as well as Pycelle, who had been relieved of the letter and accidentally fell to the floor, were both frightened and silent.

For everyone could sense the anger brewing within King Robert at that moment.

The young and vigorous king, standing up, seemed like a mountain. His thick black hair and beard were bristling, and his eyes were filled with rage as he paced back and forth within the spacious chamber.

Suddenly, without warning, he kicked over the table before him.

Boom—

The wine cups, books, and various messages from King's Landing on the table scattered across the floor.

Both the servant holding the wine jug and Grand Maester Pycelle shuddered in fear, with the white-haired old man sitting on the floor, his face pale, unable to get up for some time.

"Your Grace?"

Barristan Selmy, the captain of the Kingsguard, known as 'the Bold,' heard the commotion from outside the door and was slightly taken aback.

He hurriedly pushed the door open and entered, only to see King Robert roaring in anger.

"Seven hells!"

"Stannis, you useless fool!"

The king's bedroom was filled with Robert's thunderous roar, causing everyone's eardrums to vibrate, and even those in the corridor outside could hear it clearly.

"If I had sent a dog to command the fleet, it wouldn't have been annihilated! I should have done that! At least a dog wouldn't have let the ships be tied together for our damned enemies to set them all ablaze!"

Robert Baratheon was furious, and his disdain for his younger brother, whom he already disliked due to his character, grew even stronger.

He had thought that Stannis, though stubborn, was competent in warfare.

Trusting his own brother, he had assigned him this crucial task, but he never expected Stannis to bungle it so badly.

He could not bear the thought of the Targaryen "dragonspawn" remaining in the world. Only he could truly understand the depth of his hatred for the Targaryen family.

Yet, he had paid such a high price, poured in a seemingly bottomless pit of gold dragons, and even borrowed from Casterly Rock and the Iron Bank, only to receive such an outcome.

The 'dragonspawn' not only survived but had now effectively thrown their defiance in his face.

Ser Barristan Selmy, clad in his white cloak, remained silent, only slightly bowing before picking up the letter Stannis had penned from the floor and scanning it up and down.

After understanding the details of the situation, he stood there, momentarily stunned.