Viserys was being pursued by three ruthless mercenaries.
Meanwhile,
Queen Rhaella, heavily pregnant, had managed to return to her bedroom. Two handmaidens helped her remove her cumbersome outer garments and change into a pure white velvet nightdress. They then carefully helped her lie down on the soft bed.
"My child…"
Her silver-gold hair spread out, the woman lay still on the bed, her beautiful pale purple eyes gazing at the ceiling.
Her eyes still held a lingering sadness. She stroked her swollen belly with one hand, lost in thought.
Rhaella's mental state was currently very worrying, even flying into a rage at Viserys for no reason or bursting into tears inexplicably.
The woman had suffered too many blows and was showing signs of madness.
And now, Rhaella's mental state was still relatively clear.
"I really don't know if bringing you into this world was the right thing to do."
Their home and kingdom had fallen.
As time passed, Rhaella also knew that Robert Baratheon across Blackwater Bay wouldn't let them, mother and son, go so easily.
The warships outside were currently engaged in battle; perhaps Baratheon's navy had already come in pursuit.
Rhaella herself was just a weak woman. She didn't understand the situation of the war and rarely concerned herself with political affairs in the Red Keep. She knew nothing about the so-called big picture.
However, she also understood that Dragonstone was barren, lacking both people and resources. It was indefensible.
But where should they go?
She wasn't willing to give up Dragonstone, she was even incredibly resistant to it, to the point of almost going mad. Giving up Dragonstone meant voluntarily withdrawing from Westeros and acknowledging the change of hands of the Iron Throne.
She was afraid that the string in her heart would snap, and hope would disappear.
However, at this moment.
She somewhat regretted allowing the child in her belly to come into this world. Perhaps his or her fate in the future would be no better than that of a commoner.
But… it was already so big now, and it was impossible for Rhaella to give up this child.
This was the driving force that could support a woman whose heart was already dead to continue living.
Next to Queen Rhaella's bedroom were the rooms where the maids resided, and there were also a few guardsmen on patrol in the corridor.
This was located on the upper floors of the main keep of Dragonstone Castle. Going up the stone steps from here would lead to the War Room, the place where Aegon I once formulated his plan to conquer Westeros.
The sounds of killing and fighting were deafening outside.
"May the Seven Gods protect us."
Rhaella Targaryen lay in bed, her silver-gold hair spread out. Her high chest rose and fell gently as she touched her forehead and whispered a prayer.
She prayed that they would win this war.
While Rhaella was lying in bed, lost in thought, something unexpected happened outside her bedroom door. First, shouts of "Enemy attack!" came from downstairs, startling the guards stationed outside her door.
"Who goes there!"
Then, the guards protecting the Queen seemed to have discovered something and drew their longswords, shouting loudly.
The next second...
The sound of clashing weapons and screams erupted from outside Queen Rhaella's bedroom door.
"What's happening?"
Pregnant, Queen Rhaella was startled by the sudden commotion. She quickly gathered her robes and sat up in bed.
Her face was as pale as paper, once again terrified.
Rhaella hadn't slept well since the start of the War of the Usurper. These past few years, especially the last six months since fleeing to Dragonstone, she had lived in constant fear, afraid that the enemy seeking her life would arrive at any moment.
"Could it be that the fleet has already been defeated?" Rhaella thought the fleet loyal to the Targaryens had failed, and the enemy had reached Dragonstone.
"Protect Her Majesty the Queen!"
However, a fierce battle was raging outside the bedroom door, and no one could answer Queen Rhaella's question.
BOOM!
The wooden door of the bedroom shattered a moment later.
A soldier from Dragonstone fell to the ground, covered in blood, an axe embedded in his chest.
The mercenary group that attacked had accurately located Queen Rhaella and Viserys, and a fierce battle had erupted between them.
Viserys, on the other hand, was still desperately trying to evade his pursuers.
A room devoid of light, darkness swallowed Viserys's figure. No one lived in this room, and the air was filled with the smell of decay and dust.
Wheeze... Wheeze...
The silver-haired boy hid inside a dilapidated wooden crate, his chest rising and falling as he gasped for breath. He had left only a tiny crack to observe the outside.
He had been fleeing in panic from the mercenaries and had hidden in this abandoned room, hoping to escape them.
However, Viserys's hopes were dashed when he heard the mercenaries' voices outside the room.
"Damn kid, he's fast!"
Viserys had run incredibly fast, and they had tried to cut him off, hoping to catch him.
But they'd failed. That also meant the silver-haired boy hadn't escaped and must be hiding in one of the rooms.
"Hmph—"
"He's hiding here, he can't escape. Search every room!"
The tall mercenary with paint on his face waved his hand, signaling the other two to split up. They would search a room each and quickly find the little bastard. They would then take his head and complete the contract.
"Find him, and deal with him!"
After all, the longer they lingered here, the more dangerous it would become.
"I should have gone to Dris. I hate preying on children."
Another mercenary, his face covered in a black cloth, his leather armor tattered, and a short sword at his waist, spread his hands and complained.
"Why didn't I get the sweet job of dealing with the queen? Maybe I could even..."
"Heh heh..."
The mercenary reeked of someone who hadn't bathed in ages, and he let out a strange chuckle, revealing yellowed teeth that made one want to gag.
The atmosphere had relaxed considerably.
Having dealt with the castle guards, they felt killing Viserys was practically a sure thing. What could a mere seven-year-old child do, even if he hid?
He was holding a large toothpick.
"What's this? You want to pick the old man's teeth?"
The tall mercenary had no time for such jokes from that disgusting fellow. He just glared at him, then pulled open a door and went inside, searching for Viserys.
The other mercenary, skilled with a crossbow, was also impatient. He had a quick temper and glanced at the man before saying, "Stop wasting time, and get on with it."
The mercenaries' voices were exceptionally clear in front of the door where Viserys was hiding.
Then, the door creaked open.
Viserys hid inside the crate, his heart pounding. He gripped the short sword, custom-made for him, tightly in his hand.
Through a crack, he saw a glimpse of the corridor's firelight and the man standing outside the door, who'd just entered.
He was holding a crossbow.
.....
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(End of Chapter)