Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 666: The Giant and the Advisors of the Children of the Forest

Boom!

The solid wooden door exploded into splinters as a grotesque head the size of a dustpan smashed through.

"Oh, I broke the door!" the ugly giant exclaimed, grinning with delight. He pulled his head back, reached through the door with his massive arms, and yanked out the heavy bolt that had secured it.

Suddenly, a hundred-pound sack of steelskin slammed against the walls as the door flew open. The ugly giant took the lead, and behind him, three towering, ferocious giants barreled into the underground passage.

“They’re coming,” Rhaegar muttered nonchalantly, twirling his sword as if the advancing giants were of little consequence.

“If you dare to block my way, I'll nail you to the ground,” the ugly giant snarled, his eyes locking onto Rhaegar’s calm, purple gaze. He furiously swung his enormous mace forward, interpreting Rhaegar's defiance as a challenge.

Rhaegar grinned, a cold, dangerous smile curling at his lips. Provoke away, he thought. He had faced worse before. Giants, after all, weren’t much different from the Children of the Forest with their magic—just bigger, dumber, and louder.

“Smash your head!” the ugly giant bellowed, lumbering forward awkwardly. With one massive hand, he raised his mace high and brought it crashing down.

Pop!

Rhaegar anticipated the move, rolling to the side and slipping under the giant’s legs. The massive swing missed him by inches. Before the giant could recover, Rhaegar thrust his sword into the giant’s calf, piercing through the leather-wrapped boots.

Clang!

Blackfyre's dark blade sank into flesh but stopped at the hard bone. The ugly giant roared in pain, lifting his leg and kicking Rhaegar, who was barely knee-high to the giant, out of the way. As the giant reached with his free hand to grab him, Rhaegar’s eyes narrowed, calculating his next move.

In one swift motion, Rhaegar yanked the sword free, dodging the giant’s calloused hand as it swiped toward him. He sidestepped and, with a sharp swing, sliced through two of the giant’s thick fingers. They hit the ground with a sickening crack, twitching as blood spattered the snow.

Rhaegar didn’t stop. He hurled Blackfyre at the giant’s towering legs, then leapt up, climbing the rough leather trousers like a cat scaling a tree. Fighting a giant on the ground was too risky—best to take the high ground.

“I’ll help you!” one of the other giants roared, charging in with his mace raised.

“Get out of my way! I don’t need your help!” the ugly giant bellowed, wincing in pain as he backed up. His massive body slammed against the stone wall, trying to crush Rhaegar against it.

But Rhaegar was faster. In a few agile bounds, he regained his sword and climbed onto the giant’s shoulders. “I’ll cut your ear off,” he said with a grin. True to his word, he swung Blackfyre, severing the giant’s ear in one swift strike.

Blood gushed from the wound, and the giant howled in agony, clutching his head in shock. Rhaegar, ever nimble, dodged the flailing arms as the giant stumbled around. As the giant screeched and waved his arms, Rhaegar clung to the matted, filthy hair, using it like a rope as he swung himself higher.

His purple eyes sparkled with focus, long silver and gold hair dancing in the wind as he vaulted onto the top of the giant’s head. He crouched there, poised for the final blow.

“Say goodbye to the world, ugly thing,” Rhaegar murmured, lips curling into a faint smile. He raised his sword, aiming for the crown of the giant’s head—the most vulnerable spot on the human body.

“Let him go!”

“No!”

The two giants charged recklessly, desperation in their eyes as they tried to save their companion. Rhaegar stood his ground, unwavering, his gaze fixed ahead. With a swift motion, he brought Blackfyre down.

Clang!

The blade tore through the giant’s scalp, but when it struck the skull, it was like hitting solid granite. Blood trickled down in rivulets, but the sword hadn’t gone deep enough. Rhaegar’s expression tightened, and he gripped the hilt, stabbing downward again with force. The bone was really hard.

Before he could strike again, the foul stench of the giant's hand reached him, followed by a gust of foul wind as it swung toward him from behind. Without hesitation, Rhaegar leapt into the air, twisting his body in a half-turn. As he spun, his right hand, still gripping Blackfyre, faintly glowed red. In his left, a black flame flickered to life—dark as night and thick as sludge.

With a flick of his wrist, Rhaegar hurled Blackfyre at the ugly giant’s face. The blade flew true, embedding itself in the giant's skull with a sickening thud.

"Ahhh!"

For the first time, the ugly giant screamed in agony, Blackfyre lodged deep in his face. His entire body convulsed violently as he collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain. The giant clawed desperately at his face, rolling in the snow and mud, trying to extinguish the searing black flame that clung to him like death itself.

Rhaegar landed gracefully, his feet barely making a sound as he took a few light steps backward, his movements fluid and precise—like a dancer in the midst of a roaring inferno. The sword, still ablaze with black eerie flames, pointed straight ahead. With a delicate motion, he traced crescent shapes in the snow with its tip, all the while his expression remaining calm and focused.

In that moment, he embodied an aura of absolute mastery, surpassing even his famed swordsmanship teacher, Syrio. It was clear that, even without dragons, Rhaegar could have crushed the Seven Kingdoms through his martial prowess alone.

"I'll kill you!"

"Roar!"

The remaining two giants, enraged by the sight of their companion's suffering, charged at Rhaegar, their massive forms barely fitting in the narrow underground passage. Their fury filled the air, and the ground shook beneath their feet as they thundered toward him.

Rhaegar didn't flinch. He hadn’t even caught his breath, yet his resolve hardened. With a calm focus, he wrapped the dark flames around his blade, the black fire swirling and dancing along its edge.

Now, it was time to get serious.

Whoosh!

A volley of arrows flew through the air, striking the two giants square in their chests and limbs. Their roars of pain echoed through the tunnel. One giant, hit directly in the chest, collapsed to the ground with a thunderous crash.

"It’s your turn to say goodbye," Rhaegar said lightly, his voice calm. He stepped onto the giant's shoulders, using the height to launch himself into the air. As he leapt, he brought Blackfyre down in a swift, brutal arc.

Pop!

A flash of dark light streaked through the air as Blackfyre pierced the old, cracked skin of the giant’s neck. The blade cut deep, severing the carotid artery in an instant. Blood erupted, spurting wildly as the giant let out a final, choking roar.

As Rhaegar landed, more arrows rained down from above.

"Protect His Grace! Hurry!" Cregan's voice boomed, his face set with determination. He gripped his sword, Ice, tightly, his knuckles white from the strain.

While Rhaegar used the distraction to sever the Achilles tendon of the second giant, who had been shot, a dozen Night's Watch members rushed forward to swarm the beast.

“Roar, get out of my way!” the injured giant bellowed in rage. It grabbed one of the Night's Watch members in a massive fist and crushed him instantly, reducing him to pulp. With a furious swing, it knocked three more men into the frost-covered walls, their bodies slamming into stone. Blood sprayed from their mouths as their organs shattered on impact.

"Atone for your sins!" Cregan shouted, his face resolute. With a swift, brutal stroke, he brought Ice down on the giant’s exposed neck. The blade acted like a guillotine, slicing through half of the giant’s throat before becoming lodged in the bones of the cervical vertebrae.

A horrible wail erupted from the giant as blood poured from the wound.

Suddenly, with a loud clang, the iron fence fell, slicing a giant in half as it tried to crawl through.

Ssshhh...

The wildlings behind the giants scrambled to the ground, desperate to force their way through the narrow opening. Their burning eyes fixated on the underground passage, the only path forward.

“Move!” one of the giants growled, swatting aside a few wildlings as they tried to squeeze through. The opening was too small—only two giants could crawl through at a time, causing chaos as the wildlings were blocked outside.

With a thunderous crash, the solid wooden door reinforced with Steelskin was torn apart. The giants who had broken through grabbed the door panels and used them as makeshift shields.

Rhaegar's expression darkened. Seeing the giants advance, he reached for something hanging around his neck—a small, pumpkin-shaped bomb.

The Children of the Forest's toys. Useful, he thought. Unfortunately, they didn’t share how to make more of them—or provide any additional help. Still, two of these were enough to turn the tide of battle.

"Wait... wait..." Rhaegar murmured, watching as seven or eight giants forced their way into the passage. He was just about to throw the bomb when a shrill cry came from behind.

A small, green figure darted across the snow, nimble and fast, moving like a large squirrel.

...

Beyond the Great Wall

Roar!

A barbarian, his face hidden behind a ferocious mask, blew his war horn, signaling the wildling army to launch a frenzied assault. The Night’s Watch on the city walls struggled to hold their positions, barely able to withstand the giants breaking through the gates.

Roar!

The Cannibal, its eerie green eyes filled with cold malice, spewed streams of green dragonfire across the battlefield. Half the ground was scorched in a sickly green blaze, wildlings howling as they burned. In their panic, the flaming barbarians fled, spreading the fire to others as they desperately tried to escape.

The dragon, black as coal, trampled the city walls, its massive wings flapping as it roared again and again. It was like a beast from the darkest nightmares, a creature of destruction laying waste to the battlefield.

With a thunderous rumble, the intense heat of the dragonfire melted the frost clinging to the Great Wall. Massive chunks of ice broke free, crashing down in an explosion of snow and debris.

Through the snow and fog, a giant crept forward, leading wildlings into the underground passages at the base of the Wall. Even the dragon's terrifying presence wasn’t enough to stop the relentless offensive.

Roar...

The Cannibal hesitated, shaking its head as if sensing its rider’s thoughts. Its unsettling green eyes flickered with uncertainty, watching the chaos below. From its vantage point, the wildlings looked like a swarming mass of ants, undeterred by fire or death. The dragon glanced upward, scanning the skies.

Above, two other dragons—the magnificent golden one and the ugly mud-colored beast—hovered, circling high in the air. They roared and spat flames, but their fire couldn't reach the wildlings, as if they were tethered by some instinct, unable to cross the Wall.

“Fight back! Stop the barbarians from breaking in!” Old Benjicot shouted, his voice booming as he sprinted along the battlements, sword in hand, rallying the Night's Watch to hold the line.

The Cannibal's gaze shifted to him for a brief moment, its scarlet tongue licking its fearsome, fanged maw.

Roar!

With a sudden, ferocious howl, the black dragon launched itself into the sky. Its massive wings flapped with violent force as it leapt from the battlements and soared over the heads of the wildling horde below. Its powerful hind legs slammed into the frozen earth just outside the Wall, shaking the ground beneath it.

The Cannibal’s enormous wings settled against the ground as it twisted its neck, scanning the battlefield with a menacing glare. Its dark, menacing presence loomed over the frozen wilderness.

"Roar!"

The Cannibal’s green pupils boiled with ferocity as it unleashed a torrent of dragonfire toward the city gate, engulfing the wildlings who dared to breach it. Their screams were drowned in the roaring flames, and the dragon’s massive body shuddered involuntarily, filled with unease and anger. Its immense black wings, like the blades of a scythe, cut through the air, while its tail, heavy as a battering ram, swept across the battlefield, smashing everything in its path.

"Dragon!"

The wildlings cried out in terror, witnessing the ferocious beast that had crossed the Wall for the first time.

Roar!

The sound, as deep and thunderous as a distant storm, echoed for miles, shaking the forest and scattering the snow. The Cannibal, nearly 200 meters long, moved through the battlefield like a living engine of destruction, leaving a trail of hellish carnage behind it—fire, death, and ruin.

...

Inside the Underground Passage

"Don’t kill them—spare them!" the Child of the Forest pleaded, her tiny hands clutching at Rhaegar’s dragon-patterned sleeve. Rhaegar’s face remained expressionless, his cold gaze fixed straight ahead.

The door to the underground passage had collapsed, and dark green dragonfire clung to the rubble, burning fiercely. One unlucky giant, trapped beneath the crushed stones, screamed in agony as the fire crept over his body, burning him alive. The other giants crowded around, desperately trying to dig through the debris to rescue him.

Outside, the wildlings and giants wailed in unison, their cries a twisted symphony of pain. The Cannibal’s dragonfire was strong enough to melt iron and stone, and it inflicted the most excruciating torture on those caught in its flames. Nothing that came near the fire at the city gates survived for long.

"Your Grace, should we kill them?" Cregan asked, panting heavily, his hands trembling as he gripped the hilt of his greatsword, Ice. Giants were every Northern man’s worst nightmare, and facing seven or eight of them, even with a dozen men, seemed like a hopeless fight.

Rhaegar turned his head, half of his face obscured by black scales. His cold, purple eyes gleamed with a sinister light. This was not hesitation—it was the pride that ran through his Targaryen blood.

“The giants will be useful against the Others,” whispered the Child of the Forest, hoping to protect their ancient allies.

"Your Grace?" Cregan’s eyes widened as he noticed the strange squirrel-like figure standing beside Rhaegar, its green eyes glowing with urgency.

Rhaegar’s gaze flickered, and he made his decision. Without a word, he strode toward the ugly giant slumped against the wall, gasping for breath. Slowly, he raised Blackfyre, the sword of House Targaryen.

“What are you doing?” the giant rasped, his voice filled with pain. Half his face was burned beyond recognition, twisted in agony.

“Bring your face closer,” Rhaegar commanded softly, his tone calm but guarded, as he pointed the tip of his sword at the giant’s disfigured face.

The giant froze, his eyes darting toward his fellow wildlings, who had all but abandoned him. Then, noticing the Child of the Forest standing by the side of this terrifying human, he hesitated.

"Child of the Forest, are you with the humans now?" His gruff voice was laced with anger, and a trace of betrayal.

“Bring your face closer, friend,” the Child of the Forest said gently, bowing slightly as they extended a hand in a gesture of peace.

After a moment’s hesitation, the giant lowered his head, lying down in submission, his grotesque, still-burning face exposed.

"Tell your people that both the giants and the Children of the Forest will serve the Dragonlord as advisers," Rhaegar said, his voice soft but commanding as he pressed Blackfyre’s blade against the giant’s scarred face. An inexplicable ripple of power surged through the blade, and the black flames that had scorched the giant’s flesh flowed along the spine of the sword, infusing the Valyrian steel with their searing heat.

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