Rhaegar's gaze lingered on the talent column displayed in the system panel, his focus drawn to the sparse entry for the "Dreamer" talent. There was little elaboration beyond its classification as a Gold grade talent.
Despite his various acquisitions, the Skull of Balerion remained his most prized relic, its legendary status denoted by its striking red hue.
The grading system he had come to understand ranked relics as Legendary (Red), Epic (Purple), Excellent (Blue), and Good (Green). Below the Good grade, the existence of lower tiers remained a mystery.
The Gold grade designation hinted at the immense potential inherent in the Dreamer talent. Rhaegar had experienced countless dreams—visions that spanned dragons, flames, and looming conflicts. Among them were strange, otherworldly phenomena, as well as eerily accurate prophecies.
The encounter with the White Hart in Kingswood, a creature that had not only materialized from his dreams but also aided in his recovery, underscored the significance of his innate gift.
Reflecting on his father's recent remarks, Rhaegar found himself reassessing the recurring nightmares that had plagued him. Slowly, a newfound appreciation for the capabilities bestowed upon him by the Dreamer talent began to take root within his heart.
Grunt~~
Rhaegar was abruptly pulled from his reverie by the unsettling sound of rolling objects echoing through the empty corridor behind him.
With a cautious glance over his shoulder, Rhaegar scanned the dimly lit hallway.
Erryk, his usual companion, was absent tonight, having been called away by his father, leaving Rhaegar feeling distinctly uneasy at the unexpected disturbance.
As the leather ball skittered across the floor, its movement seemed eerily out of place in the hushed stillness of the night.
Summoning his resolve, Rhaegar called out into the darkness, his voice cutting through the silence in an attempt to draw the attention of any nearby servants on duty.
"Who's there?"
Yet, despite his efforts, the echo of his own voice was the only response that greeted him.
A shiver ran down Rhaegar's spine as he retreated, his gaze lingering on the door to his room, looming ominously in the dim light. With a swallow, he took a hesitant step backward, his nerves on edge as he braced himself for whatever unsettling encounter might await him.
Ta-da-da-da...
In that moment, the soft echo of footsteps reached Rhaegar's ears, the sound of leather shoes with cowhide soles treading lightly on the wooden floorboards.
Turning swiftly, Rhaegar caught sight of a fleeting white figure darting past in a flash of moonlight.
"Brother, do you want to play pickleball?" came a small voice, interrupting the stillness of the night.
There stood a young girl in the hallway, clad in pink, clutching a leather ball in her tiny hands, her gaze fixed eagerly on Rhaegar.
With silver-white hair and delicate features, she bore a striking resemblance to their shared bloodline.
Rhaegar's expression darkened as he recognized the figure before him—his half-sister, Princess Helaena.
"Helaena, what are you doing out here in the middle of the night?" Rhaegar's tone was stern, his frustration evident as he addressed the young princess.
Helaena hugged her beloved pickleball tightly, leaning against the corridor wall with a sheepish smile. "Aegon plays pickleball during the day, so I play at night," she explained innocently.
Concern etched into his features, Rhaegar approached his sister. "Children should be asleep at this hour, Helaena. Why aren't you in bed?"
Helaena flinched as her seldom-seen brother approached, her gaze dropping to the floor. "I can only play secretly while he sleeps because Aegon won't give me a ball to play with," she admitted softly.
Rhaegar's expression darkened at her words. "He doesn't play with you? Doesn't your mother care about that?" he asked, his tone laced with disapproval.
"Aegon plays with me when my mother is here, but he doesn't when she's gone," Helaena replied, her voice tinged with sadness as she shook her head.
Rhaegar's anger flared at the injustice of it all. Taking Helaena's small hand in his own, he spoke with determination. "I'll take you back to your room for some rest. Tomorrow, I'll have the craftsman make you a custom leather ball so you won't need this one anymore."
Without uttering a word, Helaena remained rooted in place, her back pressed against the wall.
"What's the matter? Why aren't you happy?" Rhaegar inquired once more, refraining from attempting to coax the petite Helaena.
Helaena simply shook her head, clutching the ball tightly to her chest.
"Are you worried that Aegon will try to take the ball from you?" Rhaegar treaded cautiously, recalling Aegon's past behavior.
Helaena glanced up at him, her lips pursed in a pout, but she remained silent.
"In that case, why don't you leave the leather ball with me? You can take it out whenever you want to play without worrying about Aegon," Rhaegar suggested tentatively after a brief pause.
"Alright. I'll give you the ball. Aegon won't dare to take it from you," Helaena whispered, her violet eyes shimmering brightly as she nodded her head firmly.
Extending her hand, she relinquished the leather ball she had been guarding to Rhaegar's grasp.
This little girl isn't naive; in fact, she possesses quite a bit of courage, and she knows that Aegon wouldn't dare challenge Rhaegar.
Rhaegar shook his head, his smile fading. "Not this one. Tomorrow, I'll have a new leather ball sent to you. You can give this one to Aegon for his play."
Relenting, Helaena's face lit up with a radiant smile.
Helaena's room was situated on the same floor as Rhaegar's.
Initially, she and Aegon had shared living quarters with their mother, Alicent.
However, with the arrival of the baby, Aemon, Alicent found it challenging to handle his crying.
Thus, she arranged for three separate rooms to accommodate each of the children individually.
Listening to Helaena's account, Rhaegar learned that the servant who usually looked after her had been frequently called away for work lately.
Consequently, Helaena and Aegon spent most of their time together during the day.
This arrangement often left Aegon in a position to bully Helaena, prompting her to seek solace in nighttime play when he was resting.
Rhaegar had been unaware of these circumstances, as it coincided with Rhaenyra's return to the Red Keep for the tournament.
Being short-staffed was, unfortunately, a common occurrence.
Sending Helaena back to her room, Rhaegar leaned casually against the doorframe and playfully advised, "No more late-night escapades. You know, the Red Keep is teeming with ferocious dragons after dark. You wouldn't want to be their midnight snack, would you?"
Rhaegar then feigned a dragon's roar, complete with clawing motions, trying to spook his little sister.
However, Helaena simply covered her mouth, giggling uncontrollably, completely unfazed by his antics.
"Heh, looks like you're quite the brave one."Rhaegar chuckled, admiring her fearlessness.
Captivated by her adorable laughter, Rhaegar couldn't resist the urge to playfully pinch her cheeks, almost as if he couldn't help himself.
He saw Helaena suddenly stop, her smiling face vanishing in an instant before he could even lay a hand on her.
"What's wrong, Helaena?" Rhaegar's concern was evident as he noticed the abrupt change in her expression.
"Hungry wolves staring at lambs," Helaena nervously muttered, her eyes fixed straight ahead.
"What do you mean, Helaena? Did you see or hear something?" Rhaegar's mind raced, connecting Helaena's cryptic words with the rumors swirling around her.
He suspected that she might possess a gift similar to his own, one of prophecy and foresight.
But Helaena silently retreated into her room, closing the door behind her, shutting Rhaegar out.
He hesitated, hand raised to knock on the door, but ultimately decided against it. Helaena seemed to be in a state of self-preservation after whatever premonition she'd had, and it didn't feel right to disturb her.
"Helaena, go rest, and I'll make sure to order you a new Leatherball," he called softly through the closed door, before retreating to his own room in silence.
...
He still had a plethora of old books stored away in his space bracelet, waiting to be explored.
If he wanted to truly grasp the intricacies of the Dreamer's talent, he might need to delve into these texts first.
His attention lingered on the Bloodline section of the system panel.
[Rhaegar Targaryen]
Bloodline: Old Valyrian Dragon King (12%)
Since the awakening of the Explorer system, the Bloodline section had undergone frequent changes.
Initially, it stood at a modest 5%, but after acquiring "Fire and Blood," it surged by 8%.
Despite subsequent fluctuations, it continued its gradual ascent.
Rhaegar speculated that the percentage reflected the purity of his bloodline, as suggested in the evaluation section.
"A robust lineage of the Dragon Kings, boasting excellence even amidst the era of the Old Valyrians."
Within half a year, the purity of his bloodline had soared to 12%, more than doubling its original value.
The "+" sign preceding the percentage had vanished, indicating that the efficacy of "Blood and Fire" had reached its zenith and would no longer increase.
"Returning to the texts, ancient Valyria boasted numerous families of dragon lords. What significance does a pure bloodline hold?" Rhaegar mused, recalling Viserys's remarks about the Dreamer's talent.
Determined not to squander any potential, Rhaegar now held his abilities in the highest regard.
(Word count: 1544)