156-160
Added 2025-02-27 01:17:47 +0000 UTCChapter 156: The Letter from the Vale
He avoided the North.
That bitterly cold land had always been disconnected from the kingdom.
By the time the Starks led their army south, the war would likely be almost over.
Tylan continued, "The turmoil in the Vale is troublesome, but Gulltown has a port capable of supporting warships and a large number of soldiers."
"The Tyrells of the Reach must guard against a Dornish invasion, but the Redwynes of the Arbor possess a powerful fleet that can aid the battlefield."
"Besides that, Oldtown in the Reach and White Harbor in the North are among the kingdom’s most significant ports."
Everyone listened in silence, agreeing with his analysis.
Rhaegar asked, "Lord Tylan, Oldtown and the Arbor are reasonable choices, but White Harbor is too remote, and Gulltown also has to support the Eyrie."
"Prince, while the war has yet to begin, we should do everything we can to move quickly," Tylan replied.
Rhaegar waved his hand, signaling him to continue.
Tylan added with a hint of reluctance, "The royal family has dragons. Dragons fly faster than ravens, and a royal envoy is far more persuasive than a letter."
"A good idea."
Viserys raised an eyebrow. "But there are too many places to go. My children won’t be able to handle it all."
"Your Grace, Aegon’s maternal family is House Hightower of Oldtown. If he goes there, Earl Jorbert will naturally assist in negotiating with the Tyrells and the Redwynes," Tylan began, addressing the easier tasks first. "Princess Rhaenyra can head to White Harbor and persuade House Manderly to send troops."
"Prince Rhaegar and Lady Jeyne are cousins. A dragon would intimidate the mountain clans and help secure Gulltown’s support."
The plan was sound and reasonable.
Viserys hesitated, as was his habit, instinctively looking to Laenor for his opinion.
When it came to royal family matters, Laenor was always cautious. He spoke in a low voice, "A journey to the Vale could be dangerous."
The mountain clans were no mere rabble.
Several Lords of the Eyrie had met their end at the hands of the highland clans.
Corlys spoke up, "Your Grace, the mountain clans of the Vale are nothing more than a disorderly mob. A dragon will overpower them."
Rhaenys considered it for a moment before offering, "Let Laenor go. He can take Seasmoke to deliver the message and assess the real situation in the Vale."
Viserys hesitated even more.
He was inclined to agree with Rhaenys, but as Crown Prince, Rhaegar should be the one to represent the royal family.
Grand Maester Mellos reached into his satchel, as if recalling something, and suddenly said, "Your Grace, I have a letter from the Vale. It may provide some clarity."
He produced a letter, its seal stamped with red wax, which Ser Cole took and handed to the king.
Viserys opened it and read carefully.
"Runestone… Lady Rhea… wedding…"
His lips moved slightly as he murmured the words, his expression gradually darkening.
After a moment, he passed the letter to Laenor, displeased. "Lady Rhea of Runestone is engaged to her cousin, Gerold Royce, and plans to hold a wedding."
After Daemon had left for the Free Cities, Lady Rhea had petitioned Viserys multiple times for a divorce.
She had pestered him endlessly, and he had eventually granted her request.
Now, she had found herself a new husband.
Jasper Royce, face stern, commented, "Runestone is in the heart of the Vale. If Lady Rhea has the mind to hold a wedding, it seems the situation there is not too dire."
Laenor quickly read through the letter, his expression turning to surprise. After a moment’s hesitation, he added, "The letter says that Lady Jeyne will be attending the wedding and hopes a royal family member will join as well."
"Pfft—"
Tylan couldn't hold back a laugh and quickly covered his mouth.
Lady Rhea, newly remarried, inviting a royal family member.
Was she hoping to invite her ex-husband, Daemon?
"This foolish woman. No wonder my wretched brother refused to share a bed with her."
Viserys’ expression darkened, clearly annoyed by his former sister-in-law’s audacity.
"Your Grace, this is good news,"
Lyman spoke steadily, "At least the Vale is still safe. If we send a dragonrider, we can gain significant support."
Viserys understood the importance of this and turned to his eldest son. "Rhaegar, what do you think?"
Securing Gulltown’s port would ensure access to the Vale’s entire military force—a guaranteed advantage.
Rhaegar had no objections. Smiling, he replied, "No problem. The mountain clans are no more formidable than the Crabfeeder’s men on the Stepstones. Caraxes will handle them."
The mountain clans were savage.
Savage meant ignorant.
Under dragonfire, they would do nothing but kneel and beg for mercy.
"Father, let me go with Rhaegar."
Rhaenyra leaned on Viserys’ shoulder and softly pleaded.
Viserys frowned and said, “You still have to go to White Harbor.”
“I haven’t seen Cousin Jeyne in a long time, and I can also look after Rhaegar.”
Rhaenyra used Jeyne as an excuse, unwilling to let her younger brother travel to the Vale alone.
“That would leave a gap.”
Viserys rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on.
Rhaenys spoke at the right moment. “Laenor can handle it. Corlys and Earl Manderly are friends—he’ll bring back good news.”
Rhaenyra’s lips curled into a smile, and she shot her aunt a grateful look.
Rhaenys shook her head and avoided her gaze.
Her two granddaughters were still waiting for Rhaenyra to bring them dragon eggs—it was a good opportunity to build rapport in advance.
Seeing the aunt and niece reaching an agreement, Viserys was pleased to witness such harmony among his family members. He reminded her, “Go and return quickly. You still have two children to take care of.”
“I will.”
Rhaenyra smiled warmly—she was excited to ride dragons with Rhaegar again.
With that, the meeting concluded, and the ministers returned to their duties.
---
Time passed quickly, and night fell.
*Red Keep, Forge Room*
Clang… clang…
In the dimly lit chamber, the rhythmic hammering of metal echoed continuously.
In front of a massive forge, a foreign blacksmith wielded a hammer, striking a freshly forged rippled steel sword.
One apprentice worked near the forge, while another sat on the ground, polishing an item.
Creak—
The wooden door of the forge opened, and Rhaenyra, dressed simply, stepped in lightly, scanning the room.
The glow from the forge cast a reddish hue over half of the chamber, its heat scorching the air.
“Rhaegar…”
Rhaenyra immediately spotted Rhaegar lying on a reclining chair and walked toward him helplessly.
He had insisted on checking the progress of the weapon forging, even skipping dinner.
The chair faced the fireplace, and Rhaegar lay on his back, resting. The fire’s glow reflected a healthy flush onto his usually pale cheeks.
He had been watching so intently that he had unknowingly fallen asleep.
Rhaenyra parted her lips but refrained from waking him.
Rhaegar had always struggled with sleep, so whenever he managed to doze off, she preferred to let him rest a little longer.
“Sleep… You have your own little kitchen. You won’t go hungry.”
She sat lightly on the edge of the chair, gently stroking Rhaegar’s face.
The blacksmiths were used to this sight and continued working in silence.
---
*From Another Perspective…*
Rhaegar found himself within a dream.
A vast, boundless lake stretched before him, with an island at its center.
The midday sun cast golden light over the emerald waters, making them shimmer. Black swans glided gracefully across the lake’s surface.
“Hiss—screech!”
A dragon’s roar echoed across the landscape as a massive silver dragon soared over the lakeshore.
The War of the Stepstones was still in its preparation stage—perhaps a trip to the Vale could bring in some reinforcements.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 157: The Valyrian Steel Sword—Dragonclaw
A massive dragon soared through the sky, while thousands of soldiers, clad in mismatched armor, marched in its wake.
Atop the dragon’s back sat a young man with silver-gold hair, brimming with confidence. A longsword hung at his waist, and a spear was strapped to his back.
From a distance, Rhaegar observed the scene.
The young man’s face was indistinct, yet strangely familiar.
A single dragon, leading thousands of soldiers, passed by a vast lake and came to a halt on its northern shore.
*"Screeeech..."*
At that moment, another dragon’s roar—thunderous and earth-shaking—echoed from afar, reverberating across the heavens.
*Whoosh—*
A violent gust swept through the air as a pair of enormous wings blotted out the sun, casting the entire lake into shadow.
Rhaegar stood frozen, his mind clouded with confusion, as he beheld a massive black dragon circling overhead.
Its body was covered in pitch-black scales, crowned with menacing horns. The spines along its back and the membranes of its wings were a deep, blood-red. Its terrifying, vertical pupils were as cold and merciless as death itself—like a reaper emerging from the abyss.
Without thinking, a name surfaced in Rhaegar’s mind.
*Balerion—the Black Dread.*
*"Uncle, you usurped the throne! Surrender at once!"*
From atop a silver dragon, a young man shouted, his voice ringing with authority as he drew his sword.
Hearing this, Rhaegar shifted his gaze toward Balerion’s back.
Seated upon a saddle of black iron was a towering, formidable man with short, silver-gold hair.
At that moment, Rhaegar’s mind snapped into clarity, and he blurted out:
*"This is the Battle Beneath the Gods Eye!"*
He recalled the history of House Targaryen.
On the northern shores of the Gods Eye, the ruthless King Maegor I had slain his own nephew, Aegon Targaryen.
*"Nephew, the throne is mine. Today, you cannot escape your fate!"*
Just as Rhaegar processed this realization, the man atop the dragon let out a deep, booming laugh.
*"Screeeech!"*
In the next instant, Balerion beat his colossal wings and lunged at the silver dragon with a thunderous roar.
Balerion was the largest dragon ever to exist in Westeros.
Even from afar, Rhaegar could see that it dwarfed Cannibal and far outmatched Vhagar in size.
Against the Black Dread, the silver dragon seemed no larger than a sparrow—completely outmatched.
*"Screeeech..."*
Balerion moved with terrifying speed, charging straight through the silver dragon’s fiery breath. Closing the distance in an instant, he clamped his jaws around one of its wings, ripping it clean off and swallowing it whole.
The silver dragon had no chance to fight back.
With a pained shriek, it plummeted to the ground, crashing down with its rider.
*Boom!*
The impact sent blood splattering dozens of feet, painting the grasslands by the lake in crimson.
Rhaegar watched the carnage unfold before his eyes, awestruck by Balerion’s sheer power.
The world blurred. The dream began to shatter.
*Crack—*
A sharp sound rang out. Rhaegar looked down to see frost forming on the ground.
When he lifted his head, snow had begun to fall—thick, heavy flakes descending from the sky, quickly burying the bloodied corpses of man and dragon alike.
*"Screeeech..."*
High above, Balerion roared once more, exhaling a torrent of red flames laced with thick, black smoke.
Rhaegar was entranced.
Battered by the icy wind, he stood motionless, watching the fire and snow—two extremes colliding before his eyes.
---
*Outside the dream.*
Rhaegar’s brows furrowed as beads of cold sweat formed on his forehead. His hands and feet twitched involuntarily.
*"Rhaegar!"*
Rhaenyra gasped in alarm at his state and quickly called his name.
Rhaegar had nightmares often.
And every time, she would wake him.
*"Ahh!!"*
With a sharp cry, Rhaegar jolted awake, sitting bolt upright.
*"Rhaegar, are you okay?"*
Rhaenyra, her expression tense, placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle shake.
Rhaegar’s eyes widened in shock as he muttered to himself:
*"Ice and fire..."*
The visions from his dream remained crystal clear in his mind.
Yet, it wasn’t Maegor’s kinslaying that unsettled him, nor the death of the young Aegon...
It was the snow and the dragonfire—engraved into his thoughts, replaying over and over.
*"What do you mean, ice and fire? Did you dream of A Song of Ice and Fire?"*
Rhaenyra, recognizing the phrase, grew even more concerned.
*"No! It wasn’t A Song of Ice and Fire."*
Rhaegar panted heavily, holding his forehead as he murmured, “I dreamed of Maegor committing kin-slaying.”
“What exactly did you dream about? It sounds like nonsense.”
Rhaenyra sighed softly, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close to her chest.
Usually, Rhaegar didn’t react so strongly to nightmares.
Feeling the soft warmth, Rhaegar’s wildly beating heart gradually calmed, and he closed his eyes, sinking into silence.
He had a slight headache.
The content of the dream wasn’t particularly shocking—he’d had more intense visions before.
It was the snow and dragonfire that startled him awake.
This wasn’t a good omen!
Rhaegar buried his head deeper, lost in thought.
Rhaenyra, looking helpless, gently rubbed his scalp and whispered, “Still acting like a child, aren’t you?”
Rhaegar wanted to retort but instead tightened his arms around her waist.
It was just a nightmare—his stress was a bit overwhelming.
*Clang… clang… clang…*
The blacksmiths' work continued, their hammering unaffected by Rhaegar’s sudden awakening.
For a long while, the sounds filled the air.
Breathing in Rhaenyra’s familiar faint fragrance, Rhaegar suddenly remembered himself—he was a man.
“Ahem, I’m fine now.”
Rhaegar pulled away from her warm embrace, clearing his throat to mask his embarrassment.
Rhaenyra, smirking faintly, retracted her hand and clasped it in front of her stomach.
“Prince, the sword is ready!”
A foreign blacksmith spoke in High Valyrian, coming to Rhaegar’s rescue.
“Great! Let me see!”
Rhaegar got off the bed and strode quickly to the furnace.
The foreign blacksmith was an elderly man with curly chestnut hair and a weathered face.
He held a long, narrow box in both hands, lined with red fabric.
Rhaegar glanced at him.
The blacksmith, with a solemn expression, gestured for him to lift the fabric.
Following his cue, Rhaegar unveiled a gleaming longsword.
The blade was a standard hand-and-a-half sword.
Its surface shimmered with the distinctive rippling pattern of Valyrian steel, and its edges on both sides were razor-sharp.
The hilt and guard were crafted from a pale, bone-like material.
The guard was shaped like a dragon’s claw:
One side was a dragon’s rear talon, sharp and curved, slightly smaller.
The other side was the dragon’s three front talons, sculpted as one piece, slightly larger.
The length of the hilt was just right, intricately engraved with fine dragon-scale patterns, with a slight curve at its end.
As a whole, it resembled a dragon’s claw extending into a deadly blade.
Admiring the reforged Valyrian steel sword, Rhaegar couldn’t help but feel delighted. He gripped the hilt and lifted it from the box.
*Whom—*
Swinging the sword, the blade cut through the air with a light hum, akin to a dragon’s roar.
“A fine sword! Superb craftsmanship!”
Rhaegar held the sword in one hand, running his fingers along the blade with the other, and said with joy, “The hilt looks like a dragon’s claw. This sword shall be named Dragonclaw!”
“They say the blacksmiths of Qohor are world-renowned, and it’s no exaggeration.”
Rhaenyra approached to take a closer look, smiling with satisfaction. “You’re calling it Dragonclaw? That’s a fitting name.”
“Of course! I spent days pondering this name.”
Rhaegar grinned smugly, handing Dragonclaw to her for inspection. “Look at the hilt and guard. I specifically sawed off a piece of Balerion’s dragon horn for this—it’s as strong as meteoric iron.”
“Only you would do something so extravagant.”
Admiring the freshly forged Valyrian steel sword, Rhaenyra beamed. “With this, our family now has three ancestral swords.”
“There’s more to it.”
Rhaegar pointed to the forge, smiling mysteriously. “The melted Valyrian steel from the greatsword was more than enough. Even after forging Dragonclaw, there’s plenty of Valyrian steel left.”
---
Chapter 158: The Mysterious Scroll
After taking the dragon claw, Rhaegar and Rhaenyra left the forge room and returned to their respective chambers.
As he walked through the dimly lit corridor, Rhaegar occasionally ran his fingers over the hilt of the dragon claw. The texture of the dragon horn was exceptionally smooth and comfortable.
Suddenly, a system notification rang out.
**"Congratulations! The Nameless Sword has been activated. You have obtained..."**
Rhaegar's spirits lifted as he pulled up the Explorer's panel.
**[Mysterious Scroll]**
- **Grade:** Excellent (Blue)
- **Effect:** A mysterious scroll from Old Valyria that can lead you to the treasures of your homeland.
- **Evaluation:** *"A scroll imbued with mystical magic—you will love it."*
With a crisp pop, a parchment scroll about the length of a forearm materialized out of thin air.
Rhaegar caught it immediately, his heart brimming with anticipation as he unrolled it.
The scroll was aged and yellowed, its surface depicting an illustration of a grand architectural complex.
**"The Freehold Fortress?"**
Rhaegar instantly recognized the drawing on the scroll.
Aside from hosting feasts and tournaments, his father had a deep passion for stone carvings.
His chamber housed an entire table filled with miniature stone sculptures of Old Valyria.
It was said that Alicent had won his father’s heart through her talent for stone carving.
Studying the scroll closely, Rhaegar frowned and murmured, **"Judging by the description, this seems to be an exploration-related artifact... Could it be a treasure map?"**
The relics granted by the Explorer's system always carried mysterious powers.
With each new discovery, they grew increasingly enigmatic.
**Buzz—**
As if responding to his doubts, the scroll emitted a faint glow. The lines of the illustration twisted and morphed into a set of coordinates.
Having encountered magical phenomena many times before, Rhaegar was unfazed.
He examined the coordinates carefully, gradually realizing they overlapped with his mental map of the Red Keep.
After comparing the locations, he raised an eyebrow in surprise. **"Wait a second… isn’t this… my father’s room?"**
Suddenly, he smacked his forehead as realization struck.
The scroll's coordinates pointed to **Blackfyre!**
Rhaegar chuckled and mused with interest, **"So the scroll can guide me to relics that meet exploration conditions?"**
The more he thought about it, the more plausible it seemed.
**"Might as well explore Blackfyre."**
With his departure for the Vale imminent, this idea intrigued him.
He walked over to a glass window and gazed at the night outside.
The evening had just begun, and a crescent moon shone brightly. His father was likely still awake.
---
After hastily eating a small meal, Rhaegar left the kitchen and arrived at his father’s chamber door.
Just as he raised his hand to knock, the door opened from within.
Alicent, dressed in a green gown, stepped out with her head lowered, accidentally bumping into him.
**"Ah! Rhaegar?"**
She gasped in surprise, and upon recognizing his face, she quickly took several steps back.
Rhaegar: **…**
**"Your Grace."**
He greeted her with a simple nod, clasped his hands behind his back, and stepped aside to clear the way.
Alicent placed a hand over her chest, nodded slightly, and hurried away.
Watching her retreating figure, Rhaegar frowned slightly.
Even though she had kept her head down, she couldn’t fully conceal her red-rimmed eyes and lingering tears.
After a brief contemplation, he muttered inwardly, **"Could this be about Aegon joining the Stepstones war?"**
**"Cough, cough…"**
A weak coughing sound came from inside the room, followed by a hoarse voice.
**"Rhaegar, is that you at the door?"**
**"It’s me, Father."**
Hearing how frail his father’s voice sounded, Rhaegar responded and stepped into the room.
Viserys, dressed in sleepwear, was seated at a round table in the lounge area.
He beckoned his eldest son over with a sigh.
**"Come, sit here."**
Obediently, Rhaegar took a seat across from him and asked with concern, **"What’s wrong, Father?"**
Viserys let out a weary sigh.
**"Nothing more than the mercy of a woman."**
Viserys looked displeased and asked, “It’s so late—what do you need?”
“I wanted to share some good news with you.”
Rhaegar removed the scabbard from his waist and handed over *Dragonclaw*.
“Oh, your Valyrian steel sword is finally reforged.”
Viserys knew that his eldest son had acquired a heavy Valyrian steel sword and had arranged for it to be reforged.
As he spoke, he drew *Dragonclaw* from its sheath, and its cold gleam illuminated the dimly lit room.
Examining the sword, Viserys smiled. “Valyrian steel is incredibly rare—this is truly a fine blade.”
“The smiths of Qohor are equally skilled.”
Rhaegar smiled as his gaze swept around the room.
His eyes settled on *Blackfyre*, hanging on the wall.
Standing up, Rhaegar walked over, reached out, and took *Blackfyre* down.
“Do you want to compare the two swords?”
Viserys noticed his movements and chuckled.
Rhaegar smiled, then sat back down with *Blackfyre* in hand.
A system notification rang in his ears.
**"Exploration mission activated. Target: Valyrian steel sword, Blackfyre."**
**[Blackfyre]**
Exploration progress: 0.3%
Mission triggered—just wait for progress to complete.
Viserys chuckled. “You’ve been interested in *Blackfyre* since you were little. Do you want to trade *Dragonclaw* for it?”
Rhaegar quickly shook his head and said seriously, “*Blackfyre* symbolizes kingship. Right now, *Dragonclaw* suits me better.”
“A sword forged for battle—what do you think it symbolizes?”
Viserys toyed with *Dragonclaw* as he asked.
He could tell his eldest son had high expectations for this sword.
“It was created for war. The best symbol for it would be fearlessness!” Rhaegar pondered aloud.
In truth, he wanted to say “war.”
House Targaryen had two ancestral swords.
*Blackfyre* symbolized kingship.
*Dark Sister*, because of Queen Visenya, embodied valor, loyalty, and protection.
But neither represented war and bloodshed.
With the arrival of *Dragonclaw*, Rhaegar hoped to wield it in battle, to defend the kingdom’s honor.
“A good thought. Not everyone possesses fearless courage.”
Viserys didn’t fully understand his son’s true intentions, but he made a heartfelt remark nonetheless.
He himself lacked fearless courage.
After his reflection, Viserys fell silent in thought, and Rhaegar also quieted down.
A heavy silence filled the room.
After a long time, Viserys glanced at his son in surprise, wondering why he hadn’t returned to his chambers yet.
Rhaegar remained unaware, simply waiting for the exploration progress to advance.
He had just woken up—he wasn’t tired!
Viserys thought for a moment, then found a new topic. “Rhaegar, you’re already thirteen. It’s time to consider an engagement.”
“Huh?”
Rhaegar immediately looked up, confused as to why his father had suddenly brought up marriage.
Viserys continued, “Do you have anyone you like?”
“No, I haven’t thought about that at all,” Rhaegar quickly denied.
He spent most of his time within the royal domain, and the noble ladies there practically devoured him with their eyes whenever they saw him.
It made it difficult for him to feel any real interest.
“What about following family tradition?”
Viserys pressed on.
Rhaegar hesitated, falling silent.
He understood what his father meant.
He had thought about this before.
But his feelings toward Rhaenyra were complicated; they had always just interacted normally.
“Sigh, you’re excellent in every way—except when it comes to emotions!”
Seeing his reaction, Viserys immediately understood the issue.
Shaking his head in exasperation, he said, “Look at Aegon—he understood love and passion at eleven. And you?”
“I… I haven’t,” Rhaegar muttered, lowering his head, feeling somewhat restless.
He wasn’t developing slowly—he just spent most of his energy on rebuilding the Dragonpit, training, and riding dragons…
And dealing with a whole list of other troublesome matters.
Hearing this, Viserys held his forehead, worried about his son’s emotional intelligence.
---
(*Sidenote from the author:*
Everyone says the name *Dragonclaw* sounds lame—I feel helpless about it too.
I first considered *Long Night*, then *Dragon Horde*.
In the end, I hesitated and went with *Dragonclaw*.)
**(End of Chapter)**
Chapter 159: A Vision of Dreams
Recalling the past.
Viserys had his fair share of romantic escapades.
Why is my eldest son so serious?
After a brief hesitation, Viserys subtly said, "Rhaegar, when I was your age, Daemon and I had already visited most of the brothels in King's Landing."
Rhaegar pressed his lips together and remained silent.
"Damn it!"
Seeing no reaction from his son, Viserys cursed inwardly.
To be fair, it wasn't really Rhaegar's fault.
Typically, when a Targaryen male reached puberty, an older brother or cousin would take him to a brothel for his "initiation."
But Rhaegar was the eldest of his generation.
He had no older brothers or cousins, just one—Laenor.
As for younger siblings, he had a few, but apart from Aegon, they weren’t old enough for such matters.
Viserys couldn’t expect Aegon to take Rhaegar for an initiation.
That boy feared Rhaegar like a mouse fears a cat—he’d rather stay as far away as possible.
After some thought, Viserys decided this situation couldn't continue.
He needed to take action to ensure his heir would continue the bloodline.
Viserys hinted, "Pay attention to where Aegon usually goes. Try visiting some of those places yourself—I won’t hold it against you."
Rhaegar immediately looked up, staring blankly at his father.
Is my father encouraging me to visit brothels?
"Father… Aegon’s tastes… I don’t think I can handle them."
Rhaegar hesitated as he spoke.
"Seven Hells!"
Viserys threw his head back with a sigh and scolded, "Places like that have all kinds of women! Aegon even has a bastard already."
"Aegon has a bastard!?"
Rhaegar’s eyes widened in shock.
How old is Aegon?
He already has an illegitimate child?
"Hmph. That boy is reckless—there's nothing he wouldn’t do," Viserys scoffed before continuing, "Tomorrow, I’ll have Laenor prepare a list of noble ladies of suitable age. You can take your pick."
"But… what about Rhaenyra?"
Rhaegar felt uneasy about this.
Viserys immediately dismissed the concern, "Forget about Rhaenyra for now. We’ll find you a betrothal candidate first—then we’ll decide who you should marry!"
Rhaenyra’s indecisiveness about marriage infuriated Viserys.
His eldest son’s marriage had to be planned ahead of time.
Once he reached the right age, he would marry immediately—no delays.
Continuing the family bloodline was his responsibility.
"I’ll leave it to you, Father."
Rhaegar had no reason to object and agreed.
His view on marriage remained unchanged.
Whether it was family tradition, love at first sight, or a political alliance—he was willing to accept any of them.
Afterward, Viserys continued to educate his son on a series of topics.
Unknowingly, dawn arrived.
Viserys sat back in his chair, deeply asleep. A blanket draped over his shoulders, his soft snores filling the room.
Rhaegar, too, had fallen asleep at the table, one hand gripping a Valyrian steel sword.
The father and son had talked through the entire night.
Rhaegar had endured it all for the sake of uncovering the mysteries of Blackfyre.
Suddenly, a voice echoed, waking Rhaegar from his light sleep.
"Exploration complete. Please retrieve the lost treasure."
Rhaegar groggily lifted his head and glanced around.
The explorer’s panel automatically appeared before him.
[Blackfyre]
Exploration Progress: 100%
"It’s morning… the exploration is complete," Rhaegar muttered as he rubbed his face, trying to wake up.
In his hand was Blackfyre.
On the table, a purple glow the size of a grapefruit hovered in the air.
Unfazed, Rhaegar reached out and touched it.
Pop!
The purple glow burst like a bubble, scattering flecks of light that slowly faded away.
"Relic successfully retrieved, analyzing..."
"Analysis complete. Determined to be an Epic Relic: King's Gaze."
Hearing the notification, Rega's face lit up with joy. He murmured, "As expected, it's an Epic-tier relic. A real treasure."
He opened his status panel. A purple eye floated in midair—empty and lifeless.
Beneath the eye, a line of small text provided a hint:
"A king has more than just one pair of eyes. What he sees comes from multiple perspectives."
Rega frowned slightly, puzzled by the message. He hadn't expected the relic's activation to have such a requirement.
Staring at the unblinking purple eye, he tilted his head in confusion.
On impulse, he decided to try extracting the eye.
In the next moment, the purple eye transformed into a streak of light and shot into his forehead.
"Damn!"
Rega jumped in shock. Quickly, he grabbed a cup of water and used it as a mirror to check his reflection.
No third eye.
He reached up and touched his forehead. No bumps, no changes—his skin was as smooth as ever.
"Whew... scared me for a second. I thought I was going to grow a third eye."
Rega let out a breath of relief. Cold sweat had already soaked through the back of his shirt.
Then, the notification sounded again.
"Congratulations, King's Gaze has been activated. You have acquired..."
【Dream Vision】
Grade: Legendary (Red)
Effect: Grants you the ability to retain self-awareness in dreams.
Evaluation: "A unique relic combined with a unique talent—you now possess a special perspective."
Before Rega could react, a sudden shiver ran through him.
His previous drowsiness vanished instantly. He felt wide awake, his mind sharp and clear.
Memories that had once been hazy now became vivid.
Looking out the window, he could clearly see the carved cracks on the stone bricks of the city wall—despite being dozens of meters away.
Rega touched the corner of his eye and murmured to himself, "Enhanced memory... and improved vision."
A suspicion formed in his mind. This probably isn’t even the true ability of【Dream Vision】—just an additional side effect.
Legendary relics were incredibly rare.
So far, he had only obtained two: 【Blood and Fire As One】 and 【True Dragon’s Blood】.
Both had laid a solid foundation for him.
Thinking for a moment, he pulled up his personal status panel.
【Rega Targaryen】
Talents: Dreamer (Gold), Longevity (Green)
Bloodline: Ancient Valyrian Dragonlord (39%)
Skills: Mastery in Swordsmanship, Mastery in Spearmanship, Proficiency in Ancient Valyrian Language…
Relics: Blood and Fire As One, True Dragon’s Blood, Dream Vision…
Evaluation: "Your talent has been further unlocked. Use it wisely—seek benefits and avoid harm."
"I need to experiment with this."
Rega clicked his tongue, stretched lazily, and stood up.
After sleeping half the night slumped over his desk, his body felt stiff.
He picked up Blackfyre, carefully hung it back on the wall, stored away Dragonclaw, and quietly stepped out of the room.
Three Days Later
Red Keep, Throne Room.
Rhaenys stood at the center of the grand hall, dressed in a ceremonial robe of black and red. The hall was packed with nobles and officials.
Today was her investiture as the Prince of Dragons.
King Viserys stood before the Iron Throne, clad in his royal regalia, wearing his crown, and holding the legendary sword Blackfyre.
Under the watchful eyes of the gathered nobility, he maintained a solemn expression and proclaimed loudly:
"Lords and ladies, the Targaryen dynasty has ruled for 118 years, with our royal bloodline passing from generation to generation."
"Today, as Viserys I, I establish a new office exclusive to the Targaryen family."
"—The Prince of Dragons!"
As his words fell, applause erupted throughout the hall.
Holding her head high with pride, Rhaenys strode forward.
Three meters from the throne, she halted and knelt on one knee.
Viserys raised Blackfyre, resting its blade gently on her shoulder as he spoke solemnly:
"Rhaenys Targaryen, I name you the first Prince of Dragons, granting you the authority to oversee the royal bloodline and uphold the conduct of House Targaryen!"
"By your command, Your Grace!"
Rhaenys remained calm and composed, bowing her head as she accepted the honor.
Viserys chuckled softly, sheathed Blackfyre, and extended a hand to help her rise.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 160: The Bestowal of Dark Sister
On either side of the Iron Throne, members of House Targaryen and House Velaryon stood, each with their own thoughts as they watched the scene unfold.
With a smile on his face, Rhaegar stepped forward from the crowd and called out, "Father!"
Viserys looked at him and gave a slight nod.
Rhaegar approached, unfastening a scabbard from his waist as he walked.
Everyone noticed that the crown prince carried two scabbards—one long and one short.
Rhaenys also took note, her gaze filled with curiosity as she looked at her nephew.
Rhaegar held the scabbard horizontally in his hands and said with a smile, "Aunt, take this sword."
Rhaenys examined the scabbard.
She recognized this sword.
It was the ancestral blade—*Dark Sister*.
"Blackfyre is a symbol of royal authority, but Dark Sister should have its own purpose as well," Rhaegar said, gazing at the sword with a sense of reverence. Then, in a serious tone, he continued, "Its first owner was Queen Visenya, who once wielded it to protect Aegon the Conqueror, slaying more than ten assassins with her own hand."
"I hope that Dark Sister will come to symbolize the duty of a protector."
"I never imagined that I would one day possess Dark Sister," Rhaenys murmured as she took the sword with trembling hands, her expression dazed.
"Dark Sister has never belonged to any one person," Rhaegar explained. "From this day forward, it shall be the sword of every Dragon Prince."
Upon hearing this, Rhaenys’ eyes grew resolute.
With a sharp sound, she unsheathed Dark Sister and solemnly declared, "I will not fail in my duty. I will bear the responsibility of protecting our family."
*Clap, clap, clap…*
Applause erupted once again, sending the atmosphere to a peak.
The celebration was not yet over. Led by Queen Alicent, the guests moved to the banquet hall.
However, Rhaegar and the other dragonriders did not follow; instead, they made their way to the Dragonpit.
Corlys Velaryon, along with Laenor and his two granddaughters, boarded a ship and returned to Driftmark.
The decisions had already been made in the Small Council.
With the appointment of the Dragon Prince settled, everyone resumed their respective duties.
---
### Over King’s Landing
*"Screeeech!"*
With a chorus of dragon cries, five mighty beasts burst out of the Dragonpit.
Glutton, Meleys, Sunfyre…
The people of King’s Landing stopped in their tracks, gazing in awe at the sight of dragons soaring together across the sky.
Meleys, swift as lightning, carried Rhaenys straight toward Blackwater Bay.
Aegon, looking sullen, flew Sunfyre toward the Riverlands.
"We should set off too!"
Rhaegar, his expression calm, guided Glutton into the air.
With a powerful beat of its wings, Glutton swiftly left the boundaries of King’s Landing.
Behind him, Rhaenyra rode Syrax, while Laenor flew on Seasmoke.
The three of them would pass through the Vale and travel together for a time.
As the dragons disappeared beyond the horizon, the people of King’s Landing continued to discuss the astonishing sight of five dragons flying in unison.
At the entrance to the Dragonpit…
Helena, dressed in a pristine white gown, held Aemond’s hand as she stood on tiptoe, gazing up at the sky.
"Sister, the dragons are gone," Aemond said softly, his voice tinged with longing.
"I know," Helena replied, her face set in determination. Her large eyes shone with resolve as she pouted. "Come! Let’s go tame a dragon too!"
"Okay!"
Aemond nodded eagerly, allowing his sister to pull him along.
---
The Flight Over the Vale
Three dragons soared through the sky.
Departing from King’s Landing, they passed over Sow’s Horn, Harrenhal, and Saltpans.
By dusk, the dragons reached the Mountains of the Moon, overlooking the vast and rugged peaks below.
Before long, they arrived at the first gateway to the Vale—*the Bloody Gate*, said to be impregnable.
The Bloody Gate was a defensive fortification perched on treacherous cliffs along the mountain pass leading into the Vale of Arryn.
Two watchtowers clung to the rocky walls, connected by a timeworn gray stone archway, weathered by centuries of wind and rain.
For generations, the knights of the Bloody Gate had held firm, repelling countless enemies who sought to seize the Eyrie.
*"Screeeech!"*
Glutton let out a resounding roar that echoed over the Bloody Gate, drawing the attention of the knights below.
A dragon was the mark of House Targaryen.
With three dragons appearing at once, it could only mean that members of the royal family had arrived.
---
Amid a series of hurried footsteps, dozens of Blood Gate knights swarmed out, standing rigidly on the cliff walls flanking the sealed arch bridge.
A burly Blood Gate knight, clad in heavy armor, stood atop the sealed arch bridge, gazing at the three dragons in the sky.
Rhaegar looked down at the commotion below, finding it somewhat interesting.
"These are Blood Gate knights. Should we greet them first?"
Sitting atop Seasmoke, Laenor inquired gently.
The sky was already darkening, and traveling at night was not an ideal choice. He had decided to accompany Rhaegar and Rhaenyra to visit the Eyrie.
Before Rhaegar could respond, a Blood Gate knight below shouted loudly, "Who seeks passage through the Blood Gate?"
It was one of the knights’ duties—to question those attempting to pass through.
Hearing this, Rhaegar chuckled lightly and glanced at the slightly weary Rhaenyra and Laenor before saying, "Since the Blood Gate knights have spoken, it is only proper to respond."
"I'll handle this," Laenor volunteered. He guided Seasmoke to descend slightly and replied, "Rhaegar Targaryen, eldest son of King Viserys I and heir to the Iron Throne."
The knight commander’s pupils slightly contracted. Straightening his posture, he continued, "And your companions?"
"Laenor Velaryon, heir to Driftmark and dragonrider," Laenor added with pride.
"I understand. You may pass!"
The knight commander’s voice rang out as he gestured for the Blood Gate knights on both cliffs to step back.
Rhaegar found the exchange amusing and said softly, "Let's go. We should reach the Eyrie before nightfall."
Rhaenyra and Laenor followed without hesitation, riding their dragons across the towering Blood Gate.
Since the Age of Heroes, countless armies had perished at this very spot, yet none had ever managed to conquer the Vale.
Except once.
During the Conquest, Queen Visenya had ridden her mighty dragon, Vhagar, effortlessly soaring past the Blood Gate before landing in the Eyrie's gardens.
At the time, the young Lord of the Eyrie was merely a child. He gazed in awe at the enormous dragon descending from the sky and was soon cradled playfully in Queen Visenya’s arms.
When his regent mother arrived, she and Queen Visenya exchanged a glance.
No further words were needed.
The Eyrie, along with the entire Vale, bent the knee to Aegon the Conqueror.
As the three dragons soared past the Blood Gate, the fierce wind they stirred howled through the pass.
The knight commander dropped to one knee, pressing a hand to his chest, and once again called out, "The Vale extends its sincerest greetings to you, my prince!"
"The Vale extends its sincerest greetings!"
The rest of the Blood Gate knights knelt as well, offering their heartfelt salute.
Their voices carried on the wind, reaching Rhaegar’s ears.
He smiled faintly, pressing his foot against the stirrup and urging Feaster to accelerate.
His mother, Aemma Arryn, hailed from the Eyrie’s noble Arryn family.
The entire Vale was, by birthright, Rhaegar’s natural ally.
As they passed through the Blood Gate, the mountain terrain grew steeper, the climbing paths narrowing.
Ahead lay the towering peaks of the Mountains of the Moon, culminating in the tallest of them all—the legendary Giant’s Lance!
Rhaegar rode Feaster upward in a bold, unrelenting sprint. The thinning air posed no hindrance to his dragon, which sliced through the sky like an unstoppable force.
"Screeeech—"
In the blink of an eye, Feaster broke through the clouds, leaving even Giant’s Lance beneath its talons.
The journey through the Vale would bring unexpected twists—ambushes, sieges, dragons, giants, and magic…
Most importantly, progress in matters of the heart.
Jeyne of the Vale would be a key figure.
(End of Chapter)
