136-140

Chapter 136: Daemon Reappears

Rhaegar raised an eyebrow and blew a breath of air onto the baby’s cheek.

“Goo… ah…”

Baenira shivered slightly from the coolness, squirming even more, her tiny mouth forming a small bubble.

“Interesting.”

Amused by the reaction, Rhaegar couldn't help but smile.

Looking up again, he turned to Rhaenys and said with a smile, “I accept your request, Aunt.”

“Thank you, Rhaegar.”

Laenor, full of gratitude, spoke first.

Rhaegar shook his head and sighed, “No need to thank me. The children are innocent.”

“Let me have a look as well.”

Now that the agreement was settled, Rhaenyra stepped forward and leaned in to examine the two infants.

Rhaegar glanced back at her, his gaze deep and unreadable.

Their eyes met, and Rhaenyra gave a subtle nod.

They had not forgotten the plan they discussed beforehand.

---

Nightfall

Inside a luxurious chamber in High Tide, Rhaegar lay idly on the bed, resting with his eyes closed.

“Get up already. We need to go downstairs for the banquet soon.”

Rhaenyra sat at the vanity, carefully grooming herself, urging him to change his clothes.

“I can get ready faster than you.”

Rhaegar remained sprawled out lazily, unwilling to move, his mind replaying the day’s discussions.

The royal family and the Sea Snake had reached a preliminary alliance.

Not only had he agreed to grant the two infants legal recognition, but he had also pardoned their mother.

It was a gesture of goodwill and benevolence from the royal family toward House Velaryon.

The rest depended on how Corlys and Rhaenys would reciprocate.

There was only one matter that both sides had carefully avoided—Daemon.

Laenor’s husband, the father of the two infants, seemed to have been forgotten by all.

But Rhaegar had a feeling that Daemon wouldn’t stay hidden for long.

“Come on, get up. There’s business to discuss at the banquet. We can’t be late.”

Rhaenyra’s voice pulled him from his thoughts as she forcibly dragged him off the bed.

“Alright, alright, I get it.”

Rhaegar stretched, then buried his face against Rhaenyra’s neck, rubbing against her like a spoiled child.

“You’re an adult now. You can’t act like you did when you were little.”

Rhaenyra sighed, patting him lightly, helpless against his affectionate behavior.

“There’s still time.”

Rhaegar tightened his arms around her waist, reluctant to move.

He had no interest in playing politics with the Sea Snake.

He was meant to be an explorer of the skies and seas, yet his title as crown prince weighed heavily upon him.

Sometimes, he wished Rhaenyra were still the heir.

Then, he wouldn’t have to bear this endless burden, constantly keeping an eye on the rats lurking in the shadows.

“Rhaegar, I know this is hard for you. But for me and Father, you have to be strong.”

Touched, Rhaenyra wrapped her arms around his head, gently stroking his hair.

Rhaegar was only thirteen, yet the responsibilities on his shoulders were immense.

She often woke at night to hear him whispering in his sleep, struggling with the weight of it all.

It broke her heart.

She couldn’t help but wonder—if she had remained the heir, would she have been able to withstand this pressure?

---

Castle Hall

A long table sat at the center of the grand hall, with Corlys Velaryon, Rhaenys, Laenor, and Aegon seated on either side.

Rhaegar descended the stairs slowly.

Behind him, Rhaenyra and Laenor each carried one of the swaddled infants as they walked together.

“Come quickly! We prepared golden-thread lobster tonight—it’s a true delicacy.”

Rhaenys, in high spirits, crossed her legs as she sat, cheerfully inviting the three of them to the table.

She had many reasons to be happy today.

The tension between her husband’s house and her own had eased, her daughter had regained her rightful status, and her two granddaughters had been recognized by the royal family.

And in just two days, it would be her name day.

Another grand celebration awaited.

As everyone took their seats, Corlys and Rhaenys raised their cups in succession, signaling the start of the feast.

Rhaegar and Rhaenyra sat side by side, facing Rhaenys and Laenor. The atmosphere was warm and harmonious.

In front of each person was a serving of freshly marinated lobster.

Rhaegar took a few bites, his eyes lighting up with delight.

As expected of a family that thrived by the sea—the quality of their ingredients and their culinary skills were truly top-notch.

*"Rhaenyra, try this plum cake. It’s absolutely delicious."*

Laenor smiled as he cut a piece of cake and handed it to Rhaenyra.

"Oh, thank you."

Rhaenyra was pleasantly surprised, as if transported back to the sweet moments of her childhood, indulging in her favorite desserts.

She took a small bite with her fork, letting the sweet and tangy flavors dance on her taste buds, bringing a bright smile to her face.

*"Rhaegar, you should try it too."*

Without hesitation, Rhaenyra scooped up a piece and popped it into Rhaegar’s mouth.

The banquet was a success, filled with laughter and joy as it reached its midpoint.

Meanwhile, on the cliffs outside High Tide—

The dark figure of Glutton blended seamlessly into the night, lazily sprawled on the ground, eyes closed in feigned sleep.

*Whoosh...*

A fierce gust of wind swept past, carrying thick clouds straight toward High Tide.

*"Scree..."*

In an instant, Glutton’s slit-pupiled eyes snapped open, locking onto the direction from which the wind had come.

---

Back at the banquet—

Laenor and Aegon were locked in a drinking contest, laughing heartily before bursting into song, then stumbling off to dance.

Corlys and Lyonel were deep in conversation, exchanging toasts.

Rhaegar lounged in his chair, simultaneously enjoying (and mocking) Laenor and Aegon’s ridiculous dancing while savoring the treats Rhaenyra fed him.

The scene was peaceful—almost too peaceful.

Beneath the surface, however, a storm was brewing.

*Bang!*

Suddenly, the castle doors were pushed open from the outside, and an uninvited guest stepped in.

A gust of wind rushed through the hall, drawing everyone's attention.

*"Daemon?!"*

Laenor was the first to react, staring in shock at the newcomer.

All eyes turned toward the entrance, where Daemon—who had been away in the Free Cities for years—stood in the doorway.

At that moment, Daemon was dressed in the luxurious attire of foreign lands. His strikingly handsome face was unreadable as he tilted his head, surveying the room.

*"Hey, Laenor, did you miss me?"*

Daemon showed no discomfort under everyone's scrutiny. A smirk played at his lips as he casually greeted his wife.

*"Daemon! Who told you to come back? Did you forget what we agreed on?!"*

The moment she saw her husband, Laenor lost her usual composure. She anxiously signaled him with her eyes, urging him to leave at once.

Daemon was different from her.

She was merely an accomplice. With her parents and children as leverage, she could still hope for forgiveness.

But Daemon? He had committed a grave crime—one of treason and murder. There would be no pardon for him.

*Bang!*

Before Daemon could respond, Rhaegar slammed his hand on the table. His smile vanished in an instant.

*"Rhaegar, calm down."*

Rhaenyra tightened her grip on his hand, her gaze locked on Daemon, her voice a cautious whisper.

They were in Driftmark—this was not their domain.

*"Heh, everyone’s here, I see."*

The sound of the table slam drew Daemon’s attention.

He hesitated for a brief moment before recognizing Rhaegar.

With a slow, amused stride, Daemon stepped into the hall, his smirk deepening.

*"Nephew, I’m back. Did you miss me?"*

*Crash!*

Rhaegar yanked his hand free from Rhaenyra’s grasp. His eyes glinted with cold fury as he sneered, *"Uncle, you actually dare show your face in front of me?"*

The words barely left his lips before he sprang from his seat and strode toward Daemon.

*"What? My wife is allowed to come home, but I can’t drop by for a visit?"*

Daemon’s expression remained roguish as he took a step forward.

---

Daemon’s return marks a turning point in the story.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 137: The Child's Custody  

"You are a sinner, unworthy of living under the sun."  

Rhaegar gripped the hilt of Dark Sister with one hand and mocked, "Uncle, last time we met, you left your sword behind. What do you plan to leave this time?"  

"Tsk, tsk. Compared to when you were a child, you’re not cute at all anymore."  

Daemon shook his head in disappointment, his eyes flashing coldly.  

He still remembered that rainy night seven years ago.  

If it hadn’t been for Laenor’s timely rescue, he and Coraxys would have been lost to the sea.  

Bang—  

Just as he crossed the dining table, Rhaegar collided head-on with Daemon. Their eyes locked in a fierce standoff, neither willing to back down.  

Daemon, in his prime, stood half a head taller than Rhaegar.  

Using his strength, he forced Rhaegar to take a step back, looking down at him.  

"Uncle, without Dark Sister, do you have no weapon at hand?"  

Rhaegar’s voice was cold as he unsheathed his sword with lightning speed, slashing toward Daemon’s waist.  

"Stop!"  

"Don't…!"  

Amidst several shocked cries, Daemon was the first to react, pressing a hand onto Rhaegar’s shoulder and sidestepping the attack.  

"Kid, you're still too inexperienced to challenge me."  

"It’s not over yet."  

Missing his strike, Rhaegar shifted his stance and drove his elbow hard into Daemon’s chest.  

Caught off guard, Daemon stumbled, momentarily struggling to catch his breath.  

Relying on his vast experience in combat, he immediately seized Rhaegar’s arm, intending to subdue him.  

Seeing this unfold, Corlys slammed his hand onto the table with a resounding clang, roaring, "Enough! No fighting in my castle!"  

One was the crown prince of the royal family, the other his daughter’s husband.  

If anything happened to either of them under his roof, the consequences would be disastrous.  

Before his words even faded—  

Rhaenyra and Laenor both sprang from their seats, moving in unison toward the struggling pair.  

Just as Rhaegar twisted his wrist, ready to thrust his sword into Daemon’s abdomen, Rhaenyra grabbed him forcefully.  

At the same time, Laenor rushed to Daemon’s side, restraining his arms before he could strike back.  

"Rhaegar, don’t be reckless."  

Rhaenyra glared angrily at Daemon, shoving him aside as she dragged Rhaegar away.  

Daemon let out a cold snort but did not struggle against Laenor, who was holding him tightly by the waist.  

Meanwhile—  

High above Driftmark, a blood-red figure circled beneath the night sky.  

"Screeeech—"  

Suddenly, a deep, resonant roar echoed through the clouds. A massive black beast emerged from the darkness, its eerie green eyes watching intently.  

"Screeeech—"  

The blood-red figure seemed startled, letting out a hurried cry before swiftly retreating to a safer distance.  

…  

Inside the castle—  

With Corlys and the two women stepping in, the fight was temporarily quelled.  

Daemon nonchalantly walked over to Laenor’s seat and sat down, clearly displeased with the earlier scuffle.  

Rhaenyra, using all her strength, forced Rhaegar back into his chair.  

Corlys wore a stern expression, his voice heavy as he said, "I don’t care about your grudges. In my castle, you will not behave so recklessly."  

"Don’t be angry. I only came to take a look."  

Daemon casually held Laenor’s hand, stroking it as he spoke.  

"Enough!"  

Corlys immediately snapped, warning, "You’ve seen what you wanted. Do I need to throw you out?"  

Though they were of the same generation, Corlys was twenty-eight years older.  

And now, with Daemon as his son-in-law, reprimanding him came without hesitation.  

Daemon scoffed but said no more.  

He and Laenor had already discussed everything.  

Laenor would return to Westeros with the children and restore their legal status.  

That had always been the plan.  

But as their father, Daemon wanted to handle it personally.  

Daemon asked, "Has it been settled?"  

"The prince has acknowledged Baenyra and Rhaenyra's royal status."  

Laena secretly pinched the soft flesh at his waist, warning him not to act recklessly.  

Rhaegar sat across from him, staring coldly, contemplating whether to launch another ambush.  

He had disliked this bastard uncle since childhood.  

How could someone be this arrogant? 

Rhaegar would not tolerate a lawless man running wild right under his nose.  

"Calm down. He’s just a stray dog."  

Rhaenyra stroked Rhaegar’s cheek, worried that another conflict would erupt.  

After all, Daemon was a seasoned warrior who had seen battle. She feared Rhaegar might suffer a loss.  

In the end, it was Rhaenys who stood up, deciding to put an end to this farce.  

She raised her cup of wine and declared firmly, "Tonight's banquet is to celebrate my reunion with my family."  

"Everyone present here is either a pillar of the kingdom or my kin."  

As she spoke, Rhaenys swept her gaze around the room, her eyes lingering on each person as she continued:  

"Whatever grievances you may have, at the very least, I do not wish for any incidents to occur tonight."  

At their mother’s words, Laenor and Laenyna were the first to respond, raising their cups.  

Corlys, having the same intention, glanced at Laenor before lifting his own goblet.  

Laenor, his expression serious, received Rhaenyra's signal, and the two raised their cups together.  

In the end, only Rhaegar, Daemon, and the ever-watchful Aegon remained silent.  

"I agree."  

Under Laena’s persistent urging, Daemon tapped the table in agreement.  

"I respect your wishes, Aunt."  

Rhaegar's gaze darkened, but he also tapped the table.  

Seeing this, Aegon, who had been mesmerized by the scene, quickly followed suit, tapping the table excitedly.  

Rhaegar and Uncle Daemon facing off—this was a rare spectacle.  

"This trip to Driftmark was worth it," Aegon thought to himself, always eager for chaos.  

With tensions eased, Rhaenys drained her cup in one swift motion to express her gratitude.  

The banquet was far from over.  

A servant brought a chair for Daemon, while a maid carried two infants into the hall.  

Now a father for the first time, Daemon confidently took the twins in his arms, carefully examining his newborn daughters.  

Once, he had almost become a father to a son.  

But fate had been cruel—the child’s mother, of low birth, had been driven away by his ruthless brother.  

An accident on the road had caused her to miscarry.  

He had lost his first chance at fatherhood.  

Seizing the moment while Daemon was quiet, Laena raised her cup once more and sincerely said, "Cousin, I appreciate your understanding and your decision to restore my children's status. This toast is for you."  

Rhaegar lifted his goblet in response, then glanced at Rhaenyra meaningfully.  

Standing behind him, Rhaenyra spoke up, "Laena, you've been away from Westeros for too long. Would you consider returning to King’s Landing with us? My father would love to see the children."  

"Of course, it would be my honor."  

Laena’s smile was bright, filled with hope for her children's future.  

After a moment of contemplation, Rhaenyra raised her cup and said, "Laena, I adore these children, and I have an earnest request—I hope you’ll agree."  

Laena looked puzzled, uncertain of what her dear friend meant.  

Rhaenyra’s expression turned serious. "The children bear the Targaryen name, but their father is a criminal. I believe they should be raised in the Red Keep, under the care of the royal family."  

This was not an unreasonable request.  

The children were Daemon’s by blood and therefore rightful members of House Targaryen.  

If they were to receive royal recognition, they could not be raised by Daemon.  

Keeping them with Laena on Driftmark would also go against tradition.  

The best solution was for the royal family to raise them, altering their circumstances from the very beginning.  

"Rhaenyra, are you trying to take my children away from me?"  

Laena's face changed at her words, her rejection immediate.  

She had only just given birth—how could she possibly bear to part with her children?  

The real drama was about to begin.  

(End of Chapter) 

Chapter 138: The Ambition of Return

“Lanael, don’t be so agitated.”

Rhaenyra understood her emotions and explained, “The children will return to King’s Landing. As their mother, you may naturally accompany them to care for and be with them.”

This was the first step in the strategy she and Rhaegar had decided upon—to divide and conquer.

One of the greatest dragonriders and a pair of newborn Targaryen heirs.

Bringing them back to King’s Landing would be nothing but beneficial to the royal family.

Lanael furrowed her brows, her expression shifting.

She understood Rhaenyra’s intent but had no grounds to refute it.

Her children were indeed of Targaryen blood—born to belong to the royal family.

“Wait, before you decide the fate of the two infants, shouldn’t you ask for my opinion first?”

Daemon stroked his chin, frowning as he spoke.

Rhaenyra glanced at him, her expression indifferent.

She had no interest in conversing with this uncle of hers—his words carried no weight.

“Ser Daemon, you are a wanted criminal of the kingdom. Allowing you to sit at this table is already a courtesy extended for Princess Rhaenys’s sake.”

Lyonel’s face was filled with disdain as he cut him down without hesitation.

“How laughable—you brazenly scheme over my daughters, yet you won’t even permit me, their father, to have a say?”

Daemon sneered and lowered his head, pressing a kiss to his daughters’ cheeks.

“Daemon, state your reason for appearing here. I don’t have time to waste on you.”

Rhaegar’s patience was limited, and he directly demanded an answer.

Daemon’s sudden arrival was too abrupt—he had to have a purpose.

At Rhaegar’s words, everyone turned their gaze to Daemon, curiosity flickering in their eyes.

No one would believe he was simply "coming home to visit."

The moment he betrayed his family, he forfeited his right to return.

Upon hearing this, Daemon shed his arrogant demeanor and lowered his proud head.

He gazed at his daughters' small faces, hesitation flickering in his heart.

For years, he had wandered through the Free Cities, always adrift.

He and Lanael, with their undefeated dragons, were powerful enough to gain favor from all major city-states.

Princes, nobles, and wealthy merchants paid exorbitant sums to build them estates and farmlands, inviting them to settle.

But Daemon understood—it was merely a transaction.

His pride would not allow him to bow to foreign lands, trading the power of dragons for a life of luxury.

He was of true dragon blood—a pure Targaryen.

The foreigners of the Free Cities were unworthy of his service.

A few centuries ago, the entirety of the Free Cities had belonged to Old Valyria.

Those gluttonous fools should have been the slaves of the dragonlords.

Lanael was not the only one who longed for their homeland.

Countless times, in the dead of night, Daemon found himself reminiscing about the past.

He missed his family, too.

That yearning only intensified after Lanael gave birth to their daughters.

He had begun to understand his brother Viserys’s anger toward him.

Slowly, he started making plans for his wife and daughters.

This was why Lanael had written to Rhaenyra, pleading for clemency.

“Rhaegar, you’re as sharp as ever.”

For the first time, Daemon addressed his nephew by name, lifting his head. “War is coming. The kingdom needs my strength.”

Rhaegar eyed him with disdain. “Uncle, the kingdom has its lords and knights. We don’t need you.”

“The pirates of the Three Daughters are no trivial threat. The battlefield requires a royal commander who is both wise and valiant.”

Daemon’s expression remained composed as he declared with confidence, “Among the Targaryens alive today, the only adult male who possesses both battlefield command and a dragon—is me.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a little too self-important?”

Rhaegar frowned at the audacity of Daemon’s words.

To his surprise, Daemon was actually seeking to return to the family.

“I don’t. I’m simply stating the truth, and that is undeniable.”

Daemon crossed his legs, speaking calmly.

He was fully aware of his position.

And he also knew the state of Westeros—and of his brother, King Viserys.

His brother could not go to war.

Both of his nephews sat before him—mere boys.

This upcoming war was his opportunity to atone for his sins and reconcile with his brother, Viserys.

After much deliberation, he had finally made his decision and sought out his nephew and niece on Driftmark.

Rhaegar studied Daemon carefully, trying to peer into his heart.

“Rhaegar…”

Rhaenyra called out softly and leaned down to his ear, whispering, “What do you plan to do?”

She agreed with Daemon’s statement.

The last War of the Stepstones had lasted for years, and even with Daemon and the Sea Snake joining forces, the losses had been severe.

She didn’t want her younger brother to go to war.

If Laenor and their two children could be used as hostages, Daemon would be a good substitute.

“No! I won’t agree to this!”

Rhaegar ignored the deeper meaning in his sister’s words and looked Daemon directly in the eyes, speaking solemnly: “The kingdom does not need a fickle and unreliable man, and House Targaryen has more than just you to send to the battlefield.”

He stood up, a strand of silver hair falling over his eyes, and declared firmly, “When war comes, I will ride my dragon into battle and make our enemies pay the price in blood and fire.”

Then, he warned, “As for you, you’d better leave while the feast is still going.”

“Well said. House Targaryen does not lack men of courage.”

Rhaenys, who had been watching coldly, clapped her hands and cast an unkind glance at Daemon. “Daemon, fix your attitude. No one is indispensable.”

She was reminding Daemon.

If he was in the wrong, he should admit it and sincerely seek Viserys’s forgiveness.

Not try to negotiate with a bunch of younger family members.

That would only lower his status.

Daemon had been prepared for rejection and remained silent.

He did need to make amends with his brother Viserys.

Even though there was a good chance he’d lose his head, it was still better than wasting his breath here.

The atmosphere grew even colder.

Laenor nudged his husband, signaling him to leave quickly.

At the same time, he turned to Rhaenyra and said, “Rhaenyra, I won’t leave my children, but I will carefully consider your proposal.”

Rhaenyra offered again, “If you’re worried, I can personally adopt the children.”

“But you’re not married yet,” Laenor said in confusion.

“It doesn’t matter. I have Dragonstone as my domain, which qualifies me to adopt a daughter.”

Rhaenyra smiled slightly and added, “At that time, as their adoptive mother, I will place dragon eggs in their cradles.”

“Dragon eggs…”

At the mention of dragon eggs, Laenor hesitated.

Beyond restoring their royal status, the dragon eggs were of great importance to the two children.

Several dragons lived on Driftmark.

Vhagar, known as the Mother of Dragons, had laid many eggs in her time.

Dreamfyre, Vermithor, and Silverwing were all her direct descendants.

However, by the time Laenor had tamed Vhagar, she was already very old and no longer laid eggs.

Seasmoke and Caraxes had never been known to lay eggs.

Meleys, known as the Red Queen, had scales of that name, which were linked to her ability to lay eggs.

But the royal family strictly controlled dragon eggs, and all of Meleys’ eggs had been taken by the crown.

If Laenor wanted to place dragon eggs in his daughters’ cradles, he had no choice but to seek the royal family’s forgiveness and acquire them through official means.

---

Some readers have said they don’t like this! They think the protagonist is too weak!

Why not just kill Daemon and get rid of the Sea Snake?

Honestly, as the author, I’m a bit frustrated too. Daemon is a great catalyst for the story—he plays an important role in future events like the Stepstones, the Free Cities, and Volantis.

Maybe the writing style made it seem too pretentious.

My bad!

As for the Sea Snake, well, he’s the son-in-law of House Targaryen and hasn’t openly rebelled.

Plus, with the Triarchy invading, the Sea Snake is a strong pro-war ally.

And don’t say dragons are invincible. Daemon, Rhaenys, and Laenor had three dragons in the first Stepstones campaign, yet they still suffered heavy losses.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 139: Uncle, You Have to Leave Something Behind!

"Rhaenyra, you truly are generous."

Laenor’s mind was in turmoil, reconsidering the fate of the two children.

If possible, he hoped to see House Targaryen and House Velaryon reunited once more.

After all, his mother, his husband, and his children all bore the Targaryen name.

Rhaenyra smiled and said, "Think it over carefully. There are still a few days before we return to King’s Landing."

She knew Laenor well—sensitive and intelligent as always.

She trusted he would make the right choice, avoiding potential future conflicts between their houses.

The conversation between the two women skillfully shifted the topic.

The banquet had lost its earlier lively atmosphere; everyone present was in low spirits.

Aegon glanced around while cutting into his roasted meat, eyes wide with curiosity.

Lannor forced a laugh, stood up, and raised his cup, hoping to ease the tension.

Unfortunately, no one paid him any attention.

Most were lost in their own thoughts, calculating personal gains and losses.

As time passed, the feast neared its end.

Daemon sat holding his two daughters, lost in thought.

It wasn’t until a baby’s cry rang out that he suddenly snapped back to reality.

"Laenor, I think the child is hungry."

Frowning, Daemon handed the swaddled infant to his wife.

Laenor expertly took the baby and passed it to the wet nurse behind her.

She was wearing a fitted gown, making nursing impossible.

Like Daemon, Rhaegar had remained silent throughout the evening.

He leaned back in his chair, fingers crossed beneath his chin, occasionally glancing toward a particular spot.

Noticing his odd behavior, irritation rose within Daemon, and he strode toward him.

Circling the table, Daemon reached Rhaegar’s side, placing a hand on the tabletop.

"How is my brother?" he asked.

Viserys had suffered countless cuts from the Iron Throne over the years, and Daemon wanted to know his condition.

"As long as no one provokes him, Father is doing well," Rhaegar replied, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"And Alicent? That woman is no pushover. My brother hasn’t gotten rid of her yet?"

Daemon’s eyes flickered as he brought up his old adversary.

"She’s doing well too. She recently bore Father another son and continues to tend to his needs."

"The Hightowers are nothing but trouble—those women only ever make life difficult for men."

Daemon sneered, amusement in his voice. "She’s been a headache for you too, hasn’t she?"

This time, Rhaegar didn’t respond.

"What’s this? Did I hit the mark?"

Daemon leaned in, trying to get a better look at his nephew’s expression.

"Uncle, do you remember what I said to you when you first arrived?"

Rhaegar asked abruptly, his head lowered, disheveled hair falling over his ears.

Daemon hesitated slightly, unsure of his meaning.

Then, as if realizing something, his gaze followed Rhaegar’s.

A cold stone wall. A gilded clock hanging upon it.

Tick-tock…

The second hand moved continuously, soon completing its cycle.

The moment it struck midnight, both the minute and hour hands shifted—aligning at twelve.

Ding…

The midnight bell tolled. A new day had begun.

"A new day has started, Uncle!"

The moment the bell rang, Rhaegar sprang into action.

He seized Daemon’s head and slammed it onto the table.

Crack!

A sickening sound echoed—it seemed his nose had been broken from the impact.

"My dear uncle, you suffered once seven years ago, and yet you never learn!"

Rhaegar’s lips curled into a manic grin, pupils shrinking.

He grabbed a nearby dinner knife and drove it straight through Daemon’s left hand, pinning it to the table.

Rhaenys had assured him nothing would happen last night, and he had abided by that.

But he had been waiting. Holding back. Anticipating the arrival of midnight.

Squelch—

Blood splattered. The silver knife punctured Daemon’s hand, embedding itself into the wood beneath.

"Ahhh!!"

Daemon let out a pained scream, his entire body trembling from the agony.

---

*Outside the castle.*

A sharp screech pierced the night as Caraxes emerged from the darkness, sensing his rider’s distress.

Without hesitation, he dove toward the castle.

But another roar rang out—more menacing.

Vhagar moved first. With a mighty beat of his wings, he surged forward, his massive, coal-black body colliding with Caraxes mid-air.

He had been waiting for this moment.

That slender red wyrm would finally be torn apart tonight.

---

*Attacked!*

Koraxiu let out a series of frantic cries, clawing furiously while opening its draconic maw to unleash a torrent of crimson dragonfire at its opponent.

“Hiss… Gah…”

The Devourer tilted its head to evade the incoming flames and then sank its teeth into one of Koraxiu’s wings, violently thrashing its head to tear through flesh and bone.

Thanks to Rhaegar’s tactical training, it had become an expert in dragon combat.

Crippling the wings first—this turned the opponent into nothing more than prey on a butcher’s slab.

As blood and flesh were ripped apart, Koraxiu thrashed wildly, using its long, flexible neck to lunge forward and bite down on the Devourer’s throat.

Rip!  

Its sharp fangs punctured the thick scales, and dragon blood splattered as the Devourer let out an enraged roar.

In retaliation, the beast tore out a chunk of flesh with a brutal jerk, shaking its massive head before slamming it viciously against Koraxiu’s skull.

Boom!  

Koraxiu saw stars as its head was struck, though its fangs managed to rip away some flesh from the Devourer.

A mere flesh wound—nothing significant—but it only further provoked the Devourer’s bloodthirsty rage.

Its maw aimed at Koraxiu’s head, and with a furious exhalation, a pillar of green dragonfire erupted forth.

“Hiss… Gah…”

The scorching flames engulfed Koraxiu, forcing a desperate scream from its throat. In a frantic struggle for survival, its claws slashed wildly at the Devourer’s underbelly, hoping to land a fatal strike.

---

*Inside the Castle.*

Daemon’s agonized scream echoed through the great hall, chilling all who heard it.

“Rhaegar!”

Rhaenyra’s eyes widened in shock—she hadn’t expected Rhaegar to strike so suddenly.

“Uncle, I told you—you have to leave something behind!”

Rhaegar’s grin grew wilder as he swiftly drew Dark Sister and swung it down toward Daemon’s impaled hand.

“Get away from me!”

In the critical moment, Daemon reacted instantly, kicking backward and landing a powerful blow to Rhaegar’s abdomen.

The impact sent Rhaegar staggering, forcing him to take several quick steps back. However, in the process, his sword’s blade still managed to slash across Daemon’s shoulder.

“Ah! Damn it!”

The searing pain kept Daemon’s mind razor-sharp. Without hesitation, he yanked the dinner knife from his left hand and flung it toward Rhaegar’s chest.

Clang!  

Rhaegar’s reflexes were quick—he raised the flat of his sword just in time to deflect the incoming blade.

“Die!”

Seeing his opening, Daemon snatched a plate from the table and hurled it at Rhaegar, attempting to disrupt his movements.

Then, wasting no time, he grabbed a heavy wooden chair and brought it crashing down toward Rhaegar’s head.

“You’re the one who’s going to die!”

Instinctively, Rhaegar raised his sword to block, but Daemon’s kick struck him squarely in the chest.

Crash!  

The weight of Dark Sister couldn’t withstand the sheer force of the impact. The wooden chair shattered into splinters upon impact with Rhaegar’s skull, and blood immediately trickled down from the wound.

Almost simultaneously—

Daemon, struck in the chest, spat out a mouthful of blood as he was sent flying backward.

“Rhaegar!”

“Daemon!”

The fight had escalated so quickly that by the time the two combatants collapsed onto the ground, it was already too late to stop them.

Rhaenyra, standing close to Rhaegar, was also struck by flying debris from the broken chair. Cuts marred her face and neck, but there was no time to dwell on them—she rushed to support the wavering Rhaegar.

On the other side of the hall, Laena bolted from her seat, running straight to her husband’s side.

Well-read and trained in basic medicine, she immediately assessed the severity of his injuries.

These two weren’t just fighting—they were going straight for the kill.

*Not enjoying what you’re seeing?*

*Then fight! Fight harder! Even the dragons are battling now!*

*(End of Chapter.)*

Chapter 140: Vhagar vs. The Devourer

"Get away! I don’t need your help!"

Just as Rhaenyra was about to check on her husband’s injuries, Daemon pushed her aside and struggled to get up on his own.

Pfft—  

The moment he stood, he gasped for breath and coughed up a mouthful of clotted blood.

Swaying unsteadily, he staggered toward Rhaegar, picked up the remnants of a wooden chair, and raised it high, ready to strike again.

"Stop!"

Rhaenyra, terrified and in complete panic, instinctively clutched Rhaegar tightly and turned to shield him with her body.

"Move aside!"

Before Rhaegar could even collapse, he quickly pulled Rhaenyra to the side and grabbed her chair.

Compared to the dazed and unsteady Daemon, Rhaegar moved as if uninjured—his strikes were still swift and ruthless.

Before Daemon’s attack could land, Rhaegar had already swung the wooden chair sideways, smashing it into Daemon’s legs.

Crash…  

The second wooden chair shattered into pieces. Daemon was instantly knocked off his feet, his head slamming heavily onto the cold floor.

"Enough! Stop this at once!"

Seeing this, Corlys paled in shock and rushed forward to intervene.

But from the side, Lyonel suddenly charged in, his burly body blocking Corlys’s path, his eyes sharp and unwavering.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Corlys glared at him furiously.

Lyonel squared his shoulders and said in a deep voice, "We have already honored Princess Rhaenys’s request. It is now the second day!"

Despite his bulk, his weight was simply middle-aged stoutness.

In his youth, he had been a warrior capable of wielding a warhammer, and his eldest son, Harwin, had inherited his powerful genes.

Seeing his father being blocked, Laenor’s expression darkened.

The moment he tried to stand, a greasy dining knife was suddenly pressed against his throat, forcing him to freeze.

Turning his head, he saw Aegon holding the knife in one hand, his face twisted with excitement.

"Stay put, cousin," Aegon whispered with a sinister smirk.

He, too, was a true Targaryen, with the madness of their blood running deep—he would not allow such an entertaining spectacle to be interrupted.

---

Meanwhile, the battle between the two dragons raged on.

Caraxes had, at the very least, seen war and was not lacking in combat experience.

In the chaos, its claws pierced into the Devourer’s underbelly, attempting to disembowel its opponent.

"Hisss—Gaaah!"

The Devourer would not fall so easily. It roared furiously, kicking wildly with its hind legs and forcefully shoving Caraxes away.

Flapping its wings, the black dragon swiftly ascended, circling the now-unstable Caraxes.

Soon, it found an opening.

With a powerful dive, the Devourer plunged down, maw wide open, aiming straight for its enemy’s throat.

Boom!  

Sensing imminent danger, Caraxes unleashed a relentless torrent of dragonfire, trying to force back the charging black dragon.

Its firestorm was unyielding, seemingly endless.

But the Devourer, relying on its thick hide and sheer resilience, barreled through the flames with its eyes shut.

Realizing that its flames were ineffective, Caraxes abruptly ceased its fire-breathing and twisted its slender body, narrowly dodging the oncoming attack.

"Hisss—Gaaah!"

The Devourer was even faster. With deadly precision, it clamped its jaws onto Caraxes’s tail and yanked hard.

A dragon’s tail was crucial for balance. The moment it was attacked, Caraxes instinctively turned to snap at the Devourer’s neck.

Boom!  

The Devourer released its grip and retaliated in kind, spewing a searing blast of dragonfire. Caraxes let out a piercing shriek of pain.

Splat!  

Seizing the moment, the Devourer flapped its wings and lunged forward, sinking its teeth deep into Caraxes’s wing.

In an instant, dragon blood splattered across the night sky.

As Caraxes howled in agony, the Devourer’s eyes burned with savage hunger. It bit down harder, tearing viciously at flesh, and with a powerful jerk, it ripped open one of Caraxes’s wings.

"Hisss—Gaaah!"

With its wing severely injured, Caraxes was suddenly reminded of the stormy night seven years ago—when it had used the same attack to bring down another dragon into the sea.

Overwhelmed by fear, it thrashed wildly, unleashing bursts of dragonfire to scorch the Devourer’s head.

The Devourer twisted its neck away from the flames, its claws digging into Caraxes’s flesh as it aimed for its throat.

"Hisss—Gaaah!"

Just then, a thunderous dragon roar echoed through the night sky, thick with fury.

The next second—

A monstrous beast, as colossal as a mountain, burst through the clouds, its gaping maw lunging at the unsuspecting Devourer.

Sensing the impending threat, the Devourer instinctively yanked Caraxes’s neck, using it as a shield.

Boom!  

An overwhelming force struck.

The Devourer was sent spiraling out of control, plummeting toward the earth.

"Hisss—Gaaah!"

---

*Koraxion, trapped in the middle, let out a miserable scream as he plummeted downward.*

At that moment, the Gluttonous One caught sight of the massive beast that had ambushed them.

It was Vhagar, her eyes filled with savage brutality.

Dragons are creatures that mirror the temperament of their riders.

As Rhaegar and Daemon clashed, the Gluttonous One launched an attack on Koraxion.

Laenor, concerned for Daemon, prompted Vhagar to come to the aid of her longtime companion, Koraxion.

However, in her rescue attempt, she ended up slamming into Koraxion with devastating force.

The three dragons became entangled in a chaotic struggle, with the Gluttonous One positioned dangerously on his back, closest to the ground.

Vhagar’s strength, though immense, was not infinite. The force of her collision began to wane, and the Gluttonous One quickly flapped his wings, breaking free from his downward trajectory.

“Hissss—Graaah!”

Vhagar locked onto the Gluttonous One. The moment he fled, she gave chase.

The two titanic dragons vanished into the night, leaving the battered Koraxion finally free to move. He managed to flap his one uninjured wing, slowing his fall just before impact, narrowly avoiding death.

Even so, he crashed onto the shallow shoreline below, letting out a wretched, piercing cry.

He writhed on the ground like a massive red serpent.

Above, Vhagar and the Gluttonous One raced across the sky, their pursuit whipping up fierce winds that swept across half of Tidemark Isle.

The Gluttonous One used the cover of darkness to vanish into the clouds, planning to ambush his opponent as he had before.

But Vhagar, with far more battle experience, was not so easily deceived. She pursued relentlessly, spewing torrents of dragonfire in all directions, illuminating the night with a flood of orange light.

“Hissss—Graaah!”

The Gluttonous One burst through the flames, eyes filled with bloodlust, and lunged at Vhagar, sinking his fangs deep into her thick neck.

“Hissss—Graaah!”

“Hissss—Graaah!”

Their savage battle had only just begun, but their roars had already awakened the entire island.

The first to appear was a crimson-scaled dragon with a fierce, spiked crown—Vermithor.

Close behind was a slightly smaller dragon, its body a pale silvery-gray—Silverwing.

At the sight of the Gluttonous One sinking his teeth into Vhagar, both dragons immediately roared in fury.

Simultaneously, two equally large golden-scaled dragons emerged from the night sky.

The four dragons hovered at a distance, their agitation rising.

“Hissss—Graaah!”

The most striking of them, Sunfyre, was also the most temperamental. His slitted pupils locked onto the larger Meraxes, and with a furious snarl, he charged.

Sunfyre was astonishingly bold—he had dared to challenge Dreamfyre before, and now, he showed no fear of Meraxes.

“Hissss—Graaah!”

His attack signaled the start of the battle. Seasmoke let out a defiant roar and dove straight at the raging Syrax.

In an instant, six dragons clashed in pairs, their massive forms tangling in the heavens.

Their deafening roars echoed across Tidemark Isle, rousing thousands of people from their sleep.

Against the pitch-black sky, dragonfire erupted in a dazzling display of gold, crimson, orange, and eerie green.

“Hissss—Graaah!”

The battle grew ever more brutal. The Gluttonous One clamped down harder on Vhagar’s neck, his talons piercing through her thick scales.

Despite years of growth, he was still only about a quarter smaller than her.

With his superior speed, he was not without a fighting chance.

“Raaahh!”

Vhagar let out a deep, rumbling snarl as blood dripped from her wounded throat. Her claws struck fast, raking across the Gluttonous One’s belly with a sickening tear, opening a deep, bloody gash.

The enraged elder dragon would teach the younger one the price of defiance.

Vhagar was a true behemoth—a dragon of legend, 169 years old, her size utterly monstrous.

The Gluttonous One, still under a hundred, had yet to reach his peak.

Even so, he could still put up a fight.

---

(End of Chapter)