106-110

Chapter 106: Rhaegar’s Promise

Under the watchful eyes of the siblings, Viserys offered his compensation:

“After the heir ceremony concludes, I will retain your title as Princess of Dragonstone, and Dragonstone itself will remain your domain for the rest of your life.”

Rhaenyra listened quietly, holding Rhaegar in her arms like a doll. Her expression didn’t change in the slightest.

Viserys paused, his gaze flickering briefly over Rhaegar before he spoke again.

“Rhaenyra, if you wish to pursue your previous choice, I will respect your decision and grant you priority.”

Rhaenyra looked down at Rhaegar’s small face, then shook her head. “Not enough.”

Being Princess of Dragonstone and having Rhaegar by her side were already things she considered hers by right—they didn’t count as compensation.

She had other conditions in mind.

“Perhaps you should state your conditions yourself, Rhaenyra.”

When his proposal failed to win his daughter’s favor, Viserys did not become angry. Instead, he asked her in a softer tone.

Rhaenyra glanced at her father, who was now trying to appease her.

She understood clearly that her father was overcome with guilt toward her at this moment.

This was the time to secure her future.

Having lost her status as heir, she needed to seize this opportunity to demand guarantees for what lay ahead.

Rhaenyra gently stroked her younger brother’s face, which had turned red with emotion, and turned her attention to her father. With a calm but resolute tone, she said, “In addition to what you’ve offered, I want your promise that you will never interfere with my marriage—ever.”

Viserys furrowed his brows slightly.

Leaving Rhaegar’s future marriage as an option for Rhaenyra to decide was already a significant concession on his part.

But Rhaenyra’s condition—to have complete freedom in her own marriage—caught him off guard.

“Father, Rhaenyra has already lost so much,” Rhaegar said softly, his voice barely audible, as though he were speaking about something trivial.

Taking away his sister’s position as heir filled him with shame, and all he wanted was to fulfill her every wish.

Viserys was silent for a moment, then suddenly let out a laugh.

Though his laughter sounded slightly forced, he still presented himself as magnanimous.

He opened his mouth to reply, “...”

---

*Nightfall.*

Rhaenyra sat at her dressing table in a silk nightgown, brushing her long silver hair.

Her eyes were red and swollen, and she stared silently at her reflection in the mirror.

Knock, knock.  

The door to her room was knocked on. Rhaenyra turned her head and said softly, “Come in.”

At this hour, there was only one person who might visit her.

However, the door didn’t move an inch.

Puzzled, Rhaenyra stood up and walked toward it.

She hesitated with her hand on the doorknob.

“Is there something you need?” she asked, leaning her head lightly against the door.

“...”

Still silence.

Rhaenyra turned the knob, intending to open the door.

Bang!  

The door opened slightly before it was pushed shut again from the outside.

Through the crack, Rhaenyra caught a glimpse of a white figure standing ten paces away, at the end of the corridor.

It was Cole, who avoided her gaze and stepped aside.

Seeing that there was no one else outside, Rhaenyra sighed and said, “Rhaegar, if you have something to say, come in and talk to me directly.”

“...”

No response.

Growing impatient, Rhaenyra said with a hint of irritation, “Rhaegar, if you don’t say anything soon, I’m going to bed.”

Since leaving their father’s chambers, Rhaegar hadn’t spoken a word.

He skipped both lunch and dinner.

She had been waiting all evening for the little one to come to her.

For the two of them to have a heartfelt conversation.

Creak.  

The door was opened slightly from the outside, leaving a small gap.

Rhaenyra stepped back half a step, watching the crack in the door but not moving further.

Roll... roll...  

A coin tumbled through the gap, rolling unevenly into the room.

Rhaenyra crouched down quickly and snatched it up.

As soon as she looked up, two more coins rolled into the room.

She hurriedly reached out to grab them.

Holding all three coins, Rhaenyra examined them closely.

These weren’t Westerosi gold dragons.

Nor were they coins from the Free Cities or Essos.

On one side of the coin was an engraved number “1,” while the other side depicted a high tower encircled by dragons.

The tower was tall, soaring into the clouds, forming part of an imposing fortress.

Fiddling with the coins, Rhaenyra called toward the door, “Where are these coins from? I’ve never seen them before.”

“They’re relics from Old Valyria,” came the voice from outside, low and somber.

---

Hearing the familiar voice, Rhaenyra smiled softly and reached out to push the door open.

Bang—

The door was closed from the outside again.

A voice spoke, low and soft, “These three coins are my compensation to you.”

“Three antique coins…”

Rhaenyra weighed the coins in her hand and said with a smile, “Not bad compensation. I’ll accept it.”

Even though the coins were practically useless, she wanted to ease her younger brother’s heart.

“No! Three coins aren’t worth anything.”

The voice grew agitated. “Father promised you three conditions as compensation, and so do I.”

“What are you planning to do?” Rhaenyra asked.

“I don’t yet have the power or wealth to make it up to you, but I’ll grow up soon.”

“Keep these three coins safe. When I’m grown, I promise to fulfill three of your wishes.”

The words were simple and innocent, but the voice carried unwavering determination.

Thinking about everything that had happened that day, Rhaenyra’s face stiffened slightly, and she let out a soft sigh.

She turned around and slid down against the door, sitting with her back to it.

Holding the three coins in her hands, she couldn’t help but fall into thought.

The matter of replacing the heir to the throne was not something only she found difficult to accept.

Aside from their father, who initiated the decision, there was her younger brother, who clung to her with attachment.

Resting her head against the door, Rhaenyra closed her eyes gently and said, “I’ll keep them safe.”

As she spoke, her thoughts drifted far away.

She was a little afraid.

Afraid that this matter would affect Rhaegar’s growth.

Compared to the tumultuous ups and downs of her teenage years, at least she had a decent childhood.

A loving father and a strict mother had given her enough affection to heal her entire life.

Her personality carried her father’s weakness.

At the same time, she possessed her mother’s bravery and pride, inherited from the Arryn family of the Vale.

But Rhaegar was not her.

Rhaegar was born without a mother and had been tormented by illness since infancy.

Viserys, terrified of experiencing the pain of losing his firstborn son, avoided seeing Rhaegar, depriving him of paternal love as well.

It wasn’t until half a year ago that things began to change.

Rhaenyra had tried to make up for Rhaegar’s lack of maternal love, caring for him in her role as his sister.

Judging from how Rhaegar had protected her today, her efforts had clearly succeeded.

They loved each other deeply.

But!

How were they supposed to face each other in the future?

Rhaenyra worried that this incident would make Rhaegar become obsessive.

The Targaryen madness, always lurking deep within each family member, waited for its moment to erupt.

Rhaenyra fell silent, quietly pondering the future.

Outside the door.

A small body crouched on the ground, leaning against the door as well.

He pressed his side against the door, listening intently to the breathing on the other side.

At his feet lay scattered sapphires, ancient tomes, jewels, and even a treasured spatial bracelet.

He had wanted to use these to make up for the hurt he had caused Rhaenyra.

But clearly, none of it carried the weight of the three coins.

His gaze darkened as he hugged his knees, muttering softly to himself, “Sister, I never desired the throne, but I’ll sit firmly upon it.”

“Those who oppose me will not escape dragonfire.”

At last, his voice grew more resolute, carrying through the door to the other side.

“My promise will always stand. Whatever you want, as long as I have it, it’s yours!”

---

(End of chapter)

Chapter 107: Reflections on Going Live!

The book is live now—a day filled with both excitement and nervousness.

As a newcomer and a rookie author, I’m sure many readers can tell.

When I started writing, my goal was simply to earn a little extra for living expenses.

I wrote several original novels, each spanning tens of thousands of words, but none of them passed submission reviews—an entire month wasted.

After facing repeated failures, I fell into deep self-doubt, wondering if I was cut out for the world of online literature.

By sheer coincidence, I stumbled upon a short video clip featuring highlights from House of the Dragon.  

The moment I saw the dragons, my curiosity was piqued. I subscribed to a membership and started watching.

It took me over a week to finish the ten episodes.

My impression? It was good, though the storyline felt a bit melodramatic and lacked excitement.

For the next half month, I remained in a slump.

Then, another short video from the show popped up, reminding me that Game of Thrones fanfiction still had a following on some platforms. That’s when the idea of writing a fanfiction hit me.

After much hesitation, I made up my mind, drafted an outline, and got to work.

Thus, the first chapter of this book came into existence, featuring the melancholic prince haunted by nightmares—Rhaegar.

To be honest, I never expected this book to perform so well.

Its current success far exceeds what I, a rookie writer, had anticipated.

Especially after the initial chapters, the [Dragon Taming Arc] pushed the book to a level I never thought it could reach.

Unfortunately, due to various reasons, I fell into a creative rut afterward.

The storyline on the Peninsula was initially planned as a short arc spanning just ten chapters.

However, I dragged it out to twenty chapters, and it understandably drew criticism from readers.

As someone with little writing experience, I’ve been learning as I go, constantly trying to figure out what makes online literature engaging.

And now, the book’s official release has arrived.

I want to sincerely thank all the readers who’ve been following along—you’ve given me the encouragement and support I needed.

I promise this story won’t be abandoned, and I’ll work hard to keep updating regularly.

At the same time, I’ll take lessons from my mistakes, read and watch more excellent works, and strive to create better storylines.

From now on, updates will be more frequent—three or even four chapters a day to ensure plenty for everyone to enjoy.

---

Currently, we’re in the [Heir Exchange Arc].

In the earlier chapters of this arc, I may have overemphasized Rhaegar and Rhaenyra’s inner struggles, making the tone a bit too literary.

But it gets much better later, with more intense plot developments.

*Special Announcement:* Ten chapters are being released in one go today!

This marks the conclusion of the [Heir Exchange Arc].

---

Regarding the protagonist’s age!

At the end of this arc, the protagonist will grow older, reaching an age where they can take the stage in a much broader arena.

Due to time constraints, I can’t delve into every detail about the characters’ backstories and psychological journeys, but I hope you enjoy the book nonetheless.

Love you all! 💕

Please consider giving the first subscription as your support. Thank you so much!

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 108: Return to King’s Landing

*Three days later.*

The royal ship docked at the port of King’s Landing.

A pale-faced Viserys, supported by Alicent, boarded the carriage bound for the Red Keep.

Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond rode in another carriage under the care of their attendants.

However, the group was missing the Hand of the King, Laenor, as well as Rhaenyra and her brother.

*Inside the carriage.*

Viserys leaned against the backrest, letting out a groan of discomfort.

Alicent patted his back and handed him a cup of water.

Viserys took a small sip, turned his head, and asked with labored breath, “Where is Rhaenyra? Where did they go?”

Alicent passed the cup back to a servant and replied helplessly, “The two of them have dragons. They landed ahead of us.”

It wasn’t hard to detect the trace of jealousy in her tone.

Three nights ago, after sharing an intimate moment with Alicent, Viserys had confided in her.

He intended to change Rhaenyra’s status as heir, replacing her with Rhaegar as the crown prince.

This news was nothing short of a bombshell for Alicent, who had recently been threatened by Rhaegar.

But she had no room to oppose him and could only accept the decision passively.

The following day, Viserys ordered the maesters to send ravens announcing the news across the continent.

The previously planned trip to Driftmark was also canceled.

Instead, the Hand of the King, Laenor, was tasked with visiting Lord Corlys Velaryon and his wife to deliver the news about the new heir.

With time being tight, many things were left undone—one of which was Aegon’s dragon training.

Aegon’s progress in taming Sunfyre had been slow. To avoid delaying their return, the training was postponed.

This was another sore spot for Alicent.

Rhaegar had successfully tamed the largest wild dragon at the age of six.

Yet her Aegon had failed to tame even a young dragon. This left her feeling bitter.

Why was Rhaegar able to succeed in taming a dragon while Aegon could not?

---

*The Dragonpit.*

Dressed in a black dragonrider’s suit, Rhaenyra sat atop Syrax’s saddle.

After several days, she seemed to have recovered her spirits, her face radiant with smiles as she watched the dragonkeepers and dragon guards arrive at the sound of her call.

“Hsssaaa…”

Syrax let out a low, dissatisfied growl, glaring at the dragonkeepers holding whips and poles before slowly crouching down.

Rhaenyra leapt off the dragon’s back, glanced around, and asked, “Where’s Rhaegar? He flew back to King’s Landing before I did.”

A young maester with a sallow complexion limped forward, a fawning smile on his face. “The prince has already left. A white knight met him and escorted him back to the Red Keep.”

Rhaenyra nodded, not suspicious. “Take good care of my dragon.”

With that, she walked toward the exit of the Dragonpit.

Halfway there, she suddenly stopped and turned back with a serious expression. “If Rhaegar comes here alone to ride a dragon, try to stop him from wandering off—or send him to find me.”

It had been three days since she last saw Rhaegar.

Today, while riding her dragon back to King’s Landing, Rhaegar had also flown ahead on Cannibal, leaving her far behind.

That black dragon flew too fast! So unfair, Rhaenyra thought bitterly.

The young maester nodded repeatedly and assured her, “Don’t worry, Princess. I’ll do my best to dissuade the prince.”

“Good. I’ll remember you for this.”

Pleased with the cooperative maester, Rhaenyra smiled and walked away.

The young maester watched her leave, then turned and climbed the stairs leading further into the Dragonpit.

---

*On the upper terrace of the Dragonpit.*

A massive black dragon lay sprawled on the ground, eyes closed, resting idly.

At the edge of the terrace, Rhaegar stood, gazing down at Rhaenyra’s departing figure.

Beside him stood Ser Erryk in his silver armor and white cloak, upright and alert.

From time to time, the knight stole uneasy glances at the ferocious black dragon, his expression tense.

Thud, thud, thud…  

The uneven sound of footsteps came from the stairs. Erryk turned and fixed his gaze on the approaching figure.

The young maester struggled to ascend the steps, glancing nervously at the giant black dragon occupying the terrace. Lowering his voice, he said, “Prince, the princess has already left.”

“I saw her, Menas,” Rhaegar replied without turning, his tone indifferent.

Seeing that the prince wasn’t inclined to talk further, Menas stepped forward respectfully and stood quietly to the side.

Erryk kept a sharp eye on his every move, inwardly disdainful of this opportunist.

Time passed.

Rhaegar turned around, his gaze falling on Menas’s raised left leg. “It seems things haven’t been going well for you?”

“This is the punishment I deserve.”

Menas smiled sheepishly, showing no hint of sadness.

During the last Dreamfyre incident, he was sent to the dungeons.

During interrogation, his left foot was injured. Without timely treatment, it became permanently disabled.

Looking at Menas’s perpetually humble, gaunt, sallow face, Rhaegar tilted his head. “I thought you would return to the City of Scholars.”

“No, I’m not welcome there. I’ve grown used to serving here at the Dragonpit.”

Menas spoke candidly.

Rhaegar nodded, observing the eagerness in the other man’s eyes—

A thirst for power.

After a brief pause, Rhaegar began walking toward the stairs. As he walked, he said, “Do your job well. The Dragonpit is of utmost importance to the royal family. I’ll be paying closer attention to it from now on.”

When the succession is finalized, he plans to keep a tight grip on the Dragonpit.

Dragons are now his most critical leverage.

It was a simple word of encouragement,

But in Menas’s ears, it carried a deeper meaning.

He lifted his head, excited, and quickly said, “Yes, Your Highness. I will not disappoint you.”

“Stay back, Scholar.”

Seeing him trying to step forward, Erich stepped in, stopping him from getting closer to the prince.

As Rhaegar descended the stairs, his voice echoed:

“The Dragonpit needs a loyal steward once I become the heir.”

Menas’s eyes shone with zeal. Ignoring Erich’s attempts to hold him back, he shouted, “Your Highness, I will be your most loyal follower!”

As a scholar, Menas had access to a wide network of information.

News of the succession change had already reached King’s Landing, and he’d caught wind of it.

This was why he had been waiting at the Dragonpit since early morning, sticking close to Erich as he awaited the prince’s return.

His efforts had not been in vain.

The prince remembered him.

His future looked promising.

---

*Later That Evening*

Exhausted from travel, Viserys had taken a calming tonic and retired to his chambers early.

Alicent, after painstakingly ensuring her husband was comfortable and managing the many affairs of the Red Keep, was utterly drained.

By the time her duties were complete, night had fallen.

Weary to her core, Alicent returned to her room.

She longed to collapse onto her soft bed and sleep immediately, but her role as queen and her refined upbringing forbade such behavior.

Walking to her desk, she removed her constricting gown, revealing her smooth skin.

The gown fell to the floor as she massaged her aching shoulders.

Lowering her head, she noticed an envelope on the desk.

The envelope was sealed with red wax, embossed with the emblem of a tall tower.

Alicent’s spirits lifted, and she quickly picked it up.

The tower was the sigil of House Hightower.

It was a letter from her family.

Her heart fluttered with joy. It had been so long since she had received a letter from her family, and she deeply missed her parents and brothers.

Breaking the seal, she removed the letter and began to read.

Sitting on the cold, round stool, Alicent read the letter from her family.

Gradually, the smile on her face faded.

It was replaced by disappointment and helplessness.

The letter was from her father, Otto Hightower, written in his own hand.

The opening contained a few brief words of concern for his daughter.

The rest detailed strategies for dealing with the impending succession crisis.

In essence, it boiled down to two sentences:

“When outmatched, choose your words carefully.”

“Watch and wait. Preserve your strength.”

---

---

Chapter 109: The Succession Council

Time passed, and two months went by in a flash.

At the port of King's Landing, one ship after another arrived, carrying guests from distant lands. The influx of outsiders brought a bustling energy to the harbor, with merchants increasing in number each day.

At the gates of King's Landing, carriages entered the city in an orderly procession under the watchful guard of soldiers. Each carriage was intricately carved with emblems: roaring lions, direwolves, crescent eagles, and more.

After two months of preparation, nobles from across the continent had flocked to King's Landing to attend the King's much-publicized Succession Council.

---

Within the Red Keep, servants bustled about, decorating the castle and preparing ingredients for the grand banquet.

As Queen, Alicent was fully responsible for all these affairs.

During this period, she had become the busiest person in all of King's Landing. No one else came close.

After finalizing the selection of jesters for the banquet's entertainment, Alicent wiped the sweat from her brow and summoned a cleaning maid, urgently asking, "Where is Rhaenyra? Tell her to come help me. I can't handle all this alone."

Her husband was utterly hands-off, only making decisions about what should be done and never bothering to check whether she was managing.

She desperately needed someone to share the burden.

The maid kept her head down, murmuring timidly, "The Princess has gone to the Dragonpit. She said she was looking for the Prince."

"Seven hells!" Alicent exclaimed, on the verge of breaking down, her chest heaving with frustration. "In this massive Red Keep, is there no one to lend me a hand?"

---

Meanwhile, at the Dragonpit, Rhaenyra ascended the stairs slowly, heading toward the open platform at the top.

She was well aware of the chaos in the Red Keep.

But what did that have to do with her?

She was the deposed princess, stripped of her claim to the throne. Was she expected to help organize a banquet for the Succession Council that would finalize her replacement?

The very thought felt cruel.

So, Queen Alicent would have to bear the brunt alone.

Reaching the empty platform, Rhaenyra immediately spotted a familiar figure.

"Rhaegar! I knew you’d be here," she called out, delighted.

Hearing her voice, Rhaegar turned around, sighing. "I only have two places I go. If I’m not at the Red Keep, I’m here."

Rhaenyra strode over quickly, tugging on her younger brother's ear. "You spend more than half the month at the Dragonpit. Have you decided to make this your home?"

Rhaegar winced in pain, scrunching up his face. "Soon, the entire continent will be mine. What difference does it make where I settle down?"

"Stop talking nonsense!" Rhaenyra snapped, her grip tightening. "Father still has decades to live. You’re not running wild anytime soon."

Rhaegar offered no resistance, closing his eyes and enduring her scolding.

Seeing his lack of reaction, Rhaenyra’s heart clenched, and her frustration surged.

Releasing him, she placed her hands on his shoulders and said earnestly, "Rhaegar, the Succession Council is the day after tomorrow. You need to pull yourself together."

"I know. I don’t need you to remind me," Rhaegar replied nonchalantly, a faint smile on his lips.

Rhaenyra knelt down to look him in the eyes. "I’ve never blamed you. Please don’t act like this, Rhaegar," she said, her voice tinged with sadness.

Since their return to King’s Landing, the siblings had barely seen each other.

Rhaenyra knew this was because Rhaegar had been deliberately avoiding her, even moving into the Dragonpit to stay away.

She had already lost her position as heir and didn’t want to lose her only full-blooded brother too.

"I’m fine, Rhaenyra," Rhaegar sighed, his voice low. "I’ve been studying dragon behavior and planning to redesign the Dragonpit."

He wasn’t lying.

The Dragonpit served as the dragons' dwelling.

As a member of the family that had conquered the continent with dragons, Rhaegar had been comparing the current Dragonpit with the legendary ones from the Freehold era.

Rhaenyra cupped his face and asked, "Have you learned anything from your observations?"

"Not much yet. The Dragonpit is too crude, far from what I envisioned," Rhaegar admitted, shaking his head.

In Old Valyria, the dragonlords lived among the fiery peaks of the Fourteen Flames, a volcanic region filled with natural caves that served as ideal dragon lairs.

The dragonlords shared this divine gift from the heavens, raising their dragons in those volcanic sanctuaries.

In contrast, the Dragonpit in King’s Landing was merely a massive domed structure riddled with tunnels. It lacked spaciousness, wide entrances, and the high temperatures essential for dragons to thrive.

Watching her brother’s serious expression, Rhaenyra couldn’t help but sigh deeply.

The thing she had dreaded most had already come to pass.

Rhaegar avoided her, no longer the kind and warm person he used to be.

Rhaenyra wrapped her arms around Rhaegar’s shoulders, pulling him into an embrace. She kissed the hollow of his neck and said sorrowfully, “Rhaegar, I’m the one being rejected. You shouldn’t distance yourself from me.”

“This is truly cruel to me.”

Hearing her words, Rhaegar froze for a moment. He turned his head to look at the stone walls, unsure how to respond.

He wasn’t intentionally avoiding Rhaenyra—he simply didn’t know how to face her.

Just like now, he didn’t know what to say.

After a long silence, the sound of soft sobs reached Rhaegar’s ears.

Rhaegar turned back.

Tears streaked down Rhaenyra’s cheeks as she pulled a gold coin from her pocket.

She held the coin out in front of him, her voice choked with emotion. “Should I make a wish?”

Rhaegar stared at the coin in a daze.

After a long pause, he wrapped his arms around Rhaenyra’s neck and said softly, “No, I’ve thought it through.”

Rhaenyra hugged him back, warning him gently, “You are the anchor Mother left for me. No matter what happens, you must never run from me.”

“You will be the Crown Prince. Your every word and action represents the royal family.”

Rhaegar buried his face in Rhaenyra’s hair and replied, “I understand. I am the flame that everyone must look up to.”

He accepted his identity as the Crown Prince and was determined to rise to the challenge.

…

Two days later, in the morning.

The council to confirm the Crown Prince was held as scheduled. The gates of the Red Keep were flung open, and the participating nobles streamed in one by one.

Leading the procession were the lords of the great houses from across the realm.

Their clothing bore the crests of their respective families.

Following behind them were nobles from various regions, standing in support of their dukes.

Guided by the Kingsguard, the nobles didn’t enter the castle’s main hall but instead were led to the expansive rear gardens of the castle.

There, a large training ground, a pavilion, a pool, and a weirwood tree awaited them.

By the time the nobles arrived, King Viserys and Queen Alicent had already been waiting for quite some time.

The two stood hand in hand inside a pavilion, accompanied by Aegon, Helaena, and little Aemond, who was in a maid’s arms.

“Your Majesty, Your Grace…”

Upon seeing the King and Queen, the nobles bowed respectfully. The scene was grand and solemn.

Many of these nobles hailed from the North, the West, and the Vale—regions far from King’s Landing, often with perilous roads.

Traveling to arrive within just two months had been an arduous journey for them.

Viserys scanned the assembled vassals, a sense of pride welling up inside him. He glanced at his wife beside him, then spoke in a loud, commanding voice:

“Lords and Ladies, I thank you for enduring the hardships of your journey. It is an honor to see you all here today, and I extend my deepest gratitude and blessings!”

“Today marks a significant moment for the Targaryen dynasty—one that you will bear witness to personally.”

---

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 110: The Dragon Clan*

Viserys delivered many courteous words, soothing the vassals who had traveled from afar.

The nobles were equally gracious. When the king finished his speech, they clapped and cheered enthusiastically.

Once the excitement subsided, Prime Minister Lyonel stepped forward to preside over the assembly.

He cleared his throat and stated the purpose of the meeting.

“My lords and ladies, today marks the last day of the year, and we are here to convene the long-awaited Succession Council!”

The nobles' expressions varied.

Duke Jason Lannister of the Lannister family was visibly pleased, whispering to those nearby about whether the princess, having lost her claim to the throne, might now accept his courtship.

After all, the status of a Targaryen princess was immensely valuable—not just for royal favor but also for adding the dragonblood lineage to a family’s descendants.

In contrast, Duchess Jeyne Arryn of the Vale had a somber expression.

Jeyne, 17 years old, was Rhaenyra and Rhaegar’s cousin and a tall beauty with curly brown hair.

As a woman, she had always been one of Rhaenyra’s staunchest supporters.

They were both women who faced skepticism from men and thus found solidarity in one another.

“It's a pity Rhaenyra lost her claim to the throne,” Jeyne said quietly, her expression melancholic as she spoke to the middle-aged man standing beside her.

The man was Ser Yobert Royce of Runestone, the current Warden of the Vale and the assistant to the Duke of the Vale.

Yobert’s face was grave as he lowered his voice, saying, “With the king having a son, this council was inevitable.”

“...”

Other dukes from across the realm also filled the room.

The Stark Duke of the North and the Baratheon Duke of Storm’s End both looked indifferent, as if the question of succession had little to do with them.

And truthfully, it didn’t.

The Starks rarely ventured south of the North.

Meanwhile, the Baratheon Duke had once been a supporter of Princess Rhaenys, the "Queen Who Never Was." They were cousins.

The elderly Duke Tully of the Riverlands and the Duke Tyrell of the Reach, however, watched the proceedings with cheerful smiles.

They were staunch supporters of House Targaryen and preferred a male heir to inherit the throne.

Lyonel’s speech concluded quickly, and it was time for the event’s main figures to appear.

Under the gaze of countless nobles, Viserys walked out, smiling as he held Alicent’s shoulder.

Lyonel stood beside them, his expression serious.

“Where are the princess and the prince?”

“Why hasn’t anyone called for Their Highnesses yet? Have they been forgotten?”

“...”

The atmosphere turned tense. As the princess and prince failed to appear, murmurs spread throughout the crowd.

“My lords and ladies, there’s no need to worry. The princess and prince are on their way,” Lyonel said at the perfect moment, dispelling some of the confusion.

The nobles exchanged puzzled glances, unsure of what the Prime Minister meant.

“On their way”?

Could it be that the princess refused to give up her claim and was boycotting the council?

“Perhaps we’re in for some drama,” someone in the crowd murmured.

That single comment caused an uproar as more nobles began whispering among themselves.

Their gazes frequently shifted to the pavilion where the king and queen were seated, as if eagerly anticipating a royal scandal.

*Whoosh—*

Suddenly, a strong gust of wind swept through the garden, making the trees sway and scattering blades of grass.

Everyone looked up instinctively toward the sky from which the wind had come.

“Screeeech—”

A piercing cry echoed across the heavens. Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, a golden silhouette broke through the clouds, diving toward the towering Red Keep.

“It’s a dragon!”

Those with keen eyesight quickly identified it as a massive dragon.

“That’s the princess’s dragon, Syrax…”

The nobles who frequently resided in King’s Landing were familiar with the golden dragon in the sky.

Rhaenyra often rode Syrax on her aerial adventures.

But many nobles from the borderlands knew little about dragons.

As they saw Syrax—larger than half the buildings below—descending rapidly, their faces turned pale with fear.

This was, after all, a real dragon.

A single blast of its fiery breath could claim the lives of everyone present.

“Screeeech—”

Sensing the attention, Syrax let out an exhilarated roar, spewing golden flames into the azure sky and showcasing its majestic form.

Rhaenyra, clad in a formal gown of black and red, sat in the saddle. Her hands gripped the reins as she calmly surveyed the crowd below.

“Land, Syrax,” she commanded in High Valyrian, her tone cold and composed.

After circling the Red Keep twice, Rhaenyra issued her command.

“Screeeech—”

With a loud cry, Syrax folded its wings and landed atop one of the keep’s towers, its powerful claws crushing the brickwork beneath.

Its brilliant golden eyes scanned the crowd below, its head tilting curiously.

The nobles gazed up at the golden beast atop the tower, their expressions betraying unease.

Being targeted by a dragon was never a good sign, no matter how one looked at it.

After observing for a while, Syrax grew bored and shifted its gaze.

At Rhaenyra's command, the dragon spread its wings once more and leaped off the tower.

With a powerful sweep of its wings, it glided around the pavilion before landing steadily on an open patch of ground nearby.

*Boom!*

As the dragon landed, a gust of wind kicked up dust, forcing the nobles to instinctively step back.

Viserys watched his slightly disheveled vassals, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

When he turned back, his gaze met Rhaenyra's as she sat astride the dragon. There was a gleam of encouragement in his eyes.

Rhaenyra remained silent, sitting calmly in the saddle with her chin raised, as though the nobles below her were beneath her notice.

“Heh, is this supposed to be intimidation?”

Standing before the group, Jason Lannister, who had been covered in dust by the gust, barely managed to steady himself with the help of an attendant. He muttered a sarcastic comment under his breath.

A dragon was indeed formidable—he admitted to being startled.

But so what?

A woman, even if she commanded a dragon, would ultimately be conquered by a man.

Jason’s gaze locked onto Rhaenyra, filled with greed and desire.

He was still young and unmarried.

With the princess now stripped of her claim to succession, she was likely distraught—a perfect opportunity for him to swoop in.

Given his status as the Duke of the West, perhaps he could capture the heart of this fallen princess.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the princess has arrived. The prince will be here shortly!”

Laenor straightened the creases in his attire and made the announcement with measured formality.

If this was meant to be a display of strength, it would not be limited to one dragon.

“Craaack…”

Before the nobles could fully process his words, another thunderous roar echoed through the sky, piercing their eardrums.

*Whoosh—*

A fierce wind blew past, and the once-clear sunlight was obscured by a massive gathering of dark clouds, casting half of the Red Keep into shadow.

“A dragon! Another dragon!”

“Where did this black dragon come from? Is there such a massive black dragon in King's Landing?”

“…”

Those with sharp eyes looked up, and what they saw left them stunned—a colossal creature, as imposing as a mountain of coal, entered their view.

Its scales were black as charcoal, its eyes gleamed with a sinister green hue, and its curved horns were gray and menacing...

Every feature confirmed it was a full-grown dragon with a notoriously savage nature.

The rest of the nobles, hearing the commotion, looked up as well and froze in fear.

“Craaack…”

The Devourer burst through the clouds, following Syrax’s path. Its green dragonfire streaked across the sky like spilled ink as it circled above King’s Landing.

Larger and even more intimidating, the black dragon made its grand entrance, leaving an overwhelming impression.

In an instant, the attention of every citizen in King’s Landing was drawn to the emerald-eyed black dragon.

“A black dragon… Is that Balerion the Black Dread?”

Those unfamiliar with dragons were filled with terror, mistaking it for Balerion, the dragon that had once conquered the continent.

Balerion’s dragonfire had burned every corner of the Seven Kingdoms, and its legend was known far and wide.

“Heh, there’s no need to be afraid, my lords. This dragon is the Devourer, tamed by my eldest son, Rhaegar. It’s the largest wild dragon from Dragonstone!”

Viserys beamed as he introduced the dragon to the visibly shaken nobles.

(End of Chapter)