96-100

Chapter 96: The Dance of Triumph

“Roarrrrr!”

Vormisore bellowed toward the sky, its fury igniting like a blazing inferno, as its massive tail struck the gluttonous predator squarely in the abdomen.

The predator, hit hard, quickly disengaged with agile precision.

Consumed by rage, Vormisore unleashed a torrent of golden dragon flames aimed at the predator's retreating back.

“Predator, dive!”

Rhaegar had been tracking its movements closely and immediately gave the order.

The predator let out a deep growl, tucked its head, and plunged downward, narrowly evading the dragon flames.

Having missed its target, Vormisore ignored its own injuries and prepared to give chase.

However, one of its shoulder blades was shattered, rendering its wings useless.

Struggling to stay aloft, the massive beast teetered unsteadily in the sky, its flight faltering.

“Dragon flames!”

As Vormisore was still adjusting its balance, Rhaegar's command echoed again.

Taking advantage of its superior speed, the predator circled the now-sluggish Vormisore, spewing streams of eerie green dragon flames.

For a moment, the vibrant green fire painted the clouds, creating a breathtaking, oil-painting-like spectacle.

Vormisore was indeed mighty—its strength and resilience were extraordinary.

Even gravely wounded, it endured the predator’s relentless attacks, stubbornly waiting for an opening to counterattack.

But that opportunity would never come.

Rhaegar, riding steadily on the predator’s back, maneuvered it skillfully through the air. His eyes remained fixed on the enraged bronze beast below, its efforts growing increasingly futile.

After his last defeat in a dragon duel, Rhaegar had spent countless hours reflecting on his mistakes.

Aside from Vormisore teaming up with the silver wing dragon in a seamless partnership, another critical issue was that the predator had sustained injuries too quickly.

And the main reason for those injuries? Prolonged grappling.

Particularly after the brutal battle with the shadow drake, Rhaegar had come to understand just how dangerous close-quarters combat could be.

Unless one dragon held an overwhelming size advantage, any fight between similarly sized dragons would inevitably result in severe injuries—or death.

Dragons are violent and ruthless creatures.

Once their flames are exhausted and the battle devolves into close combat, claws and fangs become lethal weapons.

Last time, the predator was forced into grappling with the silver wing dragon too early, leading to its belly being ripped open and its hasty retreat.

Building on the predator’s exceptional speed and the intensity of its dragon flames, Rhaegar had hastily devised a new strategy:

*Ambush.*

The predator’s speed made it a perfect candidate for striking first.

As long as the initial attack severely wounded the opponent, the rest would fall into place.

“Roarrr!”

The predator screeched triumphantly, circling Vormisore and spewing flames.

Each burst of green fire deepened Vormisore's injuries and clouded its mind further.

---

*On the ground below...*

Amid the deafening roars and explosions above, a sheep thief lurking on the ground grew increasingly restless.

Its greedy eyes flicked toward the silver wing dragon, lying motionless in a pool of blood. The scent of blood stirred its primal hunger.

“Roarrr!”

Beating its wings, the thief rose into the air, casting a shadow over Syrax as it attempted to drive her away.

Rhaenyra looked up at the grotesque, mud-covered dragon. Though apprehension flashed across her eyes, her voice remained resolute.

“Dragon flames!”

“Roarrr!”

Syrax, who had been lying in wait, leaped into the sky. A torrent of golden flames erupted from her mouth, engulfing the thief’s face.

Caught off guard, the sheep thief comically flailed its head, trying to evade the searing heat.

But this only stoked its ferocity.

As one of the few wild dragons inhabiting Dragonstone, the sheep thief’s name was infamous among the locals—even more so than the predator.

The predator, for all its size and demonic appearance, rarely ventured near human settlements. It usually stayed in the vicinity of Dragonmount, posing little threat to people.

The sheep thief, however, was the opposite.

This mud-colored dragon had an insatiable appetite for the sheep owned by local shepherds. It was even addicted to the thrill of hunting them.

Anyone who tried to stop it—or even came too close—would face a fiery fate.

At best, they would be burned. At worst, they would be reduced to ashes.

Every year, the sheep thief caused a significant number of human casualties.

Now, provoked by the golden dragon before it, the sheep thief let out a thunderous roar and unleashed a stream of orange dragon flames.

Its flames were unusual, taking the form of molten droplets that spread across a wide area.

---

"Get out of the way, Syrax!"

Faced with danger, Rhaenyra reacted swiftly, guiding Syrax to evade while countering with a blast of dragonfire.

"Skreee..."

In its first battle, the young and inexperienced Syrax seemed overly excited, letting out triumphant screeches.

Golden flames, like towering pillars of fire, overwhelmed the thief dragon's weaker fire.

Unable to match the intensity of Syrax’s flames, the thief dragon grew increasingly enraged and beat its wings furiously, attempting to overpower Syrax with its larger size.

Though Syrax was smaller, it was far more agile.

Effortlessly keeping its distance, Syrax darted through the air, spitting bursts of dragonfire and moving as gracefully as a swift seabird.

The thief dragon, frustrated by several failed attempts to close the gap, let out an enraged growl before turning its attention to the gravely injured Silverwing.

Its true target had always been the defenseless adult dragon.

"Skreee..."

Silverwing cried out in terror, the pain in its neck rendering it unable to move. All it could do was beat its wings in a feeble attempt to warn off its attacker.

But the thief dragon was undeterred. Landing beside Silverwing, it opened its massive jaws, ready to strike.

"Dragonfire!"

Seeing that Silverwing was about to meet its end, Rhaenyra’s expression turned desperate. She steered Syrax back with urgency, determined to stop the thief dragon’s vicious attack.

At that moment, Rhaenyra was truly panicked.

Above them, Rhaegar was locked in fierce combat with Vermithor. The sound of their clash alone made it clear how intense the fight was.

She longed to fly up and assist, but the thief dragon kept her tied down.

Inwardly, she prayed that the black dragon would prevail against Vermithor and bring Rhaegar back safely.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a thunderous roar from above.

Boom!

A massive bronze beast descended from the sky, accompanied by a surge of green dragonfire. Its powerful roar shook the heavens.

Vermithor, grievously injured, bled profusely from its neck, tail, and wings.

Rhaegar, riding Cannibal, kept up the assault with a fiery dive, pinning Vermithor with relentless flames and refusing to give it a chance to recover.

As they ascended midair, Rhaegar finally issued a command to halt. Cannibal ceased its fire and slowly beat its wings to reduce speed.

Vermithor, despite its battle-hardened experience, struggled to regain control, flapping its wings desperately to slow its descent.

Finally, with a loud splash, it broke through the rolling waves below and plunged into the sea.

In an instant, dragon blood dyed the waters red, the boiling heat causing steam to rise from the surface.

A chorus of bubbling noises followed.

"Skreee..."

After a long moment, a fierce dragon’s head broke through the surface, gasping for breath.

The water churned as Vermithor flapped its wings and struggled toward the shore.

Its body was covered in wounds, though none were fatal. Using both wings and feet, it managed to claw its way out of the sea, narrowly escaping death.

When it finally reached the shore, it collapsed on the sandy beach, utterly spent. Waves lapped at its sides as it lay motionless, gasping with vacant eyes.

Above, Rhaegar surveyed the scene.

Dragons were valuable resources, not to be killed recklessly in a fit of anger.

He stroked Cannibal’s obsidian-black scales and cheered, “Cannibal, we’ve avenged ourselves!”

"Skreee..."

Cannibal raised its head proudly, its emerald eyes gleaming with triumph. It soared through the air with wild grace, letting out ferocious roars.

Green flames painted streaks of color across the sky as the enormous dragon twisted and turned, performing what seemed like a victory dance.

In this moment, it was the undisputed ruler of Dragonstone.

Having severely wounded both Vermithor and Silverwing, there was no longer any threat on the island capable of challenging it.

“Dragonstone, your prince has returned!”

Rhaegar’s youthful voice rang out in exuberant celebration.

It was both a tribute to Cannibal’s victory and an affirmation of his strategy.

Amid his joy, Rhaegar glanced down at Rhaenyra’s position, his expression shifting.

“Cannibal, go help her, quickly!”

Cannibal’s prowess in battle was undeniable.

(According to the story’s setting, Cannibal, being a wild dragon, was slightly larger than Vermithor and Silverwing of the same age.)

Its natural gifts were focused on speed and the intensity of its dragonfire, two traits crucial for warfare and dragon combat.

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 97: The Thief’s Lament*

"Dracarys!"

Rhaenyra's clear voice rang out as she commanded Syrax to engage the sheep thief.

After several interruptions, the thief, having failed to secure a proper meal, shifted focus to a relentless pursuit.

Caught in the thrill of battle, Rhaenyra lost herself in the moment, guiding Syrax by sheer instinct as they clashed fiercely with the Mud Dragon.

The two dragons alternated between chase and retreat, spewing flames mid-air in a standoff.

Moments later, the thief feigned retreat, only to turn sharply toward the grounded Silverwing.

Rhaenyra hurriedly urged her dragon back, releasing another burst of dragonfire to block the thief’s approach.

But this was exactly the opportunity the thief had been waiting for.

As Syrax drew near, the Mud Dragon turned suddenly, unleashing a fiery torrent that rained down like fireworks upon both dragon and rider.

"Syrax, dodge it!"

The situation flipped in an instant. Rhaenyra's face paled as she commanded Syrax to turn away.

Syrax faltered mid-flight, but the searing orange flames were already upon them.

Unable to avoid the attack, the blazing heat engulfed them. Syrax twisted desperately, trying to shield Rhaenyra on his back from the scorching flames.

A pained cry tore through the sky as the dragon’s chest and underbelly were struck.

Having never experienced true combat, Syrax panicked under the pain, losing his balance and beginning to plummet.

Flapping his wings wildly to regain control, Syrax inadvertently exposed his vulnerabilities.

The thief's eyes gleamed with predatory intent. It lunged, aiming to bite Syrax’s neck.

Bound securely to the saddle by chains, Rhaenyra didn’t fall, but the terrifying sensation of freefall pressed down on her, filling her with dread.

As the thief closed the distance, she could only watch helplessly as the greedy dragon bore down, pinning Syrax beneath it, tearing and biting.

Glancing down, she realized the dire situation.

If the thief continued its assault, Syrax would crash to the ground.

And she, too, would face certain death.

At that critical moment, a piercing dragon roar split the air.

A massive black dragon descended from the skies, its wings whipping up fierce winds that forced her to close her eyes.

Through squinted eyes, she recognized her brother's dragon, the Cannibal, as it streaked toward them.

With razor-sharp claws, it plunged into the thief’s back.

The Mud Dragon let out a bloodcurdling scream, caught completely off-guard as its flesh was shredded and pierced.

"The Cannibal... It's Laegor..."

Hot dragon blood splattered across her cheek as Rhaenyra gazed in shock at the figure on the black dragon's back.

"Hold it down and take it away!"

Laegor's furious voice echoed, followed by the sickening sound of flesh tearing.

The Cannibal clamped its claws onto the thief’s flanks, cruelly widening its jaws as it beat its wings, lifting the struggling dragon into the sky.

The thief howled in agony as waves of pain overwhelmed it, flailing its wings in a futile attempt to free itself.

Freed from the thief’s grip, Syrax quickly twisted his body, regaining flight just in time to avoid crashing.

Meanwhile, the Cannibal toyed with the thief, dragging it through the air as it thrashed helplessly.

No matter how desperately the Mud Dragon struggled, it could not escape the Cannibal's unyielding hold.

Laegor kept a watchful eye on Rhaenyra.

Seeing that Syrax had stabilized, he sighed in relief.

He didn’t know why Rhaenyra had been battling the thief, but that hardly mattered now.

Had he arrived any later, he might have lost his sister.

This thought filled him with rage.

Fixing a murderous glare on the thief, Laegor growled, "Cannibal, drop it into the sea!"

The Cannibal let out a guttural roar in response, carrying the bulky Mud Dragon toward the ocean before releasing its grip.

Freed from its captor, the thief flapped its wings frantically, attempting to flee.

But a roaring torrent of green dragonfire descended like a flood, engulfing its head in flames and drawing out panicked screams.

With a resounding splash, the thief plunged into the sea.

Its desperate thrashing stirred the waters as it choked on seawater, utterly humiliated.

The Cannibal hovered above, showing no signs of retreat.

Rhaegar steered the dragon as it circled above.

Whenever the sheep thief emerged from the sea, the dragon spewed flames to drive it back.

Dragons are creatures of fire; they are ill-suited to water, and drowning is fatal to them.

The sheep thief, with its belly full of seawater, struggled violently but gradually weakened, letting out desperate cries for mercy.

Seeing this, Rhaegar patted the glutton’s back and said calmly, “Let’s go, Glutton.”

“Hsss… grrr…”

The Glutton growled low in displeasure, reluctantly turning its head to fly away.

It had hoped to drown the slimy sea dragon and enjoy a hearty meal. But since its rider had spoken, it chose to comply out of respect.

Casting a contemptuous glance toward the shore, it saw the sheep thief writhing like an eel as it struggled to crawl onto the beach.

On the far side of the beach, Vermithor was already gone.

The tides washed over the scars it left behind.

Rhaegar noticed this too and hurriedly turned back to search for Rhaenyra.

“Rhaegar, I’m over here!”

As he flew toward the cliff, he heard Rhaenyra’s shout.

Lowering his head, he saw Syrax on the ground, with Rhaenyra—her long hair disheveled—standing nearby, waving at him.

Not far away, the severely injured Silverwing had also disappeared.

“Glutton, land here.”

Once the Glutton landed, Rhaegar slid down its wing and ran toward Rhaenyra in a rush.

His short legs churned quickly as he sprinted.

He dashed into Rhaenyra’s arms, his voice filled with worry. “Are you okay?”

Rhaenyra shook her head, her face flushed with the excitement of the moment. She replied softly, “I’m fine. Syrax shielded me from the dragonfire.”

Hearing this, Rhaegar’s tense expression eased, and he buried his head against her stomach, mumbling, “You scared me to death. You always tell me I’m reckless, but you almost lost your life this time.”

Rhaenyra wrapped one arm around his back and gently ruffled his hair with the other, her eyes filled with guilt. “I just wanted to help you, but that brown dragon tried to devour Silverwing.”

“Where is Silverwing now?” Rhaegar asked as he looked up, his tone casual.

“Just now, Vermithor climbed up from the cliff and carried Silverwing away,” Rhaenyra replied, her breath unsteady and tinged with lingering fear.

“The next time you encounter a dragon, you need to stay far away,” Rhaegar said with a serious expression.

Rhaenyra froze for a moment, her face awkward. “This was my first battle, and you’re so young…”

“No! But my dragon is huge, far bigger than your Syrax,” Rhaegar said, a hint of frustration in his voice.

His confidence in engaging in a dragon battle came partly from his courage and partly from the Glutton’s sheer size and ferocity.

Now that they had defeated Vermithor and Silverwing, there were likely no dragons on the entire continent of Westeros—save for the mighty Vhagar, the last of the great dragons from an earlier age—that could rival the Glutton.

Syrax, being less than twenty years old, was merely a young adult dragon that had just emerged from its juvenile stage.

There was simply no comparison between the two.

Chastised by her younger brother, Rhaenyra realized the truth was undeniable. She had lost, and that was that.

Thankfully, Rhaegar had come to her rescue in time.

She crouched down to meet Rhaegar face to face, pressing her cheek against his, and said in a low voice, “You’re right, Rhaegar.”

Rhaegar wrapped his arms around her neck, rubbing his cheek against hers, and said softly, “I missed you, sister.”

“Where did you go after that night? Father and I were so worried about you,” Rhaenyra asked, her head resting on Rhaegar’s shoulder.

At the mention of his adventures on the peninsula, Rhaegar’s face fell. He pouted and muttered, “I ended up in a wildling camp. They’re all fools—so boring.”

Among the dragons of House Targaryen, the Black Dread Balerion was widely regarded as the strongest.

As for the weakest, it was difficult to determine.

For now, in my personal opinion, the sheep thief and Grey Ghost are dragons with limited potential.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 98: The Queen's Unease

The siblings conversed, exchanging stories about their experiences.

Before long, a group of guards arrived.

"Rhaegar, Rhaenyra!"

The weary-looking Viserys pushed past the guards surrounding him, hurriedly jogging toward his two children.

“Father!”

Rhaegar called out joyfully, looking at his father with delight.

But since Rhaenyra was still leaning on him for support, he couldn’t rush to embrace his father.

Hearing the commotion, Rhaenyra turned her head and softly murmured, “Father.”

She had snuck out of her chambers through a secret passage, evading the Kingsguard. Now caught by her father, she couldn’t help but feel guilty.

“Good, good—you're safe. That’s all that matters, Rhaegar!”

Viserys ignored his daughter’s greeting and crouched before his son, his gaze filled with joy as he examined him closely.

He had always believed that his eldest son would be unharmed.

Rhaegar would return safely—his prophetic dream had assured him of it.

Seeing her father so emotional, Rhaenyra instinctively stepped aside to give them space.

Viserys immediately pulled Rhaegar into a tight embrace, planting a firm kiss on his forehead. Beaming, he said, “Rhaegar, as soon as I heard the dragons’ roars on the island, I knew you had returned.”

Rhaegar wiped away the kiss’s residue with a grin and began boasting about his triumphs. “I fought Vermithor and Silverwing with Glutton. No dragon on the island could stand against us.”

“You’re truly bold, my child,” Viserys said, his expression a mix of pride and concern upon hearing his son’s words.

Ever since his eldest son’s recovery, everything about him had been extraordinary. But his growing recklessness worried Viserys.

First, Rhaegar had tamed a dragon without permission. Then he took to battle with the beast. Now, fresh from his latest adventure, he had confronted two fully grown dragons right at their doorstep.

Viserys couldn’t even begin to imagine what astonishing feats his son might attempt as he grew older.

Though his mind was racing, Viserys managed to speak calmly. “It doesn’t matter—you’ve never been an ordinary child, Rhaegar.”

In his heart, he believed Rhaegar to be the prince promised by the prophecy of Ice and Fire.

After all, Rhaegar, still so young, had managed to tame the largest wild dragon in history and defeat the famed Vermithor and Silverwing.

“Come, I’ve prepared a grand feast to celebrate your return,” Viserys said, ruffling his son’s hair affectionately before picking him up.

As they walked, he turned to Rhaenyra. “You disobeyed my orders again, Rhaenyra.”

“I’m sorry, Father,” she replied, lowering her head. “I was worried about Rhaegar. I couldn’t just sit and wait.”

“Never mind,” he said, shaking his head dismissively. “This isn’t the first time you’ve gone against my wishes. Come along—you look tense.”

“Yes, Father,” Rhaenyra replied softly, watching her father and brother, who were so affectionate with one another. A flicker of sadness passed through her eyes.

---

Inside the castle…

After freshening up, the siblings sat together at the long table in the hall.

Rhaegar, full of energy, began recounting his adventures on the peninsula.

Viserys listened patiently, sipping from his goblet, his gaze warm as he focused on his son’s animated storytelling.

But when Rhaegar described reviving the Shadowbinder’s head and using a cursed mask to defeat their enemies, Viserys’s expression darkened.

To him, magic was as dangerous as dragons—if not more so.

The idea of resurrecting severed heads and invoking deadly curses revolted him. Such things were abhorrent and treacherous, deserving neither respect nor trust.

“The Brune and Crabbe families… I’ll need to send someone to investigate them,” he thought, concealing his unease beneath a calm exterior.

Rhaegar continued enthusiastically, but when he noticed that neither his father nor sister was reacting, he felt disheartened.

He had thought these stories were thrilling—why weren’t they impressed?

After a moment’s thought, he shared news of the peninsula nobles pledging allegiance to him and the two thousand freedmen who had followed him across the sea.

Viserys’s expression changed immediately.

Rhaenyra pressed her lips together, lifting her wine goblet to take a sip.

Sensing the tension, Rhaegar stopped speaking.

“I’m late. Are you all ready?”

Alicent’s voice broke the silence as she descended the staircase gracefully.

The three turned to look at her.

Alicent carried a baby in one arm, holding Helaena’s hand with the other. Aegon followed behind, accompanied by a maid.

After a brief hesitation, Viserys turned to Rhaegar. “Those freedmen who followed you—there are quite a few of them. I’ll have them transported near the Red Keep and ensure they’re well-supplied.”

“When you’ve decided how to use them, they’ll be at your disposal.”

Rhaegar nodded slightly. “No problem, Father.”

While the father and son were talking, Alicent walked down the stairs and took a seat at the other end of the long table.

She looked at Rhaegar with joy and emotion, exclaiming, “Seven blessings, you’ve returned safely, Rhaegar.”

“Brother!”

Helaena stood on her chair, calling out happily.

She hadn’t seen her brother in a long time either.

Rhaegar smiled gently at Helaena and replied to Alicent, “Thanks to the Glutton for protecting me, I made it back safely.”

“That wild dragon?” Alicent asked, her expression filled with doubt as she crossed her hands in front of her.

“From the moment I tamed it, it was no longer a wild dragon,” Rhaegar emphasized.

Alicent gave an apologetic smile. “Yes, you’re very brave to tame an adult dragon all on your own.”

“Unlike Aegon, who’s still trying to get Sunfyre to obey his commands but hasn’t succeeded yet.”

“Mother!”

Aegon shouted, his brows furrowed tightly.

Rhaegar glanced briefly at Aegon before his eyes shifted to Alicent’s hands.

Those hands weren’t beautiful.

Alicent had received a noble upbringing, adhering to a philosophy of self-reliance.

Whether it was tailoring clothes or reading and writing, these were mandatory lessons in House Hightower.

As a result, her hands were somewhat rough, lacking the softness of someone pampered since birth.

At this moment, Alicent seemed unaware that she was scratching the nail of her right hand with her left hand.

She was doing it so forcefully that blood seeped from the crevices.

Rhaegar also noticed that almost all her fingers bore signs of scratching—some wounds were new, others older, but none had healed.

Having often interacted with maesters, Rhaegar could tell that these injuries were recent, caused within the past few days.

Rhaegar hesitated. “Your Grace, your hands…”

“Huh?”

Alicent froze slightly. It wasn’t until her eyes followed Rhaegar’s gaze to her hands that she hurriedly hid them away.

She gave an embarrassed smile. “Oh, sorry. My hands are a bit itchy; it might be the humidity on Dragonstone.”

“Keep warm,” Rhaegar casually responded, though his suspicion grew.

Dragonstone was indeed humid.

But King’s Landing, being a coastal city, wasn’t any drier than Dragonstone.

Alicent’s explanation was unconvincing.

Her expression betrayed something odd—she looked very nervous.

Noticing her nervousness had been exposed, Alicent quickly changed the subject, instructing the servants, “Hasn’t the banquet been prepared? Hurry and serve it!”

Viserys nodded in agreement.

Meanwhile, Rhaegar leaned closer to Rhaenyra and whispered, “Why does Alicent scratch her fingers?”

As someone who had once been Alicent’s best friend, Rhaenyra naturally knew the reason. She replied softly, “It’s a bad habit of hers. Whenever she’s nervous, she scratches her fingers until they bleed.”

“Nervous?”

Rhaegar repeated the word silently.

Why would someone be nervous?

Fear, excitement…

Or guilt.

Some grudges must be avenged. Anyone who needs to be exposed will be brought into the light.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 99: Unmasking the Culprit

"Why was she so fearful, even guilty?"

Rhaegar kept pondering this question.

Surely, it wasn’t out of concern for him, was it?

From what he knew about Alicent, she would probably be thrilled if he never returned.

With one less brother in Aegon’s way, it would make competing with Rhaenyra for the claim to the throne that much easier.

Plates of exquisite food were laid on the table as the family feast officially began.

Rhaegar picked a few of his favorite pastries, but as he chewed, they felt like tasteless wax in his mouth.

Noticing his distraction, Rhaenyra nudged him with her elbow. “What’s on your mind?” she asked.

Rhaegar furrowed his brow and abruptly stood up. “Father!” he called out.

“What is it, Rhaegar?”

Viserys looked at him, puzzled.

With a serious expression, Rhaegar asked, “Father, what makes someone afraid to the point of guilt?”

Viserys’s gaze flickered as he set down his knife and fork. “A criminal who breaks the law might feel fear when they’re not yet caught and guilt when they face interrogation,” he replied.

“Exactly.”

Rhaegar nodded in agreement, then shifted the topic. “The night I left, I was ambushed by two dragons. The reason? Someone had fed the Cannibal a dragon egg laid by Silverwing.”

“Who did this, or rather, who ordered it to be done?”

The joy of reuniting with family hadn’t clouded Rhaegar’s judgment.

He remained sharply aware of the danger he had faced.

This time, he was determined to expose the mastermind behind it and make them pay.

As Rhaegar’s words sank in, the room fell into a tense silence.

Rhaenyra stared at Rhaegar in astonishment, her eyes filled with disbelief.

She had suspected something about the two dragons attacking the Cannibal, but her concern for Rhaegar’s safety had kept her from thinking deeply about it.

Now, with Rhaegar bringing it up, she immediately realized someone had tried to harm her brother.

Viserys’s expression darkened. Setting aside his usual calm demeanor, he said gravely, “After your disappearance, I began investigating. The guard who fed the dragon egg to the Cannibal was found dead, his body dumped on the beach.”

“But don’t worry, I haven’t given up. I will make sure justice is served,” he assured.

Rhaegar’s tone was solemn. “Before I tamed the Cannibal, someone lured me into Dragonmount. Who was behind that?”

“The two guards claimed ignorance, and the dragonkeeper who spread the false information was relocated beforehand, leaving no leads,” Viserys admitted, his face clouded with guilt over his failure to uncover the truth.

Rhaegar pressed on. “When I escaped Vermithor and Silverwing, I was attacked by a third dragon—a flame of crimson red!”

Bang!

Viserys shot to his feet, his face contorted with rage as he slammed both fists on the table.

“You’re certain it was crimson flame?” he demanded, his words slow and deliberate.

“I’m certain,” Rhaegar confirmed firmly.

Viserys’s eyes were bloodshot, fury consuming him as he ground his teeth. “Daemon! You wretched beast…”

The Targaryen family’s dragons were few in number.

Only two dragons had flames of crimson red: Caraxes and Meleys.

Meleys belonged to his cousin, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen.

Rhaenys, who had once contested him for the Iron Throne, was known as the Queen Who Never Was.

But Viserys knew her character—she was a paragon of integrity, someone who valued honor above all else.

She would never stoop to harming the heir to the throne.

Daemon, on the other hand, had just been banished from King’s Landing.

Consumed with anger and resentment, he had every reason to retaliate.

Considering his knowledge of Dragonstone’s secret paths, his ability to bribe dragonkeepers, and his familiarity with the area, all evidence pointed directly to Daemon.

“It must be him! Because I refused to wed Rhaenyra to him, he’s taking revenge by targeting my children!”

Viserys erupted in a fit of rage, his body trembling violently.

“Viserys, please, calm yourself!” Alicent rushed to his side, trying to comfort him.

But Viserys shoved her away, roaring, “Guards! Inform the Maester to send a message to King’s Landing! Post a warrant for Daemon’s capture, dead or alive!”

Harrold, standing by the door, cautioned, “Your Grace, Prince Daemon has a dragon. Posting notices might alert him. Perhaps we should first send word to the Vale—he may be hiding in Runestone.”

“Good! Not just the Vale—notify the Free Cities as well. Any lord who captures Daemon will be rewarded with his weight in gold!”

Viserys bellowed with what little composure he had left.

“Father, please calm down. Your health…”

Seeing his father in such a state, Rhaegar softened his tone, concern evident in his eyes.

Viserys fixed his bloodshot eyes on Rhaegar. “I promise you, my son, I will see justice done. No matter the cost!”

Rhaegar glanced at Alicent, who stood nearby, looking as if she wanted to say something but held back.

He swallowed his own suspicions, deciding against voicing them for now.

His father’s condition was fragile, and his accusations were still unproven.

“I trust you, Father,” Rhaegar said softly.

---

Rhaegar displayed a faint smile and sat back in his seat.

Viserys, still consumed by anger, lost all interest in continuing the feast. He left the table and returned to his room.

Alicent quickly followed after him, instructing the servants to take care of the children at the table.

With the two adults gone, the family dinner was effectively over in name and spirit.

As their parents' figures disappeared around the corner of the staircase, Aegon was the first to jump off his chair and briskly leave.

He had no intention of dining with his half-siblings—especially not his brother, whom he despised the most.

Helaena watched her brother Aegon leave with a blank expression, sitting in her chair in confusion. She couldn’t understand why her father and brother Rhaegar had gotten so upset over a few words.

But she did know one thing: she was hungry, and hungry people needed to eat.

After sneaking a glance at Rhaegar and Rhaenyra, whose faces were dark with displeasure, she tried to make herself as inconspicuous as possible, nibbling on the cake on her plate.

As for Aemond…

He was still sound asleep in the nursemaid’s arms.

In the midst of this tense and awkward atmosphere, Rhaenyra finally broke the silence. She grabbed Rhaegar’s wrist and said seriously, “Did your disappearance have to do with Daemon attacking you?”

“Ninety percent sure it was him,” Rhaegar replied.

Rhaenyra let go of his hand, her fists clenched tightly, her delicate face turning cold as ice. “That scoundrel! Has he abandoned all sense of shame for the sake of the throne?”

“Don’t worry. He’ll answer for what he’s done,” Rhaegar said softly.

“He dared to target you—he wants to kill his own nephew!” Rhaenyra seethed with fury.

She was standing up for her brother.

But she was also bidding farewell to the memory of an uncle who had once doted on her as a child.

Since the last kidnapping incident, her opinion of Daemon had plummeted drastically.

And now, he had dared to harm her brother.

The uncle she had once admired was now gone entirely.

In his place stood nothing but a degenerate scoundrel.

---

Night fell.

The castle descended into silence.

Viserys locked himself in his room, gulping down wine until he was thoroughly drunk.

After the feast ended, everyone returned to their chambers.

Alicent, unable to console her husband or discipline her children, went back to her own room to rest.

She lay on the soft bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

Her mind kept circling back to the events of the day.

Rhaegar’s initial nervousness had left a deep impression on her.

Even though the blame had fallen squarely on Daemon and had nothing to do with her, she still felt deeply uneasy.

With such thoughts weighing on her, how could she possibly fall asleep?

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 100: Warning*

Lost in thought, Allison felt a headache creeping in. She closed her eyes, silently lamenting.

Time passed, and drowsiness overtook her.

She slipped into a light, half-conscious slumber.

Knock, knock, knock…  

Suddenly, a noise echoed in the room.

Allison’s headache worsened. Thinking it was just a mouse, she ignored it.

The noise soon faded away.

In her groggy state, Allison was on the verge of falling asleep.

After what felt like an indeterminate amount of time, Allison suddenly felt uncomfortably warm.

It was as though she were sitting beside a roaring fireplace; beads of sweat formed on her forehead.

“So hot… and thirsty…”

Parched and overheated, Allison, in her half-conscious state, reached toward the bedside table for her water glass.

Her hand fumbled around, but she couldn’t find the familiar glass in its usual spot.

Instead, her fingers grazed a piece of fabric.

She squeezed it. The fabric was light, and beneath it, she could feel soft flesh.

“Fabric… soft flesh?”

Allison’s drowsy mind jolted awake. She opened her eyes and looked toward the side of her bed.

In the dim light, she saw a figure dressed in a black robe, seemingly seated by her bedside.

The figure held a coal lantern in one hand, the light dangling above her head.

“Who are you?!”

Panic surged through Allison, and she instinctively scooted backward, clutching the blanket tightly around her body.

“It’s me, Your Grace.”

The familiar voice replied as the figure lowered their hood and handed her a glass of water. “Here’s your water.”

Hearing the youthful voice, Allison widened her eyes, squinting to make out the intruder’s face.

When she finally recognized the boy by her bed, she gasped in shock. “It’s you, Rhaegar!”

“Are you frightened, Your Grace?”

Dressed in a black robe, Rhaegar looked calmly at his stepmother.

Allison’s expression immediately shifted, and she scolded him, “What are you doing in my room? You should be in bed at this hour!”

For a fleeting moment, she had thought it was someone else sneaking into her room again, nearly scaring her to death.

Rhaegar tilted his head, still holding the water glass. “Weren’t you thirsty? Have a sip of water first.”

“No! I’m not thirsty at all! Get out of here this instant—do you hear me?!”

Allison was furious, her voice sharp and unforgiving.

“Ha, suit yourself.”

Rhaegar shook his head and set the glass down, his tone still polite. “I’ll leave shortly. But before I go, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

“There’s nothing to discuss! How did you get into my room? And where are the guards?!”

Allison’s only desire at that moment was to throw her stepson out of her room.

Rhaegar chuckled softly and pointed to a wall in the adjacent sitting room. “Your room has a hidden passage, doesn’t it? A little digging, and the information is easy to find.”

After the family banquet earlier, Rhaegar had sought out Cole to learn about recent events on Dragonstone. He’d discovered that the castle had several secret passages—one of which led directly to the queen’s chambers.

This detail seemed to confirm some of his suspicions.

And so, he came that night.

Following Rhaegar’s gaze, Allison remembered the hidden passage that was in the process of being sealed.

Her hands instinctively clenched the bed sheets, her eyes darting nervously. “What do you mean? What exactly do you want to say?”

Rhaegar stared at her intently, sensing her unease and resistance.

In a calm, story-like tone, he began, “I’ve just been wondering why my experiences taming dragons have always been fraught with so many obstacles.”

“Daemon bribed the dragonkeepers to spread false information, misleading me into heading to Dragonmount.”

“Before that, someone else provided me with similar intelligence, but they directed me to the eastern coast.”

Allison’s expression shifted slightly, irritation flashing across her face. “That information came from me, shared with Rhaenyra. It’s true that two young dragons had been spotted along the eastern coast. Sunfyre was found early on—I didn’t lie.”

“As you say, the information about the eastern coast was accurate.”

Rhaegar sighed. “But at that time, Shadowwing appeared on Dragonmount instead. The dragon that was supposed to be there wasn’t Cannibal but Silverwing, who was in a sensitive state after laying eggs.”

“Now, let me ask you this: could it be possible that someone, knowing I don’t trust her, deliberately provided inconsequential information to lead me to Dragonmount?”

Rhaegar’s soft voice hung in the dimly lit room, tugging at Allison’s already frazzled nerves.

Hearing this, Alicent’s expression turned cold. She spoke in a chilling tone, "This is all your imagination. It was Daemon who framed you. I only wanted to mend my relationship with Rhaenyra. We were the best of sisters."

"No problem. What you said makes perfect sense."

Rhaegar nodded, neither confirming nor denying her words.

He hadn’t come tonight to settle scores.

After all, there was no concrete evidence to accuse Her Majesty, the Queen.

Everything was just his suspicion.

Rhaegar lowered his head, placing the small portable brazier on the bed. He gently opened the lid.

The glowing coals inside were exposed to the air, their vivid red light dispelling a corner of the room’s darkness.

At the same time, the light illuminated half of Rhaegar’s face, which had been hidden in the shadows.

“What are you doing?”

Seeing this, Alicent recalled certain memories, and she couldn’t help but grow tense.

“Nothing. If you don’t want water, then let’s keep warm,” Rhaegar said flatly, reaching out to grasp a piece of burning coal, calmly holding it in his hand.

He raised this hand and held it between the two of them.

The flames from the coal lit up the boundary between them.

Rhaegar’s expression was calm as he said in an indifferent tone, “Your Majesty, the Queen, did you know that my recent journey to the peninsula was far from peaceful? Many showed me disrespect, and they lost their lives to dragonfire.”

Alicent silently backed away, retreating all the way to the edge of the bed. Her beautiful face was now filled with fear.

Rhaegar didn’t approach her but continued speaking. “I don’t know if you were involved in certain matters, but I hope you can let go of your prejudice against me. Whether you choose to ignore me or treat me indifferently is fine.”

“There’s only one thing: do not harm me—or my father and my sister.”

As he spoke, Rhaegar raised his head, fixing his stepmother with an intense, unyielding gaze.

Snap.  

His hand clenched shut, crushing the burning coal into fragments, which scattered onto the pristine bedspread.

The fragments of coal instantly ignited the bedsheet.

Alicent screamed in fear and hurriedly grabbed a pillow to smother the flames.

Rhaegar didn’t stop her. Instead, he picked up the water cup he had set down earlier and evenly poured the liquid over the burning embers, extinguishing them one by one.

Sizzle...  

White smoke rose, shrouding Rhaegar’s face in a hazy veil. His voice came softly through the smoke, “I hope you can keep some kindness in your heart, Your Majesty.”

“What exactly do you want? I haven’t done anything! How many times do I have to say it?”

The flames had deeply rattled Alicent, pushing her to the brink of collapse. She roared in anger.

Rhaegar, seemingly unaffected, said calmly, “I believe what you’ve said, because you are my stepmother. You would protect the children under your care from harm. That includes Rhaenyra and me.”

“Of course! I’m the Queen, your father’s wife. It’s my responsibility,” Alicent replied through gritted teeth, her face as dark as a storm cloud.

“But you shouldn’t be so disrespectful to your mother. Barging into my room and threatening me with fire—I’ll tell your father everything exactly as it happened!”

“Let him decide how to discipline a child who doesn’t respect their elders!”

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” Rhaegar replied indifferently. He replaced the lid on the brazier, lifted it, and turned to leave.

After taking two steps, he seemed to remember something. Turning back, he said with a faint smile, “Oh, by the way, Aegon is my brother. I treasure that bond of kinship.”

“I survived the assassination attempts through my own ability.”

“But he’s still so young...”

“Enough! Don’t say another word!”

Alicent interrupted him, her neck stiff with tension, her eyes reddened, and her teeth clenched. “I’ll take care of my children—all of them!”

“Very well, Mother.”

Rhaegar flashed an innocent smile, bowed respectfully, and seemed for a moment like a lovable child.

Under his stepmother’s hateful gaze, he carried the brazier and slowly left the bedroom. Opening the hidden passageway, he disappeared into the darkness.

Alicent is a classic example of someone both pitiable and detestable.

She is a victim of societal expectations and family obligations, standing in sharp contrast to Rhaenyra, who seeks to break free from conventions and rewrite the rules.

Now, with Rhaegar’s arrival, Alicent’s once-dominant stance against Rhaenyra in the original narrative is set to crumble.

(End of Chapter)