66-70

Chapter 66: Dance of Chaos

As expected, Rhaegar was jolted awake from a nightmare.

This time, he didn’t scream as he usually did. Instead, he opened his eyes, dazed and silent.

"Dragons were attacking me and the Devourer..."

Being a dreamwalker and having such a nightmare was hard for him to dismiss without overthinking.

"Hmm… ugh…"

After a moment, a moan reached his ears from nearby.

Rhaegar turned his head toward Rhaenyra’s side of the room.

There were only the two of them in the room. If it wasn’t him, it had to be her.

Rhaenyra didn’t seem to notice his gaze. She continued to groan, her voice tinged with unbearable pain.

"What’s wrong, sister?"

Rhaegar climbed out of bed and checked on Rhaenyra, worry etched across his face.

Under the faint glow of the moonlight streaming through the window, Rhaegar noticed her twisted expression.

Her pale face was flushed unnaturally red, her brows furrowed tightly, and beads of cold sweat dotted her forehead.

Rhaegar noticed several herbal books lying nearby and immediately deduced what was wrong.

"Rhaenyra, do you have a fever?"

He pressed his hand against her forehead, confirming it was alarmingly warm.

"Anora, come quickly! My sister is unwell!"

Rhaegar shouted toward the door, calling for Rhaenyra’s personal maid.

The night maid rushed in at the sound, lit a candle, and checked on Rhaenyra.

"The princess has a high fever. I’ll fetch the maester right away," she said before hurrying off.

After the commotion, Rhaenyra stirred from her sleep, opening her eyes with difficulty.

Rhaegar dampened a cloth to cool her forehead, but she turned her head away, avoiding his touch.

Her lips moved as if trying to speak, but her throat, inflamed and sore, made it difficult.

Rhaegar leaned closer and asked anxiously, "What do you want to say?"

"It hurts… my stomach hurts so much…"

Tears formed at the corners of Rhaenyra’s eyes as she clutched her abdomen, her groans intensifying.

Rhaegar didn’t understand why her stomach hurt, but his concern for his sister deepened.

"Hang in there. The maester will be here soon." Rhaegar warmed his hands and placed them gently on her abdomen beneath the blanket.

To his shock, her stomach was ice-cold to the touch.

He flinched, startled by how cold she felt.

"Prince, the maester is here," the maid announced as she returned with the elderly maester, who was still hastily dressed and carrying his medical bag.

The maester examined Rhaenyra thoroughly before concluding, "She caught a chill during her monthly cycle. Some ginger tea and keeping her warm will help."

The maid scurried off to prepare ginger tea, while Rhaegar carefully helped Rhaenyra sip some warm water.

Boom!

Just as Rhaegar was tending to his sick sister, a loud explosion echoed from outside the castle.

His hand trembled as he held the water, a sense of foreboding creeping over him.

Handing the basin of warm water to the maid, Rhaegar moved to the window to observe the situation outside.

The rain had stopped, but a burst of fire drew his attention.

At the edge of the castle, where the walls once stood, a section had collapsed into rubble. Flames roared, sending thick plumes of smoke into the night sky.

Above the ruins circled a massive dragon, its furious roars filling the air.

"Not the Devourer," Rhaegar muttered.

This dragon was noticeably smaller than the Devourer. Rhaegar frowned, unable to understand why a dragon would attack the castle.

A sharp, piercing dragon roar suddenly echoed across the night sky. Moments later, golden flames rained down from above, striking the cliffs outside the castle.

Rhaegar tensed instantly.

That cliff was precisely where the Devourer rested.

The commotion woke everyone in the castle.

Lord Robert, disheveled and half-dressed, rushed out of his chambers, rallying the guards to secure the main keep and protect the king.

Torches illuminated the castle grounds as chaos erupted, but Rhaegar’s focus remained fixed on the castle perimeter.

Sure enough, a familiar roar broke through the clamor—it was the Devourer’s furious cry.

The colossal black dragon soared up from the ground beneath the cliff, its emerald-green eyes locked onto the rival dragon that dared to challenge it.

No sooner had the Devourer appeared than two more dragons emerged from the shadows of the night sky.

In the fiery glow of the castle’s torches, Rhaegar could clearly make out their appearances.

One was a massive dragon with bronze scales and brown wings.

The other was slightly smaller, with deep green scales and silver wings.

Rhaegar had never seen these two dragons before, but he had studied the Targaryen family's dragon compendium.

Without a doubt, these dragons had to be Vermithor, known as the Bronze Fury, and his mate, Silverwing.

Both dragons were currently riderless.

They had once belonged to Rhaegar's great-grandfather, King Jaehaerys the Conciliator, and his wife.

Since the passing of those long-lived elders, the dragons had made their home on Dragonstone.

It had been nearly twenty years since.

Seeing the two massive dragons, Rhaegar gasped, "Damn it, my worst nightmare has come true."

Boom—

Beyond the castle's clamor, the sight of three dragons in the night sky was terrifying enough.

Vermithor and Silverwing attacked Cannibal from opposite sides, unleashing torrents of dragonfire.

Cannibal did not back down. Unafraid, he fought against the two, flapping his wings to evade while his ghostly green flames illuminated half the night sky.

The three dragons alternated between spewing fire and lunging at each other, soon tangling in a fierce melee.

Even from a distance, Rhaegar could sense Cannibal's rage.

"Hold on. I'll come help you," Rhaegar whispered, stepping away from the window.

As he passed the bed, Rhaenyra's raspy, feeble voice called out to him.

"Rhaegar, what's happening?"

"Cannibal seems to have been provoked. I'm going to calm him down," Rhaegar lied.

Lying on her side, Rhaenyra could barely open her eyes as she panted. "Don't lie to me. I heard the roars of dragons fighting."

"There's really nothing to worry about. I'll calm Cannibal down and be back soon," Rhaegar explained softly, wiping the sweat from her brow.

Unexpectedly, Rhaenyra grabbed his wrist weakly and pleaded in a daze, "Don't go. Dragon battles are too dangerous. You're still too young."

"I'm not a child anymore. I'm a dragonrider now," Rhaegar replied firmly, freeing himself from her fragile grip. "My dragon needs me. I must fight alongside him."

"You're more important to me than any dragon..."

Struggling to open her eyes, Rhaenyra tried to stop her brother from heading into danger.

Rhaegar's expression turned serious. "To me, my dragon is just as important as I am!"

With that, Rhaegar bent down, kissed her forehead, and left.

He was Cannibal's rider, and he couldn't back down in the face of danger.

Otherwise, the dragon wouldn't accept him, nor could he accept himself.

...

The sounds of the dragon battle alarmed the entire castle.

Viserys had already woken, dressed, and remained in his room under the protection of guards.

The hallways were filled with soldiers, and the atmosphere was tense.

Three dragons fighting near the castle was enough to terrify anyone.

Rhaegar avoided the guards' eyes and ran down the stairs, out of the castle.

From afar, the three dragons were still locked in combat.

At first, Cannibal held his ground, but he was gradually losing.

Vermithor and Silverwing, having long fought together, attacked in perfect synchronization.

Flanking Cannibal on both sides, they prevented his escape.

Golden and orange flames burst forth simultaneously, leaving Cannibal with no room to dodge. Inevitably, one stream of fire would hit him.

Before long, Vermithor and Silverwing had secured aerial dominance.

From higher ground, they rained down dragonfire, creating fiery curtains that forced Cannibal into retreat.

Cannibal darted left and right, but his massive size made it difficult to evade entirely.

He was forced to fight defensively at lower altitudes, relying on his broader, more powerful ghostly green flames for counterattacks.

---

(Chapter End)

Chapter 67: The Ultimate One Versus Two

“Hiss—crack!”

Not long after Rhaegar fled the castle, two dragons were locked in a brutal close-quarters fight with the Glutton. Roars echoed through the air.

As a cunning wild dragon, the Glutton was a seasoned fighter.

It never allowed the two massive dragons a chance to tear it apart.

With its size and strength, it was unafraid of taking on either dragon individually, confident it could kill its opponent.

But facing both at the same time turned its already disadvantaged position into a desperate struggle.

The Glutton breathed dragonfire as it darted rapidly, refusing to be cornered.

One dragon maintained high-altitude suppression with dragonfire, while the other dived recklessly, launching ferocious attacks.

The Glutton held out for a while, but it ultimately couldn’t keep up.

A blast of golden dragonfire struck one of its wings, causing it to shriek in pain as its body spiraled out of control.

With a thunderous crash, the Glutton hit the ground, smashing through half the castle wall. Stones and dust filled the air, creating a chaotic cloud.

“Glutton, hold on!”

Through the choking dust, Rhaegar rushed to the fallen dragon’s side.

“Roar…”

The Glutton lay writhing, its massive body convulsing. Its dragon head turned to face Rhaegar, eyes narrowing with a cautious gleam.

Rhaegar raised his hand, just as he had done earlier in the day, holding it high.

In High Valyrian, he declared, “Glutton, I stand with you!”

The determination in the dragonrider’s gaze caused the wariness in the Glutton’s emerald slit pupils to gradually fade.

It snorted heavily, lifting its neck high before extending one wing to lay it out before Rhaegar.

“Good. Let’s fight together!”

Rhaegar stepped onto the dragon’s wing, running along its membranous surface to its back. An unprecedented excitement lit his face.

With its rider in position, the Glutton planted its wings firmly, rising to its feet and shaking off the debris that clung to its body.

At Rhaegar’s command to “fly,” it took to the sky once more, flapping its wings powerfully into the night.

“Hiss—crack!”

Seeing the black dragon rise, the two circling wild dragons narrowed their eyes menacingly. They screeched and dove in for a fresh assault.

Seated on the Glutton’s back, Rhaegar watched the two dragons’ movements closely. “Follow my commands, Glutton!” he warned.

He had only recently bonded with the Glutton, and their connection wasn’t yet deep.

If their thoughts clashed mid-battle, the consequences could be catastrophic.

The Glutton growled low, its maw glowing with green dragonfire, a sign of agreement.

*Boom!*

Not long after taking flight, the Glutton narrowly avoided an orange blast of dragonfire descending from above.

With a quick pivot, it altered its course and regained balance in midair.

“Glutton, focus all your efforts on the dark green dragon. We need to take one down first!”

Rhaegar pointed at the Silverwing, who had retreated after its successful strike.

He had observed that Vermithor and Silverwing worked seamlessly together, but their styles differed greatly.

Vermithor, larger and more ferocious, refrained from diving attacks, opting instead to suppress the Glutton’s movements with relentless aerial fire.

This was the primary reason the Glutton had fallen behind.

In contrast, the smaller and typically calmer Silverwing was in an uncharacteristic frenzy, engaging the much larger Glutton in nearly suicidal close combat.

Rhaegar had no time to analyze why this deviated from their usual behavior.

What mattered was driving the two dragons away or defeating them to prevent further destruction.

The chaotic clash of three dragons had already caused terrifying damage.

If left unchecked, the castles of Dragonstone would be reduced to rubble.

“Hiss—crack!”

The Glutton obeyed, climbing higher and unleashing a long-prepared burst of green dragonfire toward Silverwing.

Silverwing, agile as ever, dodged the attack with ease.

Above them, Vermithor’s golden dragonfire descended once more, targeting the Glutton.

Rhaegar, his eyes never leaving Vermithor, shouted for the Glutton to evade.

The Glutton hesitated momentarily before changing course, narrowly avoiding the golden flames.

The searing heat distorted the air as it grazed the dragon’s back.

Rhaegar, seated atop the Glutton, came dangerously close to the flames.

A lock of his silver hair caught fire, the embers quickly spreading.

Reacting swiftly, Rhaegar extinguished the flames with his hands before they could consume him.

Another moment of delay, and he’d be riding the dragon naked again.

“Glutton, trust me. I’ll be your second pair of eyes.”

Surviving the first skirmish left Rhaegar drenched in cold sweat, and he became acutely aware of the fragile bond between dragon and rider.

Had the Glutton hesitated even a second longer, Vermithor’s flames would have hit them directly.

Even with Rhaegar’s abilities, including [Blood of Fire] and [True Dragon’s Blood], prolonged exposure to dragonfire would leave him badly burned.

Through the earlier evasive maneuvers, the Devourer had come to realize the value of the Dragon Rider on its back, acknowledging his commands.

It let out a piercing screech and continued its pursuit of Silverwing.

It remembered the rider's instruction: eliminate the inconspicuous green dragon first.

Silverwing, undeterred by the Devourer's aggressive charge, spread its wings and advanced, ready for close combat.

It had an ally. All it needed to do was hold off the black dragon that had stolen dragon eggs for a moment.

Its mate would soon join the fray, and together they would tear the enemy apart.

The Devourer, violent and short-tempered by nature, roared furiously when it saw Silverwing daring to approach head-on. It bared its fangs and claws in fury.

It intended to shred Silverwing to pieces and devour it bite by bite.

The battle of the dragons was about to begin.

The two massive dragons collided mid-air with a thunderous crash, their wings beating furiously to stay aloft, claws tearing at each other, and jaws snapping and biting relentlessly.

Rega swayed precariously on the Devourer’s back, leaning low to avoid being caught in the crossfire.

He turned his head slightly, his eyes fixed on Vormithor above.

Against such a ferocious dragon, he couldn’t afford to let his guard down.

The moment Vormithor made a move, he had to command the Devourer to respond instantly and evade the two-pronged assault.

“Hiss—Grahh...”

As expected, Vormithor let out a furious roar and dove toward the two battling dragons.

“Devourer, unleash dragonfire behind us!”

Rega’s heart raced as he issued the command to intercept.

The Devourer, sensing the danger, whipped its head around and unleashed a torrent of searing green dragonfire directly at the descending Vormithor.

Boom!

Vormithor retaliated with its golden dragonfire, and the two blasts collided spectacularly, erupting in a plume of smoke and flame.

Ultimately, the Devourer’s green dragonfire proved stronger.

Breaking through the golden flames, it struck Vormithor’s fearsome head.

Caught off guard by the impact, Vormithor momentarily froze in mid-air, its massive body faltering.

Rega’s eyes lit up at the sight. He thought to himself, “This is the chance. Vormithor won’t be able to assist in time—focus on taking down Silverwing!”

His mind raced as he resolved to end the fight quickly.

“Devourer, dragonfire!”

The opportunity lasted only a fleeting moment, and Rega issued the command without hesitation.

The Devourer and Silverwing were locked in an intense melee, their claws raking at each other’s bodies, necks twisting and snapping to evade and counterattack.

Hearing the command, the Devourer reared its neck back, avoiding Silverwing’s bite, and unleashed a blast of green dragonfire.

Boom!

The dragonfire struck Silverwing squarely on the head. Silverwing let out a harrowing scream, its wings flapping wildly in panic.

Seizing the advantage, the Devourer lunged forward and clamped its jaws around Silverwing’s thrashing neck, its fangs gleaming coldly.

Crunch—

With a vicious bite, it sank its teeth deep into Silverwing’s neck, blood spurting everywhere.

“Hiss—Grahh!”

Hearing its mate’s anguished cry, Vormithor finally snapped out of its daze and roared, diving once more toward the Devourer.

“Devourer, retreat now!”

The moment Vormithor moved, Rega immediately commanded the retreat.

The dragonfire might have stopped Vormithor once, but there wouldn’t be a second time.

However, the scent of blood had stirred the Devourer’s primal instincts. It seemed to ignore the command, its jaws tightening as it attempted to finish Silverwing off with one final bite.

(End of Chapter)  

Chapter 68: Greatness or Madness?

“Hiss... crack...”

In the critical moment between life and death, Silverwing’s sharp talons pierced into the belly of the Devourer, roaring as it spat dragonfire.

However, with its neck clamped in the Devourer’s jaws, the dragonfire couldn’t aim properly, uselessly cutting through the night sky.

Severely wounded, the Devourer let out an angry howl, loosening its grip on Silverwing’s neck out of instinct.

At this key moment, Wamisor swooped in.

Golden dragonfire shot forth like a towering pillar, crashing into the Devourer’s head as it clamped down on Silverwing.

The impact left the Devourer briefly stunned.

Its jaws unconsciously released, its wings stopped flapping, and the struggling Silverwing took the opportunity to kick it away with its talons.

The Devourer was paying the price for its recklessness.

As the two dragons broke apart, blood gushed from Silverwing’s neck like a fountain. It quickly retreated, struggling to maintain its balance in the air.

Wamisor let out a low growl at Silverwing before turning to chase the falling Devourer.

Rhaegar was thoroughly frustrated by the Devourer’s behavior.

Despite being instructed to follow orders, its feral instincts had taken over, causing it to act on its own.

As the Devourer faltered, Rhaegar went plummeting down with it.

Feeling the familiar sensation of free fall, Rhaegar instinctively grabbed onto the dragon’s back scales, ensuring he wouldn’t be thrown off.

“Devourer, wake up!”

He shouted the dragon’s name, hoping to rouse it before they hit the ground.

If it didn’t regain consciousness, the moment they crashed would be his end as well.

“Roar...”

Finally, the Devourer opened its eyes, shaking off the dizziness and flapping its wings to slow its descent.

This was no ordinary dragon—it was a powerful wild dragon that had roamed the world.

Its tough hide and thick muscles were its greatest advantages.

A direct hit to the head with dragonfire wasn’t enough to take it down.

Just before they hit the ground, the Devourer regained its balance, spreading its wings to glide, slowly ascending alongside the steep cliff face.

At this moment, Rhaegar noticed the dragon’s injuries.

Its neck and wings bore deep bite wounds.

Its abdomen had two large gaping holes, with dragon blood pouring out, faintly revealing its beating internal organs.

Rhaegar immediately realized they couldn’t continue this fight.

The strategy of trading blow for blow had severely injured Silverwing, but the Devourer was also battered and bloodied.

And the enemy still had a fully unharmed Wamisor.

If the bronze behemoth managed to entangle them, even if the Devourer somehow won, the cost would be devastating.

Rhaegar couldn’t accept such an outcome.

“Devourer, fly toward the ocean.”

Turning to look at the pursuing Wamisor, Rhaegar gave the order to retreat.

Both dragons were focused on the Devourer—if it fled, the battle would end.

“Hiss... crack...”

Wamisor was relentless, staying close behind them, its golden dragonfire tearing through the darkness like lightning.

Sensing the approaching danger, the Devourer’s rationality overcame its feral instincts.

Following Rhaegar’s command, it flapped its wings and soared past the cliffs, heading toward the beach.

Rhaegar kept a constant watch behind them.

Silverwing, perhaps too severely injured, was grounded, snarling and struggling to rise, only to fall again.

“Silverwing has lost its ability to fight. At least there’s some room for maneuver now,” Rhaegar thought with a sigh of relief.

With Wamisor closing in, Rhaegar maneuvered the Devourer to dodge, occasionally turning to unleash green dragonfire in retaliation.

The Devourer’s dragonfire was immensely powerful, overpowering Wamisor’s flames in every exchange.

This slowed down Wamisor’s pursuit.

In a matter of moments, the Devourer reached the skies above the beach, ready to fly out to sea.

Suddenly, Rhaegar’s gaze fell on the towering cliffs along the shoreline.

In a flash of realization, his heart raced, and a sense of foreboding gripped him.

He recalled the scene from his nightmare.

It was at a cliff just like this that another dragon had emerged in an ambush.

The thought sent chills down his spine, and his expression changed dramatically. Instinctively, he shouted, “Dragonfire!”

After the intense battle, a bond had begun to form between the Devourer and Rhaegar.

The moment Rhaegar called for dragonfire, the Devourer turned as though guided by instinct, unleashing a massive torrent of flames toward the cliff below.

Boom—

In an instant, scarlet dragonfire shot out from beneath the cliff, colliding directly with the Devourer’s emerald flames.

The scarlet flames were quickly overpowered and dispersed.

The clash of the two dragonfires at close range created a powerful shockwave.

The Devourer was briefly thrown off balance by the blast but quickly steadied its wings and flew out of Dragonstone Island without looking back.

On the dragon’s back, Rhaegar barely held on, the fierce wind leaving him dizzy and disoriented.

Lying flat on the Devourer’s back, he turned to glance at the cliff.

“Who... ambushed us?”

Rhaegar’s eyes were fixed on the cliff, desperate to catch a glimpse of the dragon lurking below.

---

He was certain—tonight's dragon fight was no natural occurrence.

Someone must have orchestrated it from the shadows.

Unfortunately, all he could see was the moss-covered cliff; nothing else revealed itself.

"Don't let me find you!"

Thinking of the Silverwing and the chasing Vermithor on Dragonstone, Rhaegar gritted his teeth and ordered a swift retreat.

This conspiracy was clearly aimed at him.

Staying on Dragonstone would not only endanger himself but also risk his family's safety in the castle.

Leaving as quickly as possible was the right choice.

The Gluttonous One was extremely fast, and the long-dormant Vermithor could hardly catch up.

After a brief chase, the Gluttonous One left its pursuers far behind, forcing them to return in frustration.

Under the cover of night, the Gluttonous One vanished without a trace.

...

On Dragonstone.

A figure in a black cloak hid in the shadows of the beach, gazing into the distance at the dark dragon that had disappeared.

“Intercepted! Was it a coincidence or something foreseen?”

The cloaked figure muttered, pulling a gold coin from his pocket.

"Whenever a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin to decide if they'll be great or mad."

"Which are you—great or mad?"

His voice carried a deep, probing doubt.

He flipped the coin high into the air and caught it mid-flight, holding it flat in his palm.

Staring intently at the side facing up, he fell into an unexplainable silence.

After a long pause, he angrily flung the coin far into the sea and left quietly.

...

Meanwhile, in the castle.

Viserys stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, glaring furiously at the ruined walls reduced to rubble.

He had just received the news.

During the chaotic dragon battle, Rhaegar had slipped away to ride his dragon and join the fray.

The recent spectacle of dragons clashing fiercely left him terrified, fearing for his eldest son’s safety.

Thankfully, the dark dragon had driven off Silverwing and escaped under Vermithor's pursuit.

As long as the dragon wasn’t killed on the spot, it was almost impossible to catch and kill a fleeing adult dragon.

This meant his eldest son had likely escaped as well and was temporarily safe.

"Have the two guards who spread the false message confessed to anything yet?"

Viserys turned to his Hand of the King, Laenor.

Laenor quickly replied, "The two guards didn’t reveal anything. The dragonkeeper who spread the false information has vanished, and the trail has gone cold."

“Keep investigating. There’s no such thing as an impenetrable secret.”

Suppressing his fury, Viserys continued, “And about tonight’s dragon attack—Vermithor and Silverwing have always stayed in their lairs. There’s no way they’d show up together to launch an attack without reason.”

“Your Grace, according to the guards stationed at the tower, Vermithor and Silverwing were after the Gluttonous One. The moment they encountered each other, a fight broke out.”

Laenor offered his theory, “The Gluttonous One is the largest wild dragon on the island and has a habit of stealing dragon eggs and hunting hatchlings. This may have enraged Silverwing, who had just laid eggs.”

The dragon battle was witnessed by all.

For the usually docile Silverwing to be driven to madness, the only explanation was that her eggs had been eaten.

“Search! Conduct a thorough investigation—leave no one in the castle unchecked!”

Viserys clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white, his eyes blazing with anger.

“This is a conspiracy against the royal heirs. Whoever is behind it must pay the price.”

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 69: The Crab Claw Peninsula*

Night, over the Narrow Sea

Rhaegar rode Glutton as they soared over the churning waves of the vast sea.

Glutton was gravely wounded, his abdomen bleeding profusely, leaving a trail of red across the ocean surface below.

After the perilous escape, Rhaegar’s heart belatedly began to race.

He patted Glutton’s scales and asked, “Why did those two dragons attack you?”

He knew it was a conspiracy.

Still, he was curious as to how Vermithor and Silverwing had been provoked.

Glutton let out a low growl, expressing his dissatisfaction.

Rhaegar understood its meaning.

At nightfall, someone had fed Glutton a large quantity of cattle and sheep.

In the mix, they had also thrown in a dragon egg.

As a wild dragon with a penchant for dragon eggs, Glutton naturally couldn’t resist the temptation.

It was the perfect snack to make up for his failure in hunting dragon hatchlings.

Rhaegar sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had suspected that Glutton must have done something outrageous to incite the attack from Vermithor and Silverwing.

“Dragon eggs and hatchlings are treasures of Dragonstone. You’re forbidden from eating them in the future!” Rhaegar issued a stern command.

“Roar…”

Despite his severe injuries, Glutton remained proud, growling softly in defiance.

Rhaegar tried to communicate with him, attempting to negotiate giving up his obsession with dragon eggs and hatchlings.

Glutton, being straightforward by nature, didn’t hide the reason for his thievery.

“Dragonstone’s territory is too small. If you don’t steal eggs and hatchlings, the grown dragons will encroach on your space?”

Rhaegar interpreted his meaning.

“Don’t worry. It’s true that Dragonstone can’t support too many dragons. I’ll find new lands for the younger generations to live on.”

“And you, my friend, are not to steal dragon eggs or hatchlings anymore. I’ll ensure that enough livestock is provided for you regularly!”

Understanding Glutton’s concerns, Rhaegar proposed a solution.

Glutton flew on in silence, neither agreeing nor refusing.

Rhaegar said no more.

When it came to territory and survival, neither dragons nor humans easily yielded.

Once they found more suitable lands for dragons, Glutton’s behavior would naturally change.

…

Glutton flew farther and farther, and Rhaegar had no idea where he was headed.

Most likely, they were still within the Narrow Sea.

One thing was certain:

Rhaegar sharply noticed that Glutton’s flight was slowing, and his breathing had grown labored.

“You’re badly injured. We need to find somewhere to land.”

Noticing the blood still streaming from Glutton’s abdomen and other wounds, Rhaegar voiced his concern.

“Roar…”

Glutton replied with a faint growl, far less forceful than before.

By dawn,

The rays of the rising sun broke through the clouds. Rhaegar, exhausted, slumped over Glutton’s back, gazing down at the sea below.

Suddenly, he spotted the edge of land.

Slowly, more of it came into view: dense forests, endless mountain ranges.

“Look! We’ve found land, Glutton!” Rhaegar exclaimed excitedly, pointing below.

Glutton shot him a sidelong glance and silently began to descend.

He already knew where the land was.

As a wild dragon who enjoyed roaming, he was well aware of suitable places to land.

Transitioning from the ocean to the land, Rhaegar found the experience exhilarating.

Originally, he had planned to ride Glutton across the continent, exploring far and wide.

But before he was ready, fate had forced his departure.

Glutton crossed a barren coastal strip and flew into a maze of interwoven mountain ridges.

He landed in a valley where dense forests, marshes, and rivers intertwined.

The moment they touched the ground, Glutton’s legs gave out. Staggering a few steps, he collapsed heavily onto the muddy grass.

The impact gouged a deep trench in the earth.

Having stayed awake all night, Rhaegar was utterly exhausted. Failing to hold on as they landed, he was thrown off Glutton’s back and sent tumbling along the ground.

With a thud, he hit the ground, rolled twice, and blacked out.

For a moment, man and dragon lay fallen, their plight a little pathetic.

*"Creak…"*

The dragon's physique was truly formidable.

Despite a second injury to its abdomen and continuous blood loss, the Glutton still managed to force itself upright, swaying as it stood.

Its vertical pupils gazed at Rhaegar, who had fainted on the ground, with a hint of hesitation in their depths.

Lowering its head, the dragon nudged Rhaegar's body, turning him from a prone position onto his back.

The steady rise and fall of his chest proved that its dragon rider was still alive.

Fortunately, the patch of grass Rhaegar landed on was soft enough to absorb much of the impact.

Rhaegar was simply exhausted and had fainted from the fall, with no obvious injuries.

The Glutton extended its neck, surveying the valley's surroundings.

It had deliberately chosen a decent landing spot—there were resources nearby to help speed up its wound recovery.

The valley lacked large predators, and the cliffs were dotted with caves perfect for hiding.

The Glutton gently took Rhaegar into its mouth and carried him toward a wide-open cave in the mountainside.

At the cave's entrance, it set Rhaegar down and used its nose to nudge him further inside.

It needed to find something to treat its wounds. The dragon rider was too fragile to accompany it to such places.

Hiding him was the best option.

Besides, with its speed, it could return quickly.

The Glutton crawled out of the valley.

Stopping at the valley's entrance, it turned to glance at the cave where Rhaegar was hidden.

After a moment's pause, it lifted its tail slightly and left a pile of dragon dung.

Just in case—its mark would deter any wild beasts from approaching.

With everything taken care of, the Glutton let out a long roar, flapped its wings, and soared into the sky once more.

---

*Noon.*

The sun hung high in the sky, bathing the forested valley in warmth.

Inside the cave, Rhaegar's eyelids twitched as if he were about to wake up.

At that moment, a sound echoed through the valley.

"Come quickly! Look at this huge trail of blood. I wonder what giant beast left it behind."

"Tormond, be careful. There's something strange about this valley."

"…"

Amidst the chaotic chatter, Rhaegar slowly opened his eyes, looking around in confusion.

"Where am I? Where's the Glutton?"

Surveying the cave filled with cobwebs, Rhaegar was momentarily stunned.

He remembered the Glutton had found a patch of land, and they had arrived at a hidden valley…

And then? He couldn’t recall anything.

"Someone set me up. There was a dragon ambush in the shadows…"

Suddenly, Rhaegar recalled the moment he was attacked.

But who had the ability to infiltrate Dragonstone Isle and plot against him?

Thinking it over repeatedly, Rhaegar could only come up with one person who had the motive and capability.

"When I return, I won’t let you off!"

Having guessed the culprit, Rhaegar clenched his fists tightly.

---

"Big sis, come quickly! There are fresh tracks in front of this cave!"

As he was lost in thought, a child's voice called from outside the cave, summoning their companions.

Rustling footsteps followed soon after.

Rhaegar immediately tensed up.

He rose quietly, retrieving a dagger from his spatial bracelet and hiding it behind his waist.

In mere moments, the voices outside grew louder.

Rhaegar furrowed his brows, tightening his grip on the dagger.

Alone in an unfamiliar place, with his dragon absent, he—a mere child—was in extreme danger.

"Who's inside? Come out!"

A young girl's commanding voice echoed from the cave entrance.

Rhaegar tilted his head, his mind racing.

Judging from the earlier voices, there were likely three people outside:

Two young boys and one girl referred to as their "big sister."

Rhaegar blinked, feeling the perceived danger diminish significantly.

As long as he wasn’t thrown into a group of savages, he was confident his harmless appearance and noble status would protect him.

If they happened to be hunters from a noble family, all the better.

Not only might they hold a grand celebration to welcome him, but at the very least, they would treat him well, offer good food, and safely escort him back to King's Landing.

---

A new journey had begun, one that would change the balance of power when Rhaegar returned.

(End of Chapter)  

*Chapter 70: The Free Folk*

"Relax, I'm coming out now!"

After careful consideration, Rhaegar decided it was safer to comply and stay honest.

He put the dagger back into his space bracelet, raised his hands, and slowly walked out of the cave.

As soon as he stepped outside, he was greeted by the sight of a drawn bow aimed directly at him.

Startled, Rhaegar took a step back.

"A kid?"

The archer was a teenage girl dressed in leather skirts and a fur jacket. She stared at Rhaegar suspiciously.

Seeing her attire, Rhaegar felt a chill run down his spine.

The girl in the leather skirt didn’t lower her bow. Instead, she took a cautious step forward and asked warily, "Is there anyone else in the cave? Tell them to come out!"

Rhaegar stood still, afraid to move recklessly. He replied honestly, "There's no need to shout. I'm the only one here."

"That's nonsense! How could a kid like you possibly make it through the swamp and jungle alone?"

The girl in the leather skirt cursed, her sharp eyes scanning Rhaegar from head to toe.

In that moment, Rhaegar understood.

She must have assumed, based on his clothes, that he was some noble family's child.

After a brief pause, he carefully asked, "Are you... from a tribe?"

He chose his words delicately, avoiding the term "savage."

The so-called "savages" were what people called the free folk who refused to submit to the rule of local lords. They were considered unruly, wild, and uncivilized brutes.

That was how the scholar who taught him had described them.

The girl ignored his question and continued to focus on the cave's entrance.

Two young boys soon emerged from behind her. They wore clothes made of animal hide and carried bone axes and shovels in their hands.

Each of them grabbed one of Rhaegar's arms and dragged him aside.

"Take it easy. You don't need to be so rough," Rhaegar protested, wincing from the pain.

One of the boys looked about ten years old, thin and frail. The other was older, with dark skin and a robust build.

Neither paid any attention to Rhaegar’s complaints. Their eyes were fixed intently on the girl in the leather skirt, waiting for her next move.

It turned out Rhaegar was telling the truth.

The girl slipped to the cave's entrance, loosed an arrow, and sent it flying into the hard rock wall with a loud thunk.

She surveyed the area. The cave was completely empty—there wasn’t even a rat, let alone a person.

The tense atmosphere eased slightly. The girl let out a quiet sigh of relief, retrieved her arrow, and motioned for the boys to bring Rhaegar into the cave.

The thin boy tied Rhaegar up with some rough rope and tossed him into a corner of the cave.

Rhaegar shifted uncomfortably, trying to avoid the dusty cobwebs.

The girl walked up to him, grabbed his chin, and demanded fiercely, "Who are you? What family are you from? Where are the adults?"

Her grip hurt, and Rhaegar glared at her in annoyance.

"Still daring to glare at me? If you don’t start talking, you’ll regret it!" she threatened, tightening her grip.

Having interacted with them for a bit, Rhaegar felt more confident now.

He scrutinized the girl with a few glances. She had brown curly hair, a high nose bridge, and well-defined features—a very capable-looking young woman.

But none of that mattered to Rhaegar.

He only cared about two things: the girl’s smooth, wheat-colored skin and the blisters on her knuckles.

Rhaegar’s eyes glinted as he spoke. "You're not savages, are you?"

The girl's expression shifted slightly. In a cold voice, she replied, "I’m the one asking the questions here. Stop changing the subject."

"That boy over there is your younger brother. Neither of you are savages," Rhaegar continued, his tone confident.

The girl’s subtle change in attitude made Rhaegar even more certain of his guess.

Under her suspicious gaze, Rhaegar began to elaborate. "Savages grow up surviving in the wild. They don’t have smooth skin, and they certainly can’t afford to raise a sickly child."

He glanced pointedly at the thin boy as he spoke.

As someone who had long dealt with frail health, Rhaegar was sensitive to physical conditions. He could tell at a glance that the boy’s poor health wasn’t something a savage family could manage.

In fact, savages couldn’t even afford to keep a child with a weak constitution alive.

The girl’s face darkened. She released Rhaegar’s chin and said curtly, "So what? You might be clever, but cleverness won’t save your life."

"Tell me who you are, or I won’t hesitate to deal with you."

"No, no, no! I’m only six years old. Mistreating a child is unacceptable anywhere," Rhaegar shook his head repeatedly and suggested, "Untie me, and let’s have an honest conversation. Who knows? Maybe I can help you."

He emphasized his point by adding, "I know many scholars who are experts in herbal medicine. They could help your brother with his illness."

"My brother isn’t sick!" the girl scoffed dismissively.

Rhaegar wasn’t convinced. "His face is pale—he doesn’t look like someone who’s healthy."

---

“Stop talking, or I’ll hit you!” the girl threatened, raising her fist.

Rhaegar immediately behaved himself and gave an awkward smile.

When under someone else’s roof, you have to bow your head. He didn’t want to suffer any physical pain.

Considering Rhaegar’s small and frail appearance, the girl thought for a moment before untying the straw rope binding him.

“Sister, he looks like a noble child…” the frail boy whispered.

“No kidding. Look at his clothes—they scream ‘noble’ from a mile away,” the sturdy boy retorted.

The frail boy closed his mouth sulkily and crouched at the side, silently observing.

The girl shot the sturdy boy a glare and said sternly, “Tessen, go find Uncle Falcon and the others. Tormund and I will interrogate him.”

“But…”

The boy named Tessen looked reluctant but quickly obeyed after meeting the girl’s dangerous glare. He shuffled out of the cave hesitantly.

With one person gone, the girl’s expression softened a little. She said calmly, “My name is Baolan, and this is my younger brother Tormund. We’re from the Peregrine Tribe.”

“What’s your last name?” Rhaegar tested.

“No last name. We’re bastards—outcasts that nobody likes,” she replied.

Her tone and demeanor as she said this made it clear how bitter she felt about her origins.

It made sense. What bastard hasn’t suffered scorn and ridicule? Anyone in her position would feel the same.

Baolan asked, “Who are you? Why were you alone in the cave? And what’s with the blood and that pile of dung outside?”

Rhaegar pressed his lips together, hesitating over whether to reveal his true identity.

If they were rational, they might detain him to ransom him for money from the royal family. But given Baolan’s obvious resentment of her origins, who knew if jealousy might drive her to do something reckless?

Baolan’s eyes didn’t leave him for a moment. She seemed to guess his concerns immediately.

She scoffed. “Spill it. I won’t do anything to you. The Peregrine Tribe is an orderly tribe that protects children and women.”

“Alright. I just hope you won’t be too shocked.”

Rhaegar shrugged and said, “My name is Rhaegar Targaryen. The King is my father. I came here riding a dragon, traveling the continent to admire its beauty.”

This statement was half true and half false.

It revealed his background while also serving to intimidate them.

“Targaryen! You’re a prince?” Baolan froze for a moment, then finally reacted.

Her younger brother Tormund’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he leaned in and asked, “You said you came here on a dragon. Where’s your dragon?”

“One question at a time. Don’t rush,” Rhaegar replied solemnly. “Let me emphasize again: I am indeed a prince. Look at my silver hair and purple eyes—both are symbols of the Targaryen family.”

He needed to ensure his personal safety.

As long as they didn’t lose their minds, they probably wouldn’t harm him.

The siblings before him were still caught up in the excitement of capturing a prince.

To encounter a true-blooded Targaryen dragonrider in their lifetime—there was something undeniably surreal about it.

---

*(End of Chapter)*