31-35

*Chapter 31: Dreamfyre*

Staring at the pitch-black cave entrance, Rhaegar paused momentarily, murmuring softly:

"Ser, do you think I can tame a dragon?"

Ser Erryk's expression changed, and he replied anxiously, "Absolutely not! There's an irritable adult dragon in there. The king would never allow you to take such a risk!"

"Why not?"

Rhaegar fixed his gaze on the white knight, questioning, "Do you think I can't tame a dragon?"

"No, that's not what I mean," Erryk stammered, trying to find the right words. "Gaining a dragon's acceptance is no easy feat. You should carefully consider this."

"But I want to try, Ser," Rhaegar said, stepping forward and taking a deep breath. "My sister was flying dragons by the age of seven. When this winter ends, I’ll be seven too."

"If she can do it, there’s no reason I can’t."

There was one more thing Rhaegar didn’t say aloud.

He carried the *Blood of the Dragon*, giving him an extraordinary resistance to fire.

His Valyrian bloodline was pure enough to earn a dragon’s recognition.

"I cannot allow this, Prince," Erryk said, blocking Rhaegar’s path with a resolute expression. "I swore an oath to the king to protect his eldest son. I cannot stand by and watch you take such a risk."

"But you also swore an oath to me, Ser. To carry out my orders to the best of your ability—regardless of life or death, regardless of honor or disgrace."

Rhaegar raised his voice, staring intensely at the white knight before him.

Perhaps it was the nightmares, the weight of expectations, or Rhaenyra's coldness—everything seemed to erupt at this moment.

His heart was consumed by a chaotic mix of negative emotions.

Fear of the nightmares. Frustration with the expectations placed on him. Even jealousy toward his sister...

He was Rhaegar. Rhaegar Targaryen.

And Targaryens are never weaker than anyone else!

Behind him lay Dreamfyre’s lair. Rhaegar was determined to tame this dragon, to claim honor and respect with it.

Erryk could not stop him.

Because he was a white knight, bound by his oaths.

Rhaegar’s expression turned solemn as he issued his first command to Erryk:

"Now, as the eldest son of Viserys I, I order you to remain here and stand by. Do not disobey!"

"Prince, you—" Erryk started to protest, but Rhaegar interrupted sharply, "Silence, Ser!"

Bound by his oath, Erryk could not betray the white cloak draped over his shoulders. His face twisted in internal struggle as he stood at attention, gripping his sword hilt tightly.

"Very well, dutiful white knight."

Rhaegar walked past Erryk, casting a glance at the stunned Maenars nearby. "Erryk will stay outside the lair to provide support. You may leave if you wish."

Maenars shivered under the prince’s commanding tone but protested eagerly, "No! I will stay by your side. I’m well-versed in dragon behavior—I can help you."

He hoped to win the prince’s favor and escape the injustices of his fate.

How could he back down at such a critical moment?

Rhaegar studied him curiously, noting his determined, almost desperate demeanor. With a nod, he said, "Very well. If I succeed in taming Dreamfyre, you will be credited."

"Thank you, Your Highness!"

Maenars perked up, gathering his courage as he stepped ahead of Rhaegar, entering the cave first to lead the way.

Rhaegar did not object. He glanced back at Erryk, remarking coolly, "He’s braver than you, Ser."

With that, Rhaegar followed Maenars into the dark cave, his figure swallowed by the shadows.

Erryk closed his eyes in anguish, his emotions a storm of bitterness and helplessness.

His duty was to protect the prince.

But the prince clearly loved danger.

...

Inside the lair, Maenars picked up a torch from the ground and lit it skillfully, bringing light to the pitch-black space.

The sudden burst of light made Rhaegar instinctively shield his eyes from the glare.

Once inside, Maenars’s earlier excitement faded into palpable tension. "Your Highness, Dreamfyre has lived in this lair for many years and has a volatile temperament. Perhaps we should observe from a distance first."

"I will," Rhaegar replied, nodding. Then, tilting his head, he asked, "You seem very familiar with this place."

Maenars offered a shy smile. "Yes. Archmaester Barth requires regular inspections of the dragon lairs. Most maesters can’t tolerate the smell of dragon dung, so I’m usually the one assigned to the task."

"I see. It seems you’re diligent in your duties."

Noticing how effortlessly Maenars navigated the lair, Rhaegar considered him a promising individual.

"Your Highness, whenever I enter the lairs, I always bring one or two dragonkeepers. They speak High Valyrian fluently and can sing calming songs to soothe the dragons."

Menace blushed from the compliment, revealing an important piece of information.

At this point, he no longer cared whether the prince truly intended to tame the dragon or whether such a feat was even possible.

All he wanted was to showcase his abilities and earn the prince’s favor.

Rhaegar watched his retreating figure and thought to himself, "This long-repressed young man is way too eager."  

Still, it didn’t matter—eagerness or not, as long as it was useful.

Rhaegar murmured, “Valyrian is my native language. I can give it a try.”

Ever since he had mastered ancient Valyrian, he began to recall fragments of long-buried memories.

They were from his childhood, likely before he turned three years old.

At that time, he was perpetually comatose, his life hanging by a thread.

What no one knew was that during those days, he had brief moments of consciousness. However, he was so weak that he couldn’t open his eyes, rendering him no different from someone in a deep sleep.

But his hearing, touch, and sense of smell were intact.

In those half-awake intervals, Rhaegar often heard a soft, gentle humming near his ear.

He didn’t know who the voice belonged to.

Sometimes, the voice’s owner would caress his cheek or place a kiss on his forehead.

Though he couldn’t see or speak at the time, he remembered the voice’s tone and could smell a faint, pungent odor.

When he regained full consciousness, he forgot the melody of the lullaby but recognized the faint scent—it was the sulfuric stench of dragons.

Now, he could recall most of the melody. It was an ancient Valyrian lullaby.

Clearing his throat, Rhaegar mimicked the gentle tone he remembered, slowly humming the song called "The Shepherd’s Sunset."  

The sound of a soft, childlike voice emerged from the darkness, dispelling inner unease.

“Roar…”

As the lullaby echoed through the lair, a massive creature deep within the shadows opened its eyes, lifting its head in confusion.

The underground lair wasn’t very spacious, and its depths were not as vast as the tunnel leading to it.

Rhaegar soon arrived at a larger underground chamber.

By the flickering torchlight, he saw scattered remains of large livestock carcasses strewn across the ground, along with the foul stench of dragon dung.

Clang, clang…

The torchlight flickered violently. The stifling air grew hot as the sound of chains dragging against the ground echoed from the shadows.

“Hand me the torch. Stay here and wait for me,” Rhaegar instructed.

Through the dim light, he spotted a massive figure curled in the corner. He immediately realized it was the dragon, Dreamfyre.

Menace obediently handed over the torch, pressing himself against the wall. Nervously, he pleaded, “Your Highness, please be careful. If it’s too dangerous, just run.”

“I will. Pray for me!”

Rhaegar disliked parting words that sounded so final. He continued humming the lullaby as he cautiously advanced.

He approached the enormous silhouette in the corner.

---

> Dreamfyre is a relatively gentle dragon, but its long years of isolation in the lair have made it increasingly irritable.

End of Chapter  

*Chapter 32: Failure to Tame*

Crunch—  

Rhaegar stepped over a pile of foul-smelling dragon dung, accidentally snapping a bone marked with bite marks underfoot. The sharp sound echoed unnaturally in the dim, silent space.

The sudden noise sent a cold sweat down Rhaegar’s back, his heart pounding in his chest.

His eyes never left the shadowy figure in the dark, terrified that any slight misstep might provoke it.

Pressing a trembling hand against his heaving chest, Rhaegar was certain of one thing:

If this had happened six months ago, his poor health might have caused his heart to falter. One wrong move, and he could have collapsed on the spot.

Taking a deep breath, he worked to calm his racing emotions and continued humming a song he barely knew.

Clink… clink…  

After a while, the sound of chains clashing echoed again.

By now, Rhaegar had moved much closer, close enough to catch a faint glimpse of Dreamfyre.

Dreamfyre had a slim build, with pale blue scales streaked by silver lines. Her light blue wings and silvery back scales shimmered faintly.

The dragon’s head remained hidden in shadow, but the curved, silver horns atop her head were exposed to the dim light.

The sight of the pale blue dragon made Rhaegar halt instinctively.

At the moment, Dreamfyre’s long neck was coiled against her side, her wings tucked neatly by her ribs as if she were resting.

But Rhaegar knew better.

Dreamfyre had been awake ever since his song first echoed through the cavern.

She was watching him, studying this uninvited intruder.

To approach an untamed, full-grown dragon alone… It was foolish to claim he wasn’t afraid.

His arm holding the torch trembled; his legs felt as heavy as lead, refusing to move. Even his lips, struggling to sing the song, felt numb.

“Move. Move already!”

Fear gripped him like a vice, but Rhaegar’s remaining shred of reason forced him to pound his legs, willing them to move forward.

He was here to tame the dragon. He couldn’t give up halfway.

After what felt like an eternity, Rhaegar finally noticed that Dreamfyre hadn’t shown signs of driving him away. His nerves eased slightly, and his defiant will pushed him onward.

Thirty meters. Twenty meters. Fifteen meters…

As the distance shrank, Rhaegar could see Dreamfyre clearly.

Just as he suspected, she had been awake all along.

Her majestic head rested atop her long, slender tail, and her amber eyes watched him coldly, unblinking.

The oppressive presence of a full-grown dragon in such a confined space was overwhelming, like the Sword of Damocles hanging above his head, ready to fall at any moment.

Huff… huff…  

The song faltered. His heavy breathing now echoed in the silence.

“I’ve come this far. I can’t fail now!”

Driven by adrenaline, Rhaegar stiffened, shouting inwardly to summon his courage. His gaze locked with Dreamfyre’s.

“Dreamfyre, be my companion! I’ll take you back to the skies!”

Biting his lip until it bled, Rhaegar forced the words out in a desperate shout. He raised the torch high with one hand, extending the other toward her.

No matter what, he had to try to tame her.

Grrr…  

Dreamfyre’s throat rumbled, a deep growl emerging from her mouth.

Still half-asleep, her temper seemed calm for the moment, showing no outright hostility.

Her nostrils flared slightly as if sensing some mysterious connection between them.

Dreamfyre understood immediately.

This connection… it was the same as the one her first and former rider, Rhaenys, once had.

Dreamfyre’s piercing amber eyes locked onto Rhaegar, scrutinizing him.

“Dreamfyre, accept me! You don’t belong in a dark cave, hidden from the world!”

Roar!  

At Rhaegar’s shout, Dreamfyre responded with a powerful roar that echoed through the cavern.

For a brief moment, the young prince and the dragon, imprisoned for decades, stared into each other’s eyes.

A strange connection formed between them, drawing them together.

In each other’s pupils, they saw their reflections.

Through this faint, unspoken bond, Rhaegar felt the depths of Dreamfyre’s emotions:

Rage. Restlessness. Resentment…

And an overwhelming yearning for freedom.

The immense negative energy was like an abyss, bottomless and suffocating. Rhaegar was shaken.

Then he realized.

A dragon meant to roam the skies and fields had been caged for decades after losing her rider.

---

In this sunless underground cavern, it was understandable for emotions to run high while transitioning from youth to adulthood.

Rhaegar mustered his courage and took a hesitant step forward, speaking earnestly, "Dreamfire, let me take you away from here!"

Dreamfire fixed its gaze on Rhaegar . Although it couldn't understand his words, it could sense the empathy in his voice.

It had been imprisoned for far too long.

Indeed, it longed to leave.

Dreamfire moved.

Its wings braced against the ground as it raised its head high, trying to display its most majestic form.

Clink… clank…  

However, the sturdy shackles binding its neck and feet tightened. Before it could fully rise, the chains yanked it back with relentless force.

Force begets resistance.

The more Dreamfire had longed to stand tall in the preceding moment, the more excruciating the pull was in the next.

Thud!  

Dreamfire fell to the ground, its slender neck nearly snapping as it slammed heavily against the cavern wall.

Seeing this, Rhaegar was overwhelmed with worry and exclaimed, "Dreamfire, are you alright?!"

He had yet to realize that the bond they had just established was severed the moment Dreamfire fell.

Dreamfire struggled on the ground for a moment before lifting its head again. A fierce torrent of flames erupted from its jaws.

"Dreamfire, are you okay?"

Rhaegar cautiously took a step forward.

But when their eyes met again, there was no longer any trace of closeness in Dreamfire’s gaze—only anger and fury remained.

"Shriek!"

With a sudden roar, Dreamfire opened its jaws wide, unleashing a torrent of dragonfire, a mixture of orange and sky blue flames.

"No! Calm down, Dreamfire—we can be allies!"

Rhaegar face turned pale with shock as he desperately tried to bring Dreamfire back to its senses.

But the dragonfire surged forth.

Faced with the oncoming pillar of flames, his survival instincts kicked in. Rhaegar quickly turned and dove into a pile of jagged bones.

The dragonfire missed him, but sparks scattered onto his unprotected back.

The intense heat of the dragonfire, far beyond that of ordinary flames, instantly burned through his clothes and seared his pale skin.

"Ahhh!"

The searing pain tore through Rega’s nerves like a whip, and he let out an agonized scream. His head jerked back uncontrollably, and his eyes nearly bulged from their sockets.

For a fleeting moment, Rega thought he might die from the sheer pain.

But as it turned out, the saying "blood and fire are one" wasn’t just a metaphor.

Despite the unbearable agony, Rhaegar didn’t die.

"How did this happen? Why did Dreamfire lose control?!"

In the face of danger, Rhaegar rationality overpowered his fear, and he issued the best command he could muster.

Taking advantage of the brief pause between Dreamfire's fiery breaths, Rhaegar struggled to his feet and ran toward the distant shadows, ignoring his injuries.

He had lost his torch earlier, so he had no choice but to press forward in the darkness. Already unsteady, he stumbled frequently over the scattered bones littering the ground.

"Shriek!"

Missing its target only heightened Dreamfire’s aggression. It thrashed against its chains and unleashed its fury with indiscriminate bursts of dragonfire.

The vibrant flames illuminated the lair, scorching stone walls and bones alike. Some of the flames narrowly missed Rhaegar as he darted away.

"Damn it! I was so close to succeeding…"

Fleeing from the relentless pursuit of the searing flames, Rhaegar couldn’t help but reflect on why things had gone wrong.

"Your Highness, watch out behind you!"

A familiar voice called out. Before Rhaegar could react, a white figure tackled him to the ground.

Boom!  

The spot where Rhaegar had been standing a moment earlier was engulfed by dragonfire, leaving behind a half-foot-deep, charred crater.

---

Unfortunately, Dreamfire isn’t the protagonist’s dragon!

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 33: A Narrow Escape

Rolling on the ground, Rhaegar head spun as he looked around in a daze.

When he turned to glance behind him, he saw Elric, clad in silver armor and a white robe, shielding him protectively beneath his own body.

“Elric, you were supposed to guard the entrance. Why are you here?”

Rhaegar , still muddled and confused, asked in disbelief.

“Your safety is my highest duty!”

Elric’s voice was deep and firm. Swiftly, he stood, picked Rhaegar up in his arms, and began to run.

Rhaegar didn’t catch what Elric said. His head turned involuntarily to look back—he wanted one last glimpse of Dreamfire.

He had almost tamed Dreamfire.

But the situation changed too quickly. Just when success seemed certain, it all unraveled.

A sharp screech echoed behind them.

Elric moved quickly, exiting the nest in a few strides and sprinting through the tunnel leading outside.

Rhaegar gaze remained fixed on Dreamfire, watching the pale-blue beast thrash in anger.

Suddenly, Rhaegar eyes caught sight of the chain around Dreamfire’s neck.

The beast writhed, its sharp teeth gnawing at a chain as thick as an adult’s thigh, sparks flying with each bite.

“It’s the chain! The chain disrupted the bonding ritual and enraged Dreamfire!”

A flash of understanding lit up Rhaegar mind, and he shouted in frustration, his gaze burning with fury at the chain that had ruined his efforts.

Realizing the cause, Rhaegar felt an uncontrollable surge of anger.

His mood was no better than Dreamfire’s frenzied rage. He desperately wanted to punish whoever had placed that chain on the beast.

Before he could say more, Elric rounded a corner, putting Dreamfire out of sight entirely.

In no time, they burst out of the tunnel, back to the cave entrance where they had started.

“Your Highness! Are you hurt?” Menas ran up, his face full of concern.

Elric shoved him aside with a scowl. “Shut your mouth. You’d better pray the prince is unharmed.”

He carefully set Rhaegar on the ground and crouched to examine him.

Rhaegar , drowning in regret, let Elric handle him without protest.

“Damn it, I was so close to taming Dreamfire!”

His heart was filled with anguish.

Elric tilted Rhaegar head side to side, checking for injuries. Satisfied that his head was unscathed, he moved on to check his limbs.

“Arms and legs are fine, fingers and toes accounted for…”

As he muttered, his eyes fell on Rhaegar back, and his expression darkened.

Rhaegar clothes were completely scorched away, revealing a back covered in blistering burns.

“This is a severe burn!”

Menas cried out as if the blisters had formed on his own back.

“Be quiet. I’m not blind!”

Elric shot him a furious glare, his tone dripping with hostility. He looked as though he wanted to run Menas through with his sword for coaxing the prince into taming a dragon.

Having had a moment to collect himself, Menas regained his composure.

He understood all too well the consequences if the prince’s injuries were blamed on him.

The thought of the gallows made his vision go dark.

“Wait! I know herbal medicine. I can treat His Highness!”

Terrified but still rational, Menas offered a solution.

Fearing Elric might refuse, he pulled a necklace from under his robe. It held three different metal rings—one of black iron, one of silver, and one of gold.

“Get out of my way. I don’t trust you.”

Elric didn’t hesitate. He scooped Rega up and prepared to leave.

During the earlier life-and-death crisis, Rega hadn’t felt much.

Now, out of danger, Elric’s movements made Rega suck in a sharp breath, the pain nearly causing him to black out.

“Sir… wait a moment… It hurts too much!”

His back and neck were covered in severe burns. The constant, fiery pain was pushing his nerves to the brink of numbness.

“Let me treat him for now. His injuries are too severe to withstand travel. He needs immediate care.”

Menas spread his arms, blocking Elric’s path.

Elric understood the gravity of the situation and hesitated before looking at Rhaegar .

Rhaegar gritted his teeth and said, "Treat me! I can’t hold on much longer!"

Elric nodded and fixed Menace with a sharp glare, warning him, "If I find out you're up to any tricks, you'll regret it."

Menace snorted and replied, "I value my life more than you think."

He then instructed Elric to carry Rhaegar on his back and walk steadily out of the tunnel.

"My residence is near the dragon's lair. I have herbs and tools there."

After leaving the tunnel, Menace led them up a staircase and into a narrow wooden hut at the edge of the dragon’s lair.

"This is where you live?"

Elric glanced at the shabby furniture and the musty air inside the hut, surprised that a scholar lived in such poor conditions.

Menace hurried to the bed, crouched down, and pulled out a square wooden box from beneath it.

When he opened it, it revealed all kinds of bottles and jars filled with powders, pills, and other medicines.

"Lay the prince flat on the bed. I’ll start with some basic surface cleaning."

Menace spoke urgently, too focused to even argue with Elric.

"This might hurt a bit. Please bear with it."

Elric warned Rhaegar as he laid him down on the bed.

"Ahh! Couldn’t you have warned me earlier?"

Rhaegar grimaced in pain, clearly displeased.

"Don’t talk. Save your strength, Your Highness," Menace interjected as he pulled out two ceramic jars and sprinkled a fine layer of powder over Rhaegar back.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch!"

Rhaegar clenched his teeth, his hands and feet twitching uncontrollably from the pain. He turned his head toward Elric and asked in agony, "Why haven’t I passed out yet? Shouldn’t someone faint from pain like this by now?"

Elric replied dryly, "People only pass out when the pain is unbearable. The fact that you’re still conscious means it’s not bad enough yet."

"But it feels plenty bad to me!"

Rhaegar protested hoarsely, trying to distract himself with conversation to avoid losing consciousness from the agony.

"This is like the seventh level of hell! Such extensive burns caused by dragonfire... how are you even alive, Your Highness?"

While applying medicine and bandaging, Menace couldn’t help but marvel. Based on his knowledge, the dragonfire of an adult dragon could melt steel.

Human flesh in contact with dragonfire would be reduced to ashes in an instant.

It was unimaginable that Rhaegar , after being grazed by dragonfire, could still remain conscious.

Hearing Menace’s astonishment, Rhaegar instead asked, "Weren’t you supposed to wait for me near the lair? Why was it Elric who came to rescue me?"

Menace froze, his expression turning awkward. "I lost my head for a moment and led you into Dreamfyre’s lair."

"The moment you stepped inside, I regretted it."

"I ran out to seek help from this honorable White Knight, afraid you might encounter danger."

"But I didn’t expect Dreamfyre to go berserk so quickly, causing you to suffer such severe injuries."

Rhaegar ignored him and looked toward Elric.

Elric didn’t deny it. He knelt on one knee with a thud and said loudly:

"The king entrusted me with the duty to protect you. Allowing you to face danger alone is a grave dereliction of my duty."

"I... I have failed the white cloak I bear."

With that, Elric lowered his head and tore off the charred remains of his white cloak.

Looking at the burnt and tattered cloak, Rhaegar glanced at Elric’s back with concern and asked, "Are you hurt, Sir?"

Elric was momentarily stunned before replying, "No, Your Highness."

Hearing this, Rhaegar breathed a sigh of relief and said bitterly, "Good. If I had caused you to get injured because of my recklessness, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself."

"It’s my duty," Elric replied calmly.

"No, your duty was to remain on standby."

Rhaegar buried his face in his arms, despondent. "Sir, thank you for saving me despite everything. I’m truly sorry!"

---

This chapter sets the stage for future developments, so don’t focus too much on the apparent failure regarding the bloodline.

Strictly speaking, the protagonist has succeeded.

He has already established a bond with Dreamfyre, but it was interrupted by the chains.

Before Aemond tamed Vhagar, he also attempted to approach Dreamfyre, only to be scared off by a blast of dragonfire.

Every Targaryen has their moments of growth.

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 34: Laenor's Proposal*

"You don’t need to apologize. Every Targaryen is obsessed with dragons. Making impulsive decisions under such circumstances isn’t unusual."

Looking at Rhaegar lying on the bed, enduring his pain, Erik didn’t have the luxury of being angry.

At the mention of dragons, fury surged in Rhaegar’s eyes. Gritting his teeth, he said, "I was so close to taming Dreamfyre."

"Something happened?"

Erik frowned, sensing the matter wasn’t simple.

Rhaegar’s voice brimmed with anger. "Dreamfyre was just about to accept me, but a chain restrained her, keeping her from even standing up."

"My bonding ceremony with Dreamfyre was forcibly interrupted by that chain!"

By the end, Rhaegar was nearly roaring the words from his throat.

His bloodshot eyes, paired with violet pupils, created an eerie contrast.

Failure wasn’t the issue.

Success, thwarted by interference, was the true crime.

Erik hadn’t expected such a situation. Grabbing Menas harshly, he threatened, "You’re in charge of inspecting the dragonpit regularly. What’s this about a chain?"

Even without extensive knowledge of dragons, Erik knew that the chains used to restrain them were typically long enough to allow for free movement.

As Rhaegar had described, Dreamfyre’s condition was far from normal.

Erik had reason to suspect that this bastard-born maester was plotting to harm the prince.

Hoisted high by his collar, Menas panicked, blurting out incoherently, "It wasn’t me! I only clean up bones and dragon dung—dirty jobs no one else wants. I’d never dare approach a dragon!"

"If not you, then who? The dragonkeepers? Or that Maester Barth you mentioned?"

Clearly unwilling to let him off, Erik punched Menas in the face twice, leaving blood streaming from his nose.

Menas screamed in pain, desperately explaining, "It’s really not me! Only the dragonkeepers can change a dragon’s chains—they’re the only ones who can calm the dragons!"

He was shouting himself hoarse in his own defense.

Rhaegar, agitated, felt his burns throb even more painfully. Frustrated, he said, "Tie him up first. We’ll return to the Red Keep immediately. This matter must be reported to my father."

The pain from his injuries made it hard for him to think clearly. At this moment, Rhaegar wanted only two things:

First, to return home and find his father.

Second, to figure out who had tampered with Dreamfyre’s chains and feed them to the dragons.

Erik complied without objection. "Yes, my prince."

He threw Menas to the ground, stripped off his belt, and tied the man’s hands behind his back.

Securing the powerless, illegitimate maester, Erik gently carried Rhaegar out of the room.

The carriage was waiting just outside the dragonpit. Erik’s steps were steady and quick.

Ignoring the terrified expression of the coachman, he placed Rhaegar on the spacious seat inside the carriage, allowing him to lie down.

He kicked Menas toward the coachman, instructing, "Tie him to the back of the carriage and make him run alongside."

Finally, he added a reminder: "The prince is injured. The carriage can go fast, but it mustn’t jolt."

"Yes, sir," the coachman replied, overwhelmed by the situation. He obediently tied Menas to the rear of the carriage and stuffed his mouth with a rag.

With everything in order, they set off for the Red Keep.

...

*The Red Keep, the King’s Chambers*

Having spent the entire morning watching a tourney, King Viserys returned to his chambers, feeling the fatigue of his age.

"Summon the Hand of the King. Tell him I have matters to discuss," he called out to the attendants outside the door, rubbing his sore back.

A servant answered from beyond the door.

Within ten minutes, Hand of the King Laenor entered, pushing the door open.

"Your Grace, what is it you wish to discuss?"

Laenor’s plump frame stopped respectfully by the table, awaiting orders.

After the servants poured wine for both men and left the room, Viserys swirled his wine glass, speaking with a trace of melancholy:

"Recently, the marriage proposals for Rhaenyra have piled up so high they could form a small mountain. I keep hesitating over what kind of partner to choose for her."

Laenor’s face showed hesitation as he replied thoughtfully, "Your Grace, I believe there’s an even more pressing matter requiring your decision."

"Oh? What could possibly be more important than Rhaenyra’s marriage?"

Viserys asked with amusement.

But Laenor wasn’t smiling. His eyes had been fixed on the king’s face from the moment he entered the room.

A life filled with rich experiences had made Laenor a man of few words and sharp insight.

He could see clearly that the king was feigning ignorance, as was his habit when avoiding difficult issues.

Draining his glass of red wine in one gulp, Laenor boldly said:

"Your Majesty, Prince Rhaegar is your eldest son. According to the Westero tradition of primogeniture, he should rightfully be the heir to the Iron Throne."

Viserys’s expression darkened immediately. He said coldly, "But the current heir is Rhaenyra. She was personally chosen by me, and she’s older than Rhaegar."

The matter was out in the open now, and Laenor had no reason to back down.

From a logical perspective, he reasoned, "Prince Rhaegar is male. A legitimate male heir is more likely to gain the lords’ allegiance."

"Rhaenyra has been the heir for many years. Not long ago, she even toured the realm, and the lords have all acknowledged her," Viserys retorted angrily.

In this, he was very much like Rhaenyra—willing to hear others' opinions but treating them merely as suggestions. His actions were entirely based on personal preferences.

Laenor said, "That’s only because they didn’t have a better choice. If Prince Rhaegar were put forward, they would undoubtedly prefer a male heir."

After years of knowing him, Laenor understood Viserys better than the king understood himself. He knew exactly what to say and do to persuade him.

Unfortunately, when it came to the issue of succession, Viserys was unwavering and refused to yield. He shook his head and declared firmly, "No! Rhaenyra has done nothing wrong. No one can strip her of her right to inherit."

"Then what about Prince Rhaegar?"

Laenor didn’t dwell on whether Rhaenyra had made any mistakes. He said calmly, "Prince Rhaegar was born to be the heir. He was previously hindered by his frail health, but now that he’s strong, are you really going to abandon such an outstanding eldest son?"

"Of course not!"

Viserys denied it outright and revealed his plan. "Rhaegar is a good boy. He loves his father and his sister. I will find the best teachers for him, ensuring he grows into a capable and upright man. When Rhaenyra ascends the throne, he can serve as her Hand of the King, regent, or even Warden of the Realm."

Laenor was dumbfounded. He asked incredulously, "Your Majesty, is that really what you intend?"

This was just a polite way of putting it.

Laenor’s thoughts were racing.

The king’s eldest son, Rhaegar—shouldn’t he be the heir instead? Moreover, would such an outstanding prince truly accept a subordinate role and selflessly serve someone else? Even minor noble families often see brothers fight bitterly over inheritance.

Let alone the allure of an entire kingdom.

Even siblings as close as these wouldn’t be immune!

Unbothered by Laenor’s doubts, Viserys insisted, "I trust Rhaegar. He’ll assist his sister in managing the realm and protect the kingdom from harm."

Laenor opened his mouth but found himself at a loss for words. He picked up a wine jug from the table, poured himself a cup, and downed it in one gulp.

"Very well. I trust your judgment."

---

*(End of Chapter)*

*Chapter 35: Keeping It in the Family*

After a long pause, Lyonel stopped dwelling on the issue of succession and expressed his willingness to comply.

He had foreseen how the king’s actions might plant seeds of discord for the kingdom’s future.

As Hand of the King, he needed to find a way to address this delicate issue.

Lyonel had already devised numerous strategies concerning the succession and was more than prepared to tackle it.

He said, “Speaking of the Princess’s marriage prospects, I have a well-considered candidate in mind.”

“Who? Last time you mentioned Laenor Velaryon, the son of Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake, didn’t you?”

As long as the topic didn’t touch on changing the line of succession, Viserys was quite amenable, even smiling as he spoke.

“Ser Laenor is indeed an excellent choice for an alliance, but that was a proposal from six months ago,” Lyonel replied without hesitation. “Your Grace, I believe that, from many perspectives, the Princess should follow the Targaryen family tradition.”

“Rhaegar?”

Viserys’s smile froze as he asked with a frown, “He’s only six years old, and Rhaenyra is already fourteen. By the time they’re both of age, Rhaenyra will practically be an old maid.”

Lyonel, confident in his reasoning, responded, “This is not a problem. They are only eight years apart, and they can marry in no more than ten years. In the meantime, they could be betrothed, discouraging any outsiders from coveting the Princess.”

His direct and insightful advice showcased both Lyonel Strong’s wisdom and his loyalty to the kingdom.

There was no denying that his words struck a chord with Viserys.

In the six months since Rhaegar had regained his health, Viserys had avoided expressing an opinion but had been silently weighing the situation.

He didn’t want to revoke Rhaenyra’s status as heir for the sake of his eldest son.

Such a move would surely cause his daughter to resent him.

He already felt immense guilt toward Rhaenyra, the daughter who had lost her mother at a young age.

At the same time, he knew deep down that Rhaegar was a more suitable heir than Rhaenyra.

Privately, some lords had even hinted that the succession should be reconsidered, but Viserys had brushed them off.

To avoid stirring resentment in Rhaegar, he had ordered his son confined to the Red Keep, barring him from freely leaving or hearing any rumors about the line of succession.

He was deceiving himself.

Perhaps, he thought, as long as Rhaegar didn’t hear these things, he wouldn’t grow discontent with being passed over.

Perhaps his own guilt toward both children would ease.

But he knew that such denial wouldn’t last.

He couldn’t confine Rhaegar forever, nor could he block his ears from the truth.

For this reason, he paid special attention to Rhaenyra’s marriage prospects.

If Rhaenyra could marry into a powerful family, her position on the Iron Throne would be secure.

At that point, even if her siblings harbored ambitions, they would lack the strength to challenge her.

Lyonel had offered him an excellent suggestion, opening a new path.

Encouraging Rhaenyra to follow family tradition would not only quash external ambitions for the throne but also unite her and Rhaegar, preventing a rift over the succession.

Leaning toward the idea, Viserys maintained his composure and asked, “But what if they resist the match?”

“It won’t be an issue. The Targaryen family has always upheld this tradition, dating back to Old Valyria,” Lyonel said, seeing through the king’s hesitation. “The young prince is still too young to understand such matters. As long as the Princess can be persuaded, everything will fall into place.”

Satisfied with the answer, Viserys smiled and said, “Lyonel, you truly are my most reliable advisor.

“Sometimes I wonder how I’d manage without you.”

Lyonel adjusted his slightly crooked collar and replied earnestly, “As Hand of the King, it is my duty to serve. I dare not take undue credit.”

“I’ll adopt your suggestion and discuss it with Rhaenyra later,” Viserys said, appreciating Lyonel’s humility.

Compared to Lyonel Strong’s selfless dedication, his predecessor Otto Hightower paled in comparison.

Otto’s overreach had been blatant—marrying off his daughter to align with royal power, secretly rallying lords to support his grandson Aegon, and repeatedly urging Viserys to change the line of succession.

If not for these actions, Viserys, who hated offending others, wouldn’t have dismissed him and sent him back to Oldtown.

*Knock, knock, knock...*

Just as Viserys and Lyonel were enjoying wine and reaching a consensus, a series of urgent knocks interrupted them.

Frowning, Viserys said impatiently, “What is it? I’m discussing state matters with the Hand of the King.”

From outside, Ser Harrold Westerling, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, called out, “Your Grace, Prince Rhaegar has just returned from the Dragonpit. His attendants report that he’s suffered a serious injury!”

“What? Rhaegar is injured? What happened?” Viserys demanded, his irritation giving way to concern.

As soon as he heard that his eldest son was injured, Viserys couldn't remain seated. He hurriedly got up and opened the door.

Hadlow's expression was grim. "I heard from the attendants that Prince Rhaegar suffered burns. It seems he failed in his attempt to tame a dragon?"

"Those damn Dragonpit handlers! How dare they let Rhaegar attempt to tame a dragon on his own!"

Viserys erupted in furious curses.

Leonor tried to calm him down. "Your Majesty, this isn’t the time to argue about blame. We should first check on the prince’s condition."

Burns caused by dragonfire were no trivial matter. With luck, one might survive.

But even the slightest misstep could lead to a disastrous outcome.

A young prince was of immense importance to the kingdom and was a vital member of House Targaryen.

He absolutely couldn’t die at a time like this.

Viserys came to his senses and said frantically, "You’re right, take me to see Rhaegar. Have the Grand Maester begin treatment immediately!"

Even as he spoke, Viserys's legs moved on their own, carrying him toward the exit.

"Your Majesty, the prince’s chambers are downstairs. I’ll guide you there," Harold said, stopping Viserys’s panicked movements and escorting him down the staircase.

The group soon arrived at Rhaegar’s room.

Standing in the corridor, Viserys saw that the door to Rhaegar’s room was open. At a glance, he could see Rhaegar lying unconscious on the bed, the severe burns on his back exposed.

In that brief moment, Viserys’s eyes widened, and he felt as though his heart was being ripped apart.

"Rhaegar!"

Calling out softly, Viserys quickly approached the bedside, looking at his eldest son in anguish.

Beside him, Grand Maester Mellos was unwrapping a roll of bandages. He cautioned, "Your Majesty, it’s best not to disturb the prince. His injuries are severe."

Viserys turned his head to Mellos and asked urgently, "What’s Rhaegar’s condition?"

Mellos shook his head and said in a somber tone, "The situation is grim. He has extensive burns across his body, inflicted by dragonfire. Recovery will be incredibly challenging."

"Whatever medicine you need, just ask for it. You must save Rhaegar."

Viserys’s eldest son had survived frailty and illness in the past. If he were now to die due to negligence and dragonfire, Viserys felt he might lose his mind.

He couldn’t even imagine how he would face Rhaenyra—or how he would answer to his late wife, Aemma Arryn.

"There’s no need for rare medicines. The prince’s wounds were initially treated by someone with considerable skill," Mellos replied as he carefully wrapped bandages around Rhaegar’s body to prevent fluid loss and infection.

The movements inadvertently woke Rhaegar from his unconscious state.

Even before opening his eyes, he heard Viserys’s sorrowful voice pleading with the Grand Maester:

"Please, Mellos, do everything you can to save him. I cannot bear to lose another loved one."

---

Author’s note: This chapter has been revised to reflect Targaryen family traditions—those who understand will understand.  

(End of chapter)