Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 351: Cannibal vs Smoking Sea Wild Dragon

Chapter 351: Cannibal vs Smoking Sea Wild Dragon

At night, the stars shone brightly.

In the Stone Drum Tower, a pair of silhouettes intertwined on the couch.

After a long while, their truce came, and Rhaegar lit the candle.

Draped in a silk robe, he stepped out onto the open balcony to catch the breeze. The heat made his blood feel like it was boiling.

As far as the eye could see, a faint cluster of firelight flickered in the direction of the distant beach.

"She's gone," Rhaegar muttered under his breath.

The red priestess, who had participated in the daytime ceremony, had returned to Valantis by boat overnight. She had a cunning mind and was useful in her way.

A month ago, after he and Rhaenyra returned to Dragonstone Island, a fire had broken out in Harrenhal. A dozen barrels of wildfire stored in the sanctuary's cellar had accidentally ignited, creating an explosion. Two priests and the Tully family's second son, Milov, were buried in the wildfire.

A slight smile curled on Rhaegar's lips as he closed his eyes, enjoying the cool night breeze. It was a pity that Ormund Hightower was in constant contact with Otto and Aegon, making it hard to find him alone. Otherwise, there might have been another unfortunate accident.

"Rhaegar, I'm thirsty," came a soft, hoarse voice. A warm embrace wrapped around his waist from behind.

Rhaegar turned and smiled, wrapping his arms around the warm, soft body. He lowered his head and lightly kissed her forehead.

Rhaenyra's eyes were dreamy as she pressed against his chest, her breath carrying a faint scent. Clad in a light nightgown, her bare feet touched the expensive red carpet from Myr.

After snuggling for a while, Rhaegar broke away and went to the table to pour a glass of warm water.

Today's ceremony, light and slow, had sated him for now.

Rhaenyra rubbed her flushed cheeks and tilted her head back to accept the water he offered. Her red lips pursed around the cup, swallowing the water tantalizingly.

"Drink slowly, don't choke," Rhaegar said, his eyes doting on her as he lightly wiped her lower lip, slightly red and swollen from the cut.

Having broken through the barriers, they were now in a legitimate relationship.

One day, when he ascended the Iron Throne, Rhaenyra would be his Queen.

...

A feast was in full swing, filled with singing and dancing. Viserys was all smiles, accepting toasts from every bannerman. He hadn't been this happy in years. Seeing his children marriage come to fruition meant he had lived up to the expectations of his late wife, Aemma.

The only slight disappointment he felt was that the banquet wasn't grand enough. It should have been held in the Hall of a Hundred Hearths in Harrenhal, allowing all the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms to attend, and providing three days of food for the poor.

But this traditional ceremony, following the ancient Valyrian ancestral system and witnessed by thousands of nobles and lords, was still significant. It was enough to be written into the history of the continent alongside the God's Eye Tourney.

"Brother, congratulations."

Daemon, carrying his wife Laena, raised his cup in a toast.

Viserys grinned. "In the blink of an eye, the children have grown up, and you and I are no longer young."

"Oh, I can still toss and turn six times a night," Daemon quipped, his magnetic voice carrying a hint of cynicism as he wrapped his arm around Laena's waist.

Years had left few traces on Daemon's handsome face, which still looked flamboyant and prodigal. Viserys squinted at him and grunted disdainfully, never forgetting how Daemon had tried to seduce his daughter and assassinate his son. If not for their former brotherhood, he would have driven Daemon out of Westeros long ago.

The two brothers sat together, drinking wine and reminiscing about their youth. Viserys laughed, "I remember your first great wedding. You refused to go into the bedchamber, so I got you drunk and carried you in."

"I was so drunk, that Bronze Bitch stripped me naked and left me outside the door to stand in the cold wind all night," Daemon replied, his tone light but filled with lingering resentment toward his late wife, Lady Rhea.

The conversation stretched late into the night, with the brothers sharing a moment of silent camaraderie as they watched the revelry in the hall. After a while, Daemon broke the silence.

"Brother, my bloodline has blossomed, and I need a territory to sustain it."

Viserys froze, gazing into his brother's face. Aside from his usual ambitions for the Iron Throne and his previous desire for Rhaenyra, this was the first time Daemon had earnestly asked for something.

After a moment of contemplation, Viserys rubbed his face and spoke seriously, "I'll grant you the outlet of the Blackwater Rush and build a castle for you at the royal family's expense, according to your specifications."

It was a generous offer, one Viserys had clearly considered before, just waiting for Daemon to ask. Daemon took a sip of wine, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Viserys patted him on the shoulder and said, "The outlet of the Blackwater Rush allows for trade and navigation. You and your descendants will never have to worry about money."

There were many territories in Westeros, but few as rich and strategic as the Blackwater Rush, adjacent to King's Landing and flowing into Blackwater Bay - a true treasure.

Laena furrowed her brow in concern, holding her husband's large hand. Daemon glanced at her, then back at his brother.

Viserys watched him expectantly.

"Brother, it's better to leave Blackwater Rush to your descendants," Daemon said bluntly. "I have my sights set on the land beyond the Narrow Sea. It's suitable for the second Targaryen bloodline to thrive, away from the political quagmire of King's Landing."

He was clear-headed. His brother's bloodline would stay in Westeros to inherit the Iron Throne, while his would claim the old Valyrian lands across the Narrow Sea and avoid internal conflict. As the Pentoshi say, don't put all your eggs in one basket.

Viserys' face darkened. He slammed down his wine goblet and said, his voice cracking with anger, "Daemon, why can't you ever make things easier for me? Why do you always have to disappoint me?"

He was the king, and peace was of the utmost importance. He had put up with a lot from his troublesome brother, but Daemon kept testing his patience.

Daemon's expression remained calm. "Volantis will take the lead in the war. The Sea Snake and I will participate, sensibly occupying a city-state."

"For saying such things, I could have you executed for treason!" Viserys hissed through gritted teeth, his gaze darting towards the Sea Snake, Corlys Velaryon, who mingled in the crowd.

The Velaryons had always been a thorn in his side, never allowing him peace. Now, united with Daemon to seize a free city-state, they seemed to have ambitions that might rival the Iron Throne itself. Viserys couldn't shake the worry that the Driftwood Throne would rise to challenge his own.

"Your Grace..." Laena began, her voice filled with urgency, trying to salvage her house's image.

But her words were drowned out by a thunderous roar that echoed through the night sky. The Stone Drum Tower shook under the gusty wind, reverberating like a drum struck by a heavy hammer.

...

On the top floor of the Stone Drum Tower, Rhaegar stood at the balcony's edge, hands gripping the railing. Beside him, Rhaenyra snuggled close, as if she couldn't get enough of him.

Suddenly, a pitch-black dragon shadow flickered across the night sky, and a furious spectral green Dragonfire swept across half of the horizon.

"Roar..."

In a flash, another dragon's roar pierced the night, and a second dragon shadow sprang into view, emerging from the firelight. The dragon's appearance was indistinct, but its size was clearly formidable.

Rhaegar's eyes widened. He turned and wrapped his arms around Rhaenyra, pulling her back as he continued to gaze out into the night sky.

The moon was bright, and the stars dotted the sky, casting just enough light to reveal some features of the dragon's shadow. This dragon had a well-proportioned body with silver-black scales, a haze-like gray wing membrane, and an extraordinarily large dragon head.

"Rhaegar, what's going on?" Rhaenyra asked, curling up in his arms, her voice trembling with confusion.

"It's that wild dragon," Rhaegar replied gravely. The unique silver and black scales immediately identified it as the wild dragon he had seen in the Smoking Sea. It had followed the footsteps of the fleet and the Cannibal, eventually arriving at Dragonstone Island.

With a sense of urgency, he urged Cannibal to hunt it down. The wild dragon was already fleeing, and if he didn't act quickly, it would escape again.

Cannibal roared repeatedly, flapping its pitch-black wings as it wove through the clouds, chasing after the wild dragon. The wild dragon was incredibly fast, disappearing into the thin clouds within moments, flying hundreds of meters in the blink of an eye.

The two dragons raced out of Dragonstone Island and soared towards the Gullet.

In his last glance, Rhaegar saw the wild dragon suddenly twist its massive head, releasing a mouthful of grayish Dragonfire that looked like smoke and mist. The Dragonfire shot out with meteoric speed.

Cannibal's green eyes flashed with malice. The massive dragon turned deftly, its black wing membrane batting away the dragonfire. The gray dragonfire dissipated into sparks, igniting gravel and seawater like tarsus maggots, burning intensely before gradually dying out.

Within moments, the two dragons vanished into the night, one in pursuit of the other.

Rhaegar, taken aback and awed, whispered, "This is a dragon of Ancient Valyria!"

The texture of the wild dragon's Dragonfire was so similar to Cannibal's ethereal green Dragonfire. Its shape and features were markedly different from the family's dragons, with an exceptionally large head and fierce, thick fangs. There was a distinct similarity to Caraxes' slender body, a testament to its ancient Valyrian heritage.

...

The Gullet, Sharp Point

The wild dragon fled frantically, its black jewel-like eyes flashing with fear as it swooped below the clouds and swooped down toward the sea.

"Roar--"

A muffled dragon roar echoed from behind. The beast, more than twice the size of its prey, struggled to keep up.

Cannibal swooped down, slicing through the waves with ease, its green pupils fixed on its prey. The desire to kill filled his mind, his blood boiling like lava. Its jagged teeth gleamed with traces of green dragonfire, and saliva hung from its fangs.

This was a rare opportunity for an open hunt, and Cannibal, who had long thirsted for dragon blood, would not allow failure.

"Roar..."

The putrid stench of Cannibal reached the wild dragon's nostrils, and it roared shrilly, turning to spray mouthfuls of grayish Dragonfire.

Boom--

Cannibal responded with a torrent of eerie green Dragonfire, which engulfed the gray flames, exploding into a cloud of green smoke in the night air.

Cannibal plunged headlong into the Dragonfire, its black scales glowing with a sinister black light, and its green pupils radiating bloodthirsty madness.

"Roar--"

The monstrous dragon's head loomed ever closer. The black dragon, as huge as a mountain, closed in, its abyssal mouth aiming to tear its prey apart.

"Roar!..."

A burst of boiling dragon blood bloomed, and the wild dragon's wail resounded through the wilderness, its figure enveloped by the ghastly beast.