Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 556: Dragon Dance, Command the Dragons

Chapter 556: Dragon Dance, Command the Dragons

"A rune and blood magic,” Rhaegar murmured, letting out a sigh of relief as he touched the toad with his fingertips.

“Croak.”

The toad was unresponsive, allowing itself to be squashed and pounded. Rhaegar's eyes softened slightly as he looked at it. “You’re the one who pulled me into Daenys’ dream and almost made me lose my way?”

This little creature was the Shadowbinder's death rattle, an ancient, incomplete rune altered into a curse that plunges people into nightmares. The moment Rhaegar was hit, the spirit of the Shadowbinder was strangled. As a result, the “dream-eating toad” that was the nightmare curse itself crashed on the spot and was unable to exert its full power. Instead, by combining the dreamer's talent and “Dreamscape,” Rhaegar was drawn into a dream that spanned time and space. During this process, he gradually lost his five senses and almost became a living dead. Perhaps it was the Old Valyria and Daenys in the dream that further stimulated Rhaegar’s bloodline power.

“What a dangerous little fellow,” Rhaegar said, rubbing the toad while looking at the bloodline bar on the explorer panel.

Bloodline: Dragonborn (+60%)

From 59% to 60%, a significant leap. The “+” in front of the number indicated that the gains from the dream still had staying power.

“Croak.”

The toad was squashed into a pancake and let out a feeble wail.

"I'll let you go just to show Daenys some respect." Rhaegar's mouth curled slightly, and he found himself growing fond of the new clownish creature. In the past, the dreamer’s talents and dream visions could only exist passively. With the “Dream Eater” as a “runic spirit” existing between magic and spirit, it was equivalent to having the initiative.

“Ouch, that hurts.”

A small voice came from behind, and the silver-haired woman got up, tears in her eyes. Rhaegar glanced back, and the Dream Eater and the Serpent both disappeared. One burrowed into his head, and the other crawled back into his palm, turning into runes of gray smoke and black gas, respectively.

“You killed him.”

The silver-haired woman covered her face with her hair, nervously clasping her hands together.

“Who?” Rhaegar glanced at the corpse of the pseudo-dragon and frowned. “He was your brother?”

He doesn’t look like a brother at all. The silver-haired woman gave a tiny “mm-hmm” and silently moved the corpse away on her bare feet. Rhaegar raised an eyebrow, and the dragon whip in his hand seemed to move like a living thing. The bloodline of the Aethyrys House should be eradicated. But after experiencing the dreams of ancient Valyria, he felt a bit more... tolerant.

Pat!

A tear fell and shattered into several pieces. The silver-haired woman silently wept, bending down to pick up the head of the false dragonlord and placing it in the arms of the corpse. Then, she walked over to the corpse of the black-robed sorcerer and handed Rhaegar a package containing two fossilized dragon eggs. Rhaegar looked surprised, wondering what she intended.

“Sorry, please be quick about it.” The silver-haired woman knelt on the ground, her hands trembling as she gathered her silver hair into a bun, sobbing softly. “I am a person without honor, and I hope that I will not be spat on when I die.”

As she braided her silver hair into a bun, a delicate face with both beauty and ugliness was revealed. Rhaegar was slightly stunned, looking at her in a daze. Her fair skin and well-proportioned features made her appear like a delicate young lady. However, her forehead and half of her face were covered in fine, pale scales, and her left eye was ashen, giving her a shocking appearance at first glance.

Feeling Rhaegar’s gaze, the silver-haired woman quickly lowered her head and said with a sense of inferiority, “I’m sorry, I’ve dirtied your eyes.”

Hearing this, Rhaegar suddenly snapped back to reality and muttered, “No, it’s not dirty.”

The silver-haired woman was puzzled and timidly raised her head. Having had an ugly face since childhood, she had long developed the ability to read people’s expressions.

“That’s it, look at me.” Rhaegar crouched down, lifting her chin with his index finger, and said seriously, “You are not a bastard, and you deserve to live.”

“What?” The silver-haired woman was stunned.

“You don’t have to die,” Rhaegar said with certainty. “Get a good night’s sleep and welcome a new life.”

As soon as he finished speaking, his dragonborn state manifested. Dark scales appeared on his forehead, a sharp dragon horn stood upright, and a smile appeared on his pale face.

“Croak.”

The silver-haired woman was transfixed, and then she heard a toad’s croaking. Suddenly, her consciousness began to blur, and her eyes rolled back as she passed out. Rhaegar reached out and helped her limp, delicate body lie down on the floor tiles. Finally, she didn’t have to hit her head on the ground.

“Croak.”

The toad sat on his shoulder, opening its mouth wide to suck in a wisp of gray mist. Rhaegar put away the package containing the fossilized dragon eggs, and a flash of understanding crossed his eyes. He muttered, “Daena Aethyrys, she really is a descendant of a Dragonlord's house.” He patted the toad encouragingly and said, “Well done, you clownish thing.”

Dreams are the second consciousness of humans, where many memories are stored. The toad eats other people’s dreams to grow and selectively feeds back to the owner. Just like the Serpent that eats the black gas from wounds, it slowly strengthens its healing power.

“Rune sorcery is not inferior to blood magic,” Rhaegar praised, then got up and walked back to the window. He hadn’t forgotten that there was a mess to clean up.

“Roar!”

As soon as he poked his head out, a dragon's roar echoed through the air, and Dragonfire streaked across the sky. Rhaegar looked down at the city and quickly assessed the situation. The city gates were sealed, and the Unsullied army was advancing, crushing the rebellion. The Great Masters were mingling with the Dothraki cavalry, making it hard to distinguish friend from foe.

“Roar...” A loud roar reverberated, and a blast of hot air rushed toward the Great Pyramid. Rhaegar looked up and saw three dragons battling above the city. Caraxes and the Sheepstealer darted through the clouds, spitting Dragonfire at each other. A golden beast rampaged through the sky, fighting alongside the ugly mud dragon.

“Defeat the enemy, Syrax!” The command was cold and delivered in High Valyrian.

Roar!

Syrax roared with a ferocity that belied its size and spat golden flames at his opponent. Caraxes, engaged with the Sheepstealer, felt the heat and quickly retreated, biting off a mud-flavored horn from the Mud Dragon as it left.

“Roar!” The Sheepstealer cried out in pain and spat out Dragonfire like a spoiled child. The melee was fierce and hard-fought. Rhaegar stared at the rider controlling the golden beast and said in surprise, “Rhaenyra, you’re in the battle too.”

When he said this, he couldn’t help but smile. Rhaenyra on the back of the dragon was even more attractive than she was in the palace.

“Don’t get too involved in the battle, Syrax.” From hundreds of meters above, Rhaenyra’s eyes were as sharp as a hawk, directing the battle with meticulous precision. Syrax was very smart and perfectly executed the rider’s orders.

“Haha, there should be a limit to internal fighting,” Rhaegar chuckled, looked around, and muttered, “Where’s my dragon?” According to the nature of Cannibal, he shouldn’t be so quiet.

“Roar...” Suddenly, a familiar scent wafted from somewhere. Rhaegar raised an eyebrow and noticed something strange in an area of the city where smoke was billowing. The smoke rose straight into the sky, and the flames spread far and wide. What was suspicious was that there were no slaves nearby to escape.

Rhaegar’s eyes narrowed as he stared through the smoke. “Roar...” A gust of wind swept through, thinning the smoke slightly. A pair of copper-colored pupils the size of bells appeared, and a majestic silhouette like a small mountain crawled through the ruins.

“Cannibal!” Rhaegar whispered softly, his hands clenched around the window frame.

“Roar~” Sunfyre lay collapsed in the ruins, his chest bloody and his wings badly burned. But no wound was as serious as having the Cannibal by his side. The Cannibal’s green eyes looked down on Sunfyre with indifference, and his scarlet tongue licked his maw.

The three dragons in the sky couldn’t wait to descend and join the feast on the ground.

“What a piece of shit,” Rhaegar muttered, his face turning cold. He knew it was unrealistic to expect a single dragon to stop the fighting. It was only natural to hope for casualties in the battle between the dragons and to take advantage of the situation.

“Let’s stop here,” Rhaegar muttered, his mood sour as he turned to search the hallway. In the room where the pseudo-dragon had escaped, he spotted a huge horn hanging on the wall.

Rhaegar didn’t hesitate. He entered the room and took the horn. It was magnificent, made from a single piece of horn, inlaid with gold and red gems. Rhaegar played with it for a moment, satisfied. “It’ll do,” he said.

Back at the window, the battle outside continued to rage. Rhaegar stepped onto the windowsill and held the horn to his mouth with both hands. The horn was large, more than five feet long, and almost completely covered his body.

“Daenys, thank you for your gift,” Rhaegar muttered. Then, he looked up and took a deep breath. Biting his red lips, he let the magic of the flames flow into him.

The next second...

“Woo-hoo-hoo...”

Rhaegar was completely absorbed in his music, and the horn sounded. The sound was rough and hoarse, like the passionate song of an old man. Black fire erupted as Rhaegar, entranced, revealed his true form as a dragonborn and played the long-lost dragon dance.

“Woo-hoo~"

The sound of the horn was like a spark, and in an instant, the fire spread, echoing throughout Meereen.

“Roar!”

In the air, the three dragons circled and fought. Suddenly, their pupils shrank at the sound of the horn. Sheepstealer panicked, as if it had seen its natural enemy, and slunk back into the clouds.

Roar!

Syrax's pupils returned to normal as it shook its head and left the battlefield. Only Caraxes, still restless, continued to writhe like a snake, spitting out Dragonfire.

“Woo-woo~...”

Rhaegar gradually closed his eyes, immersing himself in the rhythm of each note. Unbeknownst to him, the explorer’s panel had changed.

Rhaegar Targaryen

Talent: Dreamer (Gold)

Bloodline: Dragonborn (+61%)

Runes: Bronze (Green), Serpent (Blue), Dream Eater (Purple)

Blood Sorcery: Binding Spells (Blue), Dragon Dance (Purple)...

Relics: Blood and Fire, Dreamscape, Pure Water...

Comment: “Blowing the ancient chapter, calling the roots of the bloodline.”

Rhaegar was so absorbed in the music that he didn't realize his blood was being refined. His chest resonated with a humming sound as he used his breathing technique to control it.

“Woo-woo-woo...”

The dragon dance shifted from low to high, as if the dragon had matured over the years, transforming into a weapon of war that covered the sky and earth.

“Roar!”

Cannibal, distracted from its thoughts of devouring Sunfyre, let out a long cry and leapt into the air with a powerful leap.

Boom!

The black dragon crashed through the smoke, landing in front of the Great Pyramid. Its wings supported its weight on the ground, and its back swayed gently, bringing its terrifying dragon head just below the windowsill.

Sensing something, Rhaegar stepped onto the windowsill with all his might and leapt out.

“Roar!”

Cannibal growled and caught the rider, standing like a colossal statue in front of the tower. Rhaegar stood firm, playing the final notes of the dragon dance.

Hum...

An inexplicable aura of power radiated from every dragon.

“Roar!”

“Roar...”

The cobalt blue Tessarion roared into the sky, carrying its rider to the Great Pyramid. Daeron, stunned, did not dare to stop the dragon beneath him.

At the same time, Syrax, Sheepstealer, and Caraxes, regardless of their emotions, put aside their fighting spirit and slowly descended with caution.

“Ha ha, a dance of dragons,” Rhaegar laughed, sitting down on the hard dragon's head. With his horn in his left hand and his whip in his right, he looked like the reincarnation of an ancient Valyrian Dragonlord.