Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 359: Negotiation With Braavos

Testing the oddity of the dragon's remains, Rhaegar decided to explore the canyon further.

The canyon was small, dense with shrubs and plants that tripped him up as he moved. After some searching, he discovered a cave nestled beneath the left rib cage of the giant dragon's remains.

Clearing the obstructing shrubs with Truefyre, the pitch-black sword ignited a layer of flame, illuminating his way. Wielding Truefyre, Rhaegar cautiously stepped into the cave.

The cave was large and deep, with the occasional gust of wind carrying a faint, putrid odor.

Rhaegar scanned his surroundings, and after walking a dozen meters, he found a pile of stale dragon dung. "It really is a Dragon Nest," he muttered, continuing deeper into the cave.

Truefyre's firelight illuminated most of the room. Soon, Rhaegar stumbled upon a concave mess of dragon droppings and rocks, with a pile of broken scales in the middle.

Pinning Truefyre to the ground, Rhaegar moved closer to examine the mess. "Fossilized dragon eggs!" he exclaimed as he saw the fragments, each one ancient.

He pushed the fragments aside, revealing a complete dragon egg with dark red scales, its surface fossilized. The egg had long since become a lifeless stone. "A nest of dragon eggs?" Rhaegar wondered aloud.

The broken fragments indicated that two dragon eggs had hatched. With difficulty, Rhaegar dug out the fossilized egg embedded in the dung and continued his meticulous search of the cave.

Considering the remains of the giant dragon outside, this nest of eggs probably belonged to it. The dragon had been dead for at least a hundred years, before the Doom. A wild dragon of this size roaming Sothoryos would not have gone unnoticed by the dragonlord families of ancient Valyria.

Records indicated that Jaenara Belaerys, a dragon rider of the House of Belaerys, had roamed Sothoryos with her dragon for three years. If dragons existed in Sothoryos, the Dragonlord families would have known about it. That left only one possibility: this dragon had a rider, or had had one at some point. For unknown reasons, the dragon had come to Sothoryos, deliberately hidden itself, and disappeared from the eyes of the world.

Holding the fossilized dragon egg in his hand, Rhaegar walked silently out of the cave.

"Roar..."

Cannibal's green vertical pupils watched him, its wings patiently supporting its weight. It sensed its rider's somber mood.

Rhaegar exhaled deeply and climbed numbly onto Cannibal's back. "Fly," he commanded.

"Roar..."

Cannibal let out a low roar, its pitch-black wings stretching and flapping as it swiftly took to the air.

There was no need to explore the gorge or the dragon's remains further.

Rhaegar discovered vague stone inscriptions on the walls of the cave, written in High Valyrian script. These inscriptions contained the fragmented knowledge of a family of dragonlords, including speculations about a dragon's age and growth cycle based on its size.

They vaguely outlined the stages of a dragon's life: young dragons, subadults, adults, and old age. The Dragonlord family had detailed classifications beyond sub-adults: young dragons, strong dragons, giant dragons, and weakened dragons.

A dragon egg hatches into a young dragon. When the dragon is about thirty feet tall and about ten years old, it enters the subadult stage. During the subadult stage, which lasts 10-20 years, the dragon grows to about one hundred feet, with scales, claws, and teeth maturing - this is the young dragon stage.

After another 30 years or so, depending on its talent, it reaches a prime size and becomes a prime dragon. At 100 years old, with a body size of about 100 meters, it becomes an adult dragon.

Rhaegar briefly pondered this information, comparing it to his own estimations. In his family, Cannibal and Vermithor, both 90 years old, had already exceeded 100 meters, making them proper adult dragons. Dreamfyre and Silverwing were of similar age but slightly smaller. Silverwing, one-fifth smaller than Vermithor, was less than 90 meters. Dreamfyre, the oldest, had been imprisoned in its prime, stunting its growth, and was just over 80 meters. Neither dragon met the adult dragon standard.

A dragon enters its weakening stage around 150 years old, when size affects strength and speed. Vhagar, still possessing decent combat power, was in this stage.

Riding on Cannibal's back, the wind in his face, Rhaegar held the heavy fossilized dragon egg. Besides impractical knowledge, the dragon's lair contained a deliberately destroyed pattern, which Rhaegar couldn't decipher. However, he noticed subtle symbols on the pattern's edges, indicating blood sorcery.

"Cannibal, continue the hunt," Rhaegar commanded, placing the fossilized dragon egg into a sack.

The remains of the dragon and the unknown blood sorcery were disturbing. Fortunately, the Dragonlord family responsible for these things had been wiped out in the Doom of Valyria. The two hatched dragon eggs had owners, so there was no need to worry about wild dragons roaming the land.

...

Sunrise and sunset passed in a blur, and two days passed quickly.

On a small island in the Stepstones, a tense confrontation unfolded. "Attack!"

On the azure sea, several warships flying the banner of the Triarchy, known as the Three Daughters, advanced on a patrol ship flying the Three-Headed Red Dragon flag of Westeros.

The warships were armed with scorpion crossbows, which they fired in rapid succession, puncturing the patrol ship's hull several times.

As the ships closed in, their ramming horns dug into the hulls and the battle began.

Above, the sky was clear and calm.

Suddenly, a black dragon shadow flashed across the sky, churning the wind and clouds with the speed of a shooting star.

Below, the Triarchy's warships surrounded the patrol ship, and pirates jumped overboard to launch a ruthless attack.

"Roar!"

A deep, thunderous roar echoed like a tidal bell, and the black dragon dove into the clouds, its terrifying head descending toward the battlefield.

Boom!

A ghostly green dragonfire erupted like smoke and fog from the dragon's mouth, sweeping across the Triarchy's warships and incinerating their masts and decks in an instant.

"Ahhh!..."

The Triarchy pirates had no chance to escape. Their screams were cut short as they were consumed by the flames, reduced to charred remains.

Some of the unlucky ones were bumped by their comrades, their clothes catching the ghostly green sparks that clung to them like maggots, quickly igniting and burning their flesh.

On the dragon's back, a black-robed young man watched with indifferent eyes, muttering, "Dracarys."

"Roar..."

The pitch-black dragon swooped down, spewing more Dragonfire, turning the sea battle into an inferno of ghostly green flames.

The patrol ship was destroyed, and its crew lowered small boats to escape to the island.

"Prince..."

The survivors looked up at the dragon and the young man, cheering and shouting as if reborn.

Rhaegar looked back and rode his dragon in wide circles overhead, making sure no enemies remained.

Five days later he returned to Westeros. Sothoryos's trip had been generous.

The Cannibal had hunted a dozen wyverns, fully sating its hunger with a satisfying feast. Rhaegar sensed that the dragon beneath him seemed to have grown slightly larger. The trouble with such a massive creature was that even a small growth was barely noticeable.

"Roar..."

As several warships burned and sank into the sea, a sharp, thin dragon roar pierced the air.

Rhaegar turned to see a scarlet dragon with a serpentine body swooping swiftly toward him.

Blood Wyrm—Caraxes.

On the dragon's back, Daemon, clad in black steel armor, called out, "Rhaegar, back from Sothoryos already?"

"It was a good trip, quick and efficient," Rhaegar replied, surveying the carnage below. "What's happening here, is it war?"

Daemon tilted his head, a hint of smugness in his voice. "Not yet, just an initial skirmish. War is coming soon."

Lys had captured a wild dragon. The Iron Throne sent envoys to deal with Lys's magister, but they were rebuffed. All of Westeros and the nine free cities knew one thing clearly: war was imminent.

Rhaegar's eyes grew cold as he strategized in his mind. He patted the Cannibal's pitch-black scales, preparing to return to Dragonstone Island.

Daemon spoke up, "An emissary from Braavos is meeting with the king today. Your return is timely."

"Thank you," Rhaegar acknowledged, and the Cannibal immediately took flight.

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Dragonstone Island.

"Roar--"

The Cannibal flew swiftly, landing on a rocky shore of the Dragonmont.

Rhaegar dismounted calmly, carrying a sack of dragon eggs. As he approached the main gate of the Stone Drum Tower, he encountered Kingsguard Steffon, who was escorting a group of finely dressed messengers.

"Prince," Steffon greeted respectfully when he saw Rhaegar.

Rhaegar glanced at the black-haired, brown-skinned envoys and asked, "Ser, are these the envoys from Braavos?"

"Yes, His Grace is to receive them," Steffon replied.

"Understood." Rhaegar handed the sack to the Dragonkeepers, instructing, "Ensure these eggs are looked after carefully."

The sack contained a dozen dragon eggs from brindled, swamp wyverns, as well as a rare egg from a shadow-wing wyvern. The latter could grow up to sixty feet long, and its dark scales made it much stronger and rarer than other wyverns. To obtain this precious egg, several shadow-wing wyverns had to be hunted.

Rhaegar entered the Stone Drum Tower and headed straight to the conference hall on the middle floor. Along the way, the emissaries from Braavos spoke in fluent Valyrian, attempting to converse with him.

Rhaegar engaged in brief conversation, learning the purpose of their visit. The Sealord of Braavos was hosting a meeting, inviting House Targaryen and the Triarchy to Braavos for negotiations between Westeros and the Free Cities.

...

It was nightfall, and the moon and stars cast a faint glow.

The Small Council was meeting in the Chamber of the Painted Table.

Viserys sat with a group of royal advisers, flanked by Corlys Velaryon, known as the Sea Snake, and Daemon Targaryen.

Rhaegar sat alone on one side of the stone table, his younger siblings Aegon and Helaena standing beside him. The flickering candlelight danced as Viserys, his face stern, began to speak.

"Should we go to the negotiations in Braavos, and who should we send as the proper personnel?" Viserys deliberated.

Braavos was close to the Triarchy Kingdom, and it was difficult not to see it as a potential trap.

"The negotiations are about Westeros' relationship with the Free Cities. It is necessary to attend," Corlys said, his face calm as he toyed with a seahorse stone carving. "If you trust me, I can lead the fleet and coordinate with one of the royal advisers."

Corlys had numerous business partners in Braavos and the Free Cities and felt confident about handling the sea journey.

Lyonel hesitated briefly before agreeing. "Your Grace, as your Hand, I should negotiate on your behalf."

The king couldn't risk his life; it seemed most appropriate for Lyonel to go.

"No need, Lord Lyonel," Rhaegar interjected. "Not to question your abilities, but this negotiation is crucial, and you might not have the leverage required."

Lyonel paused, then asked, "Prince, do you intend to go personally?"

"A Targaryen negotiation requires a Targaryen presence," Rhaegar replied firmly. He looked at his siblings and declared, "I will lead the delegation personally, and Aegon will accompany me with our dragons."

Braavos was often called Valyria's bastard daughter, but in truth, it was mostly the offspring of Valyria's slaves. This time, Rhaegar intended to remind Braavos of what a true dragon was.

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