Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 376: Mad Dragon Appearance

Two colossal dragons, one silver-black and the other scarlet red, clashed mid-air, their sharp claws slashing furiously as scales shattered and blood spewed.

"Roar..."

Caraxes, the more formidable dragon, locked his deadly jaws onto his opponent’s neck, causing a cascade of blood to erupt with a shrill shriek.

Sensing imminent danger, Morghul unleashed his dragonfire in a desperate attempt to force Caraxes to release his grip.

Boom!

The gray, smoke-like dragonfire engulfed Caraxes' neck, the heat intensifying its ferocious bite.

While young dragons are vulnerable to such flames, an adult dragon's thickening scales provide considerable immunity.

Enraged, Morghul twisted violently in an attempt at a retaliatory bite, but its massive jaws missed their mark.

In this melee, Caraxes' slender, serpentine body twisted around Morghul like a snake. His sharp, smaller claws dug deep into Morghul' scales as his wings smote his opponent's head.

"Haha~"

Daemon sneered from afar, his gaze fixed on the red priest while his hand rested on his sword hilt. He considered jumping onto the dragon's back to end the battle with one decisive stab.

As his nephew had often said, in this world there must be only one Dragonlord House!

"Morghul, get a hold of yourself!"

The red-robed priest shouted with trembling urgency, his voice carrying the strain of controlling the wild Morghul.

"Roar..."

With a roar of defiance, Morghul' claw shot out and gripped Caraxes' abdomen in an iron vice-like grip.

Temporarily restrained, Caraxes quickly recalibrated, struggling to escape the crippling hold.

Pfft!

In a surge of panic, Morghul bit down on Caraxes' wing, its fangs sinking deep, the sound of cracking bone filling the air.

"Roar! ..."

Caraxes let out a painful scream, releasing its bite, and in a whirl of intense pain, it retaliated by lunging at Morghul' massive head, the Blood Wyrm's ferocity intensifying under the pain.

Bang!

Just as Caraxes aimed for a deadly bite, Morghul ceased his attack on the wings, his head - a formidable crown of horns - thrusting forward in a violent collision.

Caraxes was thrown for a moment, his slit pupils narrowing as they locked on Morghul' amber, bell-like eyes.

"Roar..." freewebnσvel.cøm

At that moment, the Caraxes' power surged, and a torrent of scarlet dragonfire erupted.

The eyes are the dragon's weak spot.

Boom...

Dragonfire struck, targeting the opponent’s head. In a desperate reflex, Morghul jerked his head aside, causing the fiery blast to sear across his muzzle instead.

With a choked roar, the pain forced Morghul' claws to relax, inadvertently tearing away chunks of bloody scales.

"Caraxes, strike its neck!"

Daemon, sensing the stalemate, roared his command, unsheathing his sword and rising to his feet on the dragon's back.

"Roar..."

With renewed ferocity fueled by the scent of blood, Caraxes fought on valiantly, his own wounds only intensifying his savage attacks.

In contrast, Morghul’s condition rapidly deteriorated, madness flickering in his dilated pupils as he launched into erratic and desperate attacks.

The red priest, barely clinging to his mount, seemed an afterthought, lucky to have escaped being thrown off.

As the dragons entwined, they spiraled down from the cloudy sky, the fine rain mingling with their bloody battle.

Daemon, gripping his saddle with one hand, eyed the red-robed priest with a chilling resolve.

One thought dominated his mind: "Finish him off!"

With that thought, he shifted his stance on the saddle.

"Roar!"

At that critical moment, a scarlet dragon burst through the clouds at breakneck speed, its roar thunderous.

"Dracarys!" Rhaenys, having received the call, shouted her command.

Meleys responded by dipping her head and diving, her wings slicing through the air like blades. A ferocious, pillar-like blast of dragonfire erupted from her maw, aimed directly at the fray below.

Boom...

Dragonfire struck Morghul's head directly, erupting into a cloud of charred black smoke.

"Roar!"

In agony, Morghul roared, his mind a whirl of confusion as his massive body flailed uncontrollably.

The red priest screamed, "Morghul, flee!"

Their strategy to ambush a Targaryen dragon rider had failed, and with another rider arriving, retreat was their only option.

Seizing the moment, Caraxes clamped his jaws around Morghul’s neck, his wings and claws scrambling for a hold on the floundering dragon's body.

Daemon's eyes sparkled as he settled back into his saddle.

"Roar..."

Awakened by the pain, Morghul regained his senses and unleashed a burst of dragonfire directly at Caraxes' head, still mounted on him. At the same time, Morghul' claws tore into Caraxes' chest and abdomen, tearing flesh and spitting blood.

Caraxes screamed as the dragonfire scorched his head, but his jaws remained locked, driven by an unyielding desire to tear off his neck.

Suddenly, a sharp pain in his chest - a dragon's claw had pierced him - sounded an internal alarm.

"Caraxes, protect yourself!" Daemon commanded, sensing imminent danger.

With Cousin Rhaenys’s arrival, there was no need for a fatal struggle.

"Roar..."

Caraxes heeded the call, releasing his grip. His broad scarlet wings pushed against Morghul, leveraging the force to propel himself away. His slender tail whipped through the air, rapidly stabilizing its descending body.

Rhaenys closed in, shouting, "Daemon, restrain the wild dragon!"

"Roar..."

Morghul let out a low growl, struggling to stabilize and flee across the turbulent sea.

Caraxes gave chase despite a bleeding wing, his speed slowing noticeably.

"Roar..."

Ahead, Meleys surged forward, her wings cutting a swift path through the sky in pursuit.

Despite Morghul' speed, he circled up into the thin clouds, Meleys roaring furiously behind him, spewing dragonfire.

Rain mixed with smoke filled the sky as Morghul dodged and weaved, his years in the Smoking Sea having honed his evasive maneuvers.

The chase lasted only minutes.

By the time Daemon and his dragon, Caraxes, caught up, Morghul had vanished, leaving only Meleys hovering below the clouds.

Rhaenys, grim-faced, stared out into the bay.

A glimpse of the bustling city-state of Tyrosh - the escape route Morghul had taken - too close for comfort.

Rhaenys took a deep breath and slapped her dragon's back, redirecting her course toward Myr. She had heard the distant clash while on patrol and had followed the disturbance here.

Now that the wild dragon had escaped, she had to return to Myr to strengthen its defenses.

Daemon spoke coldly, "There's still a dragon battle to prepare for."

Reluctantly, Caraxes roared, inhaling the scent of fresh dragon blood on his jaws, visibly agitated and unwilling to retreat from the hunt.

...

That night, Rhaegar received two letters, both with similar messages: Morghul has been tamed and the attack on Caraxes has been stopped!

With a thunderous bang, Rhaegar slammed his fist down on the sand table, his expression dark as storm clouds. "Deploy the troops at dawn," he commanded. "We will lay siege to Lys immediately!"

He had expected the taming of the wild dragon, but its speed surprised him. Despite centuries of dilution in the Dragonlord bloodline throughout Essos, its prowess remained formidable - a gross underestimation on his part.

The Sea Snake, his features etched with solemnity, took the letter and studied it. "Prince, with Morghul now in Tyrosh, might we consider dispatching another dragon to reinforce him?"

Surrounded but unharmed, Tyrosh's position meant that Rhaenys would inevitably come to Lys' aid, leaving Daemon without all but one dragon rider.

Rhaegar shook his head, dismissing the notion. "Morghul will return to Lys on his own. Additional dragons are unnecessary."

Though the allegiance of Morghul - a dragon captured by Lys - seemed to align with the Triarchy, his loyalty was solely to Bambaro. If Lys faced an invasion, Morghul would undoubtedly rush to his master's side.

...

Dragonstone Island

A raven crossed the Narrow Sea, alighting in the maester's loft of the Stone Drum. The elderly Maester Gladys retrieved the message, noting the red-painted seal depicting a three-headed dragon and a seahorse—Daemon's temporary insignia.

Wasting no time, Gladys hurried to Laena, who was still awake.

"Thank you, Maester," Laena said, her hand resting on her pregnant belly as she leaned against the bedroom doorframe.

"You should rest, especially now," Gladys advised with a kind smile before departing.

Laena watched him leave, then entered her bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, her expression softened as she opened the letter. It overflowed with Daemon's ambitions.

"I will conquer a piece of land, and the child in your womb will become my heir..."

Reading the words, Laena closed her eyes and sighed, her heart heavy. She recalled Rhaenyra discussing the Narrow Sea strategy: one force attacking, another laying siege, and dividing the spoils afterward.

Yet, Daemon's letter revealed no intention of sharing. He seemed determined to seize a city-state single-handedly with his dragon.

Laena, having been with Daemon for many years, understood his nature. He had no desire to follow Rhaegar's orders; he planned to act independently to maximize his gains.

At that moment, the mournful roar of Vhagar echoed from outside the Stone Drum Tower, filling the night with a lonely silence.

"Vhagar..." Laena murmured, feeling a surge of worry. The unease within her grew stronger.

...

The next day, the blazing sun hung high in the sky.

Wooooooooooo—

The solemn horn blew as dozens of warships converged, their sails emblazoned with the three-headed red dragon, heading into the wind.

The Sea Snake, clad in heavy armor and wielding a crescent spear, stood on the deck, barking orders.

The fleet sailed in orderly formation, steadily approaching the harbor of Lys.

In the cabin doorway, Rhaegar sat cross-legged, holding a dragonglass candle in his hand. The candle was transparent, as thick as a baby's arm, with a handful of glass wicks at the head.

Puff—

Rhaegar silently recited an incantation, and a wisp of flame sprang to life from the candle wick.

His mind focused, he gazed into the flickering flame.

Whew! Whew!

The flame swayed slightly, mysteriously outlining a picture: a giant dragon with silver and black scales and mist-colored wing membranes soared through the clouds. The dragon’s thick and long tail revealed a missing tip, and its body was covered in scars, both old and new.

"Roar..."

The dragon roared, carrying a red priest on its spine, and landed within a city-state under martial law.

Zira...

The flame died, and Rhaegar's eyes closed as his thoughts slowly returned.

Not surprisingly, Morghul had returned to garrison Lys.

Wooooooo...

Suddenly, a low horn sounded and waves crashed against the ships.

"On guard! Prepare for battle!" Sea Snake roared, ordering his soldiers to prepare the catapults.

Rhaegar opened his eyes and moved quickly to the front of the deck.

Scanning the horizon, he saw a fleet of no less than a hundred ships, their sails painted with strange and bizarre mercenary emblems.

"Lord Corlys, lead the fleet and keep your distance," Rhaegar ordered, his voice calm but his eyes flashing with cold intensity.

Roar...

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a deafening roar echoed through the sky. Shadows covered the long white clouds as a dragon's head, black as charcoal, appeared, its icy green pupils peering down.

Immediately, the white clouds rippled like cotton wool, and a pair of pitch-black dragon wings spread across the sky.

Roar...

Cannibal dove headfirst through the clouds like an unstoppable crossbow bolt. The dragon's body swooped so fast that it skimmed the surface of the sea, its massive chest smashing through a thick mast.

With a resounding crash, Cannibal toppled the warship. The dragon's jaws parted, spewing green dragonfire like a vengeful god, harvesting life in a fiery inferno.

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