Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 379: Black Swan, Dragon Egg Hatching

The setting sun at dusk.

A light silver and a light gray dragon hovered over Lys, playfully weaving through the red, fiery clouds.

The majestic city-state lay in ruins, black smoke billowing from the debris.

The harbor had broken down, and armies flying the banners of the three-headed red dragon, the seahorse, and the fierce tiger disembarked, pouring into every corner of the city.

"Roar..."

Cannibal's dragon head leaned forward, wings braced against the towering buildings, hind feet plowing through mounds of rubble.

Buried in the near-ruined debris were the remains of Morghul.

Cannibal had only ever eaten young dragons and eggs, occasionally scavenging the remains of adult dragons. This was the first time it had hunted an adult dragon alone.

A long-lost and cherished bloody meal.

The street was reduced to ruins, scorched black traces marking the devastation.

Rhaegar stood amidst the destruction, placing a dragon's head with closed eyes, behind him.

"Prince, have mercy!"

"We are innocent..."

The elite of the Second Sons Regiment surrounded the street, and dozens of lavishly dressed dignitaries knelt, snotting and crying.

Rhaegar ignored them, weighing a fresh dragon egg in his hand.

The egg was covered with diamond-shaped scales, pitch black with a hint of silver luster emerging as it moved.

Two elite members of the Second Sons stood by, detaining a bearded, silver-haired middle-aged man.

"Balerion blessed us, allowing Morghul to leave behind a dragon egg," Rhaegar said, his eyes softening, a smile curling his lips.

Morghul had come from the Smoking Sea, his bloodline distinct from the dragons of House Targaryen.

In the heat of the dragon fight, Morghul could not be saved. But he had laid a dragon egg, and when it hatched, it would be a young dragon of rare bloodline.

A young knight of the Second Sons reported, "Prince, this man was captured near a building carrying a dragon egg."

Rhaegar turned, his clear eyes glancing over.

"Prince, I was protecting the dragon eggs, not stealing them to escape," Silver Denys pleaded, his haggard, handsome face full of desperation.

He had not expected to be caught hiding in a building for shelter.

The Iron Throne's army had an uncanny ability to find him, leading to his capture and the seizure of the dragon egg he had risked his life to obtain.

Hearing his cries and pleas, Rhaegar seemed to ponder for a moment before laughing softly. "I remember you, Denys Waters, the supposed descendant from a bastard of Maegor I, with an eight-year-old daughter."

Morghul laying a dragon's egg was unexpected yet fitting.

On the eve of the attack on Lys, scouts had blocked all harbors, monitoring every move of the domed dragon's lair.

Even if Silver Denys had second thoughts, he wouldn't have escaped from Lys.

Rhaegar's words were a lifesaver to him.

Denys, anxious, nodded vigorously. "Yes, it's me. The dragon egg was hidden by Belle for his selfish reasons. I recaptured it from Hugh and wanted to offer it to you, Prince."

As a Dragonseed, Denys' original role was to tame dragons. Although he had never touched a dragon, he knew that a dragon egg was valuable enough to ensure a lifetime of wealth.

Rhaegar remained noncommittal and waved his hand. "Take him away, but don't treat him harshly."

The dragon egg was an unexpected prize, but Rhaegar didn't have time to interrogate a bastard at the moment.

Upon hearing this, the young knights of the Second Sons led Denys away.

Holding the dragon egg, Rhaegar walked towards the group of kneeling dignitaries, he looked around at the crying, begging men. None had the courage to stand firm.

"These people, they all supported Bambaro?" Rhaegar asked curiously.

"Yes, Prince," Syrio replied, standing in front of the group with a smile spreading across his face.

Rhaegar nodded, pondering their fate.

Syrio didn't remain idle. He called for the body of an old man to be dragged in and handed Rhaegar a parchment book.

The corpse was in a miserable state, having been stabbed a dozen times.

Syrio raised an eyebrow and said, "The Bloodmage that Magister Lys enshrined carried this ghostly book."

The old man had tried to flee and was hacked to death by soldiers.

Rhaegar gave a curious "Oh" and received the parchment book with interest.

His bloodline had changed, and he needed all the knowledge he could get, before he could look through it, two blood-soaked armies arrived.

"Prince, the harbor is completely captured," Sea Snake announced, his voice deep and full of vigor.

The other group was a team of soldiers with fierce tiger tattoos on their faces, led by "Tesrio", the Tiger Archon of Volantis.

Tesserio's face was tough as he lowered his stance and saluted. "Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, it's been a long time."

Rhaegar exchanged brief pleasantries and instructed the two leaders to clear the streets and maintain order in the city-state.

The elite of the Second Sons then led the dozens of powerful dignitaries towards the Magister's Palace.

Another person was waiting for Rhaegar there.

...

As the sun set, the temperature plummeted.

Rhaegar was led by two sultry women to an elegant attic facing the setting sun in the Magister's Palace.

Creak—

Pushing open the door, he saw a silhouette in a white gauze skirt standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing out at the sunset.

Rhaegar remained calm and silent, waiting. It was this person who had tipped him off, facilitating the inside-and-out attack on Lys. According to Syrio, this person wanted to meet him, claiming to offer solutions.

The silhouette slowly turned, revealing a beautiful face, and greeted him with a sweet smile. "Johanna of House Swann, sincere greetings to the prince."

Rhaegar frowned slightly, scrutinizing the woman before him. Her voice and appearance were vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t remember her.

Johanna's eyes sparkled with charm. Her black curly hair cascaded down her chest, and she swayed her hips as she approached, exuding ample feminine allure. Knowledgeable and charming, she embodied the essence of a mature woman.

Rhaegar suddenly remembered a fragment of the past. His eyebrows knitted together, and he bluntly asked, "Are you the prostitute from three years ago?"

During the first Battle of the Stepstones, he had led the army to sack Lys. While searching for the Bank of Rogare, a pleasure house prostitute had dared to give him directions.

Johanna's beautiful eyes flashed with recognition, and she didn't deny it. "Including this time, I’ve helped you twice."

She closed the distance between them, stopping less than two meters away, her long white legs almost touching him.

Rhaegar's expression relaxed as he moved towards the floor-to-ceiling window. "Besides my people, whatever you want, just ask."

He had heard of Johanna’s name—the plundered daughter of House Swann, forced into prostitution when her uncle wouldn’t pay her ransom. A whore who had risen to meddle in Lys's politics was undoubtedly remarkable. But she couldn't have his body.

Slightly taken aback by the dry rejection, Johanna realized she had miscalculated. She thought the Targaryen heir prince, known to prefer mature women, would be attracted to her.

"Uh-huh," Johanna smiled warmly. "Prince, you will be Lys's master, and I can be a profitable housekeeper."

"Don't want to go back to Westeros?" Rhaegar asked, seemingly in jest. "I can help you get rid of Lord Swann, so you can be a Lady."

Johanna shook her head gently. "I'm a black swan; I don't attract sympathy."

Rhaegar smiled, saying nothing.

Johanna stroked her hair, her fingertips brushing over the white grease on her chest. "Leave me behind. I can help you manage Lys and make those powerful people truly loyal to you."

"Deal."

Rhaegar nodded. "First, get rid of those disobedient ones, then negotiate with Volantis and House Velaryon for me."

With Lys captured, the Triarchy was left with only one backstabbing Tyrosh. The three city-states would be divided—one under the crown's direct jurisdiction, one for Daemon, and the remaining one split between the crown and its allies. This preliminary strategy would need further discussion in King's Landing.

The Black Swan was clever; her help in controlling Lys would give Rhaegar an edge in negotiations.

"No problem," Johanna agreed readily, leaning against the doorframe. "Shall I call a few beauties for you?"

Rhaegar didn’t bother to look at her. "Get out and do your job," he said with great disgust.

Unfazed, Johanna smiled, bowed, and retreated.

Communicating with smart people was simple and convenient.

Bang...

The door to the room closed, and the sky grew darker.

Rhaegar stretched and looked towards the pitch-black dragon sprawled in the ruins.

The voracious Cannibal had satisfied its hunger, methodically chewing and swallowing Morghul's remains.

A short time later, only a broken skeleton remained in the ruins.

Finally satiated, the Cannibal lay down and fell into a shallow slumber.

Rhaegar thought darkly, "He's digesting it."

Since his transformation into a Dragonborn, the bond between him and Cannibal had grown even stronger. Cannibal transmitted feelings of fullness and energy transformation through sleep.

Rhaegar cupped his chin with one hand and mused, "After ten years, Cannibal has finally had a full meal."

But the price of such a meal was high.

Swish swish... Rhaegar placed the dragon egg on his lap and pulled out the Bloodmage's parchment book, flipping through it with one hand.

An old Bloodmage's book could contain a wealth of knowledge.

The sun set completely and darkness enveloped the sky.

Rhaegar's violet eyes glowed as he read the book in the dim light.

The pages contained information on medicinal herbs, medical experience, and geographical details of Essos, interspersed with special symbols and patterns that described unknown concepts of blood sorcery.

Halfway through, the content changed.

In Valyrian script, several paragraphs were clearly recorded: "Quiet," "Stop," "Loyalty"...

Rhaegar's eyes lit up with excitement. "Dragon Taming Spells?"

However, the spell was incomplete, missing the key word "Flying."

Rhaegar's excitement faded. Without the key word, the spell couldn't be performed, and only limited dragon taming techniques could be used.

No wonder Morghul was tamed; it likely involved the this spell.

Rhaegar licked his lips and continued reading.

The book contained speculations about dragons, knowledge of dragon breeding from a Dragonlord family, and the preparation and process of dragon taming...

He flipped through the pages faster, reaching the last page.

"Whew~, this unknown Dragonlord family had some useful knowledge about breeding dragons," Rhaegar said, satisfied.

The book detailed dragon habits, volcanic landscapes, and dragon egg preservation.

Targaryen had some of this knowledge, but not as detailed as the book's records.

"Dragon egg hatching..."

Rhaegar set the parchment aside and thoughtfully picked up the silver and black dragon egg by his leg.

Raising it above his head, he examined it closely in the hazy moonlight.

An idea flashed in Rhaegar's mind. He mobilized the fire magic power in his blood to gently nourish the dragon egg.

The book mentioned that dragon eggs were best kept in volcanic landscapes, like the dragon nests of the Fourteen Flames.

Such conditions increased the hatching rate and accelerated the growth of young dragons.

Rhaegar smiled and chanted, "Dragon egg, please hatch quickly."

He suddenly recalled his childhood.

Rhaenyra had placed a black dragon egg from Dreamfyre in his cradle.

After all these years, that dragon egg still lay unhatched in the Dragonpit.

Watching his nieces Baela and Rhaena successfully hatch their dragon eggs had always made him a bit envious.

Ka-ching...

Suddenly, the dragon egg made a crunching sound and a piece of silver and black scale fell away.

"Eh?" Rhaegar's eyes widened, and he instantly sat up straight.

The sea breeze blew away the dark clouds, revealing a bright moon that cast its light through the wide floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating both the dragon egg and Rhaegar's face.

Click click click...

The dragon egg gently shook, and the cracks spread wider and wider.

Pfft...

With a final push, a small dragon head poked out of the eggshell, reflecting a silver-black luster under the moonlight.

Rhaegar's breath caught, and he held his hand up, not daring to move.

Incredibly, he had personally hatched a young dragon.

"Roar..."

The young dragon's black vertical pupils glanced around as it slowly crawled out of the eggshell, stretching its body like a small black cat.

In appearance, the young dragon was almost a replica of Morghul. Its slender silver-black body wasn't large, but its head was as big as a goose egg, with a head-to-body ratio of a staggering one to three.

The young dragon's tiny neck struggled to support its head, and it moved its body laboriously, its bushy gray wings wrapping around Rhaegar's arm.

Plop...

Unbalanced by its oversized head, the young dragon toppled over.

Rhaegar quickly caught it, preventing a tragic fall just after hatching.

"Roar..."

The young dragon roared weakly, bracing its wings against Rhaegar's arm as it stood up, looking at him with curious eyes.

"Sip sip sip! ~"

Rhaegar's eyes sparkled with joy as he smiled. "Little one, are you alright?"

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