Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 493: Herding the Dragon Pack – Iragaxys

The fireball sped forward.

Silverwing, sensing a gust of wind behind it, quickly turned to face it.

Boom!

The dragon's tail swayed slowly, and Silverwing leapt nimbly, dodging the fireball sideways.

“Roar!”

Its vertical pupils locked onto the Grey Ghost in ambush. Burning with rage, Silverwing chased after it head-on. A wild dragon that had just become an adult dared to challenge the majesty of a true dragon.

Even the ugly Mud Dragon was too scared to make a sound when facing it.

Hoo!

Silverwing moved so fast it seemed like a jade arc, spraying orange Dragonfire as it charged forward. Grey Ghost was shocked, not expecting the gap between the two to be so great. Its wings flapped desperately, trying to dive into the clouds to escape.

Frantically, Grey Ghost flapped its wings, trying to escape into the clouds.

However, Silverwing, intimately familiar with Dragonmont, created a boiling mist with its Dragonfire, foiling Grey Ghost’s attempt to vanish into the clouds.

“Gah?”

Exposed and desperate, Grey Ghost spat fireballs in fear.

Pop!

The fireballs disintegrated into sparks upon contact with the orange Dragonfire.

Silverwing’s eyes gleamed with lethal intent. It swooped down, jaws wide, aiming to seize Grey Ghost’s neck in one swift move.

Grey Ghost turned to flee, but it was already too late.

It watched in horror as the green dragon bore down on it, drooling acrid dragon saliva.

At this critical moment, a thought pierced its exhausted mind.

It didn’t want to die; it wanted to fight back.

Embracing this resolve, Grey Ghost abandoned its flight.

A piercing scream erupted from it, and a massive three-meter ball of Dragonfire shot forth.

“Roar!”

From the cave, a thunderous roar echoed, followed by a stream of green Dragonfire.

Grey Ghost felt a chill down its spine and instinctively ducked.

The smoky green fire surged overhead, colliding with the onrushing Silverwing.

Boom!

Caught off guard, Silverwing crashed into the green Dragonfire, driven back by the powerful blast.

Grey Ghost paused in astonishment, then glanced back at the cave.

“Cannibal, fly.”

A silver-haired figure astride the dragon gazed serenely skyward.

Grey Ghost's pupils widened in surprise. It shook off the Silverwing flapping at the Dragonfire and darted to the edge of the cave.

Rhaegar raised his dragon whip and smiled faintly. "Grey Ghost, have you grown more courageous?"

Grey Ghost took it as a compliment and felt a surge of joy.

Rhaegar's smile grew brighter. He whipped the Cannibal on the back and commanded, “Don't block the entrance.”

“Roar!”

Cannibal shook its head and growled, its green pupils full of reluctance, especially fearful of the dragon-taming whip.

Grey Ghost was stunned, noticing Rhaegar's appearance.

Silver hair hanging down his shoulders, his face had turned pale, and a trace of black fire was visible in his eyes, exuding a sense of belonging.

Rhaegar let his long hair fall, revealing dragon scales and horns on his forehead. The strange posture and crooked corners of his mouth created a morbid sense of nobility.

Grey Ghost did not wait to observe him up close. Cannibal stepped out of the cave, its huge body leaping down and taking flight.

Silverwing saw this and quickly retreated.

Cannibal did not pursue but circled back and forth in front of the cave.

Rhaegar looked down on him condescendingly, and the dragon whip snapped in midair with a crisp sound. He commanded, “Let's go!”

“Roar!”

A weak growl came from the cave. The rock wall at the top of the cave rubbed back and forth, dropping sharp gravel, accompanied by the sound of rustling stones.

A bronze dragon head with a ferocious horn poked out, its pupils narrowing with a hint of defiance, looking up at the dragon rider in the air.

Crack!

Without a word, Rhaegar whipped his hand back and forth in the air, saying sternly, “Obey my command, Vermithor!”

Hearing the crack of the whip, Vermithor opened his jagged dragon's mouth and reluctantly stepped out of the cave.

Whoosh!

The wings beat out a gust of wind, and the bronze dragon climbed high into the sky, searching for its mate to fly with.

Rhaegar's face was cold, but his lips curled up in a secret smile.

The binding spell and the dragon whip really worked.

After a few lashes, the two adult dragons that had been fighting each other calmed down and made peace, especially Vermithor. This dragon, known as “Bronze Fury,” would rampage when angry.

Rhaegar used a little physical persuasion to calm the Bronze Fury down. Although there was the use of external forces, it had overcome its irritable nature.

“Roar!”

Cannibal glared at the two dragon partners with contempt, snarling repeatedly in a show of defiance. If it weren't for the rider's intervention, there would only be one dragon allowed on Dragonstone.

Crack!

The whip of the dragon tamer struck the black scales with lightning speed, and the sound was particularly crisp.

Cannibal growled in pain, its pupils dilating in reluctance.

Rhaegar's face was as cold as ice. He said sternly, “You've almost poached a dragon from Dragonstone again!”

If it weren't for his timely arrival, the baby dragon would not have survived. The Cannibal was furious and turned to glare at the rider as if to say, “That's a wild dragon, not a native of Dragonstone.”

Crack!

The dragon whip cracked again, and Rhaegar's tone was firm: “It belongs to Dragonstone, not to the wild!”

A dragon that flies to Dragonstone is a Targaryen dragon. This is an unchanging truth.

Cannibal was hit again, its anger filling its brain. It roared and cursed.

He said he wasn't going to hit it with the whip, but he didn't live up to what he said.

The relationship between the man and the dragon, which had lasted for more than ten years, was now facing its first emotional crisis.

“You just need to be beaten!” Rhaegar's eyes burned with black fire, and he whipped the dragon again.

“Roar!”

Cannibal, furious, carried its rider into the sky, plunging through the clouds in a chaotic rush.

Vermithor and Silverwing: ...

The companion dragons hid behind Dragonmont, watching the Cannibal's wild antics from a distance.

“Cannibal, are you going through a rebellious phase?”

Rhaegar clung tightly to the handlebar, unchained, and still wielded his dragon whip.

Dragon and rider shared a deep bond, able to read each other's minds.

When the Cannibal craved the baby dragon, Rhaegar knew its intentions immediately.

Dragons possess intelligence comparable to humans, each with a unique nature.

Grey Ghost was naturally timid and shy and Vermithor was easily angered and prone to losing control. Cannibalism was intrinsic to the Cannibal.

When he was young, Viserys had separate conversations with Rhaenyra and Rhaegar.

“The Targaryens' control of the dragons is an illusion.”

“The nature of dragons is chaotic and disorderly.”

“Use the dragon well, but don’t rely on dragons too much.”

Rhaegar had taken these words to heart. Today, he truly understood the nature of dragons.

The Targaryens’ bond with their dragons allowed them to control them. But dragons, driven by their nature, would sometimes disobey their riders.

For instance, the special relationship between the Sheepstealer and Aemond. Aemond would command it to go east, but the Sheepstealer would go west, perhaps seeking sheep or merely teasing its rider.

“Roar!”

Cannibal ignored Rhaegar, flying up and down through the clouds, defying its rider. The instinct to eat dragons was in its blood and couldn't be erased.

Rhaegar wasn’t angry; he laughed. “Good fellow, then let’s race.”

It was as if time had turned back eleven years to their first meeting. Cannibal soared with all its might, but Rhaegar held on tight. Man and dragon began to compete. Rhaegar’s goal was clear: to tame the wild nature of the Cannibal.

Eating dragons was instinctive to it, but it had to be controlled. With his dragon-taming whip and knowledge of restraint magic, Rhaegar was confident he could succeed.

Crack!

The whip flew back and forth, occasionally striking the dark scales. With each lash, the Cannibal roared, its resistance growing more intense.

Rhaegar did not relent, patiently waging this war between man and dragon. He never saw himself as the Cannibal’s master. The Cannibal was his partner, as described in the family chronicles of the Dragonlords.

But!

In their bond, there was a hierarchy. Rhaegar, as the rider, had to take the initiative.

Cannibal must obey his commands. Hunting young dragons without permission was a serious offense. Rhaegar punished him severely, trying to change his bad habits.

In the blink of an eye, a quarter of an hour passed.

Cannibal panted heavily, slowing down and stabilizing. It still couldn’t shake off its rider. Just like eleven years ago, Rhaegar clung stubbornly.

Rhaegar's smile faded, and he tapped the dragon's back with his whip, panting slightly. “You can’t say no to me, partner.”

From the first time he rode on its back, the Cannibal was destined to be ridden by him for the rest of its life.

“Roar...”

Cannibal let out a low growl and landed heavily on Dragonmont.

“Roar?”

From a cave halfway up the mountain, a black and red baby dragon cautiously poked its head out, curious about the outside world.

Grey Ghost flew silently, landing on the cave roof to observe the young dragon from above. No dragon was better at hiding than it.

Everything is for survival.

Dragonmont Peak.

Cannibal lay prostrate on the ground, panting heavily, its breath warming the dark rock.

Rhaegar shed his Dragonborn form, combed his disheveled hair, and silently gazed at Vermithor and Silverwing circling overhead. This pair of dragons had lived on Dragonstone for years, their combined combat power formidable.

For various reasons, the Cannibal and the elder dragons had a strained relationship, often clashing in recent years. Dragonstone was too small to accommodate three adult dragons. Even the oldest, Vhagar, had moved away, now active in Driftmark and The Gullet.

“If there were a dragon horn, could it command the dragons?” Rhaegar wondered, raising his dragon whip and surveying the situation.

Dragon-taming tools were highly effective, as anyone who had used them could attest.

"I remember that the first dragonlords of ancient Valyria were just a group of shepherds on a peninsula," Rhaegar mused, looking down at the long whip in his hand.

Crack!

The whip made a crisp sound, and Rhaegar beamed. “Cannibal, fly!”

“Roar!”

Cannibal did not understand, but obeyed anyway, spreading its wings and leaping from the peak.

At Rhaegar's command, man and dragon approached Vermithor and Silverwing in the air.

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Crackling!

The dragon whip was swung, some blows landing on the dragons, others in mid-air. Rhaegar, like a shepherd, shouted, “Move!”

“Roar!”

Vermithor growled in protest, and Silverwing received a lash. The two dragons were irritated but could not resist the threat of the dragon whip and Cannibal, obediently spreading their wings and soaring.

Cannibal led, with the other two dragons following at a distance, entangled with each other.

Rhaegar was enjoying himself, steering the dragons halfway up the mountain. He commanded, “Let's go!”

“Roar!”

Grey Ghost was startled. Just moments ago, it saw three dragons being whipped into submission.

They seemed terrified of the whip.

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The black and red young dragon tilted its head, hesitating.

Rhaegar glanced at it, cracked the whip, and said in a threatening tone, “Obey my command!”

The young dragon shivered in fear and quickly jumped out of the cave, flapping its blood-red wings to keep up.

Rhaegar finally had a chance to take a good look at the wild young dragon and exclaimed in surprise, “Balerion?”

The black scales and red wing membranes made it look exactly like Balerion.

“Well, from now on, you'll be a Targaryen dragon, and I'll give you a great name.”

Rhaegar's eyes lit up as he pointed his dragon whip at the young dragon and decided, “Since you were almost eaten by Silverwing and has scarlet wings, you'll be called Iragaxys, The Bloodwing!”

Iragaxys tilted its head and followed Grey Ghost obediently. It didn't understand, not at all. It was just a baby dragon that had just hatched. Despite its size, it was still growing fast.

Rhaegar was content, driving several dragons and the young dragon through the sky.

Balerion name was too special. The Targaryens only had one dragon named Balerion. Iragaxys, also name of an ancient Valyrian god, whose duty was to greet death and guard the gates of hell, was a fitting name for the black and red young dragon.

It is a subordinate god of Balerion, the god of death, it was perfect name for the red and black young dragon.

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