Chapter 516: Wandering Seasmoke
Time flies. Half a month later.
Lys, outer sea area.
Small islands surround it, with palm trees and other tropical vegetation growing vigorously. The rippling ocean is teeming with jumping fish.
On the shipping lanes, merchant ships drift back and forth, like pieces on a blue chessboard.
“Roar!”
A pitch-black dragon glides down, its thick tail sending a gust of wind that makes the sails of the ships billow.
Before the sailors could even shout in alarm, the pair of wings that covered the sky flashed past.
Peering out.
Lys is getting closer and closer to the black dragon.
...
Rhaegar looked down and saw the bustling activity of the Free Cities, with their gray stone buildings alive with motion.
“Hey, partner, stop playing around,” he called out.
The dragon circled above the city, causing a commotion among the local residents. Rhaegar urged the dragon beneath him to put away its playful attitude.
Cannibal slowed down and flew deliberately towards the tallest black stone building in the Free Cities. This flat-topped tower, a relic of ancient Valyrian and Dragonlord lore, symbolized the sky and dragons.
The tower was colossal, rising eight hundred feet into the air.
Boom!
The dragon folded its wings and landed on the flat top of the building, as if it were a landing pad.
Rhaegar rolled off the dragon's back and laughed. “Wait for me at the Dragonpit. I'll see you soon.”
“Roar...”
Cannibal raised its head proudly, its dragon's snout curling up to its rider. With a flap of its wings, he soared into the sky, heading towards a domed building.
Rhaegar stepped onto the Dragonstone floor and walked into the elevator with ease.
The flat-topped tower, thanks to the design plans of the red priest Varis, involved blood magic. The tower was strong enough to withstand the weight of a dragon.
...
Dragonpit Without a Roof
The wide open space on the ground was comparable to a quaint palace. The Bronze Gate blocked the front passage, and the open ceiling bordered the blue sky and white clouds.
“Roar...” Several young dragons were playing in the Dragonpit with their respective masters. Under the supervision of the Dragonkeepers, Aemon and Baela played together, comparing their young dragons.
Morning was weak and fragile, curled up in her master's arms. Trickster and Moondancer stayed far apart, as if they were two green leaves that could be rolled up into a ball at any time.
“Enter the Dragonpit, Cannibal!” Baelon stood at the edge of a brazier and could hear the Dragonkeeper's shouts clearly. “Father is coming!” Baelon smiled happily and called out, “Maekar, look at the big guy in the sky.”
He looked up and was able to catch a glimpse. “Roar~” A low, soft growl came from the dragon, full of a sense of leisurely laziness.
Maekar crouched in the corner, with a half-asleep, half-awake silver-black young dragon in front of him. A quick look around the Dragonpit revealed something strange. Aemon and Baela were in the best position, playing happily, while Maekar was alone at the edge, keeping the sleepy young dragon company.
As the eldest brother, Baelon took the initiative to talk to Maekar, who was somewhat isolated. The reason was unknown; perhaps Maekar was a loner or maybe he was too young.
When he heard his brother's call, Maekar stopped finger-painting and muttered, “Baelon, you love adult dragons too much.”
“Roar!” Tyraxes roared in agreement. What's wrong with a baby dragon? They're cute even when they're small.
Baelon was furious and lectured him, “Don't be ungrateful.” He spoke in a sarcastic tone, like a little lord.
Besides, what's wrong with his love for adult dragons? When he was a child, he fell in love with Cannibal at first sight.
Maekar tilted his head and rolled his eyes. “Are you sure your egg won't hatch?”
Baelon took a step back and asked tentatively, “What do you mean, little brother?”
Maekar's eyebrows arched in a figure of eight, piercing his best friend's heart: “Where are your dragon egg? Can I see it?”
Baelon's mouth twitched slightly, and he said in disbelief, “You, you...” How does he know everything? No wonder Aemond doesn't like playing with him.
Maekar gave a mischievous smile and asked in a low voice, “Tell me! Where did you put your dragon egg?” The little smug expression on his face was like a celebration of his easy victory over his older brother.
“Shh!”
Baelon stepped forward and quickly covered Maekar's mouth.
“Mmm-mmm!”
Maekar fell to the ground, his eyes betraying a hint of grievance. Seeing his master being restrained, Tyraxes' spirit lifted, and the young dragon stared at Baelon with a proud and dignified look.
"Silence, Tyraxes!" Baelon glared at the dragon and uttered an enchanting command.
“Huh?” Tyraxes, confused by the shout, looked around in bewilderment before slowly crawling back to its original position.
Baelon snorted, grabbed Maekar by the ear, and whispered urgently, “Brother, you should understand my predicament.”
“Mmm-hmm!” Seeing that Tyraxes had given up on the rescue, Maekar's eyes widened, and he nodded vigorously.
“Good.” Baelon let go of his ear and said sternly, “Don't ask, don't mention it.”
Maekar whined, “I was going to say that if have no dragon egg, there’s a adult Silverwing in Dragonmont.”
Baelon’s binding spell was superior, and he was bullying him because he was younger.
"That's better." Baelon crossed his arms and looked at him with the protective gaze of an older brother. "Unless the dragon egg is lost, you will be a bit mute from now on."
He was joking. If he wasn't strong, how could he be the oldest brother? That bastard Aemon was the first to rebel against him. His father had given him special training!
Maekar, who had obviously never been treated this way, dragged Tyraxes by the tail and moved to a different spot angrily. As he passed by Aemon and Baela, he aroused the suspicions of Trickster and Moondancer. They all shouted simultaneously at the dragon and the boy.
"Roar!" Tyraxes instantly became enraged, and its serrated dragon mouth opened wide as it roared fiercely and viciously.
The Trickster and Moondancer immediately quieted down, spreading their wings to create distance between them. In terms of size, the two young dragons were only half the size of Tyraxes. It was clear who was stronger.
“Hmph!” Maekar shook his head and continued to tug at the dragon’s tail to change position. Tyraxes calmed down and obediently cooperated with its young master.
From afar, Baelon watched the scene, and a flash of envy crossed his eyes. All his peers had dragons, and he was the only one without one. Although, he would much rather have an adult dragon.
“Baelon, what are you looking at?” Suddenly, a familiar warm voice came from behind.
Baelon turned around in surprise and exclaimed, “Father!” Rhaegar opened his arms and smiled. It was as if he were saying, “Have you missed your father?”
“Father, I missed you so much!” Baelon smiled broadly and threw himself into his father's arms. Rhaegar had been drifting at sea for more than half a month. It wasn't until yesterday evening that he finally arrived in the port of Lys. Unfortunately, King's Landing is too far from Lys to cross the Narrow Sea in a short time. Except for his mother dragon, Syrax, the other children couldn't fly for long.
Rhaegar picked up his eldest son and held him close, their foreheads touching. He asked softly, “Do you want a dragon?”
As they entered the Dragonpit, he saw Baelon watching his two younger brothers interact with the dragons. As the father, he had to show some support.
Baelon’s eyes flickered at the question, and he hesitated. “I haven't chosen a suitable dragon yet.”
“Oh, is that so?” Rhaegar looked surprised, sensing his eldest son's little thoughts.
By then, the other children had come running over. Rhaegar put down Baelon, greeted everyone, and then looked at Maekar, who was watching him with eager anticipation.
The little one had a round face and a small, pouting bottom, like a pug wanting its master's praise. Rhaegar found this amusing and decided to tease his youngest son. “Maekar, I hear you tamed a dragon?”
“Yes, it's Tyraxes.” Maekar's excitement was palpable as he asked, “Did Mother tell you that?” He looked up at his father, his big, watery eyes shining with stars.
“Rhaenyra wrote to tell me.” Rhaegar bent down, grabbed his son's face, and pretended to threaten him. “But she also told me to give you a good beating.”
“Huh?” Maekar was taken aback and pointed at himself. “Beat me up?”
His mother had already praised him for his achievements, so he was confused.
“Yes, you.” Rhaegar's face was stern, and he was about to stretch out his hand.
“No!” Maekar threw a tantrum and ran away.
“Hee hee, you're blushing.” Aemon laughed and teased him.
Rhaegar looked at his second son and said, “You want to get beaten up too?”
Of the three sons, Aemon got the most beatings.
Aemon:...
“No, thank you,” he muttered, turning around and retreating.
Baela and Rhaena bowed and withdrew gracefully.
Soon, only Rhaegar and Baelon were left.
Rhaegar continued the conversation, suggesting, “If you want to tame a dragon, I can take you with me when I visit Storm's End later.”
Baelon frowned and thought for a moment. “Seasmoke?”
“That's it.” Rhaegar admired his eldest son's intelligence and said, “Seasmoke is great. You can outride your peers on it.”
After Laenor was killed, Seasmoke had been wandering around the Sea of Dorne for years, wild and untamed. A dragon in the wild is not something that can be taken lightly. But Seasmoke was a good choice.
As the dragon with the most battlefield experience among the four generations, its actual combat power even exceeded that of Syrax and Sunfyre. He was proud and brave, and most importantly, loyal. Additionally, Seasmoke's appearance was also remarkable.
Soon after breaking out of its shell, it was discovered by fishermen who called it “the smoke of the sea,” charming and dangerous. Its potential was very high!
Baelon heard this and lowered his head in thought. “Father, can I think about it some more?”
Rhaegar did not press him but looked at him curiously. “Do you really want an adult dragon?”
Baelon continued to lower his head and remained silent.
Rhaegar was surprised, staring at his eldest son. Could it be that he has his eye on Vermithor or the Cannibal? My father is weak, but he doesn’t seem like he will die soon. If not Vermithor, then only...
Rhaegar’s eyes flashed with amusement as he remembered a moment when Aemon was three years old. He had excitedly claimed he wanted the Cannibal, asking, “Father, when will you die so that I can inherit your dragon?” That night, the Red Keep echoed with the cries of the inquisitive child. If not for his grandfather Viserys, Baelon might have been an only child.
Rhaegar thought for a moment and then said, “Well, since you want an adult dragon, you’ll have to be patient.”
Baelon looked up in surprise, not expecting his father’s response.
Rhaegar’s eyes were warm as he said, “Remember, you are my eldest son, the future heir to the Iron Throne, not the cruel Maegor.”
Maegor I was a proud and arrogant king. He despised the dragon eggs and young dragons on Dragonstone and was often criticized by his sister-in-law and advisers.
After Aegon the Conqueror died, Maegor tamed the world’s most powerful dragon, Balerion the Black Dread, in one fell swoop. Though inspiring, many years of patience drained a lot of his mind. Once he usurped the throne, he committed many acts that angered the gods and people.
He didn’t want his eldest son to follow in Maegor’s footsteps, waiting for him or his father Viserys to die to inherit their dragons. Rhaegar feared he might lose control and beat him to death with his own hands.
Baelon, scratching his head and smiling, said, “I won’t, Father.”
He didn’t reject Silverwing or Seasmoke. He just had a feeling that he should wait.
“I’m glad you understand,” Rhaegar said, rubbing his head. “I’m going to see your mother.”
Baelon nodded and stayed where he was, watching his father leave the Dragonpit. After a long time, Rhaegar’s figure disappeared completely. Baelon bit his lower lip, hesitating over something. He looked around at Aemon and Maekar, who were playing.
Baelon slipped into a giant dragon pit, using the excuse of relieving himself to avoid the Dragonkeepers’ gaze. It was dark at the bottom of the pit, and it was hard to see anything.
“Rrrr... rrrr...”
Baelon groped his way along the wall, faintly hearing a dull grunting sound coming from deep within the dragon pit. Gradually, the outline of a huge dragon came into view. Vhagar’s eyes were tightly shut, and its slack jaw rested on the uneven ground, like a decrepit old woman asleep on its bed.
Baelon gasped at the sight of the ancient beast, his blood rushing to his head. Three seconds later, he spun around and ran away as fast as he could. This is the dragon he had in mind!
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