Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

It was not known how long it had been, but the sky grew dark.

"Roar..."

Compared to the grumpy old woman that Vhagar is, Uragax is more like an ageless, elegant lady.

Rumble rumble—

Suddenly, golden flames broke out in the distance, and thick smoke billowed up from a large area. In the distance, the sound of shouting and fighting echoed.

Uragax's pupils were indifferent as it circled in place once, then turned and headed back to the temporary residence at Lemwood. The young dragon and the old one that had trespassed were still in the territory. It had no time to look around. Sunspear once again appears at the edge of the sea.

"Hmm..."

Baelon gradually woke from his daze and opened his eyes, confused. Looking around, he realized he was covered in moss-like dark green scales, and on either side of him were wide wings with milky yellow membranes.

"Uragax, is that you?"

"Roar..."

Uragax rolled its vertical pupils in response to its young master's query. Docile, it answered all his questions in silence.

"Haha, I'm confused," Baelon said with a smile, stroking the rough scales beneath him. The old dragon was a special breed—stunted in its growth despite its age—and it would remain at the peak of its powers until it was 300 years old. Its body was covered in scars, obvious signs of the countless hardships it had endured.

"You don't have a saddle, and no dorsal fins either," Baelon mused, his curiosity piqued as he looked at the old dragon like a precious treasure. The worn saddle had long since disintegrated, making it harder to ride.

Rumble rumble...

Man and dragon were still getting used to each other when a loud rumble came from afar. Fire and smoke filled the dark sky.

"What's going on?" Baelon asked in surprise.

"Roar..."

Uragax didn’t want to pay any attention to the disturbance. The huge dragon flew back toward Sunspear, attracting the attention of the other two dragons.

"Roar!"

Iragaxys's scarlet pupils glowed as it darted into the sky like an arrow, circling the old dragon that had once fought beside it.

Baelon smiled happily. "I did it, Iragaxys!" he shouted, waving his arms cheerfully as if calling out to a friend.

Iragaxys turned its head proudly, then disappeared into the red, flaming clouds, hiding its figure.

"Roar!"

Vhagar shook its head several times as the old dragon slowly rose to its feet. The average lifespan of a dragon was 200 years, and at 181, Vhagar’s body had begun to age. But this did not mean its combat effectiveness had diminished. Often, in their twilight years, dragons could unleash astonishing power that they had never known.

"Stop, Vhagar!"

Baelon's face grew solemn as he spoke in High Valyrian: "Don't die in vain."

Vhagar was a dragon of the House, one of the most important founding dragons of the Targaryens. Fearless fighting only increased casualties and couldn’t alleviate the pain of internal trauma. As an old dragon that had experienced three riders, Vhagar had an extraordinary wealth of experience. This experience would leave an unshakeable shadow whenever each successive rider died.

Vhagar was very old. It had lost too much.

"Roar!"

Vhagar looked up, and blood from the sagging folds of its jaw dripped to the ground. It was surprisingly quiet. After a fierce battle, the pent-up emotions in its heart had finally dissipated. Now, at last, it could hear the sounds of the outside world again.

Seeing this, Baelon let out a relieved smile and leaned down to stroke the rough scales. 'What is there not to be satisfied with?' he thought.

As the sun set, the sea became covered in smoke, and the sky darkened. Baelon was transfixed, his confused thoughts suddenly clearing. "Is that... the Stepstones?"

Realizing this, he sat up abruptly. "Come with me, Uragax!"

Baelon looked anxious as he flexed his dragon-taming whip and tapped it against Uragax's thick scales. Without using the fire magic in his blood, the dragon-taming tools wouldn’t work. A simple tap would suffice to command the dragon.

"Roar!"

Uragax's pupils remained calm, and it naturally turned in the opposite direction, roaring as it soared toward the raging sea. Since it had reached its prime, no one had dared to bully it—except that dark and treacherous Dragoneater. When the rider gave the command, it would go and take a look.

"Roar!"

A black dragon’s head poked out of the clouds, its scarlet pupils full of complexity. It looked down at the battered old dragon below, whose enormous body had long since decayed into a mere shadow of its former self.

...

The Stepstones.

"Attack! Shoot down that golden dragon!"

Dalton Greyjoy, his face full of madness, personally manned a scorpion crossbow, aiming it at the dragon. Dozens of Iron Islands warships attacked Bloodstone, quickly routing the weak patrol fleet and rushing toward the docks where merchant ships came and went, ready to loot.

"Roar!"

A golden dragon darted left and right, dodging the siege of dozens of scorpion crossbows while setting the nearest warships ablaze.

"Attack, Sunfyre!"

Aegon, his face twisted in anger, clad in black steel armor, rode the dragon. His voice was sharp with urgency as he spoke in the common tongue. He was the Prince of the Stepstones and the Warden of the Narrow Sea.

As he looked down at the Ironborn below, burning, killing, and plundering, his heart ached with grief.

"Damn the Ironborn!" Aegon gnashed his teeth in rage. "Always picking on the weak. Why don't they attack King's Landing?"

Whoosh!

Several steel spears whistled through the air, scraping Sunfyre's neck. The dragon deftly avoided them, its long neck moving with grace. A shrill burst of sound erupted from Sunfyre, a mixture of alarm and fury.

"Hurry up, burn them all!"

Aegon, forgetting his High Valyrian in the heat of the moment, slapped the dragon's back to urge it on.

"Roar!"

Sunfyre was clever and responded swiftly. The dragon leaned forward and charged toward the warship bearing the golden squid’s sigil, spewing golden Dragonfire to clear a path.

The flying steel spears glowed red-hot as they softened upon impact, harmlessly bouncing off Sunfyre's golden scales.

Boom!

The Dragonfire crashed down on the warship like ink spreading across a basin. Accompanied by countless screams, the entire ship became a sea of flames.

"Is he dead?"

Aegon, greatly heartened, scanned the chaos, searching for the Red Kraken, commander of the Iron Islands fleet.

"Shoot him down!"

Suddenly, a figure with black hair climbed onto another warship and shouted, ordering the scorpion crossbows to fire in unison.

Whoosh!

A dozen steel spears flew fast and furious, aimed straight at the young dragon, now surrounded on all sides. Sunfyre's slender body tilted upwards, dodging most of the projectiles.

Puff!

Just as Sunfyre was about to break free, a steel spear shot from the shadows, piercing the pale pink membrane of one wing. More spears rained down from the sky immediately after. Sunfyre struggled to adjust its body, but he could not avoid them all—its golden hide was covered in blood.

One spear barely missed Sunfyre's massive chest, shattering scales and flesh in a burst of pain.

"Roar!"

Sunfyre screamed. It was too late to regain height, and the dragon began to fall like a kite with a broken string.

"Haha, well done!"

The Red Kraken laughed, seizing another scorpion crossbow, eager to finish off the dragon himself. He had allied with the Alliance of Three Cities, gaining vast amounts of wealth, superior warships, and powerful scorpion crossbows.

If he could capture the Stepstones, even greater fortune awaited him. The Iron Islands were already ruined. With the spoils, he planned to go to Essos and become the infamous King Dalton.

"Nooooooooooooo!"

The enemy laughed at the rout of his army, relishing their rampant victory. Scenes flashed before his eyes like a slideshow, the end of his life drawing near.

"Roar!"

A majestic dragon with moss-green scales roared, spitting out green Dragonfire like ink, instantly melting the steel spears in the sky.

Rumble!

The massive dragon shot through the air like a meteor, breaking the sound barrier with a deafening roar. Its vertical pupils gleamed menacingly as it swooped low, its tail sweeping across the enemy fleet, toppling several warships in a single blow.

"Roar! Roar!"

Sunfyre twisted in mid-air, narrowly avoiding a plunge into the sea. With a violent jolt and a desperate flip, it regained the sky.

Aegon’s face was blank, stunned by the sudden chaos around him.

Just then, a familiar shout echoed behind him: "Uragax, Iragaxys!"

"Roar..."

Iragaxys, who had been battling across the field, soared at the sound. Dragonfire painted the sea, as though a forest of Lemonwood had sprung from the ocean’s surface.

Baelon, his face twisted with anger, leaned over his dragon's back, glaring down at the Ironborn fleet below. He knew the Stepstones were in peril, and it was a damned Ironborn attack—one they’d barely escaped.

Feeling the cold wind bite his skin, Aegon gradually regained his senses. Spotting his great nephew riding Iragaxys, he whispered in relief, "Thank the gods."

Before the words fully left his lips...

"Roar..."

"Roar..."

Two dragons—one green, one black—soared through the smoke, diving into the heart of the Ironborn fleet and spewing furious Dragonfire.

"Follow me!" Baelon shouted, anticipating the call to attack.

Vhagar, ignoring its injuries, swayed in the air like an unshakable mountain. Iragaxys, agile and relentless, weaved through the battlefield behind the older dragons, its Dragonfire explosive and deadly.

Though the three dragons were slightly out of sync, the devastation they unleashed was undeniable.

Aegon was in a daze. Watching his nephew—who once had no dragons—now commanding three of them left him dumbfounded. "Huh?"

He looked down at the wounded and whimpering Sunfyre below him, then at the three dragons wreaking havoc across the battlefield. For a man used to being outmatched, it was an incomparable blow.

"Dracarys, burn them all!"

Baelon’s focus was simple—he had saved his foolish uncle. With the dragon-taming whip in hand, he chased after the fleeing enemy. In his dragonborn state, he had the strength to lead the charge, herding the dragons forward.

Yet, the other two dragons followed Baelon without needing much guidance. Vhagar, full of rage, led the assault, venting its fury on the Ironborn fleet. Iragaxys followed closely, attacking with skillful precision.

The bond between the dragons wasn’t perfect, but their shared hardships had forged a deep friendship, a silent agreement to help one another. Even the timid grey dragon, once hesitant, had joined the fight.

"Roar..."

Uragax, relatively unscathed, became the dominant force in the naval battle at the Stepstones. One dragon alone had set more than twenty warships ablaze.

As night fell, the sea was lit by dozens of "sea candles"—burning ships, their flames dancing on the dark water. The Ironborn were either dead or gravely injured. A few lucky survivors plunged into the sea, only to face the biting cold and hungry fish.

"Despicable Ironborn. Let's see if you dare rebel again," Baelon muttered, his voice filled with venom.

Pure moonlight bathed the scene as Baelon hovered above the blood-red sea, astride his dark green dragon. His hatred for the Ironborn ran deep, fueled by the attacks on the Riverlands and the Stepstones. Now, he was locked in a bitter conflict with the Ironborn of the Iron Islands.

...

On Bloodstone Island...

"Roar~~"

Sunfyre lay on the ground, panting heavily from exhaustion and injury.

On the other side, Aegon sat in silence, "tears" almost streaming down his face. "How could everything change so quickly?" he whispered.

Not long ago, he had been the dragonless nephew, easy to tease. Now, in the blink of an eye, his nephew had become untouchable—beyond provocation.

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