Viserys had an idea to showcase the strength and prosperity of House Targaryen—an idea that, once formed, was unstoppable.
Gently turning the gemstone ring on his finger, he looked at Rhaegar and asked, "Storm's End isn't far from King's Landing. Can you take care of your younger siblings?"
"I will fly there on dragonback, but are you certain about this?"
Rhaegar did not give a direct answer; instead, he urged his father to reconsider.
The environment around Storm's End was harsh—perpetually shrouded in thick clouds and drenched by torrential rains.
Alicent was not one to be easily swayed; she wouldn't simply allow the children to leave without question.
"That won't be an issue. Aegon and Helaena have dragons, and so does Daeron," Otto interjected confidently, showing great faith in his grandchildren.
A Targaryen with a dragon was beyond the realm of ordinary men.
Rhaegar's eyes flickered as he glanced at his eager father. He did not immediately refuse.
Borros was an arrogant and self-important man.
Bringing his younger siblings to visit Storm's End could serve as a reminder to the nobility of the Stormlands of House Targaryen's power.
After a brief discussion among the councilors, they agreed with Otto's proposal.
Viserys made the final decision with full confidence. "Rhaegar will lead the group and take his siblings to Storm's End. Let the people of the Seven Kingdoms witness the might of House Targaryen."
His own dragon had long since passed, but all of his children were dragonriders.
It was time to show the world the strength of their bloodline.
Rhaegar casually agreed while mentally planning the journey.
---
At dawn, the once-silent Dragonpit bustled with activity.
Several dragons emerged from their lairs, guided by the dragonkeepers as they sought out their riders.
Aegon, looking utterly unwilling, climbed onto the magnificent Sunfyre.
Aemond, who had no dragon of his own, was assigned to ride with Aegon. Rubbing his hands together, he clambered onto Sunfyre's back, securing himself in the saddle and fastening the chains.
"Roar…"
Sunfyre, mirroring its rider's reluctance, let out a low growl and shook its body. Its golden scales gleamed brilliantly under the sunlight.
"Hiss—Gah!"
Nearby, Syrax let out a warning snarl, flapping her wings in a display of dominance.
Not to be outdone, Sunfyre spread its own wings, revealing the delicate pink membrane, and responded defiantly.
"Syrax, calm down," Rhaenyra commanded.
Dressed in her black riding gear, she stood before Syrax, gently rubbing the dragon's jawline to soothe it.
Not far away, Tessarion lifted her head, surveying her surroundings before lowering herself to the ground and flicking her tail.
"Climb onto the dragon's back and secure the chains. Everything will be fine."
Rhaegar, his expression serious, guided young Daeron up onto Tessarion's back.
"Don't worry, brother," Daeron said as he nimbly climbed into the saddle, though he bit his lip nervously.
This would be his first time flying on dragonback—his heart pounded with excitement and anxiety.
"Hiss—Gah!"
Tessarion slowly rose, shifting uneasily as her slit-pupiled eyes scrutinized her rider.
Daeron took a deep breath, his breath still unsteady. "Tessarion, take me into the sky."
"Hiss—Gah!"
Tessarion let out a piercing cry, a glimmer of acknowledgment in her eyes. She spread her wings wide and began to beat them with powerful strokes.
Soon, gusts of wind swept through the Dragonpit, sending clouds of dust into the air.
Rhaegar took a few steps back, motioning for the dragonkeepers and guards to clear the area.
His eyes gleamed with excitement—yet another dragon would take a Targaryen into the skies.
"Tessarion, fly!"
Daeron's young voice rang out as he gripped the saddle's handles tightly.
"Hiss—Gah!"
Tessarion let out a thunderous roar, crouched low, then pushed off with her powerful legs. With a mighty flap of her wings, she soared into the air.
The great doors of the Dragonpit had already been opened, allowing sunlight to stream into the dim interior.
Tessarion, moving with remarkable agility, stretched her neck forward and darted out of the Dragonpit, finally leaving behind the domed structure where she had lived for years.
"Not bad—riding a dragon at just seven years old," Rhaegar murmured, his blood running hot with exhilaration.
He climbed onto the back of his dragon, Vermithor, and scanned his siblings, his spirits soaring.
"Everyone, let's go!" he called out.
"Hiss—Gah!"
Vermithor roared as he took the lead, flapping his enormous wings and lifting into the sky.
Right behind him, Helaena's Dreamfyre was the second to take off, her pale blue body sleek and well-proportioned as she let out a sharp cry and pursued Vermithor.
Not to be left behind, Sunfyre and Syrax spread their wings and followed.
Five massive dragons, carrying six Targaryens, soared over the walls of King's Landing and headed toward Blackwater Bay.
Afternoon
Several dragon shadows streaked across the Narrow Sea, reaching the vicinity of Storm's End.
Rhaegar, riding Devourer, took the lead, diving headfirst into the dense, gloomy clouds, savoring the cool, damp touch of the mist.
Unwilling to be outdone, Aegon urged Sunfyre to accelerate, paying no heed to Aemond's startled cries. Together, they and their dragon vanished into the thick cloud cover.
Syrax and Dreamfyre glided steadily, with the smaller Tessarion trailing far behind.
It was Daeron's first time riding a dragon, and both his sisters stayed close, watching over him to prevent any accidents.
At this moment, Storm's End.
Storm's End was a legendary castle, built upon the sea and standing tall despite enduring a thousand years of relentless wind and rain.
As news of Duke Borros' passing spread, nobles from all corners of the Stormlands hurried to pay their respects.
Drizzle pattered down...
Carriages trundled along the narrow bridge leading into Storm's End, their occupants braving the wind and rain to enter the castle.
The sky was dark, and the air was heavy with moisture, intensifying the somber atmosphere of the funeral.
Thunder rumbled—
Rain poured in torrents, lightning flashing across the sky, its echoes rolling through the heavens as guests stepped out of their carriages, instantly drenched by the downpour.
A sudden screech—
A deep, thunderous roar—like the cry of a dragon—pierced the stormy sky, carried by fierce winds to Storm's End.
"Look! Dragons!"
"There are several of them!"
Devourer, its massive, coal-black body, tore through the rain-laden clouds, its green, slit-pupiled eyes glinting coldly.
Rhaegar narrowed his eyes slightly, spreading his arms wide in an embrace, letting the icy rain lash against his skin.
Amidst the panicked stares of the assembled guests, Devourer circled Storm's End twice before selecting an open space outside the castle walls for landing.
Boom—
As its colossal frame touched the ground, deep pits formed beneath its claws, sending murky water splashing in all directions. The black dragon reared its head and roared.
Under the dim curtain of rain, the pitch-black beast looked like a terrifying god of destruction, exuding a suffocating aura of menace.
A deafening roar—
Another dragon's call erupted, resonating like a tolling bell, filled with an unmistakable warning.
As one, Rhaegar and Devourer turned their heads, their gazes locking onto a distant section of the castle wall.
A massive dragon, its scales a deep shade of green, lay sprawled upon the ground. Even with its neck stretched forward, its spine still towered over the hundred-foot-tall walls.
Vhagar's slit-pupiled eyes were indifferent and cold. Its massive wings, akin to dark canopies, braced against the ground as it twisted its house-sized head to face the younger Devourer.
Through the torrential rain, the two colossal dragons locked eyes, an invisible battle of will crackling with lethal intensity.
A flicker of cruelty passed through Devourer's green pupils. It bared its jagged teeth, its silent yet oppressive aura spreading outward.
Over the years, its body had grown larger, steadily closing the gap between them.
That old dragon, however, was only growing older. Its once-piercing gaze had begun to dull, and its enormous body had become sluggish and heavy, betraying the creeping signs of age.
"Devourer, it's not our enemy."
Sensing the mounting aggression beneath him, Rhaegar spoke coldly, suppressing the dragon's bloodthirsty impulse.
Compared to a few years ago, Devourer had grown significantly.
Standing at the edge of the hundred-foot wall, its back now rose above the battlements, its wings broad enough to cast a vast shadow.
But he had no desire to fight Vhagar.
That ancient dragon was the last of House Targaryen's first-generation dragons, once belonging to his grandfather, Baelon.
Rhaena was a wise and intelligent woman; she would not ride Vhagar into reckless conflict.
Allowing this primordial beast to pass naturally would be a fitting end.
A shrill cry—
Sunfyre broke through the swirling clouds, carrying Aegon and Aemond as it circled Storm's End, its piercing calls echoing arrogantly.
Aemond's eyes widened the moment he spotted Vhagar facing off against Devourer.
Elbowing Aegon in excitement, he practically shouted, "It's Vhagar—the largest dragon in the world!"
He had only glimpsed Vhagar a handful of times, but never at such a close distance. Seeing its enormous form up close left him in awe.
"Shut up, I'm landing," Aegon grumbled, impatiently urging Sunfyre down into the courtyard of Storm's End.
Vhagar and Devourer each occupied a wide stretch of the castle walls, leaving little room for other dragons to approach.
Storm's End wasn't particularly large, and only the courtyard remained suitable for landing.
Rhaegar dismounted, stepping onto the slick black scales of his dragon before making his way to its head. He gently reassured it, "Don't wander off. Wait for me to return."
A deep, rumbling growl—
Devourer let out a low, irritated snarl, its tail swishing through the muddy ground, its wings pressing against the drenched earth.
Dragons were highly territorial creatures. Standing so close to another formidable beast made it difficult to suppress the urge to fight.
"Good boy, I'll be back."
Satisfied that his words had taken effect, Rhaegar ran his fingers along the dragon's rough horns, then slid down its rain-slicked neck.
By the time he reached the courtyard, Dreamfyre and the others had landed, their riders dismounting one by one.
"Prince, Princesses…"
The castle guards rushed forward, hastily raising umbrellas to shield them from the downpour.
The arrival of several dragons had sent an undeniable shockwave through everyone present.
No one dared to be negligent.
Rhaegar's long hair was soaked, raindrops clinging to his pale face, but he seemed unfazed. A grin played on his lips.
Approaching a drenched Rhaenyra, he reached out, tucking a wet strand of hair behind her ear with a smirk. "Even the heaviest rain cannot mar a beauty's face."
Rhaenyra wrung the water from her hair, shaking droplets from her riding leathers, and shot him an exasperated glare.
Rhaegar accepted the reaction with ease, producing two cloaks as if by magic and draping them over his sisters' shoulders.
"Thank you, brother."
Helena clutched the cloak tightly, her small face pale from the cold as she mustered a weak smile.
"My prince, please come inside. The duchess has prepared rooms for you."
The castle doors opened, and a well-dressed steward hurriedly invited them in.
Rhaegar glanced at his younger siblings before stepping forward. "Let's go. No need to linger in the storm."
"Alright." Daeron's eyes gleamed as he patted Tessarion, ordering the guards to raise a canopy for his dragon.
Dragons despised water, and rainy days made them especially restless.
Tessarion, still a young dragon, lacked the steadiness of its older kin.
Rhaegar ruffled his younger brother's hair as they walked. "So, how was your first time riding a dragon?"
"It was incredible!" Daeron beamed, bouncing with excitement.
Aemond watched the exchange, his fists quietly clenching at his sides.
Just before stepping inside the castle, he cast one last glance at the mighty Vhagar, his eyes filled with longing and determination.
(End of Chapter)