As evening fell, two dragons flew from the Isle of Faces into Harrenhal under the moonlight.
The gates of Harrenhal stood wide open, as carts laden with goods and chests were drawn into the castle one by one.
Rhaegar glanced down from above, watching the caravan form a long line, each cart fully loaded.
As Glutton landed, Rhaegar slid off the dragon's back and caught a weary Rhaenyra in his arms.
Supporting her as they walked back to the Burning King's Tower, Rhaegar asked curiously, "Did old Tully send so many gifts?"
He knew Lord Tully's nature—frugal, to say the least.
It didn't seem likely that he would be this generous.
"Hmph, of course not," Rhaenyra snorted, her voice laced with jealousy. "It was your little Tyrell rose who sent them—an entire hundred carts' worth."
"Margaery? Why would she send so much for no reason?" Rhaegar ignored the jealousy in her tone and frowned slightly.
He had no intention of visiting Highgarden anytime soon, nor did he have any lingering affairs with Margaery.
Receiving such a large amount of wealth from her felt burdensome.
Rhaenyra, sulking, rested her head on Rhaegar's shoulder and muttered, "Why else? She's obviously after your body."
It had been years.
Countless noblewomen had coveted Rhaegar, and she had long since grown used to it.
"Forget it. Just make sure to send her a return gift—we don't want to be called stingy," Rhaegar said, shaking his head before carrying the exhausted Rhaenyra into the tower.
---
Half a month later...
**King's Landing, the Dragonpit.**
"Blizzard, can I pet you?"
"Blizzard, try this—it tastes better than lamb…"
Inside the spacious Dragonpit hall, a young boy's voice echoed repeatedly.
Aemond Targaryen, dressed in green with silver hair, forced a smile as he nervously watched the dragon a few meters away.
"Hisss… Gahhh…"
A young dragon with shining silver scales lay on the ground, its golden-hued, slit-pupiled eyes coldly watching the incessantly chattering boy. Its small claws scratched against the stone floor.
After three years of growth, Blizzard had finally reached the size of a horse.
It was a newly hatched dragon, raised in the Dragonpit from birth.
As the only Targaryen without a dragon, Aemond had naturally set his sights on Blizzard.
He frequently visited the silver-scaled dragon, hoping to bond with it.
"Blizzard, I'll bring you a goat."
Seeing that Blizzard ignored him, Aemond took a deep breath and ordered the dragonkeepers to bring in a goat.
"Baa…"
The plump goat, a rope tied around its neck, twisted its body nervously.
Aemond took the rope and nudged the goat toward Blizzard, tentatively commanding, "Blizzard, Dracarys!"
He spoke in High Valyrian, hoping the dragon would obey his order.
"Hisss… Gahhh…"
Blizzard remained indifferent, crawling further into its den, its tail flicking dismissively at both the boy and the goat.
Just as humans chose dragons, dragons also chose their riders.
Clearly, Aemond was not the one Blizzard recognized as its master.
"Blizzard, Dracarys!!"
After repeated failures, frustration welled up in Aemond. Ignoring everything else, he shouted the command again.
His brothers and sister—Aegon, Helaena, and Daeron—each had their own dragons.
He was already overlooked, and lately, the disappointment in his parents' eyes had only grown.
His pride could not bear this treatment any longer.
But Blizzard remained motionless, curling its tail in front of itself, resting its slender neck upon it, and closing its eyes as if preparing for a nap.
"Blizzard, get up! Obey me!"
Aemond, growing desperate, pushed the goat closer to the young dragon, closing the distance between them.
Finally, his shouting and pushing angered the drowsy creature.
"Hisss—Gahhh!!"
Blizzard's golden eyes snapped open. With swift agility, it turned toward Aemond and opened its jaws, unleashing a surge of silver-gray dragonfire.
"No, no, no!"
Aemond's eyes widened in terror. Instinct took over, and he dove to the ground.
**Sizzle—**
The goat, caught in the flames, was roasted in an instant, its body reduced to a blackened husk.
Aemond, curled up on the ground, narrowly avoided the full force of the fire, but the green cloak he wore caught a stray spark.
"Ahh! It burns!"
As the dragonfire subsided, Aemond scrambled to his feet, frantically trying to undo the cloak's clasps.
"Prince, let me help you!"
The nearby dragonkeepers were nearly petrified with fear but quickly rushed to assist him.
Blizzard was known to be aloof but had never been this aggressive before. No one had expected it to breathe fire so suddenly.
After a frantic struggle, Aemond finally tore off his burning cloak and threw it to the ground, stomping on it furiously.
"Take Blizzard back to the Dragonpit. It is unfit for taming."
An elderly dragonkeeper seized the opportunity to speak, signaling the younger ones to lead Blizzard away.
Dragons were proud creatures. If one rejected a person, there was no changing its mind.
And once a dragon breathed fire at someone, it was nearly impossible for that person to tame it.
Still furious, Aemond continued to stomp on his charred cloak, muttering curses under his breath.
"All I want is to tame a dragon like my brothers and sister! Why is it so hard?!"
Grinding his teeth, his eyes burned with both frustration and determination.
"Damn it, I **will** succeed!"
Just as his breath steadied, a thunderous dragon roar suddenly shook King's Landing.
The sound came from the direction of the Dragonpit.
The dragonkeepers reacted immediately, swiftly opening the massive gates.
**Whoosh—**
A massive black dragon descended from the sky, its sharp claws striking the ground, sending sparks flying.
Aemond quickly turned his head, his eyes filled with panic as he stared at the colossal beast.
Then, the panic faded, replaced by intense envy and jealousy.
"Roar..."
The pitch-black dragon let out a low growl, lowered its towering back, folded its wings to the ground, and crawled into the dragon's lair.
Disdain was evident in its fierce green slit pupils.
It was simply too large—this enclosed lair was not suitable for movement.
The dragon nests on the Isle of Faces were much better. Not only did they have mountain caves to land in, but the island's underground was also filled with an extensive network of tunnels, no worse than the environment on Dragonstone.
Facing the massive black dragon head-on, Aemond immediately turned and bolted.
That was the Devourer, the one who had burned the Three Daughters—he couldn't afford to provoke it.
Aemond ran to the side of the dragon's lair, hiding beside the dragon guards while gazing at the silver-haired figure on the dragon's back.
His eyes sparkled with admiration, and he cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting, "Big Brother!"
From his elevated position, Rhaegar had already spotted the boy.
As the Devourer crawled to the edge of the lair and lay down, Rhaegar slid off the dragon's back and walked toward his foolish younger brother.
Aemond eagerly ran up to meet him, his face beaming with excitement. "Big Brother, why did you come back so suddenly?"
"What, am I not welcome?"
Rhaegar teased, removing the cloak from his shoulders and tossing it to Aemond.
Aemond obediently caught the cloak, holding it carefully as he quickly explained, "Of course not! I missed you."
"Heh, I think you missed the dragons."
Rhaegar's sharp eyes noticed the burnt and trampled cloak, immediately guessing that Aemond had failed in his attempt to tame a dragon.
"Heh heh, I can't hide anything from you."
Aemond scratched his head in embarrassment, his eyes filled with pleading. "Big Brother, Blizzard doesn't like me. Can you take me to Dragonstone for a visit?"
That was his real plan.
There were three unclaimed dragons on Dragonstone, including one as mighty as the Devourer and Vhagar—the Bronze Fury, Vermithor.
Compared to the young, untamed Blizzard, Aemond longed for a true giant dragon.
He wanted to prove himself, to silence all the doubters.
Rhaegar glanced at him and said indifferently, "I can take you to Dragonstone when I have time, but I can't guarantee you'll succeed in taming a dragon."
Because of his failed attempts, Aemond had endured endless mockery from Aegon, along with many disdainful looks.
The three dragons on Dragonstone were all fully grown—taming them would be even harder than raising a young one.
"It doesn't matter. As long as I have a chance, I won't give up!" Aemond said excitedly.
He was already ten years old and understood many things.
Aegon might be his brother by blood, and he had even taken him to a brothel for his "education," but he was utterly unreliable. Aemond couldn't count on him at all.
If he wanted a real mentor, he had to turn to Rhaegar.
---
**Red Keep, Banquet Hall**
Viserys was busy preparing fine wines for the evening feast, smiling as he directed the servants in setting up.
Click-clack, click-clack...
A series of urgent high-heeled footsteps echoed through the hall, carrying an aggressive momentum.
The sound reached his ears, and Viserys' smile froze.
Turning around, he saw Alicent in a flowing green gown striding down the staircase, her curled hair bouncing slightly with each step.
Her face was dark with fury—her mood was terrible.
"Alicent, you should be with Aegon," Viserys spoke first.
Alicent's eyes burned with frustration as she retorted, "The one who should be with Aegon is you! You're his father!"
Viserys rubbed his forehead. "Aegon is a man. He's not as fragile as you think."
"Not as fragile?!"
Alicent practically shrieked, waving her hands in outrage. "This is all because of your dear brother! He attacked Rhaegar before, and now he's injured Aegon. And you're just letting him get away with it?"
At that moment, Rhaegar and Rhaenyra entered the hall, hand in hand, followed by a group of younger ones—Helaena, Aemond, and Daeron.
Aegon was absent. Word had it that he was still recovering from his beating.
Viserys glanced at the arriving children and sighed helplessly as he tried to calm his wife. "Daemon has changed. He is now the Lord of the Narrow Sea and has a responsibility to the Stepstones."
"Oh? And his responsibility includes beating Aegon? Beating his own nephew?!" Alicent was relentless, demanding an explanation.
A few days earlier, Aegon had been sent back to King's Landing by ship.
When he returned to the Red Keep, his face was bruised and swollen, his body covered in bruises.
Only after questioning the accompanying guards did they learn the truth—on Bloodstone, Daemon had beaten Aegon in front of everyone and even hung him up for public humiliation.
The reason? Daemon had ordered the troops on Bloodstone to attack and harass the pirates of the Three Daughters.
Aegon had delayed the attack, allowing the pirates to escape.
In a fit of rage, Daemon had beaten him senseless.
Alicent's greatest weakness was her children.
To her, Daemon's actions were an outright provocation, testing the limits of her already frayed nerves.
The thought of Aegon suffering both physical and emotional humiliation made her blood boil—Daemon had to pay.
Viserys sighed helplessly, rubbing his temples as a headache set in.
Daemon had written to him, detailing Aegon's conduct over the past year, which had indeed gone against the original intent of securing the Stepstones.
In his heart, Viserys had already reconciled with his brother.
Aegon had made a mistake, and as his uncle, Daemon had disciplined him—it wasn't entirely unreasonable.
*(End of Chapter)*