Chapter 66: Dance of the Dragons

As expected, Rhaegar was awakened from his sleep by a familiar nightmare.

Unlike before, he did not wake with a scream, but opened his eyes with a blank stare.

"Dragons surrounded me, and the Cannibal..." His murmur faded, lost in the remnants of his dream.

As a dreamer, the vivid images lingered, refusing to leave his mind.

"Hmm...hmm..." A soft moan broke the silence, reaching Rhaegar's ears from beside him.

Turning his gaze to the source, Rhaegar found Rhaenyra, the only other occupant of the room, in the throes of discomfort.

The distraught Rhaenyra was oblivious to his gaze, her moans revealing that she was in severe pain.

"What is it, sister?" Rhaegar's concern spurred him to action as he approached her side to assess her condition.

Bathed in the moonlight, Rhaegar saw Rhaenyra's face contorted with pain.

Her once beautiful features were now pale, her eyebrows furrowed, and beads of cold sweat adorned her forehead.

Rhaegar had read several volumes of Herbology, so he could tell immediately that Rhaenyra was unwell.

"Rhaenyra, do you have a fever?" he asked, gently pressing his palm to her forehead to check her temperature.

"Handmaiden, quickly! My sister needs help!" Rhaegar hurriedly summoned Rhaenyra's handmaiden, who promptly entered the room and lit a candle to examine Rhaenyra's condition.

"The princess's fever is alarmingly high. I will fetch the Maester," the handmaiden exclaimed, her concern evident as she hurried to seek medical assistance.

The Maester arrived quickly and took Rhaenyra's temperature before hurrying off to prepare some remedies.

In the midst of her discomfort, Rhaenyra stirred from her slumber, her eyes opening in pain.

Rhaegar, watching her distress, tried to soothe her forehead with a damp cloth, but Rhaenyra turned her head away, unable to bear the sensation.

With trembling lips, Rhaenyra struggled to communicate, her throat sore and inflamed.

Leaning closer, Rhaegar strained to hear her words. "What is it?" he asked anxiously.

"It hurts... my stomach..." Rhaenyra managed to whisper, tears welling in her eyes as she clutched her stomach in pain.

Perplexed by his sister's illness, Rhaegar was concerned.

"Hang on, the Maester will be here soon," he reassured her, warming his hand and applying gentle pressure to her belly under the blankets, hoping to provide some relief.

As Rhaegar reached for the basin of water, a shiver ran through him, the unexpected coldness startled him and Rhaenyra alike.

"Your Grace, the Maester has arrived," the maid announced, returning promptly with the elderly healer, who entered the room dressed in his customary robes and carrying a medicine bag.

After assessing Rhaenyra's symptoms, the Maester offered his diagnosis. "It seems to be a case of chills brought on by exposure to the rain. Drink some ginger tea and make sure you stay warm."

With efficient haste, the handmaiden set about preparing the ginger tea while Rhaegar provided Rhaenyra with a basin of hot water to ease her aches and pains.

Suddenly, a resounding boom echoed from outside the castle walls, interrupting their attentions.

Rhaegar's grip on the basin slipped as a dark thought crossed his mind.

Handing the basin to the maid, Rhaegar strode to the window and peered out at the commotion outside the castle.

Though the rain had stopped, his attention was drawn to a fire at the edge of the castle where the city wall once stood.

A section of the wall lay in ruins, engulfed in flames and billowing smoke, while a smaller dragon hovered above, roaring furiously.

"It's not Cannibal," Rhaegar muttered, furrowing his brow in confusion at the unexpected attack.

A resounding roar pierced the night, followed by a torrent of golden flames that fell from the sky and rained down on the cliffs outside the castle.

Rhaegar's heart quickened as he realized it was the cliff where Cannibal had taken shelter.

Before he could fully comprehend the situation, a deafening noise echoed through the castle, rousing everyone from their sleep.

Lord Robert emerged from his chambers in disarray, hastily organizing the guards to ensure the King's safety within the main castle.

Meanwhile, Rhaegar's focus remained on the commotion at the edge of the castle.

Amid the chaos, a familiar sound reached his ears - the ominous roar of the Cannibal, the black dragon, as it emerged from the flat ground beneath the cliffs, its gaze fixed on its attackers.

In response to the Cannibal's appearance, two colossal dragons emerged from the darkness of the night sky, illuminated by the flames engulfing the castle.

Their shapes became clearer in the flickering light.

One was a gigantic dragon with bronze scales and brown wing membranes, while the other, slightly smaller, had dark green scales and silver wing membranes.

Though unfamiliar to Rhaegar's eyes, their identities were unmistakable, thanks to his extensive knowledge of Targaryen dragon lore.

They were Vermithor, known as Bronze Fury, and his mate, Silverwing-two dragons once under the care of Rhaegar's great-grandfather, King Jaehaerys Targaryen, and his queen.

Since the death of the revered monarchs nearly two decades earlier, these magnificent creatures had made their home on the island of Dragonstone, free from the command of any master.

At the sight of the two adult dragons, Rhaegar's breath caught in his throat, and a chill of realization ran through him. "Damn, it's like the nightmare has come to life," he murmured, his words drowned out by the rumbling noise.

The cacophony inside the castle was deafening enough, but the sight of the three mighty dragons against the backdrop of the sky was a terrifying spectacle in itself.

As Vermithor and Silverwing attacked Cannibal from opposite sides, unleashing torrents of dragon flames, the air crackled with their clash.

Cannibal refused to give in to the onslaught, dodging their attacks with deft maneuvers while his own emerald flames illuminated the darkness, casting an eerie glow over the landscape.

The battle escalated, and the three dragons went from spitting flames to melee, their forms intertwining in a fierce dance.

Even from a distance, Rhaegar could sense the Cannibal's fury.

"Hang on, I'm coming to help," Rhaegar said, looking away from the window with determination.

As he made his way across the room, Rhaenyra's faint voice reached his ears.

"Rhaegar, what's happening?"

Trying to comfort her, Rhaegar replied softly, "The Cannibal was upset about something, I want to calm him down."

Rhaenyra struggled to keep her eyes open as she lay on the bed, her voice strained with urgency. "Do not deceive me. I heard the sound of dragons fighting."

"It's nothing serious, I'll go calm Cannibal and return shortly," Rhaegar assured her, wiping the sweat from her brow as he spoke.

Unexpectedly, Rhaenyra grabbed his wrist, her voice shaking. "Please don't go. Dragon battles are dangerous, and you're too young."

"I am no longer a child; I am a Dragon Rider now," Rhaegar countered firmly, pulling his hand from her grasp. "My bond with the Dragon obliges me to fight by its side."

"You mean more to me than any dragon," Rhaenyra protested weakly, her reluctance obvious.

Rhaegar met her gaze with unflinching determination. "The dragon is as important to me as I am to myself."

With a kiss on her forehead, Rhaegar turned to leave. He was bound to Cannibal as her knight, and he could not ignore the danger. To retreat would betray their bond and abandon him.

The noise of the dragon battle echoed throughout the castle, rousing everyone from their slumber.

Viserys rose early as well, dressing hastily and retiring to his chambers under the watchful eye of his guards. The corridors were swarming with guards, their tense demeanor reflecting the gravity of the situation.

The sight of three dragons engaged in battle on the outskirts of the castle would unsettle even the bravest of souls.

Eager to aid Cannibal, Rhaegar evaded the guards and slipped out of the castle through a side staircase.

In the distance, the aerial skirmish raged on as Cannibal battled the coordinated attack of Vermithor and Silverwing.

Cannibal was at a disadvantage from the start, pinned down by the synchronized attacks of his opponents.

The coordination between Vermithor and Silverwing, honed over years of partnership, left Cannibal with little room to react.

Their combined assault, golden and orange flames intertwined in a deadly dance, left Cannibal no choice but to endure the attack, his massive body unable to dodge each blast.

Vermithor and Silverwing maintained their dominance of the skies, their coordinated attacks forcing Cannibal to retreat.

Despite his size, Cannibal's retaliation with his green dragon flame had remarkable power and range, serving as his only means of counterattack.

(Word count: 1434)