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Chapter 518: The Birth of New Dragons

Melisandre's chamber was always lit.

The flames in the hearth burned fiercely, dispelling the biting chill of the winter night.

The Red Priestess sat cross-legged before the fire, her eyes closed, hands resting on her knees, each palm cradling a blood-red eyeball.

The fire crackled softly, as though whispering secrets only it knew.

Melisandre's brow furrowed deeper and deeper until, at last, she opened her eyes with a sigh and turned toward the king seated at the table.

"My apologies, Your Majesty. I cannot discern anything unusual about these eyes. To me, they seem no different from an ordinary person's."

Samwell nodded silently, neither surprised nor disappointed by her conclusion.

Melisandre rose gracefully and approached the table, placing the eyes down. "Did the Three-Eyed Raven say anything about their purpose?" she asked.

Samwell shook his head. "That boy refuses to explain. He only said I'd understand in due time."

Melisandre's expression grew thoughtful. "He's afraid."

"Afraid?"

"Yes," she replied, lowering her voice as if fearing someone might overhear. "Enemies lurk in the shadows, like mist coiled around us. They are sensitive to certain critical pieces of information—like sharks drawn to blood. Perhaps that is why the Three-Eyed Raven dares not speak plainly."

"Maybe," Samwell said with a sigh, retrieving the eyeballs. "Whatever his motives, whether he's friend or foe, I won't let that boy out of my sight again."

"You plan to bring him to the front lines?"

"Yes."

"Shall I accompany you, Your Majesty?"

"There's no need," Samwell said after a moment's thought. "You'll stay in King's Landing. The Red Keep must remain secure."

"As you wish, Your Majesty."

By the time Samwell left Melisandre's chamber, the eastern sky was already tinged with pale light.

Dawn was near.

Samwell intended to head to the dining hall for a meal but paused outside Daenerys's chamber. Without knocking, he pushed the door open and walked in.

Passing through the sitting room into the bedroom, he found Daenerys still asleep, curled up like a peaceful kitten.

He didn't disturb her but instead turned toward the adjacent nursery.

Inside a finely carved cradle lay his daughter, Rhaenys.

The little girl was fast asleep, her chubby face glistening with sweat. Her skin glowed red, as if she were lying in a furnace.

Samwell, however, was not concerned.

Rhaenys, as the daughter of him and Daenerys, had perfectly inherited the Targaryen trait of being unburned. This heat could not harm her.

The source of the heat was the silver dragon egg she clutched tightly in her arms, even in her sleep.

The egg's scaly surface emitted wisps of smoke, as though it were being steamed.

A fiery red point appeared at the egg's tip, slowly and steadily expanding, as if something inside was trying to break free.

It was about to hatch.

Samwell's lips curved into a smile. He considered waking his daughter so she wouldn't miss the birth of her lifelong companion.

But before he could act, Rhaenys woke on her own.

Her violet eyes fluttered open. She glanced at her father briefly before her gaze locked onto the dragon egg in her arms, utterly captivated.

She babbled excitedly, as though cheering her companion on.

Her movements woke Daenerys, who jumped out of bed in her thin silk nightgown and bare feet, rushing over.

"Sam? What's happening?" She gasped when she saw the scene in the nursery. "The dragon egg—it's hatching?"

"Yes," Samwell confirmed. "But the little one seems to be struggling. It hasn't managed to break free yet."

Daenerys quickly joined her husband, wrapping her arms around his. Concern flickered across her face.

"That egg came from Viserion," she said. "You know how badly Viserion was injured by Euron—he never fully recovered. It must have affected his offspring, which is why the hatching is so difficult."

Samwell had retrieved the silver egg from Braavos, along with three other dragon eggs that had been lost by House Targaryen over a century ago.

Daenerys had laid all four eggs before their daughter, letting her choose. Rhaenys had immediately picked Viserion's silver egg.

Though Daenerys had mixed feelings about the choice, fearing the egg's quality might be compromised, she respected her daughter's decision.

Now, the egg's struggle to hatch validated her concerns.

Samwell placed his hand on the egg, and a golden glow radiated from his fingers, spreading across the surface like rippling water.

The egg's temperature spiked.

Crack.

The sharp sound of breaking echoed in the silent room.

"It's coming!" Daenerys exclaimed, her face lighting up with joy.

Rhaenys clapped and squealed in delight.

Before their eyes, a crack appeared on the egg's surface, soon followed by a web of fissures that spread across the shell.

Crack, crack, crack!

With a final, decisive burst, a triangular head covered in silver scales pushed through the shell.

The newborn dragon blinked its blood-red eyes and greedily inhaled the outside air before letting out a screech:

"Caaaw—"

Daenerys couldn't help but laugh. "What a terrible sound!"

Samwell chuckled as well. "It looks healthy, so who cares about the sound? Maybe it'll improve as it grows."

The hatchling surveyed its surroundings, its crimson gaze scanning the faces of those present. Finally, it crawled toward Rhaenys, choosing the one it had spent the most time with as its true companion.

Daenerys watched her daughter cuddle the silver dragon, her expression softening into a tender smile.

"What should we name it?" she asked her husband.

Samwell replied, "Do you have any suggestions?"

After a moment's thought, Daenerys said, "Let's call it Meraxes. It's silver, just like Rhaenys's mount from the Conquest."

Samwell smiled. Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, Aegon the Conqueror's sister, had once ridden a silver dragon named Meraxes, named after a Valyrian deity.

If he agreed, the legendary duo of Rhaenys and Meraxes would once again grace the skies of Westeros, three centuries later.

Their original fate, however, had been grim. Both had died during the First Dornish War when a bolt from a scorpion pierced Meraxes's eye, killing them instantly.

But such dark histories never deterred people in this world from naming their dragons.

Samwell nodded. "Alright, Meraxes it is."

As if understanding its name, the hatchling stretched its neck and let out another raspy cry, earning a giggle from Rhaenys.

At that moment, a knock came at the door.

"Come in," Samwell called.

Missandei entered, bowing gracefully. "Your Majesty, Ser Barristan asked me to inform you—a dragon egg is hatching."

Samwell immediately understood she was referring to the other three eggs he had brought back from Braavos.

To prevent theft, he had placed them in a secure chamber in the Red Keep, guarded by the Kingsguard.

He had intended to save them for his future children, allowing them to choose their dragon companions.

But now, it seemed the eggs were ready to hatch on their own.

"Let's go see," Samwell said.

"Of course." Daenerys lifted Rhaenys, ensuring the silver hatchling came along, and followed her husband out.

When they arrived at the chamber, they found Margaery already there with Octavian and the red dragon hatchling, Dawnfire.

"Sam! Daenerys!" Margaery called excitedly. "One of the eggs is about to hatch!"

Even as she spoke, cracks appeared on the surface of a jet-black egg resting on the table.

Crack.

With a sharp noise, a black-scaled head burst through the shell, letting out a high-pitched squeal:

"Rawr—"

"This one looks much healthier," Daenerys noted, a hint of regret in her voice as she glanced at her daughter's silver dragon.

"It does," Margaery agreed, though her gaze soon shifted to the silver hatchling in Rhaenys's arms. "Wait—did Rhaenys's dragon hatch too?"

"Yes," Daenerys said with a smile. "Today is truly a blessed day—two dragons born on the same day!"

"Maybe more than two," Samwell said, pointing to a deep-blue egg beside the black one.

As everyone turned to look, the blue egg trembled, as if something inside was struggling to emerge.

"It really is!" Daenerys gasped, stepping closer. "It must be a blue dragon!"

The egg's deep-blue hue, with swirling patterns resembling ocean whirlpools, made it the most stunning of the three.

Crack, crack.

It wasn't long before the blue dragon hatched, its slender body covered in shimmering blue scales. Its golden eyes glowed with quiet intelligence, and it didn't screech like the others, radiating a calm demeanor.

"So cute," Daenerys whispered, carefully cradling the blue dragon.

Had she not already bonded with Drogon, Samwell suspected she might have chosen the blue dragon as her new mount.

However, the number of dragons in House Caesar's possession now exceeded the number of dragonriders. Forget these newly hatched dragonlings—even the fully battle-ready Rhaegal and Viserion currently lacked riders.

The absence of dragonriders significantly impacted a dragon's combat effectiveness. Dragons, while powerful, were still beasts with limited intelligence. Most of the time, they acted on instinct, making them easily provoked or tricked, and prone to fleeing when the fight turned against them.

For dragons to reach their full potential in battle, they needed riders.

Unfortunately, not just anyone could become a dragonrider.

Being of Valyrian descent or having the blood of dragonlords, like the Targaryens, was a basic requirement. Alternatively, one could possess exceptional "special bloodlines" like Samwell himself.

With the White Walkers advancing, the birth of new dragons was certainly a cause for celebration. But the shortage of dragonriders is a headache .

These newly hatched dragons, lacking combat readiness, could wait until Caesar's future offspring were old enough to bond with them.

But as for Rhaegal and Viserion...

Viserion's injuries had never fully healed, so its combat potential was limited. However, leaving Rhaegal idle on the battlefield would be a significant waste.

Thinking of this, Samwell's mind immediately turned to Jon Snow.

He knew Jon's secret—that the boy was a hidden Targaryen descendant, making him a potential dragonrider.

Back in the North, Samwell had appointed Jon as an envoy and even entrusted him with the sword Dawn as a token of authority. While this was partly practical, aimed at ensuring the northern lords complied with his orders to migrate south, it was also a gesture to win Jon's loyalty.

Now, as the army prepared to head to the Neck, perhaps Jon Snow could be tested to see if he could bond with Rhaegal.

"Looks like the last dragon egg isn't ready yet," Margaery remarked, pulling Samwell from his thoughts.

He looked toward the final dragon egg. Unlike the others, it sat there quietly, motionless, like a mere stone.

"It seems this little one isn't planning to hatch today," Daenerys said. "Let's name the dragons that have been born."

Margaery pointed to the silver dragon in Rhaenys's arms. "Does the silver dragon have a name yet?"

"Yes," Daenerys said. "It's called Meraxes."

"Meraxes?" Margaery smiled. "A perfect name to match Rhaenys. Sam, what should we name the other two dragons?"

Samwell looked at the black and blue hatchlings in turn and smiled.

"With Meraxes, we can't leave out Balerion and Vhagar, can we?"

Daenerys beamed with approval. "Yes! Now the Conqueror's three dragons have been reborn!"

"And the colors fit perfectly," Margaery added enthusiastically.

"Then it's settled." Samwell touched the black dragon's head gently. "Balerion."

Then the blue dragon. "Vhagar."

Finally, he lifted Rhaenys, along with her silver dragon. "And Meraxes."

"Rawr!"

The three young dragons screeched simultaneously, their cries echoing through the chamber.

For a fleeting moment, it felt as though the legendary trio of dragons from Aegon's Conquest had returned to the skies above the Red Keep.

(End of Chapter)

(End of Chapter)

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