Chapter 9: Growth

265 AC

"House Lefford of the Golden Tooth, another Noble house located in the….."

Was his body still too young? Or maybe he wasn't putting much emotional control of anger and rage for it? 

"....Ah yes, a house controlling a key strategic stronghold on the border between the Westerlands and the Riverlands….."

But that doesn't make sense. According to Zuko's memories, Firebending doesn't necessarily need rage or anger to work. He should be able to do it. So, why? 

"...sigil of House Lefford of the Golden Tooth is a golden lion's head on a blue field."

His immunity to fire was working fine! He had no problems moving the dragon eggs around fire, so why not his ability to Firebend? 

"Prince…."

He needed to learn to manifest actual flames to make the illusionary fire of the Fire breathing techniques show just like in the anime. 

"Prince Rhaemon?" Maester Corso's voice cut through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. "Are you with us?"

Rhaemon blinked and straightened in his chair, feeling the eyes of both the maester and his brother on him. "Apologies, Maester Corso," he said, slightly sheepish. 

The maester observed him with a keen, knowing gaze. "It seems your mind is elsewhere, my prince. Would you care to share what troubles you?"

Rhaemon hesitated. He could feel Rhaegar's eyes on him, and for a moment, he was tempted to just shut up and close his mouth. But then he thought of the countless hours spent practicing and his patience running out. 

...Fuck it—he decided to take a chance, to seek the wisdom of the Maester. He'll just go around the subject. Hopefully he'll give him some idea of what to do. 

"Maester Corso," he began cautiously, "if a person knows their worth and abilities but still struggles to achieve the expected results, what could be the reason? And how might that person overcome such a barrier?"

Maester Corso's expression turned thoughtful, and he stroked his beard as he considered the question. "It is an interesting query, Prince Rhaemon. Let me tell you a story of two warriors."

Rhaemon and Rhaegar leaned in, their attention fully captured now.

"There was once a Knight," Maester Corso began, "a man with great potential and abilities. He was destined for greatness, but he was paralyzed by fear—fear of expectations, fear of failure, fear of pain. This fear consumed him, and despite his talents, he could never reach his full potential. He died a gruesome death, unfulfilled and forgotten."

Rhaemon felt a chill run down his spine as he listened.

"Then there was another man, a warrior," Maester Corso continued, "who had no talent and had nothing to lose. He faced every challenge head-on, embracing the pain, and the failures. This warrior became a legend."

Rhaegar spoke up, his brows furrowed in confusion, "How? Why did the warrior become a legend, but not the skilled Knight?"

"Why, you ask?" Maester Corso stared at them like the answer was simple. 

"For there is no match for a warrior who does not fear death."

Maester Corso's eyes met Rhaemon's, and he concluded, "Sometimes, it is not the mastery of skills or the control over one's talents that is lacking, but the courage to face the fear that holds us back. To overcome that wall, one must confront and conquer their deepest fears."

Rhaemon sat back, absorbing the Maester's words. He realized that maybe it wasn't just the physical practice he needed, but the mental fortitude to overcome his fears—fears that had been ingrained in him since his previous life. His fear of fire.

~~~

Okay, so maybe he wasn't entirely over his fear of fire yet. So what? He didn't think it mattered all that much when he had no problems putting his hands into the fire. Nor did he think about how it would feel bending the flames to his will while using his abilities. On the contrary, he was excited to Firebend! But you mean to say that his remaining small fear of fire was actually the reason why he couldn't produce fire? Are you serious? 

Fine. So he just needed to get over it, right? Easy. 

~~~

"Dracarys."

"Your Grace—!"

In an instant, dragonfire was directly unleashed at him. The flames were everything Rhaemon had expected and more. They were warm, almost comforting, without a hint of pain or burning. The fire engulfed him entirely, swirling around his body like a living, breathing entity.

Rhaemon struggled to open his eyes against the brightness of the flames, instinctively trying to move his body to shake off the lingering fear that clung to him. He could smell his clothes burning, the fabric disintegrating in the intense heat. Despite the chaos, he felt no pain, only a strange sense of familiarity.

After a few seconds, the brightness became too much, and Rhaemon had to close his eyes. The fire began to fade, leaving him standing in the pit, buck naked and covered in soot. He felt a warm snort of air hit him, and he opened his eyes to see Noctis's head and snout flaring right in front of him. The dragon's piercing violet eyes watched him intently, as if assessing his condition.

"Dracarys," he commanded repeatedly. 

And Noctis followed his lead over and over again until Rhaemon he got used to the flames, until he could finally keep his eyes open, and move freely without trembling. 

After the umpth time, Rhaemon couldn't help but burst out laughing. The sight he must have made—charred clothes, soot-covered skin, and a dragon's snout inches from his face—was too much to bear without humor. He reached out and patted Noctis on the snout, feeling the dragon's rough scales beneath his hand. Noctis responded with a deep, rumbling purr of satisfaction.

As Rhaemon caressed Noctis, he took a moment to marvel at how much his dragons had grown. In just six years, they had become immense, their powerful forms dwarfing anything else in the dragonpit. Noctis was the size of a semi-trailer truck, at around 50 feet long, and 70-80 feet wingspan. Stormfyre and Poseidon were all around the same size. 

Their canines have grown sharper and deadly, while their spikes grow even more pronounced and larger. They were no longer unguarded or easily harmed. They were threatening as they are dangerous. 

They would have grown even more if they weren't confined in the dragonpit. By declaring that his dragon dreams showed him, it would easily convince his father to let them out. 

Ser Oswald and Dagmer approached cautiously, their eyes wide with shock and clear concern. "Your Grace, are you alright?" Ser Oswald asked, his voice shaky.

Rhaemon turned to them, still smiling. "I am more than alright, Ser Oswald. Never better, I am free." He looked back at his dragons, his heart swelling with pride and affection. "And I owe it all to my dragons."

"Our Prince is mad as they come, I tell you. Mad," Dagmer exclaimed, removing his cloak and putting it around Rhaemon's naked form. 

"Dagmer!" The knight shouted, aghast. 

Before Rhaemon had time to calm Oswald, he heard the unmistakable growls of Poseidon and Stormfyre. Their massive forms moved through the Dragonpit, causing caretakers and handlers to scramble out of their way in a frantic rush. Poseidon reached him first, nudging his snout against Rhaemon gently, his excitement high. 

Rhaemon laughed and stroked Poseidon's scales, feeling the familiar coolness beneath his fingers. "Miss me?" he murmured, his voice filled with affection. 

Stormfyre was not far behind. He growled at the guards, causing them to tense up, before leaning toward Rhaemon, demanding attention with an almost oppressive insistence. Rhaemon obliged, running his hands over Stormfyre's black scales, feeling the heat that radiated from the dragon's body. 

Dagmer, standing a few paces away, shook his head and muttered, "I'll never get used to this, or the dragons."

Ser Oswald nodded in silent agreement. "Your Grace, why did you do what you did?" he asked, his voice tinged with utter confusion.

Rhaemon continued his caresses on the dragons, his attention never wavering. "Oh, I can probably wield fire now," he replied nonchalantly, as if discussing the weather.

Both guards stared at him, stunned into silence. Dagmer was the first to find his voice. "Is this about your dragon dreams?" he asked with curiosity and disbelief.

Rhaemon smirked, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Shall I show you?" he challenged.

Without waiting for a response, he stepped back and assumed a practiced kung fu stance. His movements were fluid and precise, honed through years of diligent practice. As he executed a fist Firebending movement, fire exploded out of his closed fist in a brilliant blaze that lit up the Dragonpit.

The onlookers gasped in shock, their eyes wide with amazement as they watched the flames come out of Rhaemon's bare hands. Even the dragons seemed to sense the significance of the moment, their eyes gleaming with approval.

Rhaemon held the pose for a moment longer before letting the flames die down. He looked at his sworn swords, a triumphant smile on his face. "I told you," he said, his voice filled with quiet confidence. "I'm not just a Targaryen by blood. I'm a dragon in every sense."