Chapter 370: Dragon’s Dream – Dragon’s Wrath

Nightfall.

Dragonstone Island, Stone Drum Tower.

In the banquet hall, Rhaegar and Rhaenyra dined with Laena and the twins.

Laena's face was slightly haggard from the effort of caring for her two daughters. She wore a long, loose dress, her seven-month-old belly so large it made movement difficult.

"Roar..."

Halfway through the meal, a low dragon roar resonated, a mournful sound echoing across Dragonstone Island.

Rhaegar put down his knife and fork, listening intently.

Renea, one of the twins, spoke up, "It's Vhagar calling."

"It sounds sad," Rhaegar noted, slightly stunned.

The dragon's roar outside was almost a wail, filled with the sorrow of a weather-beaten soul.

Rhaenyra paused, chewing thoughtfully. "Vhagar hasn't sounded like this in a long time."

Rhaegar looked at the listless Laena, bewilderment in his eyes. His knowledge of Vhagar was mostly theoretical; he had little actual experience with the old dragon. The rider would know best about the dragon's mood.

As he gazed at her, Laena sighed with helplessness. "Vhagar is too old, and the years of loneliness have made it mournful."

As one of the first dragons of the Targaryens, Vhagar was 170 years old. At this age, a dragon begins to decline, growing old and faint. Vhagar had passed through three riders in its lifetime: Queen Visenya, Prince Baelon, and Laena. The first two riders had seen it grow from its prime into adulthood, while Laena had accompanied it into old age. Both previous riders had been brave, fearless warriors who rode Vhagar in battles across the realm, creating countless legendary achievements.

As the years passed, those riders had long since died. Even its childhood companions, Balerion and Meraxes, had fallen. Vhagar had lived too long, outlasting familiar faces and surrounded only by new ones, leaving it a solitary old dragon.

Lost in thought, Rhaegar set down his knife and fork, his appetite gone.

Baela, one of the twins, muttered, "Vhagar hasn't been like this for a long time. It was only when Meleys and Sea Smoke left that it felt lonely."

"It probably wants to go to war," Rhaena added.

Rhaegar remained silent, unable to respond. For an old dragon that had fought for the Targaryens, war was as common as eating and drinking. Vhagar's name was synonymous with war in ancient Valyria. Perhaps it was this legacy that had allowed Vhagar to survive countless battles, still fighting for the Targaryens. Its very existence was a testament to its prowess as a war weapon.

Laena's eyes lowered as she gently caressed her bulging stomach. "I can sense Vhagar's emotions. It doesn't want to be alone on Dragonstone Island."

This bond had begun when she first tamed Vhagar at the age of thirteen. When the War of the Narrow Sea broke out, Vhagar's emotions had resurfaced, constantly affecting her spirit.

Rhaenyra, deeply empathetic due to her own experiences with pregnancy, tugged at the corner of Rhaegar's coat.

Rhaegar drifted off for a moment before joking, "Don't worry, you'll be in labor soon, and then you can ride your dragon to help Daemon guard the free city."

He viewed Lys and Tyrosh as within his grasp and needed to project confidence to reassure his family.

"How is Daemon doing?" Laena asked, smiling as she changed the subject.

Rhaegar grinned. "Not too bad."

Laena's eyes flashed with understanding. "I know him. 'Not bad' means he's causing trouble."

She and her mother had speculated about the ambitions of Sea Snake and Daemon. Even without the incident of capturing the wild dragon, the duo would find ways to start a war and draw all of Westeros into invading the Triarchy.

"He's been giving me trouble since the day I was born," Rhaegar laughed, adding seriously, "War is inevitable. Daemon is doing his best, and Father won't treat his only brother poorly."

Laena forced a smile, fatigue surfacing on her brow. Her hand stroked her stomach unconsciously, reflecting her deep worry.

...

Late at night, the lord's bedroom.

Rhaegar lay shirtless and asleep by the fireplace, his eyes closed.

Outside the Stone Drum Tower, Vhagar's wail had faded, leaving a profound silence.

Inside, the fireplace's incense wood had turned to ash, emitting a faint, pulsing firelight.

Unconsciously, Rhaegar slipped into a brief dream.

A dark bay, sea winds, and orange flames lighting the sky...

Hundreds of warships clashed, projectiles and scorpion bolts flying haphazardly, faceless figures battling amid the chaos.

Under the silent night sky, blood and fire wove a haunting melody.

In his sleep, Rhaegar's brow furrowed, his fingers trembling slightly as they rested on his strong abdomen.

...

Same time.

Three Sisters Islands, Bloody Gallows Harbor. (Gallows Gate)

A group of disheveled bandits with machetes huddled in a corner, shivering from the cold. It was never easy to make a living in this chaotic zone.

"Did you hear? There's a Targaryen on Littlesister Island, riding a dragon cast in gold," a rough hulk with a scarred face said, wiping his nose and smearing it on his companion while inquiring in a gossipy manner.

The companion, a thin man with a mouthful of yellow teeth, moved away and replied nonchalantly, "Nonsense. A lord who rides a dragon would have word spread all over the island as soon as he lands."

Scarface said enviously, "That boy ran to the brothel for a quickie as soon as he landed, more anxious than I was to get off the ship after holding it for half a month."

"I've been to that brothel. It's full of old woman and the prices are high," Yellow Teeth replied.

"What do you know? Maybe he likes older ones."

"I hear all Targaryens are good looking. I wonder if this boy has mixed tastes..."

The bandits bantered roughly, full of envy as they tried to keep warm.

Hoo! Hoo!

In the middle of the night, a fishy sea breeze blew, freezing them to the bone.

Yellow Teeth hugged himself tightly and shivered as he looked around. Suddenly, his eyes caught something in the bay outside.

"Look, there are ships on the sea!"

He hurriedly shoved his drowsy companion beside him.

Scarface opened his eyes in indignation, but as he followed Yellow Teeth's dirt-covered finger, his jaw dropped in shock.

Outlined by the faint firelight on the dim sea was a fleet of warships, their sails decorated with strange and bizarre patterns.

"A fleet of hired mercenaries!" Scarface shouted, jumping to his feet and drawing his weapon.

With half of the Narrow Sea's routes blocked, he wondered where this fleet had come from. Just as the words left his mouth, one of the foremost warships burst into flames, and a projectile hurled a flaming stake towards the harbor.

Boom...

The wooden stake crashed into the harbor with a loud bang, landing right in the middle of the bandits.

They didn't even have time to scream as blood and flesh flew everywhere.

Wooooooooo--

A solemn horn blew, and bonfires lit up the sea, revealing no less than fifty fine warships.

"Attack! Destroy the harbor!" shouted Braavos' the swordsman, drawing his sword. Battle broke out immediately.

Rumble—

Stone-throwers hurled boulders and stakes, bombarding the already filthy harbor and leaving it in ruins.

The Three Sisters Islands was chaotic, with powerful gangs and smugglers, but they were no match for the well-equipped mercenaries.

A dozen warships docked, and two thousand mercenaries came ashore, burning, killing, and looting with impunity.

"The rest of you, come with me to attack Gulltown!" the swordman ordered solemnly.

He was Pymon, a lean swordsman serving the Sealord of Braavos. His task was to escort the Sealord and lead mercenaries to break the blockade of the shipping lanes in the Narrow Sea, silently attacking several ports in Westeros at night.

The war on the Narrow Sea was worsening by the day, with Myr already captured. Many forces on the continent of Essos sensed the danger and feared the dragons.

The Sealord of Braavos, unable to remain idle, privately hired mercenaries to intervene in the war.

Pymon's fleet had first raided White Harbor, another harbor in the Bite, under the cover of night. After successfully capturing White Harbor, they turned to attack the weaker Three Sisters Islands.

Woooooo—

The horn sounded again, and most of the warships turned and headed for Gulltown in the middle of the Narrow Sea.

According to the Moonsinger Priest's projection, the next few nights would have a south wind, allowing the warships to travel quickly.

Little Sisters Island, a certain brothel.

Aegon lay on a large, musty-smelling bed next to a mature, voluptuous woman, huffing and puffing with the smell of wine.

Boom...

An explosion rang out at the end of the alley, followed by the clatter of shattering boards.

"Hmmm, a bandit fight?" Aegon mumbled, awakened by the loud noise, and drunkenly climbed to his feet.

He had heard rumors of bandits and smugglers fighting, and with a sense of curiosity, he intended to see what the commotion was all about.

"Kill them and sack the town!"

Suddenly, there was a shout of fighting and killing from outside the brothel.

Aegon froze for a second, then scrambled out of bed in a panic.

The voices outside were not in Common Tongue but in the distinctive Valyrian, an accent that was somewhat familiar.

"Scum, robbing whores of their money!"

Aegon's heart pounded as he hurriedly put on his clothes and ran outside, his quick movements showing he was experienced.

Bang...

As soon as he pushed open the door of the tattered room, he collided head-on with a mercenary in brown leather armor.

Aegon, shocked, raised his knee in panic and slammed it into the mercenary's groin.

"Ahhhh!!" The mercenary collapsed instantly, covering his crotch and screaming miserably, the sound of breaking eggs faintly audible.

Aegon's mouth twitched as he slammed the door, muttering, "Daemon's moves really work!"

"Roar..."

A loud roar echoed as a huge golden dragon soared into the night sky.

Aegon wasn't foolish enough to go whoring without staying close to his dragon. He had chosen a secluded brothel, leaving Sunfyre on the beach.

Overjoyed at the sound, Aegon hastily shoved aside the middle-aged madam, who woke in shock, opened the window, and shouted, "Sunfyre! Come quickly!"

"Roar..."

Sunfyre hovered overhead, its golden vertical pupils flashing viciously as it spat Dragonfire at the chaotic crowd in the street.

"Ah!... Monster..."

The golden Dragonfire, like a pillar of fire, indiscriminately incinerated both civilians and mercenaries.

"On guard, there are dragons on the island!"

"Crossbows at the ready, aim for the dragon's eyes..."

The appearance of the dragon startled the mercenaries who had invaded the island. They scrambled to hide in the shadows, fearing the dragon's flames.

Aegon looked anxiously at Sunfyre and then down at the window. The three-story drop seemed daunting.

He considered jumping but then retracted.

"Roar..."

Sunfyre roared excitedly, the Dragonfire setting nearby wooden buildings ablaze as he shuttled back and forth in the flames, as if dancing.

With Aegon's impatient eyes on him, Sunfyre finally landed, its feet crushing the lit wooden houses across the brothel.

As the dragon descended, the mercenaries dispersed, leaving behind only the shrieks of the prostitutes.

With tears in his eyes, Aegon scurried down the stairs and climbed onto the dragon's back.

"Roar..."

Sunfyre stretched his neck and spat Dragonfire at the fleeing mercenaries, scorching a wide area of the building.

"Sunfyre, let's go!" Aegon urged his dragon to fly.

The Three Sisters Islands had been attacked by mercenaries, likely Braavos' doing.

He had to escape quickly!

Sunfyre, after a final burst of Dragonfire, flapped his wings and took off, flying headlong into the night sky.

Whoosh—

A fine steel crossbow arrow flew in the dark, aimed at the golden dragon.

Ding ding ding ding...

The crossbow arrows struck Sunfyre's chest and abdomen, creating sparks and leaving tiny craters before being crumpled away. However, many arrows pierced the dragon's pale pink wing membranes.

Pfft...

The crossbow arrows created tiny holes, oozing blood.

"Roar..."

Sunfyre roared in pain, its wings raising high as its flight wavered.

"Shoot arrows!"

The mercenaries in the shadows reloaded their crossbows, aiming for the dragon's wings.

Arrows rained down. Sunfyre, furious, elevated his body and flapped his wings, trying to deflect the arrows.

Most arrows were deflected, but a few pierced the wing membranes, leaving holes.

Jab-la—

A crossbow arrow pierced through the tiny scales of the dragon's wings and lodged into the bones beneath the flesh.

"Roar!"

Sunfyre screamed miserably, its body shaking violently it nearly fell.

Aegon's face turned pale with fear. "Sunfyre, hold on, let's fly away!"

"Roar..."

Sunfyre roared lowly, Dragonfire seeping from his mouth. Maintaining his balance, he quickly ascended, escaping the crossbow range.

In the eyes of the pitying mercenaries, the golden dragon disappeared into the night clouds.

...

Claw Isle, Castle.

In one of the luxurious bedrooms, Helaena, with her silvery blonde curls, wrapped her arms tightly around the covers and slept on her side. The little girl was peaceful and quiet, and the bedroom was filled with a faint scent.

Suddenly, Helaena jolted awake and opened her eyes in shock. "Fire..."

(Word count: 2,183)