Chapter 360: Blood and Fire!
"I want to go too!" Helaena exclaimed, her eyes glowing with enthusiasm as she raised her hand.
Aemond glanced at Aegon and added, "I have a dragon. Take me."
Even little Daeron, who was not yet as tall as the stone table, looked eager to join.
Rhaegar ignored their pleas and looked directly at his father. "What do you say, Father?" he asked.
Negotiations in Braavos would likely yield little, but bringing his siblings to display their dragons would serve as a powerful deterrent.
Viserys frowned slightly. "If you all go, what if something happens?" he said quietly. Braavos was known for its assassins, and he didn't want to take any unnecessary risks.
On the other side, Rhaenys looked relieved. Despite her husband's protests, she stood and said, "Your Grace, as a Master of Dragons, I should accompany them and participate in the negotiations."
Viserys hesitated, scanning the faces of his children without speaking.
Understanding his father's concern, Rhaegar pressed little Daeron's shoulder and turned to Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond. "Do you want to go?" he asked.
Aegon sighed deeply, his reluctance clear. "I don't want to go, but it seems my opinion doesn't matter."
Helaena patted her chest confidently. "Dreamfyre will protect me!"
"I have no problem with Sheepstealer," Aemond added, glancing at his sister for reassurance.
Viserys swallowed his objections and turned his gaze to Daemon, who was watching the proceedings with amusement. "You're responsible for the war," Viserys said sharply. "You go with them!"
Daemon, caught off guard, snorted and replied, "Yes, Your Grace."
...
The next day at dawn, Rhaenyra reluctantly embraced Rhaegar, kissing his forehead to say goodbye.
"Be careful," she urged repeatedly.
Rhaegar smiled, nodding, and gently touched her bulging belly before turning to leave the room.
In the early morning light, Helaena waited outside the door, smiling. "Brother, let's leave right away."
As they descended the stairs, Rhaegar said, "It might get a bit rough in Braavos."
"I'm not afraid. I won't hold you back," Helaena responded proudly. "I've been practicing my swordsmanship. Ser Arryk says I'm very talented."
"Really?" Rhaegar was intrigued. "Where's your sword?"
Helaena smiled mysteriously and said, "I won't tell you. I'm hiding it from you."
Rhaegar laughed and rubbed her head as they exited the Stone Drum Tower.
"Roar!..."
Meleys, the scarlet-scaled dragon, stood on the long bridge of Stepstones, stretching its neck and roaring.
On its back, Rhaenys, clad in red leather armor, looked down at Rhaegar and Helaena. "Boys, it's time to go!"
"Roar!..."
"Roar!..."
Two more dragon roars echoed from the clouds, and the radiant Sunfyre and the rugged Sheepstealer emerged from Dragonstone Island, one after the other.
Rhaegar grinned, his heart swelling with pride.
The Targaryens were not weak.
...
A day later, a cargo ship arrived at the bustling port of Braavos, teeming with people from all over the world. Among the ships was a large and luxurious vessel carrying a group of merchants from Pentos, all of whom stood on deck as they approached the city.
Before entering the harbor, they had to pass a historical marvel-the Titan of Braavos. This colossal statue of stone and bronze stood guard over the entrance to the lagoon that led into the city.
The Titan's feet rested on the peaks of two separate islands, creating a natural gateway. The giant figure wore a green bronze battle coat, and its hollow eyes contained roaring fires. One hand grasped a massive boulder on the left ridge, while the other reached skyward, clutching the hilt of a broken sword.
Closer inspection revealed arrow holes in the giant's thighs and holes in the lower part of his battle coat. More than just a symbol of Braavos' bravery, the titan was the city-state's first line of defense.
"Gods above, such a magnificent structure exists in the world!" a merchant exclaimed, awestruck, praying that his venture would bring him great fortune.
"Roar—"
Suddenly, a dragon's roar echoed through the sky as a massive black dragon swooped down, its thick tail brushing the top of the Titan's head. With a thunderous crash, the half-helmet crown on the Titan's head was knocked off, plummeting into the sea like a boulder.
"A Dragon!" the sailors on deck shouted in shock and fear, falling to their stomachs as they watched the black dragon fly toward the city-state.
"Is it gone?" whispered one sailor, relieved to think the dragon was gone.
"Roar..."
Another roar filled the air as a light blue dragon with glittering scales descended from the clouds, its well-proportioned body and magnificent wings chasing after the black dragon.
"Roar..."
Next came a procession of dragons: a brown, rotting dragon; two scarlet dragons of varying sizes; and a golden dragon that shone like the sun. Each dragon leapt over the Narrow Sea in quick succession, heading straight for Braavos behind the Titan. None of them seemed to regard the ancient statue with any seriousness, playfully circling it as if to tease an awkward pet.
Near the Titan, numerous cargo ships had gathered, and merchants from all over the world looked up in unison, one thought dominating their minds.
The dragons were coming.
...
Braavos, the most unique and powerful of the free-trading city-states, sprawled across a series of islands in the northwesternmost section of Essos. It sat at the juncture of the Narrow Sea and the Shivering Sea. Passing through the imposing Titan of Braavos, an endless lagoon spread out before visitors.
Hundreds of densely packed islands carved the bay into numerous narrow channels, interconnected by a network of stone arch bridges that spanned the waterways. The city-state was devoid of trees, dominated instead by stone buildings and granite statues. The streets were lined with gray stone houses, packed so tightly together that they seemed to lean on each other, highlighting the city's overcrowded population.
To the south of the largest harbor stood a cluster of imposing buildings, marking the administrative heart of Braavos—the Sealord's Palace.
"Roar—"
A deafening roar announced the arrival of Cannibal. The dragon's pitch-black, charcoal body blotted out the sun as it slowly descended and landed beside the fountain pool outside the Great Hall.
Boom!
With a gentle flap of its massive wings, a fierce wind kicked up, blowing the assembled guards off their feet. Soon the rest of the dragons arrived in turn, each landing with a resounding thud around the towering hall.
Rhaegar slid off Cannibal's back and straightened his robes with a calm expression as he looked at the trembling guards who dared not approach. Rhaenys, Daemon, and the others gathered beside him, their eyes fixed on the approaching delegation sent to greet them.
...
Sealord's Palace, Great Hall.
The Sealord of Braavos personally escorted the Targaryen delegation into the impressive chamber. Rhaegar, silent and observant, led his three younger siblings as they took in the surroundings.
The entire structure was made of white stone, decorated with carvings of nautical scenes, storms, and other maritime motifs. The floor was covered with rich red carpets from Lys, and the walls were hung with oil paintings and various collectibles. The mix of opulence and history gave the room a sense of literary grandeur.
"Targaryens Guests, please come in," The Sealord of Braavos invited, leading them into the conference room.
Rhaegar took a moment to study him. The Sealord was a typical Valyrian descendant, with platinum blond wavy hair, blue eyes, and pale skin tinted with red. He was a mature man in his late forties, not particularly young or handsome, with thick eyebrows, a full chin beard, and a booming voice. He introduced himself as Ferrego Antaryon.
Inside the conference room, several people were already seated around a long, oval slate table inlaid with carvings of shells and smiling faces. Ferrego beamed as he introduced them, "These are the princes and princesses of House Targaryen..."
The assembled representatives were from Pentos, Qohor, and the Triarchy. The other three Free Trade city-states had not sent delegates. After brief introductions, everyone took their seats.
Ferrego sat facing the entrance, with a slender swordsman standing silently at his side. Rhaegar took the seat directly across from the Sealord, while Rhaenys and the others sat along the sides of the table as best they could.
Once everyone was seated, Ferrego cleared his throat and spoke gravely, "Gentlemen, we are gathered here today to resolve the conflict between the Iron Throne and the Triarchy."
Knock, knock...
Rhaegar leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming on the tabletop. Calmly he spoke, "The feud between the Targaryens and the Triarchy will be put aside for now. I've come to reclaim my family's dragon."
His gaze then shifted to a dark, burly man sitting to his left: Khaeldor Astor, one of Myr's magisters and the Triarchy's primary representative at this meeting.
Under Rhaegar's icy gaze, Khaeldor' already dark face seemed to darken even further. He squinted at the representatives of Lys and Tyrosh before replying in a gruff voice, "Prince Rhaegar, we are here to discuss matters of war, not a wild dragon."
"What do you mean by 'matters of war'? And what do you mean by 'wild dragon'?" Rhaegar's expression grew stern. "Morghul is a Targaryen dragon, maliciously captured by Lys. War is my only recourse if this injustice is not righted!"
Morghul, the given name of the wild dragon of the Smoking Sea, was named after an ancient Valyrian god who symbolized disaster and nature. Regardless of Morghul' origins, Rhaegar claimed it as a Targaryen dragon.
Khaeldor hesitated, his round face contorting as he considered the complexity of the situation. Lys had indeed captured a wild dragon, unprecedented among the Targaryens. The Triarchy had overreached.
Yet the Magisters of Lys had rallied the mighty men of the Triarchy to tame this fierce dragon, despite the risk of provoking war with the Targaryens.
Since time immemorial, only the Dragonlord families, now represented only by the Targaryens, have been able to control dragons. The presence of a wild dragon had ignited a fervor within the Triarchy, driving them to attempt to tame it.
The atmosphere grew tense. Everyone felt the pressure mounting. Daemon glanced at the Pentosi dignitaries around him, sipping his wine with a dangerous glint in his eyes. Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond sat poised, ready to act at their elder brother's signal.
Ferrego coughed lightly, trying to break the tension. "Prince Rhaegar, this negotiation is for the sake of peace. I urge you to honor that peace."
Rhaenys' displeasure was immediate. She spoke coldly, "Sealord, my cousin sent us here to negotiate because he values the relationship with Braavos. But that does not give you the right to undermine House Targaryen."
The negotiations seemed increasingly futile. The Sealord of Braavos appeared to be a shrewd politician, cloaking his intentions in a facade of peace.
Ferrego's face tightened, and he began to speak again, but the atmosphere had already chilled. The warm sunlight streaming in felt like cold, harsh light.
Rhaegar's eyes were piercing as he addressed the young Lyseni sitting beside Helaena, his voice like ice. "Lys should return Morghul, or the only thing awaiting you will be blood and fire!"
(Word count: 1,856)