The foreign beauty remained calm, gazing at Rhaenyra's reflection in the mirror.
Rhaenyra, slightly surprised, nodded. "Go ahead."
"Yes, Princess," Sara replied softly. She retrieved a black cloak from the drawer and stepped out of the room.
As she passed Rhaegar in the hallway, he turned his head slightly and reminded her, "Keep an eye on Borros."
"No problem."
Sara draped the cloak over her shoulders and disappeared into the depths of the corridor.
Now alone in the room, Rhaenyra looked at her brother, puzzled. "What's going on?"
"A dream and a prophecy."
Rhaegar's eyes flickered as he casually closed the door.
Tilting her head, Rhaenyra ran a comb through her long, silky hair, still skeptical. "Is there something wrong with Borros?"
She had every reason to be suspicious.
Rhaegar had plenty of capable subordinates, most of whom were assigned to key locations.
But only two of his female subordinates were truly trustworthy:
One was Sara, a former Faceless Man; the other was Baolan, the illegitimate daughter of Setiga.
Because they were women, Rhaegar assigned them to protect Rhaenyra and Jeyne, ensuring their safety at all times.
That was also why Sara had sought Rhaenyra's permission before taking action—she was loyal to only one master.
Rhaegar slowly walked behind Rhaenyra, picked up the comb from the vanity, and gently ran it through her silver-gold hair.
As he gazed at her reflection in the mirror, his restless mind gradually calmed. He sighed lightly and said, "Maybe."
His prophetic dream had come before Helaena's vision.
With both overlapping, it was hard to say whether the prophecy had already come true.
—
### Two Days Later, Dragonstone
Boom—
The heavy black stone gates slowly swung open, revealing the towering stone bridge and long staircase beyond.
Over a hundred well-equipped guards marched out in formation to welcome the arrival of the royal family.
*Swish, swish...*
Their footsteps were steady and powerful as they split into two lines, standing at attention with heads held high.
Viserys, looking pale, swallowed hard.
His seasickness had struck again, though not as badly this time.
Alicent held onto her husband's arm with one hand while leading their youngest son, Daeron, with the other. She spoke softly, "Let's go inside and rest."
"Good idea, everyone must be exhausted."
Viserys forced a smile and walked up the stone steps, hand in hand with his wife.
Behind them, the Hand of the King, Lyonel Strong, along with Otto Hightower and Grand Maester Mellos, followed at a steady pace.
Unlike the other two members of the small council, these three had far more crucial roles.
Lyonel managed political affairs, Otto oversaw the four stormlords accompanying them, and the Grand Maester provided wisdom and medical aid.
When Viserys had become nauseous on the ship, it was Mellos who had administered some medicine to ease his symptoms.
Behind the advisors, Rhaegar, Daemon, and Aegon led the group of adult Targaryen men.
Rhaenyra walked with her twin adoptive daughters, while Helaena, Aemond, and the four chattering stormlord heirs trailed behind.
Daemon had been invited to Dragonstone by his brother, Viserys, to witness their nephew's dragon-bonding ceremony.
Laena, heavily pregnant, had disembarked at Driftmark due to her condition.
The stone bridge and long staircase stretched between the black stone gates and the castle, winding through the rugged terrain.
After a while, Viserys began to breathe heavily, sweat forming on his forehead.
Glancing at Lyonel and Otto—who remained composed—his stubborn pride kicked in.
*Cough, cough...*
Clearing his throat, Viserys started a conversation. "Since we're here for Aemond's dragon-bonding, which dragon do you think the boy will claim?"
Lyonel hesitated for a moment before responding seriously, "Taming a dragon is incredibly dangerous. If the prince can avoid injury, that will be enough."
"No need to be so serious. Just name a dragon," Viserys said with a chuckle, waving a hand dismissively.
"Targaryens and dragons go hand in hand. I've never heard of a Targaryen being harmed while claiming a dragon."
Otto frowned slightly, sensing something deeper in Viserys's words.
Grand Maester Mellos, folding his hands inside his sleeves, remarked lightly, "If I recall correctly, Prince Rhaegar suffered severe burns across his back when he tried to claim Dreamfyre as a child."
He remembered it well—he had personally treated the wounds.
Rhaegar, lagging behind the group, caught the comment about him and widened his eyes in disbelief.
Rhaenyra, covering her mouth, snickered. "How embarrassing."
Rhaegar: …
What a betrayal.
Helaena tilted her head, curious as she studied her older brother. She hadn't known he had once been burned by Dreamfyre.
Her mind spun as she tried to recall a distant memory from when she was two years old.
She remembered her brother lying injured on his bed, and how she often went to his room to play, even blowing on his wounds to make them feel better.
Her bright blue eyes darted toward Rhaenyra, narrowing slightly.
She remembered it clearly—Rhaenyra had found her later and forbidden her from playing in Rhaegar's room. She had even hidden Helaena's favorite dragon-shaped toy.
"Selfish!" Helaena muttered, full of resentment.
Rhaenyra, having heard her, looked puzzled. "What did you say?"
"Nothing!" Helaena shivered and quickly shook her little head.
She had always been a little afraid of her older sister, who had never liked her much.
Rumor had it that if their mother hadn't married their father, Helaena would have had to call Rhaenyra "aunt" instead of "sister."
Back to the present—
Viserys sighed, rubbing his temple. "Rhaegar was an exception. Dreamfyre had been mistreated by her Dragonkeepers. And in the end, didn't he still manage to claim the wild dragon, Glutton?"
"That wasn't mistreatment," Mellos corrected flatly. "Dreamfyre had a volatile temperament. Maester Barth was only prioritizing the safety of the Dragonkeepers."
Viserys's expression darkened, displeased. "Does it matter?"
The selfishness of that damned scholar led to the eldest son's injury, and he would remember it for a lifetime.
Meros suddenly realized he had touched the king's sore spot. He lowered his head and said no more.
After just a few casual exchanges, the three members of the Small Council more or less discerned that the king had another agenda.
Leonor's eyes flickered as he probed, "Your Majesty, which dragon do you think would be the best to tame?"
This question went straight to the heart of the matter. Viserys immediately became interested. "Of course, Vhagar. It was my grandfather Jaehaerys' dragon—the largest and most ferocious adult dragon currently on Dragonstone."
"Vhagar is known as the 'Bronze Fury' and has always been terrifying. I fear it may not be suitable for Prince Aemond," Leonor responded accordingly.
Viserys, being straightforward, actually considered it for a moment. "Vhagar is indeed dangerous. Silverwing would be a good choice instead. It was my grandmother Alysanne's dragon and is considered the most docile."
There was another point he didn't mention: Silverwing was of similar age to Vhagar and, among the unclaimed dragons, was second only to its mate in size.
At this point, not just the Small Council members but even Alicent could see Viserys' deep fascination with dragons.
Otto exchanged a glance with his daughter before casually asking, "There's also a brown dragon on Dragonstone called Sheepstealer. I heard it's comparable in size to Blood Wyrm Caraxes and the Red Queen, Meleys."
A flicker of hesitation flashed through Viserys' eyes before he shook his head. "Sheepstealer is of a similar age to the two red dragons, and as a wild dragon, it's even larger than them. But its appearance is simply too unsightly."
Sheepstealer's scales were described as an ugly, muddy brown, and its wings were the same color.
It was universally acknowledged as an eyesore.
Despite Viserys' usual indifference toward dragons, he had secretly studied every dragon his family owned.
He truly knew them like the back of his hand.
Leonor's lips moved as if he had something to say.
Otto remained silent, watching as the king enthusiastically spoke about dragons.
Bringing up his favorite topic, Viserys became more animated, and his previously pale face regained some color.
After a while, Leonor, whose eyelids had been twitching, could no longer hold back. Bracing himself, he said, "Your Majesty, do you remember? Our purpose here is to help Prince Aemond claim a dragon."
"Uh..."
Viserys abruptly stopped speaking, looking at the Hand in surprise.
Leonor took a deep breath and forced a smile. "Taming dragons is for the young. I believe Prince Aemond will achieve his wish."
He had caught the longing in the king's words.
Truthfully, he wished his liege were strong and robust—a valiant dragonrider.
But emotions alone couldn't dictate actions.
Objectively speaking, a king taming a dragon was a highly risky endeavor.
Even taking the most optimistic view, Viserys had once tamed a dragon—none other than Balerion the Black Dread.
But! Who knew if a dragonlord could claim another dragon after his first had died?
One misstep, and the king could end up as dragon food.
As the Hand of the King, Leonor could not ignore such risks and had to speak out.
Viserys was speechless, awkwardly looking at Leonor, his gaze flickering toward Otto and Meros.
All three had their heads lowered, remaining silent.
Clearly, they had all caught his underlying intentions and were opposing him in this quiet yet firm manner.
After a brief daze, Viserys collected himself and put on a smile, with a hint of pleading in his tone. "You know, many things are worth trying, aren't they?"
"..."
Leonor pressed his lips together, unwilling to meet the king's imploring gaze.
Receiving no response, Viserys felt as though a heavy stone was pressing on his chest, making it hard to breathe.
"Baa..."
Suddenly, the bleating of sheep rang out unexpectedly, accompanied by the occasional shout of a shepherd.
"Viserys, are you alright?" Alicent shook her husband's arm, full of concern.
"I'm fine, just a little tired."
Not wanting his wife to see his moment of weakness, Viserys withdrew his hand from hers and turned toward the source of the bleating.
The Stone Bridge Stair was built along the steep mountain ridge. Looking up, one could see the misty clouds, while looking down revealed dense shrubs covering the slopes.
They had made it halfway up, now in a low-lying section of the mountain path.
Viserys placed his hands on the stone parapet of the bridge and looked down, spotting a lush, grassy slope below.
A shepherd, whose face was indistinct from this distance, was waving a short whip, herding dozens of goats up the slope to graze on the fresh grass.
Clouds, a long bridge, open fields, a shepherd...
The elements came together to form a picturesque scene.
Faced with such a serene sight, Viserys couldn't help but smile, some of his frustration dissipating.
Seeing his subjects living well filled him with a sense of accomplishment.
"Screeeech..."
Suddenly, the clouds overhead churned, and a piercing dragon's roar echoed across the Stone Bridge Stair.
Viserys looked up in shock, catching a glimpse of a blurry brown figure streaking past.
"Baa!!..."
The next moment, the agonized bleating of sheep rang out, a cacophony of despair before slaughter.
"No! My sheep!"
Viserys quickly looked down, just in time to see the shepherd collapse to the ground in terror, wailing in misery.
"Screeeech..."
Shifting his gaze slightly, he saw a wretched-looking brown dragon crash down, its emaciated claws pinning two convulsing sheep corpses.
Its sunken eyes gleamed as its grotesque, fanged maw stretched open, swallowing a still-kicking sheep whole.
(End of Chapter)