A sudden cold touch startled Rhaegar out of his thoughts.
"Hisss..." he shivered involuntarily.
Looking down, he saw the culprit looking up at him innocently. Helaena, resting on his legs, had a small, chubby hand shamelessly buried in his shirt.
Wearing only a white shirt with slightly spaced buttons, she had taken advantage of the gap to slip her hand inside.
"Helaena, who told you to poke around like that?" Rhaegar frowned.
"Brother..." Helaena's expression was all innocence, hoping to get away with it.
"Take your hand out!"
Rhaegar didn't indulge her. He grabbed her pink and white ear and lifted her up.
Helaena's face crumpled in displeasure and she quickly withdrew her small hand and scrambled to her feet.
Rhaegar gave her a stern look and straightened his rumpled shirt.
The third drawback of [Reflections of the Moon], he mused, was that the immersive view ignored some senses, leaving one vulnerable to sneak attacks.
"Brother, sister told me to bring you back."
Helaena's head dropped, her pleated skirt brushing the grass, revealing half of her gleaming white calves.
Rhaegar remained silent, looking at her skeptically. He could still feel the sting of her earlier pinch.
Helaena glanced up at him, her large light purple eyes twinkling mischievously.
Smack...
Rhaegar raised his hand and slapped her lightly on the head. "Concentrate on proper things."
Helaena winced and covered her reddened head without saying a word.
Ignoring her, Rhaegar put down the dragonglass candle and stood to survey the area.
Not far away, a simple tent was ablaze, the flames of a campfire roaring inside.
Rhaegar's mouth twitched. "How ruthless!"
Helaena climbed to her feet and muttered, "Sister told me to burn it. She said you should take your time camping since you like so much."
Rhaegar sighed, accepting his sisters' eccentricities.
"Roar..."
A deep dragon roar echoed, vibrating with a surge of life and energy.
Boom!
In an instant, ghostly green dragonfire erupted from the ground, rolling like a torrent straight into the sky. The surrounding air became scorching hot.
Rhaegar quickly pulled Helaena back, his eyes wide with astonishment.
At the edge of the cliff, a black dragon roared skyward, its massive wings spreading wide as it unleashed a torrent of green dragonfire.
The dragonfire was relentless, a volcanic eruption that cascaded down onto the beach below, igniting the gravel with a fierce green blaze.
"Cannibal!"
Rhaegar breathed in sharply, his shout filled with excitement.
"Roar..."
Cannibal roared fiercely, its pitch-black wings spread wide, its sharp hind claws taking powerful strides as its massive body leapt into the air.
As it charged headlong into the spectral green dragonfire, Cannibal's green vertical pupils flashed with hostility. It rose vertically into the thick layer of cloud.
Moments later.
Boom...
An ethereal green firework exploded, and the clouds stretched for miles, quickly dissipating as if swept away by a storm, clearing the sky.
"Brother."
Helaena let out a soft cry, her hands wrapped around Rhaegar's waist as she looked up, her eyes alight with wonder.
"Don't be afraid, it's celebrating," Rhaegar reassured her, his voice strong and filled with joy.
He understood what was happening with Cannibal.
Glancing at the bronze statue of the Mother standing on the lawn, Rhaegar smiled and summoned the explorer panel.
[Ancient Bronze of the Mother Above]
Exploration Progress: 100%
"This exploration is complete. Please collect the lost treasures."
"Treasure collected successfully, detection in progress..."
"Detection complete, item identified as an epic relic, Blessing of the Mother."
At this point, a pink wreath appeared on the panel, accompanied by the relic's activation conditions.
Note: "Unwavering Will."
Rhaegar had no immediate use for it, so he chose to bestow the blessing on Cannibal.
Having failed to capture the wild dragon of the Smoking Sea, Cannibal's frustration triggered the relic.
"Congratulations, the Blessing of the Mother has been activated. You have gained..."
[Toughness]
Quality: Legendary (Red)
Effect: "The power of resilience acts not only mentally but also physically."
Evaluation: "A remarkable enhancement."
In the sky, Cannibal's gaunt body flipped over, its wings flapping at extreme speed as it sprayed Dragonfire in a cathartic release.
When the Dragonfire formed a huge ghostly green sun, Cannibal plunged headfirst into it.
Boom...
Cannibal dispersed the monstrous Dragonfire in a single move, its pitch-black scales glistening with a cold, ebony light. After shedding its damaged scales a few days ago, new ones had grown on its neck, chest, and abdomen, hardening and thickening with the boiling dragon blood coursing through its veins.
From a distance on the cliff, Rhaegar watched Cannibal, feeling the dragon's strength. Their minds intertwined, communicating without words.
"Roar..."
Cannibal turned its head, swooping down and landing steadily on the cliff bank, its green vertical pupils locking onto Rhaegar with a manic intensity.
"Helaena, go back to the castle," Rhaegar instructed, breaking away from her embrace and rushing to the dragon's side.
Nimbly climbing onto Cannibal's back, he settled into the saddle and shouted excitedly, "Cannibal, fly!"
"Roar..."
With a powerful roar, Cannibal lifted off, its wings cutting through the air as it swooped down towards the sea, its chest skimming the water's surface.
"Hahaha, you're faster than ever!" Rhaegar laughed joyfully, letting go of the reins to fully enjoy the weightlessness of flight and the rushing sea breeze.
The [Blessing of the Mother] had not gone to waste. Following the [Life Essence], Cannibal had once again been strengthened, this time in its scales.
"Roar..."
Cannibal spat a mouthful of ethereal green Dragonfire, flapping its wings rapidly as it soared through the wide throat channel. It believed the failed hunt was due to its scales not being hard enough, which had allowed the Smoking Sea Wild Dragon to bite its left wing. Now, with its new scales, Cannibal felt invincible.
After a long flight, one man and one dragon returned to Dragonstone Island by noon.
Boom...
Cannibal's pitch-black wings flapped slowly as it landed on the cliff bank, its massive body prostrate on the ground. Rhaegar slid off the dragon's back and quickly approached its head.
Whew! Whew!
Cannibal lay on the lawn, panting heavily, sticky saliva dripping from its jaws. It was ravenously hungry, craving fresh, magical blood and flesh to replenish the life energy consumed during its transformation.
Sensing its thoughts, Rhaegar stroked Cannibal's muzzle and murmured, "Cannibal, hold on a bit longer. I know where to find the food you need."
Wyverns were also dragons. Even without Dragonfire, they were more than ordinary animals, belonging to a low-level magical creature category. A trip to Sothoryos to find such prey was a small price to pay for Cannibal's successful transformation.
"Roar..."
Cannibal's throat rumbled, exhausted from the earlier Dragonfire, its eyes closing in feigned sleep.
The transformation was complete, but it needed to replenish its energy. Dragonstone Island offered little nourishment except for many of its kinds.
Rhaegar patted Cannibal reassuringly and returned to the Stone Drum Tower. Before leaving, he instructed the patrolling Dragonkeepers to send a herd of cows and sheep to Cannibal to sate its hunger.
...
Stone Drum Tower, Chamber of the Painted Table
The Chamber of the Painted Table, located on the top floor of the Stone Drum Tower, was a circular chamber with tall, narrow windows facing each of the cardinal directions. At the center of the room stood a long, dragonstone table.
This table, fifty feet long and half as wide at its widest point, dominated one-fifth of the room. Carved into its surface was an intricate map of Westeros, with mountains, rivers, and cities meticulously sculpted by skilled craftsmen.
This giant sand table was commissioned by Aegon the Conqueror, who had ridden Balerion the Black Dread across the continent, recording every detail for his campaign of unification.
"Daemon, I have already agreed to ally with Pentos. You should be satisfied!" Viserys' voice, laden with suppressed anger, echoed through the hall.
He sat at one end of the table, gripping a dragonstone sculpture, his face a mask of somber frustration. Opposite him, Daemon lounged, his elbows on the tabletop, fingers interlaced as he spoke.
"Sooner or later, we will have to confront the Three Daughters. You must understand the necessity of striking first."
"I will not repeat myself a third time. I will not allow you to start a war for your own selfish desires!" Viserys retorted, glaring at his brother.
War would be a disaster for the realm. Daemon and the Sea Snake Corlys would drag House Targaryen into an abyss.
Undeterred, Daemon pressed on, "Patrol ships from the Triarchy have been sighted near the Stepstones. They are already preparing for war."
"So what!?" Viserys slammed his hands on the table, unable to contain his anger. "If war breaks out, the entire kingdom will be consumed in a fight against the Triarchy. And if by some miracle we win, should I grant you the Stepstones as your fief?"
He continued, his voice rising, "And what of Myr and Tyrosh? Should I also grant fiefs to the Sea Snake and Rhaenys, allowing all of you to break away from the Iron Throne and rule as kings?"
Viserys' memories of Daemon and Corlys waging the first Stepstones War without his consent were still fresh. After his victory, Daemon had declared himself "King of the Narrow Sea" and donned a crown of driftwood. If not for the barren nature of the islands, Daemon might never have returned to King's Landing.
Daemon's gaze hardened, and he fell silent, absorbing his brother's words.
At the Same Time
Rhaegar ascended to the top floor of the Stone Drum Tower, signaling to Erryk and Arryk, who were guarding the entrance to the Chamber of the Painted Table, to be silent and listen to the argument inside.
When he returned to the tower, he had overheard his father and uncle talking privately, prompting him to investigate.
The hall fell silent.
Rhaegar's eyes flickered as he surveyed the Dragonstone corridor, considering entering to see what was happening. In truth, he did not support the invasion of the Triarchy, especially to grant Daemon a fiefdom.
"Prince, news from Volantis!" Tormund's face was worried, his shoulders bare of the usual White Falcon and Raven, as he hurried over with a letter in his hand.
Rhaegar turned, sensing the urgency, and took the letter. It was from Syrio, sent by raven.
The letter, written in hasty script, got right to the point:
[The Smoking Sea dragon was caught alive in a trap and has fallen into the hands of a Magister of Lys, Bambarro Bazanne.]
After reading the first sentence, Rhaegar fell silent, his eyes growing cold and distant. He took a deep breath, suppressing his emotions.
Without a word, Rhaegar pushed past the Cargyll brothers and stormed into the Chamber of the Painted Table.
Inside, Viserys and Daemon were locked in a tense standoff across the table, the atmosphere thick with unspoken conflict.
Rhaegar's sudden and forceful entrance immediately caught their attention.
"Rhaegar..." Viserys began, surprised at his son's boldness.
The Daemon's eyes narrowed and fixed on his nephew.
Ignoring their reactions, Rhaegar's expression was as cold as winter.
He slammed the letter down on the table, then tilted his head back and closed his eyes. In a solemn voice he declared, "No need to argue. Prepare for war!"
(Word count: 1,881)