Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Grey-haired Xar looked sincere, as if he were ready to sacrifice everything. Rhaegar, amused, smiled. Despite the seemingly earnest expression, he sensed a hint of deception.

"Your Grace, House Aurion was also married to House Targaryen. The forty Dragonlords are all one family," Xar said, his hoarse voice trying to evoke memories of ancient Valyria.

"Haha," Rhaegar chuckled, then casually asked, "How long has the Thunderstrider been in Tyria?"

"Thunderstrider?" Xar was taken aback, clearly not understanding.

Rhaegar remained calm. "That is the young dragon with the dark blue scales. Daemon has already begun to capture it and has even named it in advance. It earned the name for its courage to travel through thunderstorms."

Xar hesitated, his composure faltering. "Your Grace, that is a wild dragon from outside, belonging to—"

"Belonging to the Targaryens!" Rhaegar interrupted, leaving no room for argument. "That dragon hatched from Dreamfyre's egg, and no one else can claim it."

Xar's smile turned sheepish. "Yes, it belongs to the existing Dragonlords."

It was clear during the conversation that Rhaegar had a specific objective and hadn't arrived in Tyria by chance.

"Have you seen any dragons other than Thunderstrider?" Rhaegar asked, his eyes flashing with curiosity.

"No, absolutely not," Xar replied, waving his hands emphatically. "The Smoking Sea is simply not suitable for dragons. Even finding food is a challenge."

"Are you sure?" Rhaegar's face grew cold as he tossed a sea chart onto the ground.

Xar picked up the map, and as he examined it, cold sweat began to run down his face. The map depicted a simple route leading to a ruin in the Smoking Sea, with a note from House Belaerys.

A red line arced from that ruin to another—Tyria. The two ruins were not far apart, separated by the vast Smoking Sea. To the south lay a large landmass, marked with an undersea volcano and a large red cross.

Rhaegar drew Truefyre from his waist and said coldly, "The Smoking Sea is vast, and a wild dragon roams freely. I don't believe you haven't seen it."

The Lands of the Long Summer are shrouded in fog, an undiscovered landmass until recently. Apart from barren islands, Tyria is the only place to stay. The strange fish that fall with storms provide natural sustenance, and the young dragon Thunderstrider, after crossing the Smoking Sea, became active near Tyria. The former wild dragon of the Smoking Sea, Morghul, had survived there for decades and likely wandered around Tyria as well.

"Your Grace, I am not lying," Xar stammered, panic evident in his voice. "Tyria has a harsh climate. During storms, we might hear the occasional dragon roar, but no wild dragons appear."

"You're lying!" Rhaegar's eyes narrowed as he raised his sword to Xar's neck. The cold Valyrian steel pressed against Xar's throat, the dark blade flashing in the light.

Xar froze, stammering, "Don't kill me! There are relics of our ancestors in the crypts. You can take them all."

"Your bloodline is loathed by the dragons," Rhaegar said confidently, boldly speculating. "You tried to tame the dragons, but you were not recognized and were burned by Dragonfire."

He glanced around at the ruined Free City under the night sky. The scorched earth reeked of burning corpses, remnants of the Doom. The cracked, dried ground blended into the environment, while the buildings surrounding the palace were newly ruined, still covered in ash. Even after the rain, the lingering smell of sulfur hung in the air, a scent that Xar, with little contact with dragons, would struggle to distinguish.

To Rhaegar, who had been riding dragons since childhood, the situation was as obvious as a girl standing naked before him. Xar, with his gray hair, stood frozen, sweating nervously. The silver-black wild dragon had indeed appeared in Tyria. Its lair was just outside the Free Cities, but no one had ever been able to tame it. Anyone who dared approach was burned to ash. Years ago, the wild dragon had vanished without a trace, and everyone assumed it had perished somewhere in the Smoking Sea.

"Your Grace..." Xar's voice trembled, his eyes widening in fear.

Pop! Truefyre pierced his throat, the black blade emerging from the back of his neck.

"Ho ho~~" Xar gasped, blood spurting from his eyes as he clutched the wound, his cry hoarse with disbelief.

Rhaegar's expression remained calm as he whispered, "The descendants of a Dragonlord who seek to tame dragons can not be trusted."

With that, he pulled Truefyre free, the blade grating against bone as it slid out. Xar's body, still warm, collapsed with a thud into the wet, muddy ground. Rhaegar lifted the hem of his cloak and wiped the bloodstains from the blade, then looked down at the hole in the ground. "They've been trying to lure me down there. What kind of danger lies hidden?"

One thing was certain: the Soul Restoring Orchid truly existed. It was the special plant Xar had mentioned first. 'I still need to learn more,' Rhaegar thought, not trusting the half-truths he'd been told. He silently raised his head.

Hoo! The dark clouds above stirred, a fierce wind tearing through the pitch-black sky, revealing a pair of glowing green eyes. The Cannibal flapped its massive wings, slowly descending from the clouds.

Boom! The ruined palace was obliterated, reduced to rubble beneath the dragon's feet. Rhaegar raised his hand to shield his face from the flying debris.

"Roar..." The Cannibal stretched its neck, sniffing cautiously at the underground entrance, letting out a low growl of warning.

...

Ruins of the Free Cities.

In the mountains to the west. The ground was barren, scorched earth, with mountains rising one after another, all devoid of vegetation. At the foot of a collapsed, dormant volcano, Dragonfire flared up from a nest.

"Roar..." The young blue dragon floundered within its nest, its shiny scales scraping against the stone walls in an attempt to mitigate the damage caused by the dark green Dragonfire. Inside the shadowy nest, skeletal remains could be faintly seen, along with fossilized dragon eggs and various rare minerals in the corners.

Caraxes, with its long, snake-like neck, hissed as it sniffed the scent of the young dragon. "Roar!" Caraxes leaped nimbly off the side of the volcano, landing with a thud in front of the nest at the mountain's base.

Daemon swayed slightly, his expression grave. "Catch it. Don't hold back."

"Roar!" A dark shadow streaked across the night sky, its red pupils scanning below to locate a familiar scent. Daemon glanced at it but paid no attention. His nephew and the Sea Snake were preoccupied with the locals—one searching for the Soul Restoring Orchid to cure his brother, and the other trading supplies for the remnants found in the ruins. Daemon, however, had taken on the task of capturing the young dragon.

...

The ruined palace.

Tick-tock, tick-tock...

Rhaegar descended the stairs and entered the silent underground chamber. The air was cold and damp, carrying a faint stench of decay.

Hum...

Truefyre burned fiercely in his hand, dispelling the darkness and casting flickering light across the stone walls. Rhaegar felt a slight dizziness but pressed on, carefully navigating the dripping, uneven floor.

Click!

Rhaegar misstepped, his foot striking a loose piece of masonry. In an instant, wall lamps flared to life, one after the other, casting a dim halo of light around the chamber.

Boom!

Before he could react, the trapdoor behind him slammed shut with a thunderous crash.

"Roar..."

Rhaegar spun around, hearing the distant growl of the Cannibal. But the entrance was sealed tight, and the mechanism hidden from view. He smiled faintly. 'Trying to trap me here to die, are you?' he thought. No wonder Xar had been so eager to lure him into the underground palace—this was the plan all along.

But even if he was trapped, how did they expect Daemon and the Sea Snake to handle the situation? Did they truly believe the Cannibal would obey a group of masterless, bastard Dragonlords?

"A ridiculous trick," Rhaegar muttered, shaking his head. He didn’t think much of this desperate ploy; he knew the other side understood that he wouldn’t let them escape. Their desperation had driven them to such futile measures.

Now fully illuminated, the underground palace stretched out before him. His gaze was drawn to several halos of light in the center of the chamber, brightening the otherwise dark space. As he approached, his eyes widened.

In the middle of the vast chamber, a deep pit had been dug. Inside lay massive black dragonbones, its size reminiscent of a small mountain range. Rhaegar moved closer, inspecting the remains. The dragonbones stretched sixty meters long—clearly a dragon in its prime.

"It seems that Dragonlord Aurion was indeed a force to be reckoned with," Rhaegar mused, recognizing the significance of the find. A dragon of this size would have had the power to restore ancient Valyria, but tragically, its master had chosen the wrong path and perished as a result.

The sight of the skeleton was sobering. One wing had been almost completely crushed, the thickest vertebrae were snapped, and the dragon's already menacing skull was riddled with cracks, its horn crown broken off. These injuries, by any account, were fatal.

"It’s hard to imagine what kind of monster could inflict such wounds," Rhaegar whispered, reaching out to touch the bones. A sense of awe filled him. Despite its grievous injuries, this red dragon had managed to bring Dragonlord Aurion to Tyria—a testament to its fierce nature. What a pity it had met such a fate.

Unable to trigger the hidden mysteries he hoped for, Rhaegar reluctantly withdrew his hand. As he surveyed the area around the dragon skeleton, he noticed scattered remains—humanoid bones, fish bones... and several deformed dragon bones, resembling wingless, clawless Firewyrms.

In the rotting soil, amid these remains, several bright and beautiful orchids bloomed.

"Soul Restoring Orchids!" Rhaegar exclaimed, jumping into the pit to quickly gather the precious plants. There were five of them, each carefully placed in a sandalwood box.

Boom!

Suddenly, the ground beneath him trembled. Rhaegar’s expression shifted as he swiftly rolled out of the pit. The soil churned violently, releasing a hot blast of air.

Boom!

A crack tore through the floor of the underground palace, and a dazzling red glow shot out. Even from a distance, Rhaegar could see the bubbling underground lava.

"Is this part of the palace's design?" he wondered aloud, recognizing the intricate traps woven into Tyria’s very core—a hallmark of the Free Cities Empire.

“Sssssss…”

A hissing sound echoed above the lava as an ugly Firewyrm emerged, its thick, serpentine body slithering up from the molten depths. The creature, drawn to the heat, locked its gaze on Rhaegar, its murderous intent unmistakable.

"Hisssss!" The Firewyrm's flames, though not as hot as Dragonfire, were just as deadly. The smoke and corrosive fumes that accompanied them were perfect for killing humans.

Gulp~

Rhaegar rolled to his feet, his gaze immediately drawn to the boiling underground lava. Amidst the magma stood a circular altar made of black Dragonstone, with a statue of a dragon on each side. His eyes locked onto a massive horn at the center of the altar—completely black, inlaid with red rubies, and shimmering with a metallic luster. The surface was engraved with tiny, densely packed characters.

"The Dragon's Horn!" Rhaegar's eyes widened, his throat dry and hoarse.

"Sssss..." The Firewyrm thrust its grotesque head forward, roaring as it climbed toward him. Seeing that Rhaegar wasn't moving, it spat another jet of flame in his direction.

Rhaegar glanced sideways at the attack, rolling out of its path just in time. As he did, he mentally reached out to the Cannibal outside.

"Sssss..." The Firewyrm, relentless, roared like a mad beast, its mouth wide open as it unleashed another burst of flames. This brainless creature seemed driven purely by instinct.

"Firewyrms... they're just like maggots in the gutter, utterly disgusting," Rhaegar muttered as he dodged the creature’s attacks, his eyes frequently darting toward the ancient horn on the altar. The underground lava was rising steadily, nearly engulfing the Dragonstone altar. From the cracked rocks, more Firewyrms could be heard roaring in the distance.

'No wonder the Dragonhorn was never taken. It was guarded by a nest of Firewyrms,' Rhaegar thought, clenching his teeth. The moment he saw the Dragonhorn, he understood the tragic fate of Dragonlord Aurion. The ancient Dragonlord must have known about the Dragonhorn in Tyria and sought to claim it, only to meet a terrible end, dooming his descendants.

"The Dragonhorn is mine!" Rhaegar's eyes flashed with murderous intent as he plotted how to claim the treasure.

"Sssss..." The Firewyrm lunged at him, spitting out a glob of slime from its segmented mouthparts, aiming to swallow him whole. Rhaegar, quick on his feet, retreated from the edge of the pit, narrowly avoiding the creature's attack. As he jumped, he caught sight of the dragon's corpse, tilting precariously over the edge of the pit.

"That's it!" Rhaegar's eyes lit up. He scrambled onto the Dragonbone, quickly cutting a length of the saddle rope, and wrapped it around his arm. Without hesitation, he leaped.

"Sssss.."

Rhaegar's eyes snapped open as the sound of the Firewyrm's hiss filled the air. He tore off the space necklace around his neck, quickly wrapping it around his left wrist. With a wave of his hand, he moved within a foot of the dragon horn.

Hum—

His spirit surged from him, locking onto the dragon horn—thick as two men's arms—and instantly transporting it into his bag.

"Sizzling..."

Just as he secured the horn, a Firewyrm lunged from the side, its maw wide open, ready to bite. Rhaegar's face contorted in shock, his mind going blank for a split second.

Instinct took over. The spear with a Valyrian steel tip, "Dawn," materialized in his left hand, and he thrust it into the Firewyrm's mouth, its saliva hissing on the weapon's surface.

"Get out of my way!" Rhaegar roared, pouring all his strength into the attack.

Pop!

The spear pierced through the Firewyrm's upper jaw, the cold, gleaming tip breaking through its scaly hide. Rhaegar released the spear, using its momentum to swing upwards, gripping the spearhead and yanking it out in a sharp, fluid motion.

Sizzling—

Hot blood sprayed as the Blackfyre-imbued spear drove through the Firewyrm's head. The creature died instantly, its lifeless body plummeting into the lava below.

Before Rhaegar could catch his breath, the remaining Firewyrms in the underground palace attacked again, their numbers overwhelming. It was a close call.

"Roar!"

The entire underground palace shook violently as green flames melted the stone ceiling. A black dragon's claw tore through the ceiling, crashing down.

Pop!

One of the Firewyrms, unable to dodge in time, was crushed to a pulp by the dragon's mighty claw. The palace continued to tremble, the roaring growing more deafening as the structure began to collapse.

Roar!

The hideous head of the Cannibal smashed through the underground palace, its glowing green pupils locking onto Rhaegar. With a powerful bite, it clamped onto the dragon's backbone, lifting the saddle high into the air.

Rhaegar clutched the reins, the Cannibal soaring into the sky like a kite caught in a fierce wind.

Rumble!

The underground palace collapsed completely, the black dragon's head rising from the rubble, scattering dust and debris. It shook its massive neck, and the saddle in its jaws shifted, allowing Rhaegar to land on the flat expanse of the dragon's back, his body shielded by his "Bronze" rune scales.

"Roar!"

The Cannibal roared triumphantly into the sky, carrying its rider higher and higher, leaving the destruction of the underground palace far below.

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