"I am the son of Rhaegar, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and protector of the realm. Little Green, Green Dragon," Aegon declared, flushed with excitement, his cheeks and eyes glowing red. "Be my companion—submit to me!"
Daenerys, his aunt, was not pleased. That title, so long and majestic-sounding, was one she herself felt too embarrassed to use—because it didn't match reality. And yet this boy had the gall to say it so shamelessly, as if he truly owned it.
And now he dared to command her son to submit?
This eldest nephew of hers was even more annoying than the second one. Maybe it was time to send him to the Wall, let him serve as a Night's Watchman alongside his bastard brother?
Though they couldn't actively connect with the dragons' spirits, both Little Green and Little Gold could faintly sense their mother's mood: she did not like the loudmouth in front of them.
So when Aegon moved closer, Little Green arched its neck like a serpent and let out a loud roar. "Screeech—!"
"Ahhh!"
Aegon's silver hair flew in the hot gust of sulfur-laced breath. The excitement drained from his face, turning it pale as he stumbled back in terror, screaming and falling to the ground.
This pathetic display only worsened Little Green's mood. Its throat glowed red as it opened its jaws wide to unleash dragonfire—
"Little Green, stop!" The smile vanished from Daenerys's face. She stood abruptly and activated her fire control spell.
She didn't care whether her eldest nephew lived or died, but they were alone here. If Aegon were to die by Little Green's flames, who would believe the Dragon Queen didn't murder her own kin?
Boom—
A transparent shell, like an eggshell, suddenly surrounded Aegon, shielding him. The dragonfire split and flowed around him like water hitting a rock, the red flames parting on either side.
"Ahhhh—!" Before him, the golden-red fire spread like a sea, and Aegon let out another unconscious shriek of terror.
Whoooosh—
Daenerys swept her hand, and the scattered flames surged into the sky like a burst of fireworks, dazzling for an instant before vanishing.
"Ahhhh—!" Aegon remained sprawled on the floor, screaming at the top of his lungs. His cries echoed through the stairwell and into the lower halls, startling Maester Aemon, Clinton, and the others.
"Screeech—" Little Green let out one final, low growl, then drew its neck back and flopped down again, eyes closed in feigned sleep.
Daenerys glanced at it with a strange expression. "I didn't expect you to still have such a temper, Little Green."
Well, it had once breathed fire at her too, when it was younger.
"What happened? What's going on?" Clinton rushed to Aegon's side, shaking him anxiously.
Aegon sat dazed on the floor, staring blankly and repeating "Ahhh" over and over again like a broken record.
"Daenerys, what's going on?" asked Maester Aemon as Jorah helped him over.
Seeing the old man's concerned face—his eyes darting between her and Aegon, clearly suspecting she had done something—Daenerys sighed.
"Aegon wanted to tame a dragon. I told him to bond slowly with Little Red, but he said Little Red was too small and asked for Big Black instead. I told him Big Black had flown to Dragonstone and wouldn't return for a few days.
Then he said Little Green would do, and started shouting at him.
He shouted, 'I am the son of Rhaegar, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and protector of the realm. Green Dragon, submit to me.'"
Pfft— Before Daenerys even finished, the Imp couldn't help but burst out laughing.
In the otherwise quiet and serious hall, his laughter rang out like a slap.
"What's so funny?" Daenerys raised a brow at him.
"Your Grace, please continue," Tyrion replied, noticing the disapproving stares from Clinton and the others.
"There's not much more. Little Green spat dragonfire at him. Fortunately, I was close enough to stop it in time," she said flatly.
Hahaha! Tyrion couldn't hold back any longer. He turned to the slowly recovering Aegon and laughed. "Your Highness, that is not how you tame a dragon. With that approach, you'd need a hundred lives just to survive the attempt.
If you want to tame a dragon, you start with sheep—or a few cattle. You have to feed them by hand until they're full. And never approach them at night or while they're sleeping.
Think about it—if I woke you up in the middle of the night, wouldn't you punch me in the face out of sheer anger?"
"Indeed," Maester Aemon sighed. "Before you can become a dragonrider, you must never pressure a dragon. They are sensitive creatures and can sense your emotions."
"Your Grace should've warned His Highness," Clinton said, somewhat reproachfully.
"Warn him of what? I've never seen anything like this before," Daenerys said, frowning. "My dragons have been tended by over a dozen Dothraki guards for years, and they've never been attacked."
"That's true. The dragons never breathe fire at us," confirmed Quaithe. "And under the Khaleesi's teaching, they've even stopped eating people."
"But those dragon guards are different from Aegon," Tyrion said, a glint of pride in his eyes. "Dragons can sense human emotion—don't doubt that. If they couldn't form a bond, why would there be the saying, 'One rider, one dragon'?
It's clear the dragon guards merely care for the dragons without trying to dominate them, so the dragons don't see them as a threat. But a prospective dragonrider is a different matter entirely.
Before dragons went extinct, how many Targaryens and Velaryons died trying to tame them? Do you really think becoming a dragonrider is easy?"
Daenerys gave him a sidelong glance. "You seem to know quite a bit."
"Your Grace, I'm not exaggerating when I say I'm one of the world's foremost dragon experts. Ever since I was a child, I dreamed of having a dragon of my own—even if it were a dwarf dragon, like me.
To see dragons in the flesh is the fulfillment of my greatest wish. There is no miracle in this world greater than dragons."
Tyrion gazed up at the three dragons sleeping together along the wall. The longing and admiration in his eyes were utterly unfiltered.
His sincerity was so intense, even Daenerys was moved.
After a moment, the Imp sighed and said, "When my uncle told me dragons had gone extinct, I cried—truly. That was the only time I ever cried for something not caused by Cersei's bullying. I didn't feel ashamed.
Since then, I've done everything I could to collect books and knowledge about dragons."
"I'm not exaggerating when I say I own the most complete copy of 'Dragons, Drakes, and Longwings: An Unnatural History of Dragonkind' in the world."
Then he looked up with a pleading expression. "Your Grace, please let me join the Dragon Guard. I swear I'll care for your dragons with all my heart. The title of Wildfire General doesn't do my talents justice."
Daenerys avoided his gaze and said flatly, "I don't lack dragon guardians."
Aegon stood up, his face pale, and suddenly declared, "I am Rhaegar's son!"
"So what?"
Tyrion was puzzled. Everything had already been made clear—why was the young prince still emphasizing his lineage?
"I share the closest bloodline with Aunt Daenerys. There are supposed to be three heads of the dragon. I am one of them. That's what the prophecy says," Aegon insisted.
"Who do you think the other head is? Maester Aemon?" Tyrion asked with interest.
Old Aemon's eyes flickered. He thought of Jon, suspected to be Rhaegar's bastard, and said calmly, "A prophecy is a prophecy. Dragons do not change their nature because of one.
Aegon, you are too reckless. And Daenerys, you as well. You shouldn't have let him get close to Little Green and Big Black."
"Aegon wants to ride a dragon to claim the Iron Throne. A small dragon couldn't carry him," Daenerys said.
Aemon frowned and looked around at the others, then hesitantly said, "Aegon, I don't advise you to go to King's Landing. And don't even think of bringing dragons to Westeros."
"Why not? Isn't it right to reclaim what belongs to House Targaryen?" Aegon exclaimed emotionally.
"The Three-Eyed Raven. Westeros is too dangerous for you."
The old maester gritted his teeth and decided to speak plainly: "Beyond the Wall, there are not only White Walkers, but also greenseers. Brynden Rivers—the 'Three-Eyed Raven'—can control people's minds, and he may even seize control of dragons."
"Uh… Maester, what are you talking about?" Tyrion, Clinton, and Young Aegon all looked bewildered.
Could a maester this old still awaken the Targaryen madness?
Wasn't it a little late for that?
"Sigh. Now that White Walkers have appeared, what's a greenseer in comparison?"
With a complex expression, the old man recounted the story of how Daenerys had been controlled by the Three-Eyed Raven after arriving in Westeros.
The others were stunned as they listened. Tyrion, however, remained skeptical and said with a grin, "Sounds like a myth."
"I also met the Rat Cook at Castle Black—believe it?" Daenerys asked with a smile.
"Heh." Tyrion chuckled lazily.
"And then there's the Mad Axe. We never did find him before we left. I wonder if the Red Woman caught him," said old Aemon.
"Heh." Tyrion chuckled again, equally nonchalant.
Daenerys turned to her nephew and saw that he had come back to his senses, though his face still showed doubt. She suggested, "Since you're so eager to reclaim the Iron Throne, why not start by taking an internship at the Wall?"
"Internship in what?" Aegon asked, confused.
"Internship in how to become the prophesied one!" Daenerys replied solemnly. "Only by going beyond the Wall and fighting the White Walkers can you quickly grow into a qualified savior. As long as you end the Long Night, no one can stop you from claiming the Iron Throne."
"No way. The Wall is too dangerous," Clinton rejected flatly.
"Then what about the promise that 'he who ends the Long Night shall be king'? My support for him hinges on his fulfilling that vow. Otherwise, I'd become an oathbreaker," Daenerys said.
Clinton replied uncertainly, "Let's wait until the Long Night actually comes."
"His Highness the Prince is clearly a child of summer. If the Long Night is real, I fear…"
Tyrion shook his head and didn't finish his sentence.
But everyone understood the implication: someone who doesn't even dare go to the Wall could never become the prophesied savior.
"I—" Aegon's face turned from pale to red. Clenching his teeth, he shouted, "Give me the White Dragon or the Black Dragon. I'll head to the Wall right now and kill a few White Walkers!"
"Your Highness, this isn't about whether someone gives you a dragon. What matters is whether you can tame one."
At some point, a subtle trace of disdain had crept into Tyrion's eyes. "Even the Green Dragon made you collapse in fear. The Black Dragon is even scarier. Rumor has it he can talk."
Then he curiously turned to Daenerys. "I've seen the Black Dragon a few times now, but I've never heard him speak?"
Daenerys rolled her eyes and replied, "He's not a chatterbox. What's he supposed to talk to you about for no reason?"
"Alright, that's enough for today." She yawned and said impatiently, "Everyone, go. We're done here."
The Dragon Queen, her Dothraki handmaiden, and old Aemon lived on the top floor. Aegon and the others stayed one floor below.
As they exited the stairwell together, Tyrion noticed Aegon's dark, frustrated expression. Sensing something, he pulled him aside and whispered, "Not happy?"
"What do you want?" Aegon asked sullenly.
"When a man's upset, he needs to let it out," Tyrion said with a sly grin.
"The Green Dragon was only enraged because of me. It wasn't my aunt's fault. I don't know how to handle dragons—I was reckless," Aegon sighed.
Tyrion gave him an appreciative look and nodded to himself. This kid may be impulsive and hot-headed, but he has his merits. Clinton and Ashara raised him well.
"Of course it wasn't your aunt. But you could always find another woman to vent with," Tyrion added with a mischievous chuckle.
(End of Chapter)
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