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WHOOSH, WHOOSH!
Vermax descended smoothly onto the open clearing outside the dragonpit on Dragonstone. The sound of great wings flapping stirred the air, echoing across the rocky terrain.
Several dragonkeepers, having heard the noise, quickly ran out to greet him. As soon as they caught sight of the prince, they bowed respectfully in welcome.
"This saddle is killing me. Hurry up and change it!"
The moment he dismounted, Jacaerys stretched his arms and back, trying to ease the stiffness in his body. At the same time, he gave an order in High Valyrian to the dragonkeepers.
"As you command, Your Grace!"
The keepers nodded in unison and immediately got to work. One rushed off to retrieve a new saddle from the storage, while others led Vermax back to its lair and began preparing its food.
Compared to his time in the Stepstones, where he had to personally care for Vermax in a rough, hands-on manner, Jacaerys felt an immense relief the moment he returned to Dragonstone. Every fiber of his being seemed to relax.
As he walked, his mind was already contemplating whether he should bring a few of the dragonkeepers with him the next time he left. With his mood considerably lighter, even his footsteps seemed to carry a certain ease and grace. Before long, he arrived at the familiar doors of the Stone Drum Tower.
"Ah, King Jacaerys, back so soon? Tired already of the barren and desolate Stepstones?"
Daemon was waiting at the entrance to the main hall of the tower. He had already received word of Jacaerys' arrival and greeted him with a teasing tone and a half-smile.
Without a word, Jacaerys stepped forward and embraced Daemon tightly.
"Father, I've returned."
Only a few months ago, he had racked his brains trying to find a way to escape Rhaenyra's grip and leave Dragonstone behind. Yet after everything he had experienced in the outside world, he found that, somewhere deep within his heart, a strange longing for this place had quietly taken root.
At the very least, there were fewer plots and fewer schemes here. Fewer blades hidden in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike him down.
In Tyrosh, he hadn't originally intended to destroy the city or carry out mass slaughter. But one event had led to another, and before he realized it, he had been forced onto that path.
During the assassination attempt at the Bleeding Tower, if not for the fact that he had burned down the northern district and gained a substantial number of trait points, he might not have survived.
Even if he had lived through the fire, he would have been so badly burned and disfigured that he would resemble the Crabfeeder Daemon had killed years ago—grotesque and ruined.
Moreover, the sudden emergence of those mysterious individuals wielding all manner of sorcery made Jacaerys keenly aware that both he and Vermax were still far from powerful enough.
Whether it was inciting rebellion among the magisters of Myr under the guise of a madman, or returning to Dragonstone now, it all served one purpose—becoming stronger.
But back to the matter at hand.
Daemon was caught off guard by the sudden embrace, his body stiffening slightly before he awkwardly patted Jacaerys on the back. He then said,
"Alright, your mother is in her chambers. She's still upset with us both over the infiltration of the Red Keep and the injury to Helaena. And lately, she's been hearing all sorts of troubling rumors about you. You should apologize to her properly."
Upon hearing this, Jacaerys stepped back and nodded solemnly.
"Yes, Father. I understand. But first, I'd like to see Baela. You mentioned in your letter that she had woken up."
Daemon seemed pleased with this response. A smile touched his lips as he replied,
"Don't worry, she's recovering well. In fact, the moment she regained consciousness, she wanted to return to the Stepstones. But Princess Rhaenys forcefully took her back to the Driftmark to recuperate."
"I see. Then I'll fly to Driftmark later to visit her. Oh, and Father… I remember you once mentioned that there's a wild dragon on Dragonstone—one that feeds on the corpses of dead dragons, newly hatched hatchlings, and even dragon eggs?"
Daemon gave his son a curious glance, not quite understanding why Jacaerys would bring that up. Still, he answered without hesitation,
"Yes. Many decades ago, villagers from Dragonmount claimed to have seen it in the area behind the mountain. They called it the Cannibal."
The so-called Dragonmount Daemon spoke of was the volcanic region that occupied the rear half of Dragonstone. If the dragons were the very foundation of House Targaryen's strength, then Dragonmount was the fertile ground from which that foundation had grown. All of House Targaryen's dragons had laid their eggs within its fiery depths.
The dragonkeepers would often form search parties to comb the mountain for newly laid eggs. However, lacking the ability to fly, they inevitably missed the more remote and hidden corners of the terrain.
It was from such forgotten places that untamed, wild dragons like the Cannibal were born—dragons raised beyond the reach of human control, growing freely in the shadows.
"So this Cannibal… after all these years, who knows how many hatchlings and eggs it has devoured? It must be a serious threat to the future of our house. Has no one ever tried to tame or kill it?"
As Jacaerys spoke, his brow furrowed with concern. It was clear the question had weighed on his mind for some time.
"How could they not have tried?" Daemon replied. "When I was a boy, my father, Baelon Targaryen, told me a story. It was said that King Jaehaerys the Wise and Queen Alysanne the Kind once mounted a campaign to hunt the Cannibal."
"They laid a trap with cattle and sheep, hoping to lure it into the open. Jaehaerys rode Vermithor, the Bronze Fury, and Alysanne rode Silverwing—both fully grown dragons, mighty and formidable. The Cannibal, still young at the time, should have been no match for them."
Jacaerys leaned forward, hanging on every word. "And yet it survived?"
Daemon nodded, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "The Cannibal was cunning, far cleverer than anyone expected. It used its smaller size to its advantage, weaving through the crags and crevices of Dragonmount. When cornered, it dove into the sea and vanished beneath the waves. After that, it grew cautious. It preys only on hatchlings and eggs, fleeing at the sight of any dragon larger than itself."
Hearing Daemon's tale, Jacaerys nodded slowly, realization dawning in his eyes.
"The smaller dragons can't defeat it, and the larger ones can't catch it. No wonder that creature has survived for so long. But… after all these years, it must have grown to a considerable size, right?"
"In recent years, no one has reported seeing the Cannibal," Daemon replied casually. "Though perhaps those who did were already swallowed whole."
He narrowed his eyes slightly, studying Jacaerys with a curious look. "If we consider how long it's had to grow, its size may already rival that of the Red Queen, Meleys."
There was a pause, and then he spoke again, a note of suspicion creeping into his voice.
"Jace, you're asking quite a lot about this. Don't tell me you're thinking of trying to tame or kill the Cannibal?"
Jacaerys waved a hand and let out a light chuckle, feigning nonchalance. "No, not at all. I'm just curious, that's all. Father, I'll head in now."
With that, he turned and made his way toward the great hall. Daemon remained standing where he was, watching his son's back as he murmured under his breath,
"Vermax wouldn't be able to take on the Cannibal… Jace is too clever to throw his life away."
Whether it was Daemon's doing or someone else's, four guards were now stationed at the door of the lord's chambers — a place that had previously gone unguarded.
Jacaerys gave them a brief nod before pushing open the heavy door and stepping inside.
The sight that greeted him was far different from what he remembered. Compared to a few months ago, Rhaenyra looked noticeably more haggard.
She was seated with a thick book resting in her hands. Upon seeing her son, she gently closed it and offered him a faint, tired smile. Her voice was quiet and worn, yet still warm.
"Jace, you seem to have grown taller again."
"Have I? Mother, I hadn't noticed it myself."
"I'm glad you've come to see me. It warms my heart to know you still do."
"This is my duty, Mother. Of course I would come to see you."
After a few brief exchanges of polite words, the room gradually sank into silence. The air turned heavier as the conversation shifted.
Rhaenyra looked at her son, her gaze steady and unblinking. When she spoke again, her voice had taken on a firmer edge.
"Jacaerys… I've heard many troubling rumors lately. Some say you deliberately provoked a war with the Kingdom of the Three Daughters in the Stepstones. Others say you've taken to feeding prisoners to your dragon, Vermax. And some even claim…"
She paused, emotion tightening her voice.
"Some claim you burned an entire town to the ground… and killed thousands."
Her eyes searched his face. "Are these things true?"
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[Chapter End's]
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