Chapter: The chaos
The bells of the Red Keep had not ceased ringing since the shadow crossed over King's Landing. A dragon vast, black as pitch, wings stretched like death itself had circled the skies of the city, blotting out the sun, turning the cobbled streets into a sea of terrified faces. For a moment, the capital had lived again in the memory of Balerion the Black Dread, though that dragon had been gone more than a decade. And yet, another shape had followed, crimson-scaled and bright, streaming from the Blackwater Bay. The people of the city had screamed at first, then cheered wildly, chanting the name of House Targaryen.
The cheering had not followed Rhaegar when he and his uncle Daemon were brought under guard into the small council chamber.
The room was already gathered: King Viserys upon his chair at the head of the long table, the Hand Otto Hightower at his right, Maester Mellos hovering at his elbow, Beesbury, Lyonel Strong, and Harold Westerling standing in their places. All eyes turned when the guards shoved open the doors.
The chamber smelled of smoke from hastily lit braziers, and the weight of dread sat in the air thicker than any incense.
"Leave us," commanded Viserys to the guards. His voice was thunder, though his face was pale with anger. When the doors thudded shut, his eyes locked on Daemon then on his son.
"You," he spat, rising half from his chair, "you cursed fool. I should have known this madness was of your making, Daemon."
Daemon only smirked, sliding into a seat without bowing. "If you mean to thank me, brother, you are most welcome. For once, I had no hand in it. The boy acted on his own."
"Liar!" Viserys' hand struck the table. "You would set my son to his death on the Cannibal's maw? That beast has feasted on dragon's flesh for a hundred years!"
Otto leaned forward, voice calm but cutting. "Your Grace speaks truly. Cannibal is no steed, no mount. He is a predator born of shadow. The boy is fortunate to still draw breath. It is plain who whispered this madness in his ear." His cold eyes darted toward Daemon.
Daemon's grin widened. "You give me too much credit, Hightower. If I had set the boy upon the Cannibal, he would have returned in ashes. Instead, he sits before you, unburnt, unbroken."
The chamber erupted,Mellos murmuring about omens, Beesbury shaking his head about dangers to the realm. Viserys' face reddened, torn between outrage and fear.
Through it all, the boy remained silent. Rhaegar Targaryen, scarcely past his tenth name day, sat in the long shadows of the council chamber. His silver-gold hair fell into his eyes, and his small hands were clenched into fists upon the wood. They bickered about him as though he were a pawn but his eyes were steady, watching, waiting.
"Daemon," Viserys growled, "you will answer to me for this. If I find you have guided his steps toward that monster—"
Daemon leaned lazily back in his chair. "You may search me, question me, beat me bloody, brother. I only learned of this yesterday. The boy went alone."
"Alone?" Mellos gasped. "Alone into Cannibal's lair? Impossible. He would have been devoured—"
"He was not," Daemon interrupted. "That is the point."
Otto slammed his hand on the table. "Enough of this nonsense. The Cannibal must be secured in the Dragonpit at once. If it cannot be, it must be destroyed before it imperils the city. A beast that eats its own kind cannot be allowed free."
Daemon's laugh was sharp as a blade. "Destroyed? By whose sword, Hightower? Yours? Or perhaps you'll send the City Watch to stick it with spears. Let us see how far that gets you."
The Hand's face darkened. "Do not mistake prudence for cowardice. A dragon that devours dragons is a threat to the realm itself."
"And a realm without dragons," Daemon shot back, "is nothing but sheep waiting for wolves."
The two men's voices clashed like steel in the chamber, Otto cold and measured, Daemon fiery and mocking. Viserys shouted for silence, but the storm swallowed him.
At last, the boy rose. His small hands pressed the table, his voice breaking into the quarrel, clear as a bell.
"Cannibal will not enter the Dragonpit."
The room stilled. Every head turned. Even Daemon's smirk faded into surprise.
Rhaegar's gaze swept the chamber, not flinching beneath the weight of their eyes. "He will not be bound, and he will not be caged. If you try, he will eat the others. That is his nature. He listens only when I request, never when I order. Cannibal cannot be commanded."
"You presume to lecture us?" Otto sneered. "A child playing at wisdom. You think yourself dragonlord already?"
The boy's eyes narrowed. "No. But Cannibal is no child's plaything. He is an old soul… older than Balerion, I think. When I touched his mind, I saw not fire and teeth, but shadows of the Black Dread. Pictures burned into the stone of my skull."
Mellos blinked, murmuring about fever dreams, but the words had landed like a hammer on the chamber. Daemon leaned forward now, eyes gleaming.
"Pictures of Balerion?" he asked softly.
Rhaegar nodded. "The past lives in him. He is not like the others."
Viserys' face worked with rage and fear. "You do not know what you speak. Balerion was the dread of the world. You dare compare—"
"I do not compare," Rhaegar cut in, his voice rising. "I repeat what I saw. He is no steed, Father. He is memory, shadow, hunger. He is no servant. He chooses."
The chamber stirred with whispers. Beesbury muttered about madness, Strong's heavy brow furrowed in thought, and Harold Westerling's hand hovered on his sword hilt though there was no foe to strike.
Viserys surged to his feet, his voice breaking with fury. "Daemon, you see what your poison has done? My son spouts riddles and blasphemy! He dares speak as though dragons rule us, and not the other way!"
Daemon's reply was calm, almost cold. "I told you, brother,the boy went alone. He made his claim after his tenth name day. If you doubt me, scour Dragonstone yourself. But it will not change the truth."
The king staggered, as though the ground had shifted beneath him. His eyes darted to his son, desperate, bewildered.
And then the boy stepped forward, his voice low but steady.
"Father. You and I must speak alone."
Otto shot up from his seat. "Absolutely not. The king's council must—"
Rhaegar turned his eyes on him, sharp as steel. "What I discovered beneath Dragonstone can change the history of Westeros. The council will not hear it. Not yet."
Mellos shook his head, protesting about the boy's fancies, but Viserys raised a hand. His breath was ragged, but his eyes were searching, haunted.
"Leave us," he commanded.
Otto froze, fury in his face. "Your Grace, this is folly—"
"I said leave us!" Viserys roared, his voice echoing off the stone walls.
One by one, with stiff bows and reluctant glances, the councillors filed from the chamber. Otto's glare lingered longest, burning with suspicion and fury, but even he could not defy the king's word. The great doors groaned shut behind them, and silence swallowed the room.
Only two remained now: the king and the boy. The fire hissed in the brazier, shadows dancing across the stone walls. Viserys sank back into his chair, his hands trembling against the wood.
"Rhaegar…" His voice cracked. "What have you done? What are you becoming?"
The boy stepped closer, his eyes dark, filled with secrets far older than ten years. He did not tremble.
"I have not changed, Father," he said softly. "But what I found beneath Dragonstone has changed everything. The past is not dead. It breathes still, in fire and shadow. And it will shape the fate of House Targaryen."
Viserys swallowed hard, his breath shallow, his crown gleaming faint in the torchlight.
The boy's final words fell into the stillness like a blade.
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Tommorow there will be another chapter but after that next chapter will be 15 -20 day later as I have my university exams
But I'm not dropping the fanfiction
Should I continue daemon with rhea or match with any other girl