Stone Drum Tower.
The castle gates were tightly sealed, guarded by heavily armed Dragon Guards patrolling all directions.
On the top floor of the tower, the dim corridor was silent. Tallow candles were spaced a meter apart, their faint yellow light flickering across the shadowy passage.
Slash!
The sharp sound of a blade cutting through flesh echoed, followed by a fountain of blood splattering against the dark ceiling.
"Prince, you can't do this…"
Grand Maester Melros cried out in horror, collapsing onto the black stone floor, trembling as he tried to crawl away.
Before him, Rhaegar stood with a cold expression, a sword slick with blood in his hand. He flicked his wrist, sending droplets of crimson into the air.
The corridor was littered with bodies, scholars in their robes lying lifeless in disarray.
Farther down, in front of the king's bedchamber, lay the voluptuous figure of a green-dressed, black-haired woman in a pool of blood. Her severed head rolled to a stop.
It was none other than Alys Rivers, a woman harboring dark intentions.
Having sensed Daemon's growing disdain for her, she had sneaked out with the intention of stealing dragon eggs from Baela and Rhaena.
Fortunately, Rhaenyra had stayed close to her daughters, giving Alys no opportunity.
When Rhaegar entered Stone Drum Tower, he caught Alys sneaking into the king's bedchamber. Whatever scheme she had, she didn't get far.
As she left empty-handed, Rhaegar intercepted her and beheaded her with a single strike.
Even in death, she had screamed that she could cure the king's curse—but only by sacrificing a dragon seed.
Rhaegar didn't believe a word of it.
House Bracken had already perished from such blood rituals.
Rhaegar exhaled sharply and said, "Grand Maester, your students are still a bit too loyal."
He strode forward, stepping firmly onto Melros's robe, eyes fixed on the man's hand hidden in his sleeve.
The moment Alys Rivers had been slain, Melros and a group of young scholars had rushed out of a neighboring room in obvious haste.
Shaking his head desperately, Melros stammered, "Prince, the queen instructed me to prepare milk of the poppy. You mustn't act rashly!"
"I'm not being rash. I've wanted to kill you for a while now." Rhaegar's tone was calm.
Slash!
Without hesitation, he swung his sword, decapitating the old scholar.
The severed head hit the ground, the eyes filled with disbelief and despair.
"Since Father isn't here and you're now in my hands, it'd be a waste not to kill you."
Rhaegar smirked and picked up the crumpled letter clutched in the headless corpse's hand.
Clang!
The tip of his sword embedded itself in the black stone floor as Rhaegar calmly unfolded the letter and read it silently.
There were no explicit orders to let the king's condition worsen, but the content reeked of conspiracy.
"Dragon taming… The restoration of House Targaryen… The world devoid of magic…"
Each line made Rhaegar's heart sink further.
The letter noted the king's growing interest in taming dragons while expressing a strong opposition to the idea, coupled with unease and hostility.
Toward the end, it praised the Citadel's pursuit of truth and its doctrine denying the existence of magic.
Rhaegar's gaze darkened. He glanced at the headless corpse and spat disdainfully. "You deserved this."
Everyone knew that House Targaryen had always been at odds with the Faith of the Seven and the Citadel's teachings.
But Rhaegar hadn't expected a Grand Maester to harbor such dangerous biases.
The Conqueror had used three dragons to unite the Seven Kingdoms.
Without dragons, what was House Targaryen?
"Alys Rivers! Get out here!"
Hurried footsteps echoed through the hall, followed by Daemon's furious roar.
Rhaegar turned to see Daemon storming toward him, dressed only in a white nightshirt. His silver hair was disheveled, a clear sign of his rage.
His outburst had already alerted many others in the tower.
Rhaenyra approached quickly, a worried expression on her face as she held her adopted daughters by the hand.
Aegon, Helaena, Laenor…
Even a nervous Alicent emerged from her chambers, accompanied by her father, Otto.
"You treacherous whore, Alys Rivers!"
Daemon's expression was vicious, his voice seething with fury.
Rhaegar glanced at him coolly and said, "Stop shouting. She's been dead for a while now."
Daemon's eyes darted around until they landed on the headless corpse. His anger seemed to ease slightly.
He had planned to kill the woman himself after leaving Dragonstone.
But she had slipped away while he slept.
Rhaenyra, now close enough to see the carnage, was stunned. "Rhaegar? Weren't you supposed to be in King's Landing?"
"I came back."
Rhaegar shrugged and then turned to Alicent, who was standing near the door.
He wanted to see the guilt on the queen's face.
Alicent bit her lower lip nervously, clearly uneasy.
Otto stepped forward protectively, shielding his daughter. "Prince, you killed the Grand Maester."
"You were hiding behind the door—you saw it yourself," Rhaegar said indifferently, gripping the sword embedded in the floor.
He had come tonight specifically for Melros and Alys Rivers. His objective was complete.
Before anyone could respond further, Laenor and others arrived.
Seeing the carnage in the hallway, Laenor was visibly shaken, his face pale and trembling.
Without saying much, Rhaegar handed Melros's letter to the king's hand.
The conspiracy against the royal dragons, combined with past neglect in treating the king, was enough to convict Melros of treason.
Suddenly—
Roar!
A deafening dragon's cry shattered the night, reverberating through the castle like a war drum.
A sudden thought flashed through Rhaegar's mind, and he swiftly ran out of the corridor, rushing toward an open-air balcony.
Beneath the night sky, dark clouds obscured the moon, and the stars were completely hidden.
From the direction of the towering Dragonmount, a massive dragon soared into the sky, spewing a dazzling golden flame.
"Hisss-graaah!!"
The dragon circled in the night sky, letting out a series of agitated roars, while the pitch-black heavens were frequently illuminated by bursts of fiery light.
As Rhaegar moved, the others quickly followed, all gazing toward the raging dragon in awe.
Rhaenyra's amber eyes widened as she covered her mouth. "Vermithor! Who is it?"
Such a large dragon—on the island, only Vermithor fit that description. The question was, who was attempting to tame it?
Rhaegar's expression turned grim. "Father, or Aemond."
Riding a dragon through the skies meant the taming process was nearing its final stage—the most critical moment in claiming an untamed dragon.
No coward could ever sit atop the back of an adult dragon.
"Hisss-graaah!!"
Before their eyes, Vermithor suddenly went berserk over Dragonmount, erratically spewing dragonfire as he charged forward—his path drawing dangerously closer to the castle.
Perched atop a seaside cliff, the castle wasn't far from Dragonmount.
At Vermithor's speed, in just a few minutes, his golden flames would rain down upon them.
"Hisss-graaah!!"
"Hisss-graaah…"
Sensing the approach of a furious adult dragon, several dragons resting around the castle were immediately startled, shrieking as they flapped their wings and took to the sky.
First was Syrax, who had been frolicking in the back garden, followed by Dreamfyre and Sunfyre from their spots along the cliffs, and finally, Tessarion, who had been curled up on the beach.
Four dragons in total ascended above the castle, their anxious cries filling the air, tensions rising as they prepared for a confrontation.
"This is bad—Vermithor has incited the dragons into a frenzy!"
Rhaenyra gasped in alarm, attempting to calm Syrax.
But all four dragons remained on high alert, keeping a cautious distance of several miles while occasionally glancing at the rampaging Vermithor in the night sky.
Rhaegar furrowed his brows, already sensing the presence of the Devourer.
The Devourer hadn't left Dragonstone—he was lurking along the eastern coast.
Rhaegar suspected a connection between Vermithor's outburst and the Devourer.
After all, there was long-standing animosity between them.
For a brief moment, chaos reigned—until an enormous shadow streaked across the night sky.
"Hisss-graaah—"
Using the darkness as cover, the Devourer silently appeared above the castle, letting out a thunderous roar.
He had sensed his defeated foe's provocation and returned at full speed.
"Devourer, come here!" Rhaegar leaped onto the balcony railing, calling out loudly.
He had to disperse the frenzied dragons immediately—otherwise, there was no telling what disaster might unfold.
"Grrr…"
The Devourer let out a low growl, his glowing green eyes locking onto his rider before folding his wings and descending.
The Drum Tower stood tall, and the back garden was spacious enough—just barely sufficient for the massive black dragon to land temporarily.
"Do your best to control your dragons, and don't go running off," Rhaegar instructed, before turning without hesitation and leaping onto the Devourer's back.
Thud—
The Devourer stretched out his long neck, bringing his height level with the Drum Tower, allowing Rhaegar to easily mount him.
Ignoring the saddle, Rhaegar shouted urgently, "Devourer, let's go!"
"Hisss-graaah—"
The Devourer let out a deafening roar, his massive black wings flapping as he took to the sky. A stream of eerie green dragonfire shot toward the center of the four dragons.
"Hisss-graaah…"
"…"
The four dragons had already been on high alert at the Devourer's arrival, and the moment the green flames burst forth, they frantically scattered in all directions.
Especially Sunfyre and Tessarion.
One had already suffered under the Devourer's wrath before, while the other was still too small to even count as a mouthful for him—both flapped their wings desperately, fleeing as fast as they could.
Dreamfyre, the oldest, had a body two-thirds the size of the Devourer and roared in defiance.
"Hisss-graaah—"
The Devourer snarled, turning his head sharply. A second blast of dragonfire surged forward, and his razor-sharp hind claws extended, ready to strike.
"Devourer, ignore it!" Rhaegar commanded firmly.
Now was not the time for infighting.
"Hisss-graaah…"
At that moment, Dreamfyre was struck head-on by the sudden burst of flames, screeching in fury as her light blue wings flailed wildly.
Suddenly, a familiar, rancid scent unique to dragons filled her nostrils, triggering a deep-seated memory.
Back when she was a hatchling, Dragonstone had only two young dragons—Dreamfyre and Silverwing.
But when the Devourer, still a young dragon himself, appeared out of nowhere, their peaceful existence was shattered.
Not to mention Silverwing, who had long since perished—Dreamfyre herself had been hunted down by him over a dozen times.
Each time, she barely escaped by the skin of her teeth, forced to hide within Dragonmount for weeks to recover.
"Hisss-graaah…"
The memory resurfaced in her mind, and Dreamfyre let out a sharp cry of alarm—just as the Devourer lunged halfway toward her.
In an instant, she turned tail and fled, so quickly it seemed almost undignified.
"Grrr…"
Watching Dreamfyre flee, the Devourer let out a deep, irritated growl, his glowing green eyes filled with menace.
Having chosen an inconsiderate rider, he hadn't had a proper meal in far too long.
If things dragged on any longer, he'd be forced to hunt down those wild, sharp-beaked dragons from the uninhabited islands just to fill his belly.
"Devourer, don't be too impatient," Rhaegar said, his gaze flickering. "Let's deal with Vermithor first. There are still two chunks of sea monster meat left from last time."
After years together, man and dragon understood each other well.
Rhaegar had figured it out—the Devourer wasn't hunting dragon eggs or preying on young dragons to control their numbers.
No—this beast was simply obsessed with the taste of dragon meat.
A damnable dragon-eating fiend.
(End of Chapter)