The maids watching the two dragons fight were astonished to see Drogon, who usually ate his roasted meat in self-absorbed peace, suddenly join the food fight. He swiped at Viserion, who was holding a piece of meat in his mouth, sending the other dragon sprawling to the ground and spitting out the meat.
Rhaegal, the green dragon who had failed to snatch any meat, saw Drogon and Viserion fighting and quickly snatched the fallen meat, trying to swallow it whole. But just as he tilted his head back to swallow, Drogon's claw struck his chest, dislodging the meat again.
The two dragons, dazed by the kicks, recovered their senses and simultaneously lunged at Drogon, who had inexplicably knocked them down. They bit and clawed at his wings.
This was Drogon's first time fighting two opponents at once, and he was immediately overwhelmed. He was so flustered that he couldn't keep track of both dragons, and he yelped in pain as they bit him.
Fortunately, his formidable defenses allowed him to withstand their attacks while counterstriking.
Seeing Drogon actively provoking the two dragons, all three dragons became a tangled mass of scales and claws. The two maids exchanged bewildered glances, unsure whether to intervene. They had never witnessed such a chaotic battle before. The dragons fought with ferocious intensity, sustaining injuries: wings were torn, and scales flaked off in chunks.
Fortunately, they weren't breathing fire, or this chaotic brawl would have set the house ablaze.
Just as the two women hesitated whether to intervene, Drogon broke free from the entanglement and soared into the sky. He could now sustain brief low-altitude flight, but after rising only a meter or so, Rhaegal pounced on him, tangling with him again and sending them crashing to the ground.
*This little she-dragon is quite fierce,* Drogon thought, impressed. He hadn't flown up to escape, but to train his aerial combat skills and enhance his agility.
The moment Drogon fell, Viserion pounced on him, resuming their biting and clawing.
Previously, neither dragon could match Drogon alone. Today, with the two of them ganging up on him, he was determined to settle the score.
Drogon had discovered a few days earlier during a meat-stealing skirmish that not only was he larger than the others, but his teeth and claws were sharper, and his scales and skin offered superior defense. Although he'd been bitten and scratched countless times, his injuries were minor.
The two dragons looked battered and bruised, but Drogon had held back, avoiding any bone-breaking or tendon-damaging strikes. This restraint was why they could continue fighting so fiercely after so long.
They could have continued fighting, but the two handmaidens couldn't bear to watch any longer. The Khaleesi cherished her dragons so dearly; if any were seriously injured, her mercy wouldn't spare them.
The two maids exchanged a worried glance, grabbed nearby wooden sticks, and thrust them between the three dragons to separate them.
But the two dragons were too frenzied to be separated by mere sticks. Viserion nearly bit Ji Qi, terrifying her so badly that she dropped her stick.
Though small, the young dragon had already revealed his ferocious nature.
Seeing Ji Qi nearly bitten, Drogon let out a low growl, his meaning clear: *Don't you dare bite her.* Though the three dragons didn't speak true dragon tongue, they could convey simple meanings through their roars.
After warning Viserion, Drogon clamped his jaws around the young dragon's neck, his sharp teeth sinking into flesh and freezing him in place. Simultaneously, his right wing hooked under Rhaegal's chin, pinning him down.
The brutal fight suddenly ceased. The two handmaidens and the Dothraki who rushed in at the sound stood stunned.
Seeing the two dragons dare not move, Drogon finally released his wings and settled on the ground, stretching his neck and panting heavily. Even for him, a two-on-one fight had been overwhelming.
Once the three dragons had completely stopped fighting, the young handmaidens rushed to examine their injuries. Doreah, who was primarily responsible for Daenerys's care, joined them to tend to the dragons' wounds.
After their examination, they were relieved to find that most of the injuries were superficial, with only a few wounds being more serious.
That night, exhausted, Daenerys returned and immediately went to her chambers to discuss the matter with Jorah.
Earlier that day, she had approached the Qarthian royal family, who claimed to be the nominal rulers, but none of them had been willing to lend her ships. Xaro's intentions were becoming increasingly clear; he wanted to possess her.
Daenerys had neither agreed nor refused, wanting to discuss it with Jorah before making a decision.
"You cannot marry him!" Jorah declared, his voice firm.
"But we need an army, we need ships..." Daenerys cried out in frustration.
"Xaro can provide those things, but..."
*So noisy! Your prince charming hasn't even shown up yet—why the rush?!*
Drogon, recovering in his cage, was startled awake and grumbled impatiently.
Daenerys: "???"
"Prince Charming?" Could Drogon have foreseen who I would end up with?
This reminded Daenerys of that embarrassing dream, where she was intimately close with a handsome young man, yet couldn't quite make out his face. *Could he be my Prince Charming?* she mused, her heart filled with longing.
"I'll seek out other magnates tomorrow. I won't marry Xaro. You find us a ship at the docks—we'll leave as soon as possible."
Though she wasn't in the mood to search for a Prince Charming now, Drogon seemed to want her to avoid marrying Xaro. So, she would follow Jorah's advice. Daenerys abandoned her argument.
Jorah had been preparing his arguments, but Daenerys's sudden change of heart caught him off guard. He left, puzzled.
The next day, Daenerys and Jorah continued their frantic search for a ship. Drogon didn't train the two dragons. After a night of deep sleep, his injuries had mostly healed, but Rhaegal and the others were recovering more slowly and needed another day of rest.
The three dragons basked in the sun in the courtyard, feasting on roasted meat while scantily clad serving girls attended to them—a picture of luxury.
The Dothraki left behind to guard the courtyard, however, were miserable at being confined to the courtyard, their spirits utterly broken.
*Knock, knock, knock... knock... knock, knock, knock... knock.*
The sudden knocking startled the two Dothraki warriors on guard. "Who's there?" they demanded, their voices sharp with vigilance.
*Knock, knock, knock... knock.* The rhythmic knocking continued, but no one answered. The other Dothraki also noticed the anomaly, their eyes fixed on the gate.
Drogon, who had been basking in the sun, was drawn by the sound and rose to his feet.
"It must be the Khaleesi back!" one of the guards was about to ask again when Doreah, the maid, suddenly burst from the room and ran to open the door.
"Wait! Don't open—" the guard shouted, but it was too late. Doreah had already removed the bolt.
*Hiss!*
As Doreah pulled the bolt free, Drogon let out a low growl at the other two dragons before charging toward the gate. He flapped his wings as he ran, soaring higher than the courtyard wall by the time he reached the gate.
The gate swung open, and a group of Qarthian men armed with spears and greatswords stormed in.
*Pfft...* Drogon flapped his wings and unleashed a blast of scorching black-red dragonfire, engulfing the three Qarthians at the front of the charge.
"Ahhh...!"
Agonized screams erupted from the trio, who never expected to be met with such intense flames upon bursting through the door.
The Qarthians behind them, unable to stop in time, were also caught in the dragonfire. They frantically dropped their weapons and desperately beat at the flames.
The three initial victims could only tremble and wail in the inferno, while the rest of the group froze for a moment before scrambling backward.
But it was too late. Another wave of fire swept through, engulfing four more Qarthians.