"Drogon always seems to pick a fight with Rhaegal and the others every time he comes back from outside," Jhiqui said cheerfully, accompanying Daenerys.
As the personal barbecue master for the three dragons, Jhiqui had spent enough time with them to notice a pattern: Drogon would often deliberately provoke them, especially when Rhaegal and the others were having the most fun.
Later, she realized Drogon was seemingly training their fighting skills. No wonder the Khaleesi had forbidden feeding Rhaegal and Viserion separately, deliberately making them compete for food—it was all part of their training.
The three dragons battled fiercely in the sky, their roars and pained cries echoing through the air, occasionally accompanied by dragon scales drifting down from above.
Watching them clash and claw, Daenerys felt no concern, only delight. The fiercer the fight, the safer they'd be. *Let them fight!*
After about fifteen minutes, Drogon finally ceased his attack, and Rhaegal and Viserion breathed a collective sigh of relief. With Drogon back, they could rest after today's battle.
As the two young dragons grew daily, their intelligence also increased, and they had long since figured out Drogon's training pattern.
At first, they would try to run away when outmatched. After several failed attempts and a few painful beatings, they gradually learned to stand their ground, cooperate, and fight with all their might.
Drogon retrieved his backpack, flew to Daenerys's shoulder, and nuzzled her cheek. *Hmm! Dragon Mother changed her perfume?* he thought to himself, noticing the faint, fresh scent on her.
Daenerys was surprised by Drogon's keen sense of smell. He'd already detected the light fragrance she'd chosen from Eli.
She took out a silk cloth to wipe the bloodstains from his body and casually removed the large backpack from his neck. It felt surprisingly heavy. *Why is it so heavy?* she wondered. *Jhiqui's flint pouch should only contain flint and dried grass.*
Curious about its contents, she reached for the clasp.
*You can't see what's inside!* Drogon squawked, flying to the backpack and covering the opening with his tiny claws.
Inside were not only paper, pen, and ink, but also Varys's letter of allegiance to Daenerys. She would read the letter, but not now.
*Something I can't see?* Daenerys's curiosity intensified. Pretending not to hear him, she tried to pry his claws away and look inside.
But her gentle push failed to budge his claws. She tried again, harder this time, but they remained immovable.
Looking down at Drogon's small black claws, Daenerys was astonished by his surprising strength.
She refused to believe it and put all her strength into prying, her face turning crimson. Yet Drogon's four tiny claws remained stubbornly fixed in place.
"Khaleesi, what are you doing?" Jhiqui, standing beside Daenerys, noticed her unusual expression and realized she was actually trying to pry open Drogon's claws. She was utterly baffled.
"Jhiqui, help me quickly!" Daenerys said, unwilling to give up.
"Khaleesi..." Jhiqui had initially thought Daenerys was just playing with Drogon. Only when she heard her words did she realize she was genuinely trying to force open his small claws. *But wouldn't she break them?* she wondered.
*I...* Drogon didn't want the Dragon Mother to see what was in his backpack. He hadn't expected her to be so persistent, even enlisting Jhiqui's help when he couldn't do it himself. *Thank goodness Ser Jorah isn't here, or she'd probably drag him into it too.*
Seeing that Jhiqui was being forced to help, Drogon snatched the backpack and soared into the sky. Daenerys refused to let go and held tightly to the strap.
Drogon could have easily yanked the backpack away, but that might have hurt the Dragon Mother. He held the strap, momentarily helpless. Just as he was wondering what to do, an idea struck him. He quickly flew beside Daenerys and gently tickled her ribs with his tiny claws.
Before Daenerys could figure out why Drogon had flown over, she felt an itch at her waist and nearly burst out laughing. Her grip loosened, and Drogon seized the opportunity to snatch the backpack.
"You..." Daenerys stomped her foot in frustration, utterly helpless against Drogon soaring in the sky.
"Ha..." Jhiqui had just let out a laugh at Daenerys's predicament when she realized it wasn't the time to laugh. She quickly stifled it, her face turning crimson with the effort.
"Jhiqui!" Seeing Jhiqui struggling to suppress her laughter, Daenerys's chest heaved with anger. "What else is in your backpack besides flint and dried grass?"
Jhiqui, holding back a giggle, swallowed hard and replied, "Just those things. Nothing else."
*What did Drogon put in the backpack?* Daenerys thought bitterly, unable to snatch it back. She felt utterly powerless.
Drogon, flying overhead, secretly thought, *That was close! Women are so persistent. If I hadn't thought of the trick I used on my ex-girlfriend in my past life, the backpack's secret would have been exposed.*
The paper and pen were easy to handle; she could hide them or even discard them if necessary. But the letter needed to be delivered as soon as possible.
He found a severely damaged, uninhabited house, hid his paper, pen, and inkwell, and took Varys's letter from his backpack. The wax seal bore the mark of a spider.
He couldn't deliver the letter directly to Daenerys, so he needed to find a messenger.
He soon found one: Barristan Selmy. His room was not far from Daenerys's, and he had just emerged, heading in the direction of the Unsullied barracks.
Drogon calculated his route and placed the letter in his path just before he rounded a deserted street corner.
As soon as the dragon flew away, Barristan turned the corner and immediately spotted the parchment lying in the middle of the road. He glanced around suspiciously but saw no one. Only then did he cautiously pick up the scroll.
Seeing the seal, he instantly recognized its sender. During his time as a Kingsguard in King's Landing, he had occasionally seen this mark—the signature of the Eight-Legged Spider, Varys.
While others used family crests or official seals, Varys, lacking a family, used a spider.
Without opening the scroll, he scanned his surroundings again. He wasn't naive enough to believe this was an accidental drop. Someone had clearly observed his movements and deliberately placed it in his path.
He walked to the roadside, carefully removed the seal, and unrolled the scroll. "Your Majesty, I, Varys..."
It was indeed Varys's scroll, and its contents—an offer of allegiance to Queen Daenerys—were almost unbelievable.
After a quick scan, he immediately turned back and hurried to Daenerys's residence.
He placed the scroll on the floor, and Drogon flew back to Daenerys's room.
Having just offended Daenerys, he didn't want to return, but he had given the letter to Barristan, who would surely deliver it to her. Drogon wanted to see the Dragon Mother's reaction to Varys's offer.
Seeing Drogon return so quickly, still carrying his backpack, Daenerys glared at him but didn't try to snatch the bag again. She wasn't foolish; she knew he must have hidden anything she wasn't supposed to see, so snatching it would be pointless.
Drogon, acting as if nothing had happened, pretended not to notice Daenerys's expression. He set the backpack aside and avoided flying to her shoulder, instead casually surveying her new quarters.
Glancing at the backpack Drogon had placed on the table, Daenerys turned her head away. The awkward atmosphere made Drogon want to leave in less than a second.
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