Viserys' voice was hoarse and weak, yet it carried an unyielding determination.
"Roar..."
Vhagar was drawn by the call, its cold vertical pupils locking onto the Targaryen who dared to command it.
Viserys breathed heavily but stood firm, meeting the dragon's gaze without flinching.
Occasionally, the fierce pounding of his heart echoed in his chest.
A flash of anger flickered in Vhagar's eyes. The massive dragon head lunged forward, waves of scorching heat gushing from its jaws.
"Everyone, stand back! Stay out of harm's way!" Viserys suddenly shouted as inspiration struck.
The next moment—
The dragon's head pressed closer. The dragon guards surrounding Viserys were blown back by the heat, unable to keep their eyes open, and were brutally knocked aside by the beast.
The force of an adult dragon was unparalleled. Even a light flick of its head sent more than a dozen dragon guards flying, their bodies crashing to the ground like helpless ragdolls.
Seeing his guards perish tragically, Viserys was filled with both rage and urgency. He roared once more, "Vhagar, calm down!"
As he spoke, blood surged through his veins, and a scorching energy flowed into his upraised palm.
He had studied the "Binding Spell" and could barely summon the limited magic in his blood.
Buzz!
The magic converged into his palm, turning the pale hand crimson and outlining a dragon-shaped mark.
Vhagar's head broke through the defensive line and closed in on Viserys, stopping mere meters away.
Man and dragon locked eyes. The glowing dragon mark reflected in the icy vertical pupils of the bronze beast.
Vhagar's aggressive movements halted. Its savage and brutal gaze flickered with confusion.
There it was again—that strange sensation, both familiar and foreign.
Seizing the dragon's momentary pause, Viserys struggled to speak through gritted teeth, "Vhagar... where is my son?"
His gaze darted across the dragon's massive body and the surrounding cavern, but there was no sign of his third son, Aemond.
Vhagar tilted its head slightly, the confusion in its eyes deepening.
Dragons were no less intelligent than humans, but communication between the two species was a challenge.
It didn't understand what this Targaryen was asking.
Sizzle!
Viserys' face turned pale as his magic reserves were depleted, and the dragon-shaped mark instantly extinguished.
In that moment, Vhagar bared its fangs once more, rage surging back to the surface.
Screech!
Its jaws opened wide, releasing a deafening roar.
Facing the dragon's menacing maw, Viserys was hit by a blast of scorching, rancid wind that made him stagger backward, his silver hair whipping wildly in the gale.
With a sharp snap, the buttons on his silk robe burst off, carried away like kites on the wind.
In this critical moment, Viserys' mind went blank. His survival instincts overpowered his fear and hesitation.
He raised his hand high, channeling the remaining traces of magic in his blood, and roared, "Vhagar, shut your mouth!"
He had no idea why he shouted that.
But that's what he wanted to say—to make this dragon behave.
The dragon-shaped mark reappeared, filling Vhagar's vision and ears alongside Viserys' shout.
Yet Vhagar remained unfazed, like a cold-blooded executioner. Its roar continued, shaking the cavern walls.
Viserys clenched his eyes shut, his body collapsing from exhaustion. Supported by the dragon guards behind him, he barely managed to stay conscious.
Time passed, and the chaos subsided.
Dizzy and weak, Viserys struggled to open his eyes.
Before him were those cold vertical pupils and the extended neck of the massive bronze beast.
Vhagar lay prone on the ground, its wings supporting its climb up the steep rocks. Its piercing gaze scrutinized Viserys intensely.
It mistakenly believed that this man sought to tame it, just like the silver-haired boy before.
Viserys panted heavily, his dilated pupils locked onto the dragon. Through gritted teeth, he forced out a command: "Vhagar, bow before your king!"
His very purpose for coming to Dragonstone was to tame a dragon.
Now confronted by an enraged Vhagar, there was no turning back.
Roar...
Vhagar let out a low growl, its massive body shifting as it crawled forward. Its head remained fixed on Viserys, sensing an inexplicable allure emanating from him.
In the unseen shadows, Vhagar's enormous eyes blinked swiftly, reflecting the image of an elderly man with silver-gold hair and a long beard.
The man's face was stern, and despite his advanced age, his upright posture exuded a regal, martial bearing.
It was its first—and only—rider, King Jaehaerys the Wise.
Jaehaerys' sister, Rhaena, had placed a dragon egg in his cradle.
The dragon that hatched from that egg was Vhagar.
Man and dragon had known each other since birth, enduring countless trials and hardships together for 69 years.
Screech!
Memories of its long-lost rider stirred a surge of fury within Vhagar. It lifted its head high and roared, golden flames streaking across the dark night sky.
When it lowered its head again, its eyes were filled with an even sharper scrutiny. Its massive jaws thrust directly toward Viserys.
"Vhagar..."
Viserys had nowhere to retreat. Waving off the dragon guards, he stood alone, his knees trembling.
Huff!
Vhagar's aggressive snout snorted heavily, releasing a blast of hot air.
Viserys turned his head to avoid the heat, stumbling backward as the dragon's maw struck his chest.
A gleam of mischief flickered in Vhagar's eyes as it pressed closer, golden flames flickering from its jaws.
It seemed willing to give this man a chance to mount its back—provided he earned its approval.
Humans choose dragons, and dragons choose their riders.
Vhagar had encountered both Aemond and Viserys, but its impressions of the father and son were vastly different.
The silver-haired boy's eyes were filled with desire—a weakling's endless craving for strength.
But Vhagar was already a mighty being. It had no interest in lending its power to a weakling to fulfill trivial dreams.
Roar...
Vhagar's throat rumbled as its cold eyes fixated on Viserys.
From this Targaryen, it sensed a king's majesty and commanding presence.
Even though this feeling was incredibly faint—less than one-tenth of what its previous rider had experienced—
One of the conditions for being a strong ruler was met, making it worth a try.
Viserys barely managed to stop his steps. As he opened his eyes, he saw the dragon's fearsome maw accumulating flames, and alarm bells went off in his mind.
Having had a single training experience before, he knew that when facing a dragon, one must never show fear.
Viserys straightened his neck, locked eyes with the dragon's vertical pupils, and did his best to present an unshaken front.
Time passed, second by second...
Sweat poured down Viserys's back, and his body swayed unsteadily.
Yet, his gaze remained fixed on Vermithor, his pupils reflecting the image of the massive bronze beast.
Vermithor extinguished its flames and slowly crouched down. In its golden eyes, the shadow of Jaehaerys faded, gradually replaced by the reflection of Viserys.
The reflection appeared slowly, forming only a rough upper body at first.
"Roar..."
Vermithor let out a low growl, shaking its head in agitation, stirring up clouds of dust.
"Vermithor, take me for a flight."
At that moment, Viserys, panting heavily, spoke as he staggered toward the dragon.
He had understood Vermithor's intent.
Since the dragon hadn't harmed him or flown away immediately, it meant he had a chance to mount its back.
Ignoring Vermithor's restlessness, Viserys pressed forward. As soon as he was close enough, he placed his hand on the dragon's scaly neck and began to climb.
"Your Grace!"
Two loyal dragon guards rushed back, mustering the courage to assist their king onto the dragon's back.
Viserys's face darkened, and he scolded, "Stand back! I am not so useless that I need someone pushing my backside!"
The guards' actions had provoked him. A sudden surge of strength emerged from within him, and with swift movements, he climbed up successfully.
"Hiss—Graah!!"
The moment Viserys settled onto the dragon's back, Vermithor threw back its head and let out a thunderous roar. Its massive brown wings flapped, and with a powerful push from its legs, it launched into the sky.
The abrupt ascent nearly sent Viserys tumbling off. His upper body slammed onto the dragon's neck, and he clung tightly to the scales.
Without a saddle or harness, he could only stretch his limbs as much as possible, using the shifting scales to reduce wind resistance.
Thanks to the fine scars on Vermithor's thick scales, Viserys managed to wedge his feet into two small, close-set gaps, barely securing himself.
Boom—
Vermithor had no intention of simply accepting a new rider. It soared through the sky while simultaneously spewing golden flames, diving straight into them.
"Ahhh!!"
Viserys lifted his head to face the dragon fire, screaming wildly as if to vent his emotions.
Searing pain coursed through his body. His disheveled hair and beard caught fire, and his only remaining sleep pants were scorched with holes.
Moments later, man and dragon emerged from the roaring inferno.
Viserys trembled uncontrollably, burying his face in the dragon's scales. His skin was reddened all over.
An ordinary person would have been reduced to cinders.
But he was a Targaryen—born with resistance to fire.
Vermithor's flames were indeed scorching, yet they lacked the eerie, all-consuming nature of the Cannibal's fire.
The duo flew swiftly, and Vermithor's head and back shielded Viserys from most of the flames, indirectly protecting him.
In mere breaths, they had passed through the inferno, leaving Viserys with only burns on his skin and singed hair and beard.
Below, the dragon guards watched in horror as their king was carried away by the giant dragon, scattering in panic like ants.
"You—You return to the castle and report this! The rest, follow me!"
The leader of the dragon guards quickly designated two men to deliver the message and led the remaining ones in pursuit of the dragon.
Before long, they too scattered like birds and beasts.
The dragon and its rider were gone, and the deep stone cavern returned to a deathly silence.
Step, step…
Suddenly, the sound of hurried, uneven footsteps echoed through the cave, accompanied by labored breathing.
By the light of the scattered torches left behind by the guards, a disheveled Aemond staggered out, supporting himself against the stone walls.
He no longer bore the confident air he had when first entering the cave.
His clothes were in tatters, with his elbows and knees scraped raw, exposing bloody wounds.
The only somewhat presentable thing left on him was a torn green cloak.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, Aemond rushed out of the cavern and surveyed the chaotic scene, his heart sinking.
Lifting his gaze to the night sky, he saw the majestic silhouette of a dragon soaring toward the heavens, golden flames bursting from its maw.
"Vermithor!!..."
Watching as the great dragon disappeared into the distance, Aemond roared in frustration, his voice thick with sorrow.
That was the dragon he had chosen! The dragon that would change his destiny!
"Damn it! I won't give up!"
Aemond shouted in anger, wiping away the tears at the corners of his eyes before charging back into the cave.
He remembered—Dragonstone held more than one dragon.
If he had lost Vermithor, there was still its mate, Silverwing.
Just as he turned, a vast shadow descended from the night sky, shrouding the entrance to the cavern.
Oblivious, Aemond sprinted forward, his head down.
"Hiss—Graah!!"
A piercing, needle-sharp roar shattered the silence.
The massive shadow suddenly plummeted, pouncing toward the silver-haired boy at the cavern's entrance.
A gust of wind rushed from behind, and Aemond turned in shock, his wide eyes filled with terror.
"No—!!"
(End of Chapter)