In the dim night sky, Vhagar roared wildly, unleashing erratic bursts of dragonfire with no sense of order.
This display clearly showed it was in a state of uncontrollable rage.
"Glutton, let's lure it away," Rhaegar ordered decisively.
He didn't know if it was his father or Aemond atop the dragon's back, nor did he know when either of them could regain control of the beast.
For now, the top priority was ensuring the castle wouldn't be caught in the chaos.
"Hiss—Gaaahhh!"
The Cannibal let out a deafening roar, flapping its broad, pitch-black wings as it charged toward Vhagar, which had been provocatively roaring in challenge.
The Cannibal could sense it—the other dragon was waiting for its appearance.
As the pitch-black dragon moved beyond the castle's perimeter, the other dragons relaxed slightly. Dreamfyre cowered on the long stone bridge, while Syrax perched on a cliff edge.
Sunfyre and Tessarion had fled out of sight and wouldn't dare return for a while.
"…"
The Cannibal accelerated swiftly, beating its wings as it soared into the skies, cutting through the clouds as it approached Vhagar.
The distance between them shrank steadily. From the Cannibal's back, Rhaegar leaned forward, narrowing his eyes to make out the figure riding on the other dragon.
"Vhagar, adjust your flight path!"
At that moment, Viserys clung to Vhagar's back, shouting desperately in an attempt to command the enraged dragon.
His silver-gold hair was singed at the tips, his once-thick beard entirely burned away. His bare chest was covered in fresh cuts and wounds.
Despite this, he refused to give up on taming the feral beast beneath him.
"Father, hold tight to the dragon's spines!"
As dragon and rider were locked in a stalemate, a sudden shout from his eldest son echoed from afar.
Viserys looked up in surprise and uncertainty, but instinctively tightened his grip around the dragon's ridges.
He knew he'd caused quite a commotion, but wasn't his eldest son supposed to be on an island far away?
The next moment—
"Hiss—Gaaaahhh!"
A ferocious roar rang out from above. A terrifying, black-scaled dragon burst through the clouds, spewing ghostly green flames that locked onto its target with chilling precision.
Boom!
Vhagar, still flying erratically, was struck in the head by the green fire. The attack sent the massive dragon plummeting downward, roaring in pain.
"Vhagar, hold on!"
Viserys broke into a cold sweat as the dragon's body shook violently, but he seized the opportunity to issue another command.
Only by earning the dragon's submission could the process of taming it be completed.
"Hiss—Gaaah…"
The attack subsided, and Vhagar's vertical pupils glowed crimson as it regained balance, ready to counterattack immediately.
Vhagar lacked experience in dragon-to-dragon combat but had plenty of experience in battle.
It had accompanied the old King to numerous wars: the Dornish border conflict, the War for the Stepstones, and the Wildling invasion of the Wall. Its quick adaptability was one of its strengths.
As Vhagar approached, the Cannibal stared coldly, flapping its wings as it disappeared into the thick clouds.
At the last moment before vanishing, Rhaegar turned and shouted, "Father, try to control your dragon! Don't let it stay in this madness!"
If his father could ride Vhagar, it meant the dragon had already accepted him.
However, Vhagar's berserk state was disrupting the taming process. It had to be brought back under control.
"Hiss—Gaaahhh!"
The response was Vhagar's enraged roar and the sight of a green flame-spewing bronze dragon in pursuit.
This dragon's temperament was notoriously bad—it could erupt into anger without warning, like a madman railing against the injustice of fate.
Clutching the dragon's spines tightly, Viserys's haggard face was full of concern, his thoughts a chaotic storm.
He understood his son's plan: to use the enmity between the two dragons as a way to exhaust Vhagar's fury and aid in taming it.
It was a dangerous method. If things went wrong, it could escalate into a deadly battle between the dragons, causing collateral damage.
But there was no better option.
If Vhagar remained in this state for much longer, Viserys doubted his frail body could hold out.
In the blink of an eye, Vhagar plunged into the clouds, unleashing a blast of golden dragonfire into the misty gray expanse.
Surrounded by the thick, damp clouds, Viserys shivered, the chill reviving his waning energy.
He looked up. The bright moon hung in the sky like a guiding lamp, illuminating the path to the heavens.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the scene around him—fog blanketing the world below, dense as the earth itself, dividing the night sky in two.
The moon shone brilliantly, its silver rays cascading generously across his face.
"By the Seven! How can anything be this beautiful?" Viserys murmured, momentarily captivated.
All the beauty he had witnessed in his life seemed to pale in comparison to this moment.
"Roar…"
Unlike its mesmerized rider, Vhagar remained restless, scanning its surroundings with cold, vertical pupils, searching for its opponent.
Boom!
The clouds churned and rolled as a faint green light emerged below Vhagar.
Even in its fury, Vhagar retained a warrior's instincts, sensing the foul stench of danger in the air.
"Hiss—Gaaahhh!"
A thunderous dragon roar shattered the calm. The Cannibal emerged from the clouds with its maw wide open, spewing green dragonfire that cut through the mist like a sharp blade.
"Hiss—Gaaaahhh!!"
Having suffered at its hands once before, Vhagar reacted swiftly, countering with a blast of golden dragonfire aimed directly at the oncoming green flames.
Boom!!
The roars of two mighty dragons echoed as their flames collided mid-air, creating a wave of heat that surged outward.
Beneath the bright moon, the black and bronze dragons faced off, neither yielding an inch.
Vhagar's crimson pupils burned with rage as it hovered above, spitting golden flames in an effort to suppress its opponent.
The Cannibal, head held high and wings spread wide, stirred the clouds as its glowing green eyes fixed on its prey with a sinister intensity.
The two dragons clashed fiercely, their fiery breaths illuminating the sky in vivid streams of green and gold.
"Hiss—Gaaahhh!"
The stalemate was soon broken. The Cannibal, growing bolder with each attack, overpowered Vhagar's dwindling golden flames in a decisive strike.
When it came to speed, perhaps Meleys the Red Queen was faster.
But in sheer strength of dragonfire, the Cannibal had no equal.
As Vhagar lost its advantage in the fiery exchange, its elevated position became a liability.
With a deafening roar, the Cannibal directed its flames toward the softer scales on Vhagar's belly, then aimed for the vulnerable underside of its jaw.
"Screech..."
Forced to close his mouth, Vermithor let out a cry of agony, flapping his wings to disengage from the fight. His crimson, slit-pupiled eyes gradually lost their color.
At a glance, his bronze-scaled jaw was charred black, with many of the scales cracked and dry.
Viserys lay atop the dragon's back, his pale face showing a trace of excitement.
A fragile bond had been established between man and dragon—he could sense Vermithor's fury subsiding, his reason slowly returning.
"Vermithor, steady yourself! The enemy hasn't flown far!"
Hope gleamed in Viserys's eyes as he boldly sat upright on the dragon's back, gripping the ridged scales tightly while scanning his surroundings.
He might not have been someone skilled at overcoming difficulties, but he certainly knew how to seize the moment.
Vermithor understood the command of his new rider. Though his mind was still in turmoil, he instinctively obeyed, pulling away to create distance.
Rhaegar observed the scene and halted his dragon's pursuit. Instead of pressing the attack, he flapped his wings and ascended into the sky.
In an instant, the tide of battle shifted.
The Devourer hovered in midair, his broad wings casting a fearsome shadow over the moonlit night, his dark form blotting out the silvery light.
Rhaegar, clad in a billowing black robe, stood with ease atop his dragon's back, his sharp gaze locked onto the duo below.
Vermithor had just regained his balance and was diving along the cloud layer.
"What a perfect chance to slay a dragon."
Rhaegar murmured softly, continuing to soothe the Devourer's mind.
With the advantage of altitude, the Devourer had an eighty percent chance of sinking his fangs into Vermithor's neck in a single strike, killing the impulsive and easily enraged bronze beast.
Patting the dragon's back, Rhaegar said thoughtfully, "Devourer, let's descend."
The battle's outcome was already clear—there was no need to drag it out.
Vermithor was a formidable dragon, not only aggressive by nature but also growing faster than other dragons of his age.
From Rhaegar's estimation, even with the life essence-enhanced physique of the Devourer, he was only about one-fifth larger than Vermithor.
With six years between them, the two dragons had clashed twice before—both times ending in Vermithor's defeat.
One reason was that the Devourer, as a wild dragon, had more combat experience. The other was the exceptional synergy between Rhaegar and his dragon.
By contrast, both Vermithor's temperament and his rider had become liabilities.
Rhaegar couldn't shake the feeling that something was inherently wrong with Vermithor.
Perhaps it was an inherited flaw from his mother, Vhagar—his emotions were highly unstable, making him prone to uncontrollable berserk rages.
If he could overcome this defect and find a truly compatible rider, his potential would be immeasurable.
"Screech—!"
Reduced to little more than a sparring partner, the Devourer was furious, reluctantly descending from the heights and vanishing into the clouds.
Aside from that senile old dragon, it was rare for him to feel such a threat as he had tonight.
As man and dragon disappeared from sight, Vermithor soared higher, vigilantly scanning for his foe.
After suffering two consecutive head injuries, his mind had finally cleared.
"Vermithor, behind you to the left!" Viserys suddenly shouted.
"Screech!!"
Vermithor instinctively obeyed, unleashing a torrent of dragonfire.
Boom—
A jet of eerie green flames erupted from below, only to be blocked by golden fire.
The clouds churned violently. The Devourer had hidden himself well, shrouded in mist that even concealed his scent.
Vermithor's slit pupils remained cold and emotionless as he gazed downward, soaring beneath the moonlight.
Rumble—
The clouds roiled restlessly, with three bursts of ghostly green fire flashing from different directions—though none fully erupted.
Viserys called out each direction of the flames, carefully issuing commands to Vermithor, seizing the opportunity.
He had seen through his elder brother's strategy.
Using Vermithor's brief moment of clarity, Rhaegar was attempting to accelerate the dragon's training through battle.
At last, the turbulent clouds grew still, and the night once again fell silent.
"Roar..."
Vermithor flapped his broad, brown wings, letting out a low growl of frustration.
He could sense it—the dragon-hunting beast had retreated.
"Vermithor, don't even think about chasing him. We both need to calm our hearts."
Drenched in sweat, Viserys weakly slumped against the dragon's back, suppressing Vermithor's instinct to give chase.
The string of thrilling, perilous encounters had left the wounded king utterly exhausted. He didn't even want to lift a finger.
"Roar..."
Vermithor shook his massive head in irritation but obediently maintained his flight, not resisting the command.
"Heh, I can feel your restlessness."
Viserys chuckled bitterly, continuing to communicate with the dragon while gazing up at the moonlit sky.
His vision blurred. In the moonlight, a phantom figure seemed to appear.
"Grandfather," Viserys murmured, momentarily dazed.
Lost in his thoughts, his voice trembled, "Grandfather, I inherited the Iron Throne from you, but my heart has been in constant turmoil, filled with uncertainty."
That throne—a chair of twisted swords—brought nothing but pain to those who sat upon it.
"Roar..."
Sensing his rider's sorrow, Vermithor let out a deep, resonant growl.
"Don't mind me. I'm just not used to flying so high."
Viserys forced a small reassurance, then whispered to himself, "Grandfather, after all these years, I have once again inherited your dragon."
Clearing his mind of distractions, Viserys silently prayed, "May you and Vermithor grant me the resolve I need!"
"Screech!!"
As if understanding his rider's words, Vermithor gazed toward the bright moon, stretching his neck and letting out a long, echoing roar.
His rider's emotions stirred something within him.
Man and dragon glided through the night, sharing a rare moment of peace.
Viserys took slow, steady breaths, lying flat on the dragon's back, allowing the moonlight to wash over his weary face.
This moment was eerily reminiscent of the time he had once ridden Balerion.
The difference was that his once youthful face had aged, and his status had changed—from prince to king.
But one thing remained the same.
The reckless ambition of his youth had returned, and the weariness on his face now carried a hardened determination.
(End of Chapter)