"Hiss—Gah…"
Noticing the silver-haired boy's burning gaze, the sheep thief dragon became even more smug. Its sunken eye sockets and vertical pupils gleamed with scrutiny, as if contemplating whether to give the boy a chance to own it.
As the thought arose, its lean body swayed slightly, and the heavy keratin on its brown scales plowed deep grooves into the ground.
Aemond had no patience to waste time with this filthy mud dragon. He shouted angrily, "Eat your fill and leave! Don't come looking for me again!"
He wanted to tame a mighty and awe-inspiring dragon.
Even if he missed the chance with Vermithor, he should at least try to bond with Silverwing—not this ill-tempered, wretched mud dragon.
The very thought of how he was abducted by the sheep thief filled him with uncontrollable frustration. He turned away, lowering his head in disappointment, ready to leave.
He had snuck out on his own, and now that he had failed to tame a dragon, he had no idea what kind of scolding he would face from his mother—or the mockery from Aegon.
"Hiss—Gah…"
The sheep thief let out a shrill cry, tilting its head as it watched the silver-haired boy's retreating figure.
It didn't understand his words; they weren't in the language of dragon tamers, nor in High Valyrian.
But from his emotions, it seemed filled with disappointment.
Hmm…
As a young dragon, it had often been thwarted by shepherds and their dogs when trying to steal sheep. It was familiar with such negative emotions.
Later, as it grew into an adolescent dragon, those who tried to stop it—both man and beast—ended up between its teeth.
After a few incidents, stealing sheep became much easier.
"Vermithor flew away, but there's still Silverwing on the Dragonmount…"
Aemond trudged forward, completely indifferent to the darkness of the night.
Because he felt his future was even darker.
"Hiss—Gah…"
Before he could get far, a screech rang out behind him, followed by a fierce gust of wind from flapping wings.
Aemond stumbled, nearly falling over. His cloak, tied around his shoulders, was suddenly swept over his head.
"Sheep thief!—"
Aemond seethed with rage, instinctively opening his mouth to curse.
Rip!
A sharp tearing sound came from his green cloak, and the next moment, his feet left the ground. His body was yanked upward, completely out of his control.
Panic-stricken, Aemond turned back—only to see the mud dragon looming above him, its jaws clamped onto his cloak, razor-sharp teeth gleaming.
"Hiss—Gah…"
The sheep thief spread its broad brown wings, gripping the silver-haired boy tightly. With a mischievous glint in its vertical pupils, it gave a playful shake of its head.
"Sheep thief, let go of me!" Aemond shrieked in terror.
He was about to lose his mind—what would it take for this wretched dragon to leave him alone?!
"Hiss—Gah…"
The sheep thief let out a low snarl, its eyes flashing with cunning. With a flick of its head, it tossed the silver-haired boy onto its back.
For over seventy years, it had lived as a wild dragon. Every creature around it either feared it or viewed it with hostility.
But this silver-haired boy—when he first laid eyes on it—had stared at it with admiration.
That, more than anything, satisfied the dragon's vanity.
"Sheep thief, you scoundrel! Let me down!"
Aemond crashed onto the dragon's iron-hard back, his head spinning as he cursed.
At first glance, the sheep thief seemed ugly.
But in truth, its body structure was different from that of ordinary dragons.
A dragon's scales were tough and reliable, thickening with age. Beneath the scales, however, lay delicate nerve tissue.
If a dragon's scales were shattered, the pain would be excruciating.
That's why most dragons developed powerful muscles—to ensure they could still react effectively even when injured.
The sheep thief, however, was the opposite.
Its body was gaunt and bony, looking from a distance like a skeleton drenched in filth.
Its brown scales were densely packed, covered in a thick layer of keratin. Over time, they mixed with mud, forming a jagged, uneven shell.
This gave the sheep thief its grotesque appearance—its thin frame, sunken face, and irregular brown, mud-colored scales making it look hideous.
But in truth, this was a necessary adaptation for survival.
"Hiss—Gah…"
It had no interest in understanding the silver-haired boy's words. With a screech, it spread its wings and soared into the sky.
At that moment, a fiery red meteor streaked across the night sky.
The sheep thief's vertical pupils flickered with vigilance. It hesitated briefly, then altered course, heading toward the black stone mountain where humans lived.
It sensed many dragons there.
And staying close to a dragon pack could only be beneficial.
After all, the other dragons weren't particularly strong—they couldn't hurt it.
"Sheep thief, where are you taking me?!"
Aemond barely managed to grab onto a rough, mud-crusted scale, his voice filled with fear and anger.
"Hiss—Gah…"
The sheep thief let out a bizarre, eerie cry. It flew erratically, swooping up and down, deliberately tormenting the boy clinging to its back.
---
Meanwhile…
A red meteor streaked across the sky, startling Vermithor as it soared above the clouds.
Viserys felt the dragon's agitation and struggled to sit up, trying to calm it. "It's just a shooting star. Let's return to the castle."
He had already bonded with Vermithor. It was time to go home.
"Roar…"
Vermithor rumbled lowly in response and obediently descended from the clouds, gliding toward the black stone castle in the distance.
It was incredibly fast. Within moments, it had carried its rider back.
"Hiss—Gah!!"
Without any command from its rider, Vermithor let out a mighty roar, circling the castle twice before slowly descending onto the cliffside clearing.
The bronze behemoth's roar sent shockwaves through the fortress.
People in the Drum Tower scrambled out of the castle gates, rushing toward the cliffside overlooking the sea.
Everyone knew someone had tamed Vermithor.
But they didn't know if the rider was Viserys, Aemond, or some dragonseed from the island.
"Roar…"
Vermithor crouched low, its icy vertical pupils scanning the gathered crowd.
"Vermithor, they are my family," Viserys murmured.
Viserys felt relieved by the dragon's acceptance of him and chuckled softly as he explained.
As he spoke, he rubbed against the dragon's rough, bronze-colored scales a few times before carefully selecting a lower position and slowly climbing down from its back.
"Viserys, you tamed this dragon!"
Dressed in green, Alicent was the first to rush to her husband's side, her eyes nervously fixed on the bronze beast.
Having been raised as a proper lady, she had never liked the dangerous nature of dragons.
During their girlhood, Rhaenyra had invited Alicent multiple times to ride Syrax together as friends, but Alicent always found an excuse to politely decline.
In the blink of an eye, Rhaenyra, Daemon, and others hurried over, staring in shock at Vermithor.
No one had expected that their seemingly weak father and brother would be able to tame such a ferocious beast.
"Alicent, you should be proud of me."
Viserys smiled with pride and, unable to help himself, stepped forward to embrace his wife.
The excitement and danger he had experienced tonight surpassed everything he had been through in his entire life.
Alicent hesitated, raising her hands as if to reciprocate his embrace but unsure of what to say. Flustered, she blurted out, "Viserys, you smell awful."
The moment the words left her lips, she regretted them—blurting out her thoughts without restraint.
Viserys, however, wasn't the least bit offended. Instead, he sniffed himself and, feigning disgust, said, "I'm drenched in sweat, and I probably reek of dragon too."
As he spoke, he noticed his younger brother Daemon approaching with his daughters.
Patting Alicent gently on the back, Viserys let go of her with satisfaction and teasingly asked, "Do I really smell that bad?"
"Hahaha!"
The moment he said it, he couldn't help but burst into laughter, his tone carrying a hint of boastfulness.
Rhaenyra rolled her eyes playfully before stepping forward to hug her father, a small smile forming on her lips. "Father, congratulations."
She had been deeply worried about his safety, but more than that, she was happy for him.
Not because he had managed to tame the mighty Vermithor, but because, for the first time, he wasn't trying to please others—he was genuinely laughing from the heart.
Daemon, holding the hands of his two daughters, stepped forward with a complicated expression. "Brother, to see you ride a dragon again in our lifetime... should we consider it an honor for the family?"
"Perhaps," Viserys replied, his smile unwavering.
"Hiss—Grahhh!"
A deep, thunderous dragon roar echoed from afar. A dark silhouette pierced through the rolling storm clouds, soaring above the castle.
"Roar…"
Vermithor's eyes gleamed with menace as he bared his fangs at the night sky.
"Vermithor, the fight is over."
Viserys spoke soothingly, his voice calm yet firm.
He had come to understand the dragon's nature—a creature of rage and instinct.
Until tonight, that was all he had ever believed about dragons. They had always repulsed him.
But at this moment, he found himself wanting to calm Vermithor, to help him regain his reason.
Vermithor glanced at his rider, forcibly suppressing his inner fury before finally shutting his vertical pupils as if to block out the world.
"Hiss—Grahhh!"
Just then, another sharp screech came from the direction of the stone bridge steps.
Boom!
The Cannibal was the first to land, his massive feet planting firmly onto the grassy cliffside, his wings folding in with a gust of wind.
"Hiss—Grahhh!"
"Roar…"
"Hiss—Grahhh!"
The moment the Cannibal landed, the four dragons that had flown back toward the castle let out anxious cries.
This time, however, they did not flee. Instead, they circled above, warily watching from a distance.
The Cannibal settled on the southern side of the cliff, while Vermithor remained on the northern edge.
The two dragons were clearly divided, leaving a vast space between them.
"Hiss—Grahhh…"
Dreamfyre let out a hesitant cry, flapping her pale blue wings before cautiously approaching Vermithor.
Vermithor remained motionless, feigning sleep.
Sensing no hostility, Dreamfyre carefully landed a short distance away, her vertical pupils fixed warily on the Cannibal.
"Hiss—Grahhh…"
Seeing this, Sunfyre grew restless, circling in the air before mimicking Dreamfyre's actions and landing on the other side of Vermithor.
The Cannibal cast a disdainful glance at the two dragons, his green eyes filled with contempt.
"Cannibal, let me down."
Rhaegar chuckled, patting the dark scales before descending the dragon's back via the rope ladder.
As soon as his feet touched the ground, Syrax, covered in golden-yellow scales, approached slowly, settling on the ground about ten meters behind the Cannibal.
Though the two dragons had different temperaments, their riders were close, so they had grown accustomed to each other's presence.
Above them, only Tessarion remained in the sky, circling hesitantly, her cries uncertain as she dared not land.
Vermithor's arrival had disrupted the Cannibal's dominance.
The two great dragons had divided the area between them, forcing Dreamfyre and Sunfyre to keep their distance from the highly dangerous Cannibal.
Tessarion, still too young and unfamiliar with both sides, found herself isolated.
"Hiss—Grahhh…"
Once again, a sharp cry came from the stone bridge steps as a muddy brown dragon lazily flew toward them.
(End of Chapter)