Three days later.
Dragonmount, Eastern Mountains.
"Give me your hand, push off with your feet."
"Hold on, I haven't found my footing yet."
"..."
On a steep mountainside, Rhaegar lay half-prone against the rock face, reaching out to pull Aemond up as he climbed.
Rustling sounds filled the air...
After a strenuous climb, Aemond finally reached the top of the steep slope and collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath.
"Catch your breath. The nest is just ahead."
Rhaegar took a few gulps from his waterskin before handing it over.
Looking around, the two brothers stood atop a towering peak, their silver hair billowing in the salty sea breeze.
The mountain was barren, covered in jagged rocks, and lay several miles from a towering, cloud-piercing volcano.
"Skreee..."
A sharp screech echoed as loose rocks tumbled down from above. A brown-mottled dragon, known for stealing sheep, perched on a rocky ledge, peering down at the brothers with beady, mischievous eyes.
Hearing the sound, Aemond glanced up and groaned, his face falling. "This idiot won't be satisfied until I drop dead from exhaustion."
After being separated for some time, he had gradually come to accept that he had somehow gained the favor of this wild dragon.
Who knew it would start causing trouble for him?
This steep peak was the dragon's territory, with its nest located in a cave at the summit.
The persistent, mud-colored dragon was insistent—determined to have the silver-haired boy visit its nest at least once.
"Don't be so grumpy. Who knows? There might be treasure in its nest, something it refuses to part with and wants you to find."
Rhaegar chuckled, ruffling Aemond's hair before getting back to climbing.
The Glutton had sustained minor injuries during its fight with Silverwing and had been resting by the sea cliffs for the past two days.
The sheep thief had also been injured in its skirmish with Sunfyre, and after being rejected by Aemond, it was no longer allowed to hitch a ride on his dragon.
Aemond's eyes dimmed as he sighed wistfully. "I don't care about treasure. I just want to sail back to King's Landing with Father and the others."
The day after Viserys tamed Vermithor, Rhaegar had taken care of all his pressing matters.
The king, overwhelmed and uncertain, had abruptly ended his vacation, taking his family back to King's Landing to handle affairs of state.
But Aemond had been stuck with the persistent sheep thief and was forced to stay on Dragonstone.
At this moment, the island was nearly empty, with only Aemond, the oblivious Four Storms, and Rhaegar, who was tasked with looking after the minors.
As the sun climbed higher, it reached midday.
Rhaegar was the first to reach the mountaintop and exhaled deeply. "It's been a while since I've had this much exercise."
Scanning the horizon, he saw the vast expanse of Dragonmount stretching beneath the clear blue sky.
Aemond soon climbed up after him, drenched in sweat from the effort.
"Skreee..."
The sheep thief let out another cry, spreading its wings at the summit as if proudly displaying its supposed majesty.
Rhaegar shook his head with an amused smile, then wrapped an arm around Aemond's slumped shoulders before heading toward the cave, which was littered with sheep bones and dragon droppings.
The entrance to the cave was narrow, but the interior was more spacious than expected. It wasn't particularly deep, resembling a natural limestone cavern.
As the brothers stepped inside, wading through the scattered bones and rocks, they soon spotted an unusual sight—a peculiar nest.
Dragons preferred their nests near volcanoes to bask in the underground heat.
The next best option was a subterranean lair like the Dragonpit—dark and suffocatingly warm.
Rhaegar stared in stunned silence at the crude nest made of rotting wood, stones, and mud, which resembled a poorly built bird's nest. "Aemond, you've really hit the jackpot. This sheep thief is definitely not an ordinary dragon."
"Rhaegar, please... just stop." Aemond covered his face with both hands, unwilling to even look.
Rhaegar furrowed his brows in a knot and said with a complicated expression, "Let's see what's inside the nest first."
He vaguely recalled that wild dragons differed significantly from those raised in captivity—especially in terms of their habitat preferences.
Even among wild dragons, there were stark differences.
Shadowfax had previously lived on the eastern coast of Dragonstone, nesting in a seaside cliff cave alongside seabirds.
The Glutton didn't even have a nest; it simply slept wherever it pleased or soared across the skies.
Compared to that, the sheep thief's choice of a nesting site almost made sense.
The brothers carefully stepped over the bones, their progress slow and arduous.
The cave was a chaotic mess of bones, stones, and dragon droppings.
Rhaegar examined the remains carefully—ninety-nine percent were goat bones, but he also spotted a few large dog skeletons and even human remains.
And not just one or two—there were at least ten human skeletons scattered throughout the cave.
"No wonder it's the wild dragon with the most human encounters," Rhaegar muttered, his wariness of wild dragons increasing.
"Rhaegar, come here! Look at this!"
Aemond, being smaller and more agile, had no qualms about getting dirty. He clambered over a pile of dragon droppings and was the first to climb onto the massive, ramshackle "dragon nest."
Hearing his call, Rhaegar wasted no time.
With a few quick strides, he reached the nest and climbed up its protruding wooden beams. In the collapsed center of the nest, a surprising sight awaited them.
Piles of multicolored gemstones, rotting wooden chests with golden glimmers peeking through the cracks, broken swords, and fragments of armor—
All the shiny objects dragons loved to hoard.
But Rhaegar barely spared them a glance. His gaze was immediately drawn to two oval-shaped dragon eggs nestled among the treasure.
"Dragon eggs?" he said in surprise.
"Yes! And they're still viable!"
Aemond eagerly picked up the two eggs, his face filled with excitement.
Rhaegar took them for a closer look. One egg was green, the other a pale lavender—both clearly still active.
"A green egg... could it be Silverwing's?" Aemond asked cautiously as he touched it.
"Most likely. Vhagar hasn't laid eggs in ages, so Silverwing is the only possibility."
Rhaegar weighed the eggs in his hands before glancing toward the cave entrance with a peculiar expression. "Does the sheep thief also have a habit of stealing dragon eggs?"
He had thought only the Glutton would do such a thing.
But the Glutton only did it for a snack.
"What if... the eggs actually belong to the sheep thief?" Aemond suggested boldly.
Rhaegar thought for a moment before shaking his head. "Dragons don't have genders, but they do have behaviors. The sheep thief doesn't act like a dragon that lays eggs—otherwise, it wouldn't have let us take them so easily."
Aemond's eyes brightened, and he let out a relieved "Oh," as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
"Stop dawdling. You found the dragon eggs, so when you have children in the future, you can choose from these two." Rhaegar said with a cheerful smile.
Aemond pursed his lips and fell silent.
Before long, the two brothers walked out of the cave.
Aemond took off his cloak and carefully wrapped the two dragon eggs, securing them at Rhaegar's waist.
Rhaegar did not let the sheep thief's kindness go to waste. Using his spatial bracelet, he emptied the nest of its pile of gemstones and the broken gold coins inside the chests.
The funds would help offset the large expenses he had incurred for rebuilding Harrenhal and training the Fearless.
He and Aemond had already agreed to split the spoils evenly—taking full advantage of the sheep thief.
As the afternoon wore on, the brothers slowly made their way down the mountain, engaging in casual conversation.
Ever since his fallout with Aegon, Aemond had gotten into the habit of talking with his older brother, Rhaegar, discussing topics such as dragon taming, warfare, and managing their lands.
Rhaegar held nothing back, offering specific guidance on various issues.
Compared to Aegon, who had all but given up, Aemond at least showed potential. If he could stand on his own, it would greatly ease Rhaegar's burden.
"Screeeech..."
Suddenly, the sheep thief dragon flew toward them, its sharp talons piercing into the rock face as it landed on a cliff.
"What's wrong with it?" Rhaegar asked uneasily.
The brothers had just emptied its nest—it was possible the dragon had come looking for trouble.
Aemond shook his head blankly. He had never bonded with the sheep thief, so he couldn't sense its emotions.
"Screeeech..."
The sheep thief let out a sharp cry, lowering its gaunt head to sniff the cliffside. It then flapped its wings excitedly and took off.
Its reaction suggested it had discovered something significant.
Rhaegar frowned slightly and said, "Keep climbing down. I'll go check it out."
Dragons had a strong sense of territory, and the sheep thief's behavior resembled that of a dragon sensing an intruder.
Crack.
Carefully stepping over the uneven rocky terrain, Rhaegar moved closer to investigate the cliffside.
Aside from the fresh holes the sheep thief had made when it landed, the rock face bore several large, chaotic claw marks.
The marks had three toes—unusually large in size.
Rhaegar's eyes lit up in surprise. "A dragon?"
Not only was the cliff too steep for most creatures to scale, but the shape and size of the claw marks could only belong to a dragon.
Judging by their size, they were larger than those of Syrax or Sunfyre but much smaller than those of the sheep thief.
Rhaegar's thoughts raced as he speculated, "Not one of the island's dragons... a wild dragon?"
Among the family's dragons, the first generation included Vhagar; the second had Caraxes and Vermithor, both true behemoths far larger than the sheep thief.
Silverwing and Dreamfyre were also bigger than the sheep thief, ruling them out.
The third generation included Quicksilver and Meleys, slightly smaller than the sheep thief but still too large for these claw marks.
The fourth generation—Syrax, Sunfyre, Seasmoke, and Grey Ghost—were all at least half the size of the sheep thief, making them highly unlikely candidates.
Rhaegar mentally calculated that this wild dragon was likely around 40 to 50 years old, with a body larger than the fourth-generation dragons but smaller than the third-generation ones.
A sudden realization struck him. He muttered, "A wild dragon from the Smoking Sea?"
After the Doom of Valyria, only House Targaryen's dragons remained, residing on Dragonstone and in the Dragonpit.
The only wild dragon with an unknown origin was Cannibal—the notorious devourer of dragon eggs and hatchlings.
Now, with a new wild dragon appearing near Dragonstone, and of considerable size at that...
Rhaegar could only think of the fleeting sighting of a wild dragon in the Smoking Sea.
A sense of urgency washed over him.
Tightening the cloak around his waist that carried the dragon eggs, Rhaegar quickly retraced his steps and led Aemond down the mountain as fast as possible.
The steep path gradually evened out, and the brothers safely reached the ground.
Waiting at the foot of the mountain were an old and a young dragonkeeper. Upon seeing them, they quickly approached, leaning on their bamboo staffs.
"Prince, you've finally come down. Lady Cassandra has inquired about you many times," the elder dragonkeeper said in heavily accented High Valyrian, his weathered face showing concern.
Rhaegar untied his cloak and carefully handed the two dragon eggs to the younger dragonkeeper. In fluent High Valyrian, he instructed, "Take care of these. Store them in the underground chamber beneath the Drum Tower."
"Yes, my prince." The younger dragonkeeper, realizing they were dragon eggs, handled them with utmost caution.
Only then did Rhaegar turn to the elder dragonkeeper, raising his hand to point at the cliff where he had found the claw marks. His voice was heavy with authority.
"A new wild dragon has appeared on the island. Increase patrols in Dragonmont and along the eastern coast—any place where dragons have been sighted before."
The old dragonkeeper's eyes widened in shock as he looked toward the mountain.
Rhaegar grabbed his arm, his gaze sharp and unwavering.
"If you find an unknown wild dragon, do whatever it takes to capture it. Send a raven immediately—I will ride Cannibal to hunt it down."
"Hunt it?" The old dragonkeeper's mouth fell open in astonishment.
"That's right." Rhaegar's expression hardened as he reinforced his command. "Did you understand me?"
No matter where this unknown wild dragon came from—whether it was from the Smoking Sea or elsewhere—
Rhaegar would not tolerate any dragon roaming freely outside of Targaryen control, where it could become a threat to their rule.
If the dragon dared to appear, it would have only two options:
Be captured and locked in the Dragonpit, eventually bearing the Targaryen name...
Or be hunted down and fed to Cannibal.
(End of Chapter)