*Clang—*
Dragon claws fell to the ground.
With just one sentence, Rhaenyra's heart trembled, and she could no longer grip her sword.
At this point, the message was clear.
Her eyes turned red, and she looked at Rhaegar with resentment, gritting her teeth. "Rhaegar, you're wronging me."
The allure of the crown was indeed great.
But she wasn't willing to let that *bitch* Jeyne take a share.
"Rhaenyra, even if you don't trust me, you should at least have confidence in yourself."
Rhaegar wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her onto the railing.
Rhaenyra clutched his collar tightly, tears the size of pearls streaming down her face.
Looking up at her, Rhaegar said solemnly, "We still have time, but I will never let you suffer humiliation."
"I respect you, I love you, and that will never change."
"But you're too greedy."
Tears blurred Rhaenyra's vision as she buried her head into his shoulder, sobbing.
To have both a kingdom and Rhaegar—there was no reason to refuse.
But before that, Jeyne had to return to the Vale. She wouldn't get a piece of her spoils.
Rhaegar was still three years away from his coming-of-age ceremony.
Until then, and even after, everything would be under her control.
---
### Noon
The hot July wind howled, and even the island couldn't escape the sun's scorching heat. The air was unbearably stuffy.
"Mmm, delicious."
A small round table was covered with a variety of dishes.
Rhaenyra held her knife and fork, devouring her meal ravenously.
She hadn't eaten all day—she was starving.
Rhaegar watched with amusement, serving her food and pouring her wine.
It was a warm, tender moment, and only one thought crossed his mind:
*A sister who isn't angry is truly adorable.*
*Whoosh—*
A strong gust of wind blew through the open-air balcony, lifting strands of Rhaenyra's hair.
The siblings both looked up toward the sky.
*"Screeeeech..."*
A deep, thunderous dragon roar echoed as a massive, dark-green beast appeared above Dragonstone.
Rhaenyra's eyes widened as she swallowed a bite of crab meat. "Laenor?"
Rhaegar stood and walked to the railing, gazing up at the enormous dragon.
Green scales, loose skin, a body as vast as a mountain...
It was none other than Vhagar, the oldest of the great dragons.
At that moment, Vhagar's vertical pupils gleamed coldly as she glided over the castle, gradually descending.
Moments later—
*Boom!*
A deafening tremor shook the ground as Vhagar landed near the cliffside beside the castle.
"Rhaenyra!"
A bright voice called out from atop the dragon's broad back.
Laena Velaryon, dressed in a tight red corset, beamed as she waved toward the open-air balcony.
She unfastened the chain around her waist and nimbly climbed down from the dragon's back, striding toward the castle.
Rhaegar and Rhaenyra exchanged glances.
Wiping her mouth, Rhaenyra muttered, "Laena hasn't come looking for me in a while."
"You're the host—go greet her," Rhaegar said, shrugging as he pulled out a chair for her.
"Good boy. You don't have to sleep on Dragonmont tonight."
Rhaenyra smiled in satisfaction and stood, adjusting her skirt.
Rhaegar was filled with gratitude, gesturing politely.
He had spent four nights squeezed on Dragonmont with The Glutton and Grey Ghost.
Whenever Rhaenyra was angry, forget about a bed—he couldn't even sleep in the castle.
---
### Moments Later
The siblings met Laena in the castle's first-floor hall.
"Laena!"
Rhaenyra greeted her with a bright smile and embraced her friend.
Laena smiled back and patted Rhaenyra's back.
She found it a little strange—Rhaenyra seemed especially warm today.
But it was understandable.
She only had three close friends.
Alicent had become her stepmother. Jeyne was trying to seduce Rhaegar.
And though Laena had married Daemon, at least their relationship wasn't complicated.
She was the only friend Rhaenyra had left.
After some brief pleasantries, they got to the point.
Laena looked at Rhaegar with admiration. "Cousin, your raid on the Three Daughters is making waves. I apologize for fleeing that day."
Rhaegar, with just two dragons and two thousand elite soldiers, had raided Lys, burned Myr, and sacked Tyrosh.
It was an earth-shattering feat.
The three city-states had spread word of his "atrocities" throughout Essos.
With countless spies and informants carrying the news, even the noble houses of Westeros had taken notice.
The war in the Stepstones was over—the Three Daughters' stronghold had been destroyed.
And one thing was certain:
The name **Rhaegar Targaryen** would be remembered on both continents, written into history for generations to come.
Hearing Laena's words, Rhaegar simply smiled indifferently.
"It's no matter. Even my own father didn't support me—why would the Velaryon family?"
As soon as the words were spoken, Rhaenyra and Laenor's eyes flickered, detecting the complaint hidden within.
"Rhaegar..."
Rhaenyra gave him a warning look and shook his hand slightly.
This was something he could say to her in private.
Letting Laenor hear it was inappropriate.
Rhaegar winked at her and fell silent.
He was just feeling a little resentful.
After all, what child doesn't wish for unconditional trust and support from their parents?
Laenor watched their subtle exchange and interrupted helplessly, "Rhaegar, many ships are pouring into the Gullet, all flying your banner."
She had business to attend to—no time for their little drama.
Rhaegar frowned in confusion. "Robb and his people?"
Laenor shook her head. "Not just them. There are also more than a dozen slave ships, fully loaded. The Royal Fleet has intercepted them."
She and her mother took turns patrolling the Gullet and the Narrow Sea.
Today, she happened to come across something unusual in the Gullet.
More than a dozen large ships swayed as they approached, their decks packed with slaves gripping weapons.
If it weren't for their ragged clothing, she might have mistaken them for a pirate raid.
Shortly after she arrived,
The Royal Fleet, having received the alert, rushed over and intercepted the slave ships.
A "small" skirmish ensued.
Hearing this, Rhaegar was momentarily stunned, then thought to himself, *Looks like the freed slaves have come seeking refuge.*
With that realization, his spirits lifted, and excitement surged through him.
He needed those slaves.
Not the subjects of other lords—obedient, hardworking…
But people who, once granted equal rights, would become the most loyal workforce.
"I'll go take a look. You two continue chatting."
With that, Rhaegar cheerfully strode out of the castle.
"Screeeeech—"
Glutton's dragon roar echoed as it circled above the castle.
Vhagar stood on the cliff, its slit-like pupils staring coldly at the black dragon in the sky.
It recognized its opponent.
Their battle was yet to be settled.
As Rhaegar stepped out of the castle gates, he immediately entered the sight of both dragons.
Glutton watched Vhagar warily as it slowly descended in front of the castle gates.
Vhagar let out a low growl, then turned its head and lay down, feigning sleep.
It was old—too lazy to move.
Since their riders were on good terms, Vhagar and Glutton tacitly agreed to ignore past grievances and tolerate each other's presence.
Rhaegar mounted Glutton, and the dragon took off, soaring beyond Dragonstone's borders.
…
From Dragonstone, he flew past the nearby Tarth Island and arrived at the Gullet.
The Gullet—the strait between Tarth Island and the Claw.
At this moment, the watchtower on the Claw was engulfed in flames, blaring a warning horn.
More than twenty large ships anchored just outside the Gullet, hesitant to enter.
Within the Gullet, five warships had formed a battle line, their archers nocking arrows.
The tension was palpable.
"Screeeeech—"
Like a falling star, Glutton dived into the scene, its roar reverberating through the Gullet.
"Prince..."
"Breaker of Chains..."
The moment Glutton appeared, the dragon rider was instantly recognized.
Robb and his people called out, their faces lighting up with joy.
On the slave ships, thousands of former slaves fell to their knees, bowing fervently.
Rhaegar had been the one to remove their shackles and awaken their yearning for freedom.
Following his command, they had sailed to Westeros.
From the depths of their hearts, they longed for acceptance—a life of security and liberty.
"My friends, I will handle this. You will be allowed to enter Blackwater Bay."
Rhaegar shouted, then turned Glutton toward the Royal Fleet.
On the lead warship, soldiers surrounded a young man with dark hair.
Rhaegar looked down at him and stated his identity: "Jon Baratheon?"
The same Baratheon who had previously barred him from entering Dragonstone.
Jon stood clad in heavy armor, lifting his head to reply, "It is I, my prince."
Rhaegar, in a good mood, chose to overlook his past offense and said, "Clear the Gullet. These are my people and my followers."
"Forgive me, Prince, but I cannot comply!"
Jon's expression remained cold. "The King has decreed that, aside from our own warships, no merchant or cargo vessels may enter Blackwater Bay."
This was a decision born from Viserys's paranoia.
The Gullet was sealed off to prevent spies from slipping in.
Rhaegar's brows furrowed slightly.
He understood the reasoning, but that didn't mean he appreciated Jon's rigidity and lack of flexibility.
After some thought, he said, "I will personally vouch for them. Let them pass."
Jon's refusal was swift and firm. "I cannot."
Rhaegar was taken aback. "Even with my guarantee?"
"The King's orders are absolute, my prince. I must ask you not to put me in a difficult position."
Jon stood tall, his gaze cold and unwavering.
Instead of anger, Rhaegar chuckled and clapped his hands. "Interesting. You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"
Who could be so inflexible?
Anyone seeing his face should at least consider his status—and the massive dragon beneath him.
Yet, this man had blocked him multiple times.
If this wasn't intentional, then what was it?
Glutton descended slightly, bringing Rhaegar closer to Jon as he issued his final ultimatum:
"My people are going through. Will you step aside or not?"
Jon's expression changed slightly as he sensed the presence of the dragon, swallowing hard.
A chubby old man with a white beard ran over and leaned in to whisper in his ear, urging, "Even Boros wouldn't dare defy the Crown Prince. You should step aside quickly."
Rhaegar cast a cold gaze at the old man and demanded, "Who are you?"
The old man shivered and stammered, "Your Highness, I am Earl Boremund Bar Emmon of Sharp Point."
Sharp Point was a noble fiefdom governed by House Bar Emmon.
Rhaegar's eyes flickered as he immediately recalled the history of House Bar Emmon and this old man's past.
During the reign of Maegor I, House Bar Emmon was one of the few noble families that supported him.
After Maegor's death on the Iron Throne, the Earl of Bar Emmon fled back to Sharp Point.
During the reign of Jaehaerys I, the Earl of Bar Emmon traveled to Dragonstone, where he surrendered and pleaded for forgiveness.
At the Great Council of 101 AC, House Bar Emmon supported Rhaenys as the heir.
In theory, House Bar Emmon was a Crownlands noble house.
In reality, they had close ties with House Baratheon of Storm's End and were followers of Rhaenys.
Or rather, House Bar Emmon was a classic fence-sitter.
Jon Baratheon was now associating with the Earl of Bar Emmon.
Heh…
Rhaegar narrowed his eyes slightly but ignored him.
Jon heeded the Earl of Bar Emmon's advice, lowered his head, and said loudly, "Yes, the fleet will withdraw immediately!"
Rhaegar lifted his chin without a word.
Jon gave the order, and the warships on both sides began retreating.
Only the warship beneath his feet slowly made its way toward Sharp Point.
At that moment, Rhaegar's voice suddenly rang out.
"Retreating now? Too late!"
Jon was startled and looked up.
Rhaegar's face remained emotionless, his lips moving slightly as he uttered—
"Dracarys!"
---
**(End of Chapter)**