GOT King of Dragon

Staring at the pitch-black cave entrance, Rhaegar paused momentarily, murmuring softly: 

"Ser, do you think I can tame a dragon?" 

Ser Erryk's expression changed, and he replied anxiously, "Absolutely not! There's an irritable adult dragon in there. The king would never allow you to take such a risk!" 

"Why not?" 

Rhaegar fixed his gaze on the white knight, questioning, "Do you think I can't tame a dragon?" 

"No, that's not what I mean," Erryk stammered, trying to find the right words. "Gaining a dragon's acceptance is no easy feat. You should carefully consider this." 

"But I want to try, Ser," Rhaegar said, stepping forward and taking a deep breath. "My sister was flying dragons by the age of seven. When this winter ends, I'll be seven too." 

"If she can do it, there's no reason I can't." 

There was one more thing Rhaegar didn't say aloud. 

He carried the **Blood of the Dragon**, giving him an extraordinary resistance to fire. 

His Valyrian bloodline was pure enough to earn a dragon's recognition. 

"I cannot allow this, Prince," Erryk said, blocking Rhaegar's path with a resolute expression. "I swore an oath to the king to protect his eldest son. I cannot stand by and watch you take such a risk." 

"But you also swore an oath to me, Ser. To carry out my orders to the best of your ability—regardless of life or death, regardless of honor or disgrace." 

Rhaegar raised his voice, staring intensely at the white knight before him. 

Perhaps it was the nightmares, the weight of expectations, or Rhaenyra's coldness—everything seemed to erupt at this moment. 

His heart was consumed by a chaotic mix of negative emotions. 

Fear of the nightmares. Frustration with the expectations placed on him. Even jealousy toward his sister... 

He was Rhaegar. Rhaegar Targaryen. 

And Targaryens are never weaker than anyone else! 

Behind him lay Dreamfyre's lair. Rhaegar was determined to tame this dragon, to claim honor and respect with it. 

Erryk could not stop him. 

Because he was a white knight, bound by his oaths. 

Rhaegar's expression turned solemn as he issued his first command to Erryk: 

"Now, as the eldest son of Viserys I, I order you to remain here and stand by. Do not disobey!" 

"Prince, you—" Erryk started to protest, but Rhaegar interrupted sharply, "Silence, Ser!" 

Bound by his oath, Erryk could not betray the white cloak draped over his shoulders. His face twisted in internal struggle as he stood at attention, gripping his sword hilt tightly. 

"Very well, dutiful white knight." 

Rhaegar walked past Erryk, casting a glance at the stunned Maenars nearby. "Erryk will stay outside the lair to provide support. You may leave if you wish." 

Maenars shivered under the prince's commanding tone but protested eagerly, "No! I will stay by your side. I'm well-versed in dragon behavior—I can help you." 

He hoped to win the prince's favor and escape the injustices of his fate. 

How could he back down at such a critical moment? 

Rhaegar studied him curiously, noting his determined, almost desperate demeanor. With a nod, he said, "Very well. If I succeed in taming Dreamfyre, you will be credited." 

"Thank you, Your Highness!" 

Maenars perked up, gathering his courage as he stepped ahead of Rhaegar, entering the cave first to lead the way. 

Rhaegar did not object. He glanced back at Erryk, remarking coolly, "He's braver than you, Ser." 

With that, Rhaegar followed Maenars into the dark cave, his figure swallowed by the shadows. 

Erryk closed his eyes in anguish, his emotions a storm of bitterness and helplessness. 

His duty was to protect the prince. 

But the prince clearly loved danger. 

... 

Inside the lair, Maenars picked up a torch from the ground and lit it skillfully, bringing light to the pitch-black space. 

The sudden burst of light made Rhaegar instinctively shield his eyes from the glare. 

Once inside, Maenars's earlier excitement faded into palpable tension. "Your Highness, Dreamfyre has lived in this lair for many years and has a volatile temperament. Perhaps we should observe from a distance first." 

"I will," Rhaegar replied, nodding. Then, tilting his head, he asked, "You seem very familiar with this place." 

Maenars offered a shy smile. "Yes. Archmaester Barth requires regular inspections of the dragon lairs. Most maesters can't tolerate the smell of dragon dung, so I'm usually the one assigned to the task." 

"I see. It seems you're diligent in your duties." 

Noticing how effortlessly Maenars navigated the lair, Rhaegar considered him a promising individual. 

"Your Highness, whenever I enter the lairs, I always bring one or two dragonkeepers. They speak High Valyrian fluently and can sing calming songs to soothe the dragons."

Menace blushed from the compliment, revealing an important piece of information. 

At this point, he no longer cared whether the prince truly intended to tame the dragon or whether such a feat was even possible. 

All he wanted was to showcase his abilities and earn the prince's favor. 

Rhaegar watched his retreating figure and thought to himself, *"This long-repressed young man is way too eager."* 

Still, it didn't matter—eagerness or not, as long as it was useful. 

Rhaegar murmured, "Valyrian is my native language. I can give it a try." 

Ever since he had mastered ancient Valyrian, he began to recall fragments of long-buried memories. 

They were from his childhood, likely before he turned three years old. 

At that time, he was perpetually comatose, his life hanging by a thread. 

What no one knew was that during those days, he had brief moments of consciousness. However, he was so weak that he couldn't open his eyes, rendering him no different from someone in a deep sleep. 

But his hearing, touch, and sense of smell were intact. 

In those half-awake intervals, Rhaegar often heard a soft, gentle humming near his ear. 

He didn't know who the voice belonged to. 

Sometimes, the voice's owner would caress his cheek or place a kiss on his forehead. 

Though he couldn't see or speak at the time, he remembered the voice's tone and could smell a faint, pungent odor. 

When he regained full consciousness, he forgot the melody of the lullaby but recognized the faint scent—it was the sulfuric stench of dragons. 

Now, he could recall most of the melody. It was an ancient Valyrian lullaby. 

Clearing his throat, Rhaegar mimicked the gentle tone he remembered, slowly humming the song called *"The Shepherd's Sunset."* 

The sound of a soft, childlike voice emerged from the darkness, dispelling inner unease. 

"Roar…" 

As the lullaby echoed through the lair, a massive creature deep within the shadows opened its eyes, lifting its head in confusion. 

The underground lair wasn't very spacious, and its depths were not as vast as the tunnel leading to it. 

Rhaegar soon arrived at a larger underground chamber. 

By the flickering torchlight, he saw scattered remains of large livestock carcasses strewn across the ground, along with the foul stench of dragon dung. 

Clang, clang… 

The torchlight flickered violently. The stifling air grew hot as the sound of chains dragging against the ground echoed from the shadows. 

"Hand me the torch. Stay here and wait for me," Rhaegar instructed. 

Through the dim light, he spotted a massive figure curled in the corner. He immediately realized it was the dragon, Dreamfyre. 

Menace obediently handed over the torch, pressing himself against the wall. Nervously, he pleaded, "Your Highness, please be careful. If it's too dangerous, just run." 

"I will. Pray for me!" 

Rhaegar disliked parting words that sounded so final. He continued humming the lullaby as he cautiously advanced. 

He approached the enormous silhouette in the corner. 

---

> Dreamfyre is a relatively gentle dragon, but its long years of isolation in the lair have made it increasingly irritable. 

*End of Chapter*