GOT King of Dragon

After a deep conversation with Baolan and her brother, the sky gradually shifted into twilight. 

Rhaegar gathered a great deal of useful information. 

For instance, the land beneath his feet was not part of the continent but was instead the Crabclaw Peninsula. 

The Crabclaw Peninsula, neighboring Dragonstone and Tidehead Island, was a sparsely populated and wild region. 

As far as Rhaegar knew, the peninsula was covered in swamps and pine forests, with very limited resources. The number of local nobles could be counted on one hand. 

This also meant that establishing contact with any nobles was next to impossible. 

Inside the cave, a small bonfire crackled. The three children—one older and two younger—sat in a circle around it. 

Tormund was visibly excited and repeatedly asked, "Your dragon is out hunting, right? Is it really that big?" 

"Of course. Gluttonous is enormous. I'm like a flea when I sit on its back," Rhaegar said casually as he munched on a wild fruit. 

When traveling, identity is just something you make up with your words. 

Whatever Rhaegar claimed, the others would believe. 

Even though he had no idea where Gluttonous had gone, it didn't matter. 

As long as there was even a rumor of a dragon nearby, no one would dare lay a finger on Rhaegar. 

"Your dragon is injured. There's a large patch of blood in the valley. At first, I thought it belonged to some kind of giant beast, but now it's clear it must be your dragon," Baolan remarked, poking at the fire, as if deliberately pouring cold water on his confidence. 

Rhaegar remained calm and said, "We were attacked by another dragon over the Narrow Sea. Otherwise, I wouldn't be stranded here alone." 

"There are other dragons?" Tormund's eyes widened in shock. 

"Dragonstone is teeming with dragons. My ancestors used them to conquer the continent of Westeros," Rhaegar said without hesitation. 

"Nonsense! The Conqueror's War only involved three dragons," Baolan retorted. 

"You're well-versed in history?" Rhaegar asked curiously. 

"Hmph. I've read books before. I'm not some fool who only listens to your nonsense," Baolan said with a cold snort. 

Rhaegar smiled and didn't explain further. 

Reading books was a good thing! 

If she had truly read books, she'd know how important a prince's status was, and that would make him even safer. 

"Caw—!" 

Just then, a sharp hawk's cry echoed from outside the valley. 

Baolan and Tormund simultaneously raised their heads and stood up, walking toward the sound. 

"Is your tribe here?" 

Rhaegar followed them, feeling a sense of unease. 

He tried to reach out and sense Gluttonous, but there was no response. 

Gluttonous was likely gravely injured and had flown off somewhere to recover. 

Until it returned, Rhaegar's fate depended entirely on his own resourcefulness. 

Exiting the cave, Rhaegar trailed behind Baolan and Tormund, watching as a large group of people poured into the valley at the entrance. 

They were all burly and rugged, clad in fur coats and leather armor, exuding a primitive, untamed aura. 

The leader was a tall, middle-aged man with a broad frame. 

His thick brown beard was braided, and his sharp eyes resembled those of an eagle. 

Noticing Rhaegar's gaze, the man turned his head and locked eyes with him. 

Rhaegar's expression subtly shifted, but he tried his best to remain calm. 

It was clear from one look that this group was not to be trifled with. He had indeed stumbled into a den of wildlings. 

Baolan leaned over to reassure him, "Don't be afraid. Uncle Falcon is a principled leader. He won't harm children." 

The Hawkrider Tribe fully entered the valley, and the scene immediately became bustling. 

The wildling leader, Falcon, seemed to have some real skills. 

He directed people to start fires, set up camps, and organize the area with impressive efficiency. 

Baolan led Rhaegar to the firepit where Falcon was seated. 

At that moment, Falcon was deftly skinning a wild rabbit, his hands moving with practiced ease. 

After gutting the rabbit and placing it on a wooden spit to roast, he finally spoke in a low, deliberate tone. "Is this the noble child you found?" 

Baolan glanced at Rhaegar and said seriously, "He's the king's child. A true dragon." 

"A prince?" Falcon immediately raised his head, visibly surprised. 

Though he was a wildling, the title of "prince" carried weight that was hard to ignore. 

Facing the wildling leader's scrutinizing gaze, Rhaegar took a deep breath, knowing it was time to speak. 

Meeting Falcon's eyes directly, he said with composure, "Rhaegar. Rhaegar Targaryen. I was born in the Red Keep of King's Landing. Do you, Chief, happen to know anything about that place?" 

"A place a thousand miles away? How would I know?" Falcon replied indifferently. 

"I was traveling across the continent on dragonback when I encountered trouble. If you're willing to help me, I'll ensure you receive a generous reward," Rhaegar offered, bringing tangible benefits into the negotiation. 

--- 

Falcon chuckled. "That, I can believe. With a father who's a king, you could pull out mountains of gold and silver."

"So, does that mean you've agreed to help me?" Rhaegar's eyes lit up.

"Absolutely not!" Falcon's smile faded as he refused outright.

"Why not? I can give you gold and iron tools—just protect me for a little while, that's all."

Rhaegar hadn't expected the wildling chief to reject him and quickly added more conditions.

Falcon flipped the roasting rabbit over the campfire and scoffed, "The Peregrine Tribe doesn't trust outsiders, nor do we ever offer them aid. That's how it's always been."

Rhaegar frowned and looked to Baolan, who stood nearby.

Baolan nodded. "That's how it's always been."

"Then what do you plan to do with me? Or what conditions would you need to help me?" Rhaegar asked bluntly.

"Join the Peregrine Tribe. Become one of us, and I will protect you unconditionally," Falcon replied, his tone deadly serious.

Rhaegar laughed.

He plopped down on the ground, crossed his arms, and stared at Falcon. "Do you think a Targaryen prince would join a wildling tribe? That's the most ridiculous joke I've ever heard."

By this point, any lingering fear Rhaegar had was gone.

He had figured it out—this man had no intention of helping him from the start.

He was a dragonrider, and the bloodstains in the valley proved the existence of the Devourer.

He didn't believe these wildlings would dare to harm him.

Falcon, however, wasn't angered by Rhaegar's words. Instead, he laughed lightly. "You never really intended to seek my help, either, did you?"

"You…" Rhaegar was momentarily speechless.

It was true.

He had a dragon. As long as he waited patiently for the Devourer to find him, he could fly away when the time came.

What he truly needed was to stall these wildlings and ensure they didn't harm him in the meantime.

Falcon sliced a piece of roasted rabbit and handed it to Rhaegar, speaking in a low voice. "I saw a giant beast, but it was injured and flew toward the Swamp of Despair."

"I'll take your identity at face value for now and provide you with protection until your dragon comes back for you."

"But until then, you must promise that your dragon won't harm my tribe and that you'll leave as soon as possible."

Falcon wasn't some primitive savage whose only thoughts were of raiding and looting.

He had fought against the lords of the peninsula before and was more knowledgeable than the average wildling.

The boy in front of him was a king's son.

The bloodstains and scars in the valley—only a giant beast could have caused such destruction.

And the pile of dung at the valley's entrance?

It was likely a marker left by the dragon to drive off other predators.

From the start, this boy was clearly a dangerous figure.

The dragon could return to the valley at any moment.

Negotiating terms with the boy was pointless because they'd be meaningless once the dragon appeared.

He could kill the boy and flee far away in the night.

But his tribe was already facing threats, and their traditions forbade harming children.

In comparison, keeping the boy alive and well-fed was the better choice.

When the dragon appeared, he'd simply let the boy ride it and leave.

If the boy had any sense of gratitude, he might even find a way to repay him in the future.

Realizing Falcon's intentions, Rhaegar's opinion of the wildlings shifted dramatically.

It turned out the maesters were wrong—blind and inaccurate in their teachings.

This wildling wasn't reckless at all. On the contrary, he was intelligent.

"You're truly a wise chief. I promise to restrain my dragon and coexist peacefully with your tribe."

Rhaegar accepted the roasted meat and offered praise.

"Being a chief isn't easy. I have to think about everyone's lives and stomachs," Falcon said, shaking his head as he tore off two more pieces of meat and handed them to Baolan and her brother.

(End of Chapter)