FVN Chapter 413: Dragon Taming Tools
Chapter 413: Dragon Taming Tools
Chapter 413: Dragon Taming Tools
Rhaegar couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration. It was hard not to be impressed by such a "prolific" dragonlord family.
"No wonder there are so many depictions of coitus on the murals," he mused. "The ancestors left detailed instructions for future generations."
He sighed, "An enigmatic family style, no wonder the Targaryens struggle to compete."
Consider the Targaryens:
Aegon married his two sisters and had only two sons.
Aenys I had three sons and three daughters, one of whom died in the cradle, while Maegor had no children and murdered two of his brother's sons in a dastardly act of kinslaying.
Jaehaerys I fathered thirteen children, yet none survived to inherit the Iron Throne.
Rhaegar’s own father, Viserys, had four sons and two daughters.
"Even without the glory of battle, he lived up to his reputation as the young king," Rhaegar thought. "To be born is to contribute!"
Daemon fathered two daughters, with one son who died young.
"Retribution," Rhaegar muttered. "As an uncle, he coveted his niece and tried to kill his nephew."
Reflecting on his own situation, Rhaegar pondered, "Rhaenyra has given me two sons, which barely meets the standard."
With the experience of his late mother, Aemma, he couldn’t risk overburdening Rhaenyra.
"I’ll need other wives," Rhaegar thought secretly.
The Dragonpit housed young dragons like Stormcloud and Tyraxes, Dragonmont had the masterless Silverwing and the wild dragon Grey Ghost, and Dragonstone Island had two dozen dragon eggs.
With more heirs, there would be enough dragons to share.
Deep in thought, Rhaegar muttered, "Aegon, that boy, is good material for producing children."
The reproduction of the Targaryen bloodline couldn’t rely on him alone. Aegon, with his boundless energy from frequenting brothels, could be put to better use.
"Aemond and Daeron must also grow up quickly," Rhaegar mused. "It is our duty to restore the Targaryen glory!"
"That's what brothers are for," Rhaegar declared, clenching his fist and pounding his palm.
In a single thought, he determined the future paths of his younger brothers. The three siblings his father had worked so hard to give him would not be coddled.
"Make use of them!" Rhaegar decided.
...
As dusk approached, Rhaenys stood guard at the edge of the deep pit, her eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of her nephew.
"Rhaegar has been down there a long time," she murmured, worry creasing her brow.
Gray Worm approached from the side, his voice raspy. "Princess, shall we imprison the restrained troublemakers?"
"Indeed," Rhaegar replied, his smile widening.
In terms of value, the pitch-black soft whip surpassed even the space pendant. The whip, black as the deepest night sky, was made of an unknown material, possibly the tendon of some creature. Its surface was covered with fine, scale-like barbs. The grip, a foot long, was cast in Valyrian steel and inscribed with mysterious runes more arcane than those on the space items.
Simply looking at it could induce dizziness and discomfort.
Splat!
Rhaegar flicked his wrist, and the whip flew like a snake, lashing heavily against the ground. It stirred up a puff of dust, leaving behind a small pit.
"Roar—"
Cannibal suddenly roared harshly, its wings lifting its body as it stood, emitting a pungent odor of ashes. This odor, distinct from the stench of its usual diet, was something only dragons could sense. The air filled with the smell of ashes, making it seem as if a disaster loomed.
Splat!
Rhaegar cracked the whip again.
"Roar—"
Cannibal's green vertical pupils flashed with tyranny, and it could no longer hold back a mouthful of Dragonfire.
Rhaegar's expression remained calm as he suddenly commanded in High Valyrian, "Attack upwards!"
The words carried an undeniable, mysterious authority.
In an instant, Cannibal's green pupils cleared. Its neck rose high, and it unleashed a torrent of ghostly green Dragonfire into the sky.
Splat!
Rhaegar cracked the whip a third time, a smirk forming on his lips. "Stop!" he commanded.
Cannibal obediently closed its jaws, lowering its head. Its green vertical pupils locked onto its rider, filled with curiosity as it sniffed vigorously.
The dragon clearly understood its rider's instructions and carried them out naturally after years of bonding. Yet the disturbing scent remained.
As Cannibal’s massive head nudged closer to him, Rhaegar smiled apologetically. "Well done partner, sorry for scaring you."
He hugged the dragon’s roughly scaled snout, rubbing it affectionately to show his closeness.
"Roar!"
Cannibal shook its head in irritation, dislodging Rhaegar's touch. Its large, copper-bell-like eyes locked onto the whip in his hand.
The dragon was certain the whip was the source of its agitation. The sound of its lash had startled it, causing the instinctive release of Dragonfire.
Rhaegar stored the mystic scroll and the pitch-black soft whip into the space necklace, then wrapped his arms around the formidable dragon once more.
"Don't be angry, it's just a dragon taming tool."