The King had made up his mind.This variable, Rayder, could not remain on Dragonstone.Jaehaerys, shrewd as ever and deeply skilled in politics, understood that the young man standing before him was not only a potential threat but also a destabilizing factor that could unravel the fragile order of Dragonstone—and perhaps even shake the foundation of the entire kingdom.Rayder was too unpredictable, too powerful, and far too independent. He was a man who refused to bend easily, and that made him dangerous. For the sake of his family, for the sake of his reign, Jaehaerys knew that this unstable factor had to be removed as soon as possible.And so, suppressing the steel within his heart, the King approached with surprising gentleness.His gait was unhurried, measured, like a wise elder seeking dialogue rather than confrontation. There was no arrogance in his posture, no trace of a monarch lording his authority over others. Instead, he presented himself as approachable—perhaps even warm.He stopped before Rayder, nodded slightly, and spoke in a voice mild yet carrying the weight of inevitability."You must have seen the chaos just now," Jaehaerys said, gesturing faintly to the dragon pit behind them, where the restless roars of beasts still echoed. "Though Dragonstone is vast, it is ultimately not a place to accommodate all dragons. The island has its limits. Tensions will only rise if more are gathered here."I sincerely invite you to King's Landing. There, whether it be resources, space, or opportunities, all are far more abundant. Perhaps it will prove more suitable for you… and your companions."The words seemed polite, even generous, but Rayder was no fool.He heard the true command buried beneath the honeyed phrasing.Though Jaehaerys cloaked his meaning with courtesy, the continuous emergence of dragons from the pit was an unmistakable message, a silent yet overwhelming threat. It was like the unsheathing of swords—sharp, gleaming, and pointed squarely at him. The message was clear: You are not welcome here. You must leave.Rayder's lips curled into a cold sneer.Ungrateful old man.During the great clash—the so-called "Dragon War"—he had been more than capable of crushing them utterly. He could have unleashed destruction upon all of Dragonstone, perhaps even wiped out every dragon that stood against him. But he had chosen restraint. His own dragon had been injured, and he had not wished to cause needless devastation. He had stayed his hand, not out of weakness but out of a desire to avoid greater loss.Yet now, this King dared to test his limits.This old man, who owed him for his mercy, was now attempting to drive him away with veiled threats and half-hearted pleasantries, wielding both kindness and menace as weapons.Rayder's eyes turned cold. A sharp anger surged within him, mingling with bitterness and disdain. His fists clenched at his sides, nails digging so deep into his palms that sharp pain lanced through his hands.Every instinct urged him to lash out, to bare his fury, to demand by what right Jaehaerys presumed to threaten him with mere beasts. By what right did he think he could dictate terms, as though Rayder were some lesser lord to be commanded?But then—like a bucket of ice water poured upon smoldering coals—reason intruded.Rayder's purpose in Westeros stretched far beyond a fleeting confrontation on Dragonstone. His ambitions were vast, his goals rooted in survival, power, and a future yet to be forged. To sever all ties with the Targaryens now, to turn the King and his dragons into sworn enemies, would be reckless. It would place him in a perilous position far too early.No, he needed time. He needed to gather strength, to secure resources, to maneuver in shadows rather than ignite a war that might consume everything. A reckless clash here would serve neither his pride nor his purpose.Closing his eyes for the briefest moment, Rayder drew in a long breath. He forced the fire in his chest downward, suppressing it, burying it beneath layers of iron will.When he opened his eyes again, they gleamed with restrained fury, but his voice—when it came—was calm. Icy, clipped, but calm."Fine," he said. "I'll go."Just two words.Yet those words were like oil upon troubled waters. The tension that had thickened the air seemed to thin ever so slightly. The Dragon Guards, who had unconsciously placed hands upon their weapons, relaxed just enough to breathe. The servants who had been frozen in silence dared to shift again.Jaehaerys, too, allowed himself a subtle sigh of relief.But though the words soothed the surface, the King saw the truth beneath.Rayder's lips were pressed tightly together, the corners of his mouth pulled down ever so slightly—a silent testament to his displeasure. His eyes glinted with resentment, cold as moonlight on steel. This was not a man appeased; this was a man momentarily restrained.The King congratulated himself quietly. At least for now, he had prevented an explosion. But the fire still smoldered.Seeking to soften the edges further, Jaehaerys turned slightly and gestured to a young woman standing beside him.Rhaenys Targaryen.Clad in elegant attire, her bearing noble and poised, Rhaenys hesitated only a moment before stepping forward. In her hands she carried a red dragon egg, cradled as though it were a relic of great value.She bowed her head slightly as she extended it toward Rayder.Rayder's gaze flicked between her and Jaehaerys.He understood immediately.This was no simple gift. It was a gesture, a transaction laden with meaning. To accept the egg was to tacitly acknowledge the King's authority, to smooth over the earlier insult, to grant face to the monarch who demanded it. It would mean swallowing his pride and agreeing—at least for now—to play along.To refuse was to declare rupture, to spit in the King's face before his court.Rayder looked down at the egg.In another's eyes, it might have seemed a treasure. But to him… it was disappointing.A dragon egg's worth lay not in its shell, but in the bloodline, the life force, the promise it carried within. This one… it felt dull, ordinary. Even vulgar.Still, he stepped forward. His hand closed upon the egg, its surface warm beneath his palm. It was lighter than he expected.Silently, he probed it with his ability, sending a wisp of mental energy into its depths. The system within him stirred, analyzing, calculating.A moment later, the results whispered through his consciousness.The life within was weak. Barely flickering. Nowhere near the threshold of hatching. In fact… it was worse than the ancient eggs buried in the ruins of Valyria, relics that had slumbered for countless years and yet still retained faint echoes of vitality.This one was a husk. A failure. A castoff dressed in finery.Rayder's sneer was inward, but sharp. So this is what they offer me. Do they take me for a fool?Outwardly, he showed nothing. His fingers brushed across the shell, smooth and glossy in the torchlight. To all appearances, he was calm. But in his eyes burned the cold fire of one mocked, one insulted.Then, slowly, deliberately, he let the egg slip from his grasp. He left it behind, unclaimed, as though it were no more valuable than a common stone.The rejection landed like a hammer blow.In the silence that followed, Jaehaerys's face darkened. Pride and dignity—two things a Targaryen king could never afford to sacrifice—had been trampled. The insult was blatant, the disrespect clear.His attendants stiffened. The Dragon Guards looked ready to strike, though none dared move without command. The air grew heavy again, thick with suppressed violence.Yet Jaehaerys was no ordinary man. He had ruled too long, survived too many storms, to allow his temper to betray him. He drew in a breath, steadying himself, and when he spoke, his voice was cool but firm, iron beneath velvet."Since you have decided to go to King's Landing," he said, "I will see that all arrangements are made."His gaze shifted to Rhaenys, then to the younger Laena Velaryon standing nearby."You two will accompany our guest. Ensure his journey is safe. Represent our house with dignity."The command was final. The matter was closed—or at least, it appeared so on the surface.But beneath the calm, both men knew the truth.This was no resolution.It was only the opening move in a game far more dangerous than either had yet admitted.---
Ãdvåñçé çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn (Gk31)
Offer is going on