Chapter 72 – Raging Sea
In the year 268 After the Conquest, the Red Comet hung high in the sky.
The comet was entirely crimson, its long tail brightening nearly half the heavens.
The dragons return; the Red Comet arrives.
Everyone saw it. In King's Landing they call it the Jaehaerys Comet.
In the Free Cities, merchants believe the star lights the road ahead.
In the North, old grandmothers say dragons are being born.
Of course, some warn that a bleeding comet heralds blood and fire to come.
Bald and browless, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen stood on the eastern slope of Dragonmont, watching the Red Comet rise. For a moment he felt almost like a monk.
Ser Barristan Selmy and Cesar gazed at the Red Comet in a daze; the omen was so uncanny it forced thoughts to race.
The Weeping Star streaked across the sky.
The two men felt the prince seemed odd—ever since he emerged from the cave his hair and eyebrows were gone.
If they had not known him, they would have sworn he had dabbled in dark magic. Yet the cave was scorching; though Targaryens are born to endure fire, the prince's hair had still been burned away.
Seeing the Red Comet, Rhaegar felt the tides rise and fall.
I will be the wave rider of this age. Has the sky itself changed for me—Rhaegar Targaryen?
The pendulum of fate swung; the Red Comet had arrived decades early.
But with the comet's rise, trouble would follow. Rumors of dragon hatching would spread ever wider.
Red priests preach the prophecy of dragons' return; warlocks in Qarth will feel the surge of magic and deduce its cause.
If folk of Lys and Myr learn of it, they too may grow frantic. All are slowly fading; how can the dragon line rise again? Even peace with the Kingdom of the Three Daughters becomes possible.
Though Westeros remains one of the stable powers, dragons are priceless, and daredevils are never lacking.
Rhaegar felt the fireblood within him stir with the comet; his flame control would grow swifter and surer.
He must protect himself—and protect his dragons.
Rhaegar did not let Ser Barristan and Cesar enter the cave; the two pitched their tent near the mouth of the Glutton's lair.
Fortunately the cavern was vast and deep, letting all three dwell in separate spaces without disturbance.
The Glutton had lived nearly a hundred years, huge in size and at his most savage; his tunneling left the cave broad and deep. Save for the heat and sulfur stench, it was rather comfortable.
"I'm ravenous—bring more scorched meat, beef or mutton," Rhaegar ordered. He rarely made culinary demands, but the hatchlings would not eat raw flesh.
The Castellan of Dragonstone obeyed, sending delicacies day after day, roasted meats the main course.
At the sight of charred lamb the hatchlings pounced; they could consume several times their own weight.
Throughout history, air forces have always cost a fortune.
After feeding they even tried to fly, stumbling yet endearing.
Once the three dragons slept, curling together, their scales still venting warmth.
The Silver Dragon always lay in the middle, flanked by the purple and black hatchlings.
Rhaegar planned to sign the Heart Contract, but the Silver was still too small; perhaps when it grew he and his partner could wield the Binding Curse.
At night a storm suddenly struck Dragonstone.
Winds howled around the island.
Gales and torrents seemed ready to tear Dragonstone to pieces.
The tempest even capsized parts of the royal fleet; merchantmen and fishing boats suffered beyond count.
From high on Dragonmont one saw only a raging sea; Dragonstone felt like a land outside the world.
Watching the storm, Rhaegar saw Dragonstone as a lone ship—an unsinkable ship—upon a vast ocean.
The Glutton's cave was cunningly placed: high, deep, and sheltered from wind and rain.
Rhaegar stepped to the mouth and gazed at the drifting rain.
The downpour was timely; no ship could leave or enter port, helping to cloak Dragonstone in secrecy.
A raging sea indeed—if news of hatching dragons spread, it would truly become a tempest.
At dawn Rhaegar found the sea littered with driftwood, capsized hulls, and the carcasses of pigs and sheep.
Dragons about to rise, and a storm arrives—born of the times, echoing heaven and earth.
The drizzle lingered, though lighter now.
Rhaegar stayed in the cavernous lair for half a month; to stave off boredom he had Ser Barristan bring him histories of Westeros and Essos.
The hatchlings slowly grew—in size, in strength, even in flame.
He kept the Heart of Fire dragon nest inside the Glutton's cave, drawing fiercely on the volcano's heat; the Heart of Fire gems glowed crimson, saturated and unable to absorb more.
The nest even began to feed heat back; sulfur fumes and blistering temperatures made the cave almost unbearable.
As the drizzle cleared, Rhaegar packed the nest and the hatchlings and descended the mountain.
The Bronze Treasure Ring could only store tiny living things briefly, and time must be short now that the hatchlings had grown. He needed a better place for them.
The young dragons loathed enclosed spaces, but the Heart of Fire dragon nest radiated warmth, so they endured, treating the nest as a big toy.
Walking the paths of Dragonstone, Rhaegar still heard folk say the comet had brought gales and angry waves.
Some claimed the Red Comet betokened the king's fortune.
Others swore it heralded war frenzy.
Yet the comet had arrived, and waves rose within every heart.
Dragonstone: Stone Drum, Round Table Hall.
Rhaegar studied the famous great Map Table from Aegon the Conqueror's war, three centuries of polish leaving it lustrous with patina.
Carved to match Westeros, it showed every bay and peninsula, mountain, river, city, forest, lake, and fortress—exquisite and legendary.
One Westeros, one realm—Aegon's wish, a single territory, one homeland, a mighty deed.
If only there were a matching table for Essos, Rhaegar mused.
The two continents sat too close; Essos kept causing trouble for House Targaryen. The family had clashed with the Kingdom of the Three Daughters and Braavos—especially the former, where several dragonseeds had died.
"Tell me—why did our ancestors conquer Westeros instead of Essos?" Rhaegar asked.
"In his youth, Aegon the Conqueror traveled Westeros and knew its affairs," Ser Barristan offered.
"Another reason: Westeros was chaotic, usually two or three kings at war," Ser Brynden added.
"In Essos, large-scale expansion is difficult."
Rhaegar merely smiled; another idea stirred within him.
He sensed a greater factor: Aegon the Conqueror realized he could not rebuild a hegemony in Essos.
House Targaryen was far from the strongest, and Essos did not welcome dragonlords. There, cities like Volantis and Braavos were hard to overcome, and places like Lys and Myr bore deep hostility toward dragons.
Valyria had simply made too many enemies and pressed too harshly; once it declined, all pushed the falling wall. Only Volantis in all Essos cherished Valyrian glory, yet that city was too vast for Aegon to rule unchallenged.
With dragons reborn, Rhaegar's chief wariness lay across the Narrow Sea.
Warlocks would covet draconic vitality; Lysene merchants would dread their return.
Rhaegar watched ships battle wind and rain upon the sea.
Across the Narrow Sea, were foes likewise watching Dragonstone?
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