In the year 268 AC, a red comet hung high in the night sky.
The comet was deep red throughout, its long tail illuminating nearly half the heavens.
The dragons returned; the Red Comet arrived.
Everyone saw it. In King's Landing, people called it King Jaehaerys's Comet.
In the Free Cities, merchants believed the star would light the road ahead.
In the North, old grandmothers said dragons were being born.
Of course, some warned the Bleeding Star heralded coming blood and fire.
Rhaegar, bald and eyebrowless, stood on the eastern slope of Dragonmont, watching the Red Comet rise. In that moment, he felt almost like a monk.
Barristan and Sessa stared blankly at the Red Comet; the omen was so eerie that their minds raced.
The Weeping Star trailed across the sky.
Both felt the Prince was a bit strange—since emerging from the cave, he had neither hair nor eyebrows.
If they didn't know him, they'd have concluded he dabbled in dark magic. However, the cave was scorching hot; despite House Targaryen's natural heat resistance, the Prince's hair had been burned away.
Seeing the Red Comet, Rhaegar felt the tides rising and falling. I will be the waverider of this era. Has the sky changed for me too, Rhaegar Targaryen?
The pendulum of fate swung; the Red Comet arrived decades early.
But with the comet's rise came trouble. Rumors of dragon hatching would spread wider.
Red Priests would preach prophecies of the dragon's return; Warlocks of Qarth would feel the surge of magic and deduce the cause.
If the people of Lys and Myr learned of this, they too would go mad. Everything was fading away; how could the dragon bloodline rise again? Even peace with the Three Daughters became a possibility to counter it.
Though Westeros remained relatively stable, dragons were priceless, and there was no shortage of bold men.
Rhaegar felt the Blood of Fire within him surge with the comet; his control over fire would become swifter and more precise.
He had to protect himself, and he had to protect his dragons.
Rhaegar forbade Barristan and Sessa from entering the cave; the two pitched tents near the entrance of the Cannibal's lair.
Fortunately, this cave was large and deep, allowing the three to live in separate spaces without disturbing each other.
The Cannibal had lived nearly a century, huge and vicious; the tunnels it dug made the cave wide and deep. Apart from the heat and the pungent smell of sulfur, the cave was comfortable enough.
"I am starving... bring more roast meat, beef or mutton will do." Rhaegar ordered. He rarely made demands about food, but the cubs refused raw meat.
The Castellan of Dragonstone obeyed, delivering delicious meals day after day, with roast meat as the main course.
Seeing the charred mutton, the hatchlings pounced; they could eat several times their own weight.
Throughout history, air forces had always been expensive to build.
After feeding, they even tried to fly, stumbling but cute.
When the three dragons slept, they curled up together, scales still radiating warmth.
The Silver Dragon always lay in the middle, flanked by the purple and black hatchlings.
Rhaegar planned to sign a Heart Pact, but the Silver Heart was still too small; perhaps when it grew, he and his partner could cast binding curses.
At night, Dragonstone was suddenly hit by a storm.
Gale-force winds howled over the island.
The storm seemed determined to tear Dragonstone apart.
The tempest even capsized some ships of the Royal Fleet; losses for merchant and fishing vessels were immeasurable.
Looking out from the peak of Dragonmont, one saw only the surging sea; Dragonstone felt like another world.
Watching the storm, Rhaegar saw Dragonstone as a lone boat on a vast ocean—an unsinkable ship.
The Cannibal's cave was cleverly positioned: high and deep, sheltered from wind and rain.
Rhaegar walked to the mouth, gazing at the falling rain.
This storm came at the perfect time; no ships could leave or enter the harbor, helping cloak Dragonstone in secrecy.
Truly surging waves... if news of the hatched dragons spreads, it will trigger a real storm.
At dawn, Rhaegar found the sea surface littered with driftwood, capsized hulls, and carcasses of pigs and sheep.
Dragons are rising, the storm is coming—children of the era, voices of heaven and earth.
The drizzle continued but weakened.
Rhaegar stayed in the massive cave lair for half a month; to pass the boredom, he had Barristan bring him histories of Westeros and Essos.
The cubs grew slowly—larger, stronger, toughened even in the fire.
He hid the Fire Heart Dragon Nest inside the Cannibal's cave, letting it absorb volcanic heat freely; the Fire Heart Gem glowed a deep crimson, saturated, unable to absorb more.
The nest even began radiating heat back; sulfur smoke and searing temperatures made the cave almost unbearable.
After the drizzle stopped, Rhaegar packed up the nest and the hatchlings and descended the mountain.
The Bronze Ring could only store living creatures briefly, and the cubs were growing fast; time was tight. He needed a better place for them.
The dragons hated confined spaces, but the center of the Fire Dragon Nest radiated warmth, so they endured it, treating the nest as a giant toy.
Walking on the Dragonstone road, Rhaegar still heard people saying the comet brought the storm and high waves.
Some claimed the Red Comet heralded a King's fortune.
Others asserted it signaled a tide of war.
Regardless, the comet had arrived, stirring waves in everyone's heart.
Dragonstone: Stone Drum, the Chamber of the Painted Table.
Rhaegar studied the famous massive table map from Aegon's Conquest. Polished over three centuries, the Painted Table gleamed with an ancient patina.
Carved to match the continent of Westeros, it showed every bay and peninsula, mountain, river, city, forest, lake, and fortress—exquisite and legendary.
One Westeros, one Realm—Aegon's wish, one territory, one home, a great feat.
"If only there were a similar table for Essos," Rhaegar thought.
The two continents were too close; Essos constantly brought trouble to House Targaryen. The Targaryens had conflicted with the Daughter Kingdoms and Braavos—especially the Daughter Kingdoms, where several dragonseeds lost their lives.
"Tell me... why did our ancestor conquer Westeros instead of Essos?" Rhaegar asked.
"The Conqueror traveled Westeros in his youth and knew its affairs," Barristan said.
"Another reason: Westeros was chaotic then, usually with two or three kings at war," Ser Brynden added.
"In Essos, large-scale expansion is difficult."
Rhaegar just smiled slightly; another thought surged in his mind.
He sensed a bigger factor: Aegon the Conqueror realized he couldn't rebuild 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 conquer, while places like Lys and Myr held deep hostility toward dragons.
Valyria had made too many enemies and acted too harshly; once it fell, all factions pushed down Valyria's walls. across all of Essos, only Volantis cherished Valyria's glory, yet that city was too vast for Aegon alone to dominate.
With the dragons reborn, Rhaegar's primary vigilance was directed at enemies across the Narrow Sea.
Warlocks would crave dragon vitality; Lysene merchants would fear their return.
Rhaegar watched the ships wrestling with wind and rain on the sea.
On the other side of the Narrow Sea, were enemies also watching Dragonstone closely?