Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Rhaegar scattered his entire stash of gold across the bed, creating a shimmering sea of wealth.

Despite the discomfort, he relished the sensation of lying amidst the glittering treasure.

With practiced ease, he cracked open the tome, its pages whispering tales of the Belaerys, a prominent family of dragon lords.

Emblazoned with the emblem of intertwined dragons, the Dragon's Medallion adorned their heraldry.

The Belaerys lineage boasted a rich history in ancient Valyria, spanning generations.

Over three hundred dragons had been bound to their name, with a peak of sixty-seven majestic beasts thriving concurrently.

Such a formidable legacy placed them among the top forty dragon lord families, surpassed only by a select few.

Among the family's prized possessions was the spatial bracelet adorning Rhaegar's wrist, designated for a specific heir, yet its fate remained uncertain.

As Rhaegar delved deeper into the text, each page brought a new wave of astonishment, causing him to sit up taller, his focus intensifying with each passing line.

The book provided a cursory glance at various Dragon Lord families allied with the Belaerys, offering rough assessments of their strengths.

After concluding the first tome, Rhaegar reached for the second, though its contents lacked the significance of the previous volume. It merely cataloged the bannermen sworn to the family.

Undeterred, Rhaegar swapped books once more.

Excitement surged through Rhaegar as he stumbled upon the "Habits of Dragons" section in the history segment of the first book.

His heart raced with anticipation as he silently prayed, "Please let there be something new in here."

"What exactly defines a dragon?"

"And where do they come from?"

"The Bond Between Dragon Masters and Their Kin…"

The opening chapter chronicled the genesis of dragons, their discovery, and eventual taming by the ancient Valyrians.

Yet, it was all old news, akin to the theories dissected by scholarly minds.

Disappointed, Rhaegar shrugged off the origins of dragons, his focus fixed on a more practical query: how were dragon eggs hatched?

Regrettably, the book remained silent on the matter.

Amidst the pages, Rhaegar encountered numerous tales of dragon taming by skilled riders.

"With the infusion of dragon's blood, one establishes a bond with the majestic creature, ascending its back to claim the title of rider…"

"Firemages speculate that dragons possess intellect surpassing mere beasts, rivaling only the acumen of humanity…"

"As dragons age, they grow both in size and longevity, though many find flight elusive in their twilight years, burdened by their immense bulk…"

Carefully perusing the text, Rhaegar's eyes caught on a crucial passage:

"Dragons are creatures of the sky and wilderness. Their lords grant them the freedom to soar and nest at will. Yet, in times of conflict, they employ enchanted horns to summon their distant kin…"

"A magic horn? Another mystical artifact capable of summoning dragons?"

Rhaegar was taken aback by the revelation, having never heard of such a device before.

Unlike the traditional Targaryen method of using the ancient Valyrian language to command dragons, it seemed there were indeed special tools for taming these legendary creatures.

As Rhaegar read on, a profound statement leapt out at him:

"Dragons are not slaves; they are the very essence of their riders. Should you dare to chain a dragon to the earth, you will incur a dire curse."

A furrow creased Rhaegar's brow at the warning.

"The dragon cannot be subjugated like a mere servant, lest you face its wrath…"

Instantly, his thoughts drifted to the Dragon's Pit in King's Landing, a colossal structure erected during Maegor I's reign to house the Targaryen family's dragon breeding efforts.

Balerion, Vhagar, Meraxes…

Once, this cavernous pit housed legendary beasts like Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxes, among others.

Presently, three dragons dwelled within its confines:

Dreamfire, Caraxes, and Syrax…

These creatures, permanent residents of the pit, had never known the freedom of the skies. Syrax, with its yellow scales, had resided there since hatching from its egg, bonded to Rhaenyra.

Though ignorant of dragon lore, Rhaegar understood the stark contrast between life within the Dragon's Pit and the untamed wild.

He knew one undeniable truth: any dragon entering the pit would be bound in chains.

Dragons, fiercely territorial, were bound to clash when forced into close quarters.

The maesters advised chaining the dragons to prevent bloodshed and safeguard the younger ones.

As Rhaegar absorbed these warnings, he recognized the gravity of the situation. These were not idle musings of maesters but the documented wisdom of ancient Valyria's dragon lords—a lineage surpassing even the Targaryens.

"When the opportunity arises, I must share these findings with my father and defer to his judgment," Rhaegar mused silently.

With the book swiftly devoured, Rhaegar carefully stashed it within his bracelet, wary of causing any damage to the precious tome.

The knowledge within was priceless, each word a treasure for the Targaryen family.

Rhaegar lingered over the remaining books, their volumes numerous.

In the grip of intense concentration, time sped by like a galloping horse, and before he knew it, night had given way to dawn.

As the morning sun bathed the room in its golden light, Rhaegar, having foregone sleep, emerged from his study.

Cautiously eyeing the door, he swiftly concealed the books and the bed of gold within the confines of his small bracelet.

Not now, he thought, unwilling to risk discovery of his clandestine activities.

Casting a weary glance at his reflection in the bedside mirror, he sighed at the sight of his dark, panda-like eyes.

Yet, the wisdom gleaned from the night's reading offered solace.

The books held secrets not found in any known records, detailing the intricacies of the Targaryen lineage.

For instance, taming a dragon was more than mere instruction—it required unwavering will and belief.

A tamer's resolve must be resolute, for any hint of weakness would be sensed by the dragon, rendering taming impossible.

Taking initiative, climbing onto the dragon's back, and issuing commands with conviction were paramount.

Only through such displays of strength and determination could the bond between dragon and master truly flourish, soaring together across sky and sea, united as one.

Filled with anticipation, Rhaegar washed himself before bestowing a tender kiss upon his egg, his heart brimming with hope.

"Swiftly hatch, for the sky awaits our journey!" he exclaimed with conviction, his voice ringing out boldly.

He harbored no doubt in his ability to become a dragon master, for to question himself would be to forsake the Valyrian blood coursing through his veins.

Pushing open the door, Rhaegar's gaze met Erryk's, finding encouragement in the warmth of his brown eyes.

"Ser, could you spare me the enigmatic looks? They're rather unsettling," Rhaegar remarked as they concluded their breakfast.

Erryk, taken aback, responded, "Of course, but know that I harbor no doubts about your ambitions."

Rhaegar's cheeks tinged with a faint blush as he brushed off the comment, "Such matters are of little consequence. Today, we have a tournament to attend."

Though yesterday's events had been cut short to welcome Daemon, the tournament was set to span seven days, with daily contests.

The haughty Dornishman remained under close watch in King's Landing.

Today, a valiant knight would seek retribution and earn the king's favor.