Game Of Thrones: I Became a Crown Prince For a Day

As he peered into the abyss ahead, Rhaegar hesitated for a fleeting moment before posing a question, his voice low and contemplative, "Ser, do you believe I have the potential to bond with a formidable dragon?"

Erryk's demeanor shifted, his response swift and cautious, "I cannot entertain such a notion, Your Highness. Beyond this threshold lies a fully-grown dragon, a perilous prospect His Grace would never condone."

"Why?" Rhaegar's inquiry was unwavering, his gaze fixed on the knight before him. "Do you doubt my capacity to establish a connection with a dragon?"

"No, Your Highness, that's not the issue," Erryk clarified, struggling to articulate his concerns. "Forging a bond with a powerful dragon demands great skill and understanding. It's a decision not to be taken lightly."

"But it's a risk I'm willing to take, Ser."

Rhaegar's resolve strengthened as he took a step forward, his determination palpable. "My sister was already riding dragons at my age. By winter's end, I'll have reached the same milestone."

"If she could do it, there's no reason I cannot."

Unspoken lingered another thought:

With the same lineage of Blood and Fire coursing through his veins, possessing a natural resilience to flames, and bearing the ancient Valyrian heritage, Rhaegar believed he possessed the inherent qualities to win a dragon's allegiance.

"I cannot permit it, Your Highness," Erryk interjected firmly, barring Rhaegar's path. "I've sworn an oath to safeguard the king's heir, and I cannot stand idly by as you endanger yourself."

"But you've also sworn to obey my commands, regardless of danger or honor," Rhaegar countered sharply, his gaze unwavering.

Perhaps it was the culmination of haunting dreams, the burden of his legacy, or the distance from his sister—all converging to ignite a storm within him.

Rhaegar's heart swelled with a tumultuous mix of emotions—fear, frustration, perhaps even a hint of envy towards his sister.

He was Rhaegar Targaryen.

"A Targaryen knows no fear!"

Before him loomed Dreamfyre's lair, and Rhaegar was determined to tame the dragon, earning glory and admiration in the process.

Erryk's duty bound him, but Rhaegar's resolve was unyielding.

With steely determination, Rhaegar issued an order to Erryk for the first time, "As Rhaegar, eldest son of Viserys I, I command you to remain here and not to intervene!"

"Prince, you..." Erryk began, attempting to dissuade him, but Rhaegar silenced him with a firm, "Enough, Ser!"

Bound by his vow, Erryk reluctantly acquiesced, his inner turmoil evident as he stood guard, his hand clenched around the hilt of his sword.

"Very well, Kingsguard."

Rhaegar strode past Erryk, casting a glance at the impassive Maynard nearby. "Erryk will remain outside the lair to ensure our safety. You may return unless you're needed."

Upon hearing Rhaegar's declaration, Maynard, tinged with excitement, interjected, "No! I wish to accompany you. I possess knowledge of dragon behavior and can be of assistance."

Hope flickered within Maynard, a chance to prove himself and escape his unjust fate. How could he falter now?

Rhaegar regarded him with a quizzical expression, then nodded in agreement, conceding, "Very well. Should I succeed in taming Dreamfyre, you shall share in the credit."

"Yes, Your Highness!" Maynard's spirits soared at the prospect, boldly positioning himself by Rhaegar's side and leading the way into the cavern.

Without further objection, Rhaegar turned to Erryk, his tone softer, "He shows courage, Ser, a trait to be admired."

With that, Rhaegar pressed forward, disappearing into the shadows of the cave entrance, leaving Erryk to grapple with his inner conflict.

His duty was to protect the prince, yet Rhaegar's thirst for adventure was undeniable.

As they stepped into the lair, Maynard swiftly retrieved a torch from the ground and skillfully ignited it, casting warm light that banished the darkness.

The sudden brightness caused Rhaegar to shield his eyes instinctively, momentarily blinded.

Once inside, Maynard's initial enthusiasm gave way to apprehension. "Your Highness, Dreamfyre has dwelled here for many years, and its temperament is notoriously unpredictable. It would be prudent to proceed with caution."

"I will heed your counsel, Maester," Rhaegar affirmed, adjusting to the illumination.

"Do you know your way around here?" he inquired, curious about Maynard's familiarity with the lair.

Maynard's smile was self-assured. "Certainly. Maester Bass assigned me the task of inspecting the Dragon's Lair regularly. Given that most maesters recoil at the scent of dragon excrement, I've taken on the responsibility."

"Your dedication is commendable," Rhaegar remarked, impressed by Maynard's diligence.

"Your Highness, I typically accompany one or two dragon keepers who are fluent in High Valyrian and skilled in calming dragons with song," Maynard added, eager to contribute his expertise.

Pleased with Maynard's initiative, Rhaegar considered him a valuable asset.

Flushed with pride, Maynard eagerly shared his knowledge. In this moment, any doubts about the prince's intentions or the feasibility of taming Dreamfyre faded into the background.

All Maynard desired now was to prove himself and earn the prince's approval.

Observing Maynard's eager demeanor, Rhaegar mused inwardly, "The long-overlooked bastard seems unusually eager."

Yet, he reasoned, eagerness mattered little as long as it proved beneficial.

"Valyrian is my mother tongue; I can attempt it," he whispered to himself.

Since mastering Ancient Valyrian, fragments of memories from his early childhood had resurfaced.

These recollections harked back to when he was barely three years old, existing in a state of near-comatose fragility.

During those fleeting moments of semi-consciousness, though unable to open his eyes, Rhaegar's senses of hearing, touch, and smell remained intact.

In those ephemeral lapses of wakefulness, he could faintly discern soft hums resonating in his ears, their source elusive.

Occasionally, a gentle touch would caress his face, and tender kisses would grace his forehead.

Though voiceless and sightless, he remained acutely aware of these tender gestures, etched into the recesses of his mind.

However, he could still recall the voice of the song's singer, and his nose detected a faint, acrid scent.

When he regained consciousness, the lyrics of the ballad eluded him, but the scent lingered.

It was reminiscent of dragons, akin to the aroma of sulfur.

Now, he could vaguely piece together the verses of the ballad, spoken in the ancient Valyrian tongue.

Clearing his throat, Rhaegar replicated the soft melody of his childhood memories, gradually humming the tune of "Shepherd's Evening."

Suddenly, a tender, childlike voice emerged from the darkness, dispersing the lingering unease.

"Roar!"

As the song echoed through the cavern, a colossal figure stirred from the depths of the nest, its eyes blinking open in bewilderment.

The underground lair, while not expansive, provided enough room for movement compared to the narrow tunnels.

Rhaegar soon reached a more spacious chamber within the underground cavern. Illuminated by the flickering torchlight, the ground was strewn with the remains of large livestock and the pungent odor of dragon excrement filled the air.

Suddenly, a clatter echoed through the chamber, accompanied by the jarring sound of chains dragging against the ground.

"Pass me the torch, and wait here," Rhaegar commanded, his gaze fixed on the massive form slouched in the corner, recognizing it as the dragon Dreamfyre.

Nervously, Maynard handed over the torch, pressing himself against the wall. "Your Highness, please exercise caution. Retreat immediately if things turn sour."

"I will. Keep me in your prayers," Rhaegar responded tersely, disliking the ominous tone. With a calming hum, he advanced slowly towards the imposing figure in the corner.

(Word count: 1228)