GOT King of Dragon

The two sides were fiercely engaged in battle, reaching a fever pitch. 

Under their respective banners, knights commanded the combat. 

Seeing the two flags, Rhaegar immediately thought of the two largest noble families on the peninsula: the Brunn family of Dreadhole Keep and the Klebb family of Whisperhold. 

These two families were the only noble houses on the peninsula to have built castles. 

Even though they were often labeled as "semi-savages," at least they maintained some dignity as noble families. 

Especially the Klebb family. 

Their lineage had produced Kingsguard knights and even a Hand of the King, enjoying a period of great prominence. 

"Why are these two families fighting each other?" Rhaegar wondered, a bit perplexed. 

They were already so impoverished. 

Instead of focusing on building wealth, they were wasting their efforts in this chaotic conflict. 

After a moment's thought, Rhaegar decided not to act rashly. Seated atop his dragon, he continued to observe. 

Once war breaks out, hatred spreads uncontrollably—it cannot be resolved with a few words. 

He planned to intervene once the battle had worn both sides down, making it easier to persuade the two weakened semi-savage families. 

The melee raged on. 

Both sides fought fiercely, their shouts and screams echoing across the battlefield. 

The clash continued for half an hour. 

Finally, exhaustion set in, and the chaos below began to wane. 

Rhaegar's wildling army, led by the Crabclaw clans, arrived from the rear, surrounding the battlefield on all sides. 

The order to encircle the battlefield had come from Rhaegar himself. 

He was testing his skills in commanding and organizing warfare. 

Although young, he knew that gaining experience in such matters would be valuable. 

Seeing the faltering battlefield below, Rhaegar knew it was time to make his move. 

He patted the back of Gluttonous, signaling the dragon to descend from the clouds. 

"SSS-KAAAAH..." 

With a piercing roar, Gluttonous's massive form broke through the cloud cover, looming over the battlefield like a dark storm cloud. 

Instantly, a fierce gust of wind swept through, toppling soldiers left and right and throwing the scene into disarray. 

Before the commanders on either side could issue orders, Gluttonous circled overhead, unleashing a menacing spray of ghostly green dragonfire. 

"A dragon! How can there be a dragon on the peninsula?!" 

"Run! What kind of monster is this?!" 

The moment the dragon appeared, the battlefield descended into complete chaos. 

Terrified soldiers stared at Gluttonous in horror, throwing down their weapons as they fled in panic. 

But the escapees didn't get far—they were quickly driven back by the wildlings surrounding the battlefield. 

The wildling army, led by Crabclaw warriors, closed in the encirclement, jeering and taunting the terrified soldiers. 

The time had come. 

Rhaegar guided Gluttonous to land in an open clearing, his figure now visible to both sides. 

Both commanders immediately noticed the rider atop the dragon—a figure with striking silver-gold hair. Their pounding hearts began to settle. 

A dragon with a rider was far less terrifying. 

An untamed dragon, left to its own devices, was a beast that could annihilate humans at will, driven solely by its whims. 

Sitting on Gluttonous's back, Rhaegar surveyed the battlefield below and called out in a loud voice: 

"I am Rhaegar Targaryen, firstborn son of King Viserys I. Where are the knights loyal to the Iron Throne?!" 

As his words echoed across the battlefield, the commanders of both sides hurried forward, kneeling on one knee and bowing their heads as they declared: 

"Your Highness, we pay our sincerest respects. The Brunn family and the Klebb family offer their allegiance." 

Rhaegar looked down at the two commanders and their deputies, all clad in iron armor and knightly robes, and asked sternly: 

"The noble families of the peninsula have always kept to themselves. Why have you started a war on your own accord?" 

"Your Highness, it's the Brunn family—they've gone too far! They've forcibly seized our farmlands!" 

The knight-commander of the Klebb family responded indignantly. 

"Nonsense! It's your Klebb family that stole our merchant ship returning from overseas and then refused to admit it!" 

The Brunn family's commander, visibly aggrieved, glared fiercely at his counterpart. 

Rhaegar listened as the two commanders blamed each other, frowning deeply. 

It was clear that the two families had long-standing grudges. 

After a moment of contemplation, Rhaegar asked, "Who started the conflict?" 

"It was the Klebb family! They stole our ship!" 

"The ship was empty! And three of our warriors died mysteriously. Clearly, it was your Brunn family trying to frame us!" 

The moment Rhaegar posed the question, the two sides erupted into a heated argument. 

Before long, they drew their swords, advancing toward each other with hostile intent. 

Rhaegar's head throbbed as he watched, exasperated. 

These semi-savage noble families of the peninsula truly lived up to their reputation—hot-headed and quick to resort to violence. 

He didn't have time to sort through their tangled grievances. 

Rhaegar commanded Gluttonous to roar, instantly silencing the quarrel. 

With a cold expression, Rhaegar said sternly: 

"Summon your lords to meet with the King's firstborn son!" 

Dealing directly with the decision-makers would save time. 

"Yes, Your Highness..." 

Neither side dared to delay, though they still cast furious glares at one another. They instructed their deputies to notify their lords to come forward. 

Meanwhile, the commanders began regrouping their forces and tending to the bodies of their fallen soldiers. 

--- 

Rhaegar ordered the wildling army to pull back the encirclement and regroup at a single encampment. Scouts were dispatched to search for wildling tribes in the eastern part of the peninsula.

---

Near noon.

A few fast horses carried the lords of two castles to the battlefield, where the scent of blood still lingered in the air.

At first glance, they spotted the gluttonous creature lying on the ground—a beast as massive as a small hill.

"By the Seven! A Targaryen prince has descended upon the Crab Claw Peninsula."

The lord of the Crabbe family, a tall and portly elder with graying hair and beard, couldn't help but exclaim as he gazed at the jet-black dragon.

The peninsula was too barren and rarely saw outsiders. 

A royal family member riding a dragon was an even rarer sight, perhaps once in a lifetime.

He dismounted quickly, ignoring his guards' protests, and strode toward the dragon. 

When he saw Rhaegar, drowsy atop the dragon's back, his eyes widened in disbelief.

"Such a young age, and yet he has tamed such a colossal dragon!"

Dropping to one knee, he raised the longsword at his waist to his chest and proclaimed loudly, "Lord Samwell Crabbe of Whispering Hill greets the prince!"

Rhaegar, drawn by his voice, lowered his gaze to the elder kneeling on the ground and said with confusion, "Lord Samwell, presenting your sword is not the proper etiquette for greeting a prince."

"I know." 

Samwell, his breath labored, looked up at the young prince shining in the sunlight and said respectfully:

"You possess the noble blood of true dragons and have arrived riding a mighty dragon. On behalf of House Crabbe, I humbly beg you to accept our allegiance and allow us to become your vassals."

"I am but a prince, not the heir to the Iron Throne," Rhaegar replied, even more puzzled.

Samwell smiled. "My ancestor, Clarence Crabbe, was a legendary hero of the Crab Claw Peninsula. My great-uncle, Clement Crabbe, served as a Kingsguard for your great-grandfather, the Old King."

"Today, House Crabbe has been estranged from House Targaryen for far too long. I care not whether you ascend the Iron Throne. 

"All I ask is that the noble prince accept our loyalty and let the banner of the golden marsh marigold once again bask in royal glory."

Rhaegar: …

He silently studied the passionate Samwell Crabbe, his brows furrowed, unsure how to respond.

To be honest, he thought little of the semi-wild noble houses of the Crab Claw Peninsula. 

Poor, uncivilized, remote…

These were their true labels.

Accepting Samwell's oath would bring him no tangible benefits and might even invite unwanted attention from others.

After carefully choosing his words, Rhaegar politely declined: 

"Lord Samwell, I deeply admire your loyalty to the royal family, but I am not the heir to the Iron Throne and have no right to accept the fealty of a lord."

---

**(End of Chapter)**