hotmtlnovel Chapter 656: The Wall
Chapter 656: The Wall
Chapter 656: The Wall
Dragonstone, at the edge of a cliff.
The Cannibal crawled across the grass, its heavy body crushing the blades beneath it. Its labored breathing was like a searing torrent of heat.
A deep, guttural roar rumbled from its throat.
“Roar~~”
...
A shrill scream echoed from the massive beast, sending grass and dust whirling into the air.
Rhaegar lay on his side beside the black dragon's wing, eyes open as he watched two young dragons sparring. One had gray-green scales, scarlet dorsal fins, and wing membranes, with a sharp head that lacked a horned crown. The other, black with streaks of purple, bore a fierce appearance with a long, curved horn crown.
“Roar!”
The gray-green young dragon bellowed, unleashing a blast of scorching scarlet dragonfire that hit the mottled black dragon square on the head. The force knocked the latter over, leaving it dazed.
“Haha, the two little guys,” Rhaegar chuckled, tossing a piece of fresh wyvern meat toward them.
The scent of blood caught the attention of the young dragons, and they lunged at the meat like starved cats. One bit the other, while the other kicked back. They couldn’t even eat peacefully.
Another low growl came from the Cannibal, its eyelids fluttering. Its massive mouth opened slightly in an impatient rumble.
The two young dragons froze at the sound, then quickly tore off pieces of wyvern meat before flying away, each clutching their share. They were no bigger than hunting dogs, their wings still weak and unsteady as they wobbled in mid-air, much like young children carrying heavy loads.
“You've scared them,” Rhaegar said, shaking his head, though there was a note of amusement in his voice. He flapped his own pitch-black wings. The two dragons, much like Moondancer and Morning, had hatched from eggs laid by Syrax. Rhaenyra had named the newborns Arrax and Tyvarix.
'Like Lyanna's Vermax,' Rhaegar mused, 'named after the deities of Syrax, the goddess of fertility. They represent the warrior, the spear, and thunder... While Vermax represents wisdom and enlightenment, they are all warden dragons of the Mother Goddess.' He smiled at the thought. 'Very affectionate.'
The Cannibal opened its miserable green vertical eyes, its wings flapping irritably. One of the young dragons hovered tantalizingly close, as if daring it to strike. The Cannibal's pale dragon head twitched—it hadn’t yet fully digested its last meal, but the thought of fresh, tender meat tempted it.
“Tsk tsk...”
Rhaegar smirked, climbing onto the saddle along the Cannibal’s wing. He had no time to play with his old companion. The dragon seemed to sense this, bracing its wings and gazing across the coast, its monstrous head cocked toward the horizon.
“Let’s go. Velaryon’s fleet should be setting sail.” Rhaegar fastened his black cloak around him, his mind already working over the plans for developing the golden fields. King's Landing was under the care of his father and Rhaenyra, while the Good Uncle and Aemond had joined the Small Council. He felt relieved, bold, and eager for news from his eldest son in the North.
“Roar!”
With a powerful flap of its wings, the Cannibal let out a mighty cry, soaring into the sky. Its thick tail slashed through the cliff face as it launched itself into the air.
“Roar!”
A young dragon, scales shimmering cobalt blue with a copper belly, flew out from the Stone Drum Tower, trailing far behind the Cannibal. Daeron rode on its back, one hand clutching a golden key, the other a map.
“Alas, another long journey,” Daeron muttered. 'With great responsibility comes great power, I suppose. Not like Brother Aegon, who has less power and fewer burdens to carry.'
The two dragons flew over Blackwater Bay, one leading, the other trailing. Slowly, they disappeared beyond The Gullet.
Below, a fleet flying the banner of a green seahorse sailed across the sea. A dozen large ships carried cargo and sailors. On the deck of one ship stood a young man with a determined expression, his gaze lifting toward the soaring dragons.
“I wish I were a rider too,” he murmured, eyes gleaming. Addam turned and began barking orders to the sailors with renewed vigor.
...
The North.
The Wall, Castle Black.
Creak...
The winch-ladder embedded in the frozen stone wall slowly ascended toward the top of the towering Wall. The bitter wind howled, snowflakes slipping through the iron fence.
Baelon shivered, shaking his head to free the snow from his silver-and-gold shawl.
"You should dress more warmly, Prince," said Cregan, standing straight and tall, a broad greatsword slung diagonally over his left shoulder.
"It's exciting to finally see the Wall up close," Baelon replied, smiling, his eyes drifting past Cregan's greatsword.
House Stark sword—Ice.
Baelon's hand rested on the hilt at his waist, fingers curling around Dragonclaw, the House sword his father had gifted him. The Dragonbone handle radiated warmth.
At the front, a massive beast, towering several stories high and covered in long, matted hair, trudged forward.
"Mammoth," Baelon whispered, eyes widening as they reflected the enormous creature. There were two mammoths, their thick waists bound by ropes, dragging behind them massive tree trunks.
Two giants, seven or eight meters tall, trudged alongside the beasts, their grotesque faces framed by ragged animal skins. Longbows and arrows, identical to those embedded in the Wall, were strapped to their backs.
Roar...
A heavy, thunderous dragon roar reverberated from behind them, temporarily drowning out the echo of the horns. Uragax soared into the air, circling the Wall, its amber eyes filled with alarm.
Baelon and Cregan stood side by side, their backs to the dragon and their faces turned toward the cold wind and gathering snow.
...
The Great Grass Sea of the Dothraki.
An afternoon. A shoddy tent.
"My brother was the smartest man and the dumbest idiot." Aemon's eyes grew distant, filled with memories.
A faint flush returned to his pale cheeks as his voice rasped, as though something blocked his throat.
"What was he like?" Leah sat cross-legged on a worn woolen rug, holding a plate of cooked horse meat.
"Him..." Aemon bowed his head, forcing a smile. "He was better than me. I'm not as good as he was."
"No!" Leah protested, her eyes widening as she held up a small dagger. "You're a Prince, and so was he. You're a real dragon, just like him. How could he be better than you?"
"That's different."
Aemon gently pushed the blade aside, picking up a piece of horse meat. He chewed slowly, wincing as his jaws ached from the effort. The tough meat resisted, refusing to fall apart.
Gritting his teeth, Aemon forced himself to swallow. I used to savor the finest food thanks to my parents, he thought bitterly. Now, the life of the Dothraki is like being orphaned and left to drink brown soup in a flea-ridden pit.
"Are you sad?" Leah leaned closer, peering into Aemon’s purple eyes.
"No," Aemon lied.
Leah tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. "You had a dragon. What was it like?"
"It was big... a great big one." Aemon’s throat tightened, and a flush crept up his neck.
"It’s dead, isn’t it?" Leah, sharp as ever, saw through his attempt to hide the truth. If the dragon still lived, it would have found its way back to him by now.
Aemon's face darkened. In frustration, he grabbed the dagger and stabbed at the horse meat, cutting it with unnecessary force.
"Don’t be sad," Leah said, her voice bright, as if she were offering a gift. "In a few days, I’ll give you a little horse. Then you can ride with me, instead of walking with the slaves."
Aemon:...
I didn’t want to talk. My thoughts were consumed by memories of the Trickster—the wild dragon I saw that night. It never returned. I regained the will to live, but without a goal, without direction.
"Woof woof~~"
A playful barking pulled Aemon from his thoughts. Leah was lying beside him, trying to cheer him up with a curtsy that looked more like a game.
Blushing, Aemon leaned back. "What are you doing?"
"Your dragon is gone, isn’t it?" Leah’s eyes sparkled with hope as she offered, "I’ll be your dragon now. I’ll take you for rides across the Great Grass Sea."
Aemon couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head. "That’s not how dragons sound."
"Then how do they sound?" Leah asked eagerly, sitting down beside him. Her enthusiasm undiminished, her wide eyes flitted between Aemon’s fair face, which grew more captivating the longer she stared. His short silver-blonde hair and purple eyes shimmered like the moon and stars.
Leah sniffed the air and grinned. The stench of sweat and dirt had faded, replaced by the smell of mutton and grass. "So, how do dragons really sound?" she repeated, her curiosity undeterred.
"A dragon is a dragon. You can’t imitate it." Aemon shifted uncomfortably, but Leah followed, sitting even closer.
With no other options, they both turned their attention back to the horse meat. Leah retrieved the small dagger, slicing it into thin strips as they ate in silence.
Outside the tent, the open-air stables buzzed with activity. Cas Khal, the stern-faced leader, stood stroking his warhorse. His expression gave nothing away, but he exchanged a knowing glance with his Bloodrider.
The scarred Bloodrider nodded in understanding. Without a word, he unsheathed his curved knife and made his way toward the tent. His sharp eyes glinted with a dark, complex intent.