Chapter 133: Dragon Thieves

Viserys stared blankly as cracking sounds echoed from his dragon egg. The scaly exterior broke apart piece by piece. First to emerge was a pale yellow wing, fluttering twice before revealing the rest of the creature's body.

A pale yellow hatchling, entirely devoid of any other hues, stood before him. Its wings were unusually thick and broad — less exaggerated than Sunfyre's, yet exuding an undeniable sturdiness. The dragon's crystalline body shimmered under the greenhouse's firelight. Its frame was robust, especially its legs, which resembled the sturdy limbs of an elephant or a rhinoceros rather than the sinewy, lizard-like legs typical of dragons. Its claws were less sharp, and its spiked protrusions leaned more toward bulkiness rather than the sleek, razor-like points seen on dragons such as shadowmare or the Red Queen, Meleys.

The hatchling let out a low, resonant cry, snapping Viserys out of his daze. He rushed forward clumsily, catching a glimpse of the dragon's head. Like its body, the neck was thick and short, with a drooping gular pouch — a feature typically seen only in aging dragons, such as Vhagar and, more recently, Vermithor. But for a newborn dragon to have such a feature was unheard of.

Compared to its stout body, the hatchling's head was disproportionately small and broad. Its beak-like snout bore a singular, thick horn — less a sharp spear and more akin to a rugged stone glinting under the firelight. The hatchling had only this one horn, but a row of pillar-like spikes extended from its neck down to the base of its wings. Its tail ended in a bifurcated fin, delicate compared to the rest of its stocky frame.

The next moment, another hatchling plummeted from above, landing squarely on Viserys's pale yellow dragon. The impact sent the yellow hatchling stumbling backward. It bared its teeth, ready to roar in retaliation, but froze upon seeing its assailant.

Viserys was equally stunned.

The new hatchling was dazzling — a sapphire-blue masterpiece.

Its scales, shimmering like countless embedded gemstones, sparkled under the light. A light-blue dorsal fin stretched from its head to its back. Young and tender ox-like horns adorned its head, while fish-like fins draped gracefully from its cheeks. Two long fin rays extended down to its chest like dragon whiskers. The hatchling's slender, elegant body was crowned with a long, jewel-shaped tail fin at its tip. Its expansive wings shifted from deep blue at the base to sky blue at the membranous edges.

In that instant, Viserys's mind held a single thought: How could this dragon be so stunning? Glancing back at his own hatchling, with its rugged and stout appearance — a miniature version of Vhagar — he felt a wave of despair.

It wasn't until he remembered Candlelight's visage that he began to console himself. Despite Candlelight's ungainly appearance, Samantha never showed a hint of disdain when visiting the dragon in the Dragonpit. She would polish its scales, whisper to it, and feed it treats as if it were the finest creature in existence. Compared to Candlelight, his own dragon, with its crystal-like sheen, was far more presentable. It was something he could take pride in.

Having reasoned with himself, Viserys mustered the courage to reach out and touch his dragon. But his hatchling paid him no attention, entirely focused on circling the sapphire-blue dragon.

Viserys felt a pang of embarrassment so strong he wished he could vanish.

"Dragons are living creatures with their own preferences," came Draezell's voice from behind. Startled, Viserys turned to find Draezell and Rey standing nearby. The steward, Yamor, stood behind them, holding a bucket of roasted lamb. Draezell grabbed a piece and tossed it to the two hatchlings.

The pale yellow dragon immediately pounced on the meat, tearing off a chunk and chewing it briefly before nudging it toward the sapphire-blue hatchling. It placed the piece of meat at its feet and pushed it gently toward its companion.

Viserys wanted to crawl into a hole. Meanwhile, Draezell and Rey watched the interaction with amusement. Such camaraderie between dragons was a rare sight. Even Vermithor and Silverwing didn't display this level of affection, and as for the other dragons... well, friendly sparring seemed to be the norm.

"Congratulations, Prince Viserys," Draezell said, patting the boy on the shoulder. "You now have your very own dragon. When Rhaena returns, you can boast about it to her!"

Since her marriage to Rey, Rhaena had traveled back to High Tide to visit her family and attend Lord Corlys Velaryon's funeral. She had not yet returned.

Viserys nodded reluctantly, repeatedly telling himself that his dragon was special. After all, a dragon was still a dragon — his dream come true. He finally accepted his dragon's peculiar tastes, selecting a piece of fatty meat from Yamor's bucket and tossing it to the yellow hatchling.

The hatchling ignored it, waiting patiently until the sapphire-blue dragon had eaten its fill. Only then did it cautiously approach the fatty meat, ensuring its companion was satisfied before devouring it in large, hungry bites.

Viserys silently repeated reassurances to himself as he watched.

"Have you decided on a name for your dragon?" Draezell noticed Viserys' embarrassment and stepped in to ease the tension. Viserys finally snapped out of his thoughts. Right, the dragon needed a good name — something fitting. He briefly considered naming it "White Crystal" after its appearance but dismissed the idea as too uninspired. He decided to stick to his original plan.

"Its name is Aegarax," Viserys declared.

"Aegarax, is it?" Draezell nodded approvingly. "The god of all creatures that walk, swim, and fly in the Valyrian pantheon. The creator of the first dragon. Naming your dragon after such a deity — a fine choice indeed."

Viserys turned his gaze to the sapphire-colored hatchling, which seemed utterly enthralled by Aegarax. Curious, he asked, "Uncle Draezell, have you decided on a name for yours?"

"Zarafax," Rey answered before his brother could speak, receiving an approving nod from Draezell. "The name is derived from High Valyrian, meaning 'Eye of the Stars.' We discussed it during the journey — it's perfect for this hatchling."

Draezell secretly sighed. That name had originally been reserved for the bonded dragon of Diana's unborn child, but since this egg had hatched first, the name had to go to it.

Viserys glanced at the two hatchlings, or rather, at Aegarax, who seemed determined to stick to Zarafax like glue. He couldn't help but let out a frustrated sigh.

\---

While they were busy discussing the new hatchlings at the Dragonpit.

At the summer Market.

Ser Tom reviewed his shopping list. Most of the luxury items were checked off, except for the last two gifts: a sharkskin scabbard and a golden scepter adorned with dragon motifs. He figured he could craft those himself — his work would surpass anything the local goldsmiths could make.

As he mentally sketched designs for the scepter, the loud chatter of youths interrupted his thoughts. Tom was ready to yell, but then he saw his daughter and immediately softened.

"Lia, what are you doing here?"

Behind her were two pale-haired boys trying to push her around. "Adam, Erin, what are you two brats doing here? Shouldn't you be helping your mother? Do I have to teach you a lesson for Dennis?" Tom's demeanor shifted in an instant as he pulled his daughter to his side, already reaching for the warhammer at his belt.

"Uncle Tom, something's wrong!" Erin blurted, dragging Adam closer as he rapidly recounted everything they'd overheard and seen at the estate. "I heard them insulting Prince Draezell and planning to steal dragons!"

"What?" Tom released Lia, grabbing Erin by his collar. "Swear to the Seven you're telling the truth!"

"Father, Erin is telling the truth. I saw it too!" Lia protested, clutching his arm.

"You saw it as well?" Tom let go of Erin, his face darkening. "You brats, watch over these things and Lia. I'll be back."

Tom mounted his horse and rode off like a storm, determined to alert the city guard and track down the dragon thieves.

When they finally broke into the thieves mansion, they found nothing but abandoned slaves. The culprits were long gone.

"They've likely fled to the outskirts," Dennis concluded, returning to his horse. "I'll ride to Dragonstone to report this to Lord Aslan. Tom, take the rest of the men and give chase."

Tom nodded. "Adam, Erin, you've seen the thieves, yes?"

Both boys nodded.

"Good. You're coming with me. Tom, leave twenty men to patrol the area. The rest of you, follow me outside the city to Lord Argo's ranch."

---

In a remote valley

Three Volantene men and several silver-haired slaves gazed hungrily at the valley below, where the dragon Vermax tore into a fat sheep.

Over the past two years, Vermax had grown rapidly. Rey had classified it, along with Vermithor, Shadowmare, and Starsong, as one of the "large dragon breeds" in his secret files.

"Didn't expect this one to be a big dragon," muttered Hoegon Bellerys, licking his lips. "Lataz, you go."

Lataz Surlaxon straightened, slowly making his way toward Vermax.

The dragon sniffed the air, catching the scent of unfamiliar humans. But beneath that, it also detected the faint trace of dragonblood in Lataz. For now, Vermax merely glanced at him before continuing to devour the sheep.

Lataz grinned inwardly. As expected, my bloodline works like a charm.

As he approached, he spoke in High Valyrian, "Mighty dragon, obey my command. Stop feeding."

Vermax turned to him with a confused look, snorted, then resumed eating.

Who does this guy think he is\?\ Vermax thought. Had it not been for the trace of dragonblood in Lataz, the dragon would have incinerated him already.

"Damn beast," Lataz cursed under his breath. Louder this time, he commanded, "Mighty dragon, obey me. Look at me. Submit to me."

Ignoring the command, Vermax roared angrily, nearly knocking Lataz off his feet.

Something's not right\,\ Lataz thought, touching his face. According to family lore, dragons should be docile before a dragonlord. No matter — he just needed to mount it.

Reaching for the saddle straps, Lataz attempted to pull himself onto the dragon's back. But Vermax shifted, dodging his hand and roaring again.

"Beast! Obey me! I, Lataz Surlaxon of House Surlaxon, command you to submit!"

He reached for the saddle again, unaware of his companions' frantic shouts behind him.

By the time he felt the scorching heat above, it was too late.

As he looked up, all he could see was a blaze of orange-red flames and razor-sharp teeth descending upon him.

Roar!

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