**Chapter 143: The Turmoil Continues**  

Staring at the retreating figure of the battered Seasmoke, the Devourer snorted disdainfully, its vertical pupils brimming with contempt. 

Aside from the old dragon who fought with unyielding resolve, not a single dragon on the entire island posed a threat. 

Turning its gaze toward the distant night, a trace of unease flickered in its eyes. 

With a beat of its wings, it whipped up a howling gale and descended toward High Tide City below. 

By the stone archway, clusters of torches were lit. 

Looking at the Devourer's silhouette, Rhaegar's expression remained calm, though waves of turmoil churned in his heart. 

Tonight's banquet had been disrupted by Daemon's unexpected arrival. 

The battle between uncle and nephew, coupled with the chaotic clash of dragons, shattered the fragile façade of peace, leaving the situation beyond repair. 

"Sigh, truth only reveals itself under dragonfire..." 

Rhaegar sighed inwardly, his gaze sweeping subtly over the Velaryon crowd as he silently plotted his next move. 

As the chaos subsided, Rhaenys' expression eased somewhat. She was the first to speak: 

"Rhaegar, your dragon is truly extraordinary." 

With decades of experience as a dragonrider, she could barely establish a connection with Meleys strong enough to guide her dragon out of the fray. 

Yet that pitch-black behemoth had not only abandoned its fight with Vhagar but had also managed to divert Vhagar's attention, forcing the other dragons to retreat. 

This level of mastery was far beyond what ordinary dragonriders could achieve. 

With the dragons' fighting ceased, the others finally breathed a sigh of relief. 

Although several dragons had sustained injuries to varying degrees—Seasmoke and Sunfyre most notably, having been heavily damaged by the Devourer's assault—they had at least escaped with their lives. 

"Aunt, tonight's trouble is far from over," Rhaegar said, lowering his gaze while secretly communicating with the Devourer. 

"Rhaenys, the dragons have flown off. Is everything resolved now?" 

Corlys Velaryon strode forward in light armor, leading a squad of guards as he anxiously addressed his wife. 

During the dragon brawl, as expected, disturbances had erupted across the island. 

Corlys had already dispatched men to quell the unrest, raising the island's security level to the highest alert. 

Seeing her husband's worried face, Rhaenys hesitated, her expression conflicted. 

"Corlys…" 

Before she could finish speaking, a thunderous roar echoed through the air. 

A sudden gust of wind swept down on High Tide City, extinguishing clusters of torches. 

"Stand ready!" 

Corlys' face changed dramatically as he hurriedly relit the torches and shielded his wife behind him. 

Though he dreamed of House Velaryon possessing more dragons, he, like Viserys, harbored a deep, inexplicable fear of their power. 

Years of seafaring had taught him that the forces of nature were vast and uncontrollable; even the most steadfast sailors could do little but avoid them. 

In Corlys' eyes, dragons were beings beyond human control—useful, yet dangerous. 

The guards quickly formed a protective circle around Rhaegar and the others, fumbling to rekindle the torches. 

The renewed glow of the flames drove back the darkness once more. 

At last, a shadow emerged, casting half of High Tide City into its massive outline. 

"Lord Corlys, it seems that aside from discussing the matter of the Triarchy, the invitation to King's Landing may also require a conversation about the ownership of dragons." 

Rhaegar's calm voice echoed, reaching the ears of everyone present. 

Corlys, whose eyesight had worsened with age, squinted at Rhaegar beneath the stone archway. 

Rhaegar stood with his head slightly lowered, facing away from the crowd, his silver hair dancing in the night wind. 

"Prince, all dragonriders in my house carry Targaryen blood. Our two families have been intertwined through generations of marriage," Corlys said, glancing at his wife. His heartbeat quickened. 

As he spoke, a trace of nervousness crept into his tone, as if even he couldn't fully convince himself of the argument he had just made. 

"Oh, is that so?" 

Rhaegar's voice remained indifferent, a faint chuckle escaping his lips. 

"In that case, it's all the more reason to have a thorough discussion and establish a proper system to ensure that no ill-intentioned individuals can undermine the friendship between our two houses." 

While speaking, he slowly turned around. 

In the flickering light of the torches, the crowd vaguely saw a massive, pitch-black figure standing behind the stone archway. 

Rhaegar swept his gaze over the assembled Velaryons and said calmly, "What do you think, Lord Corlys?" 

*Whoosh—* 

As his words fell, a fierce gust of wind accompanied them. The Devourer unfurled its broad wings, its bloodied dragon head towering as high as the spires of High Tide. Its green, slitted pupils surveyed everyone below. 

Corlys Velaryon's eyes narrowed as he swallowed hard and gripped his wife's hand tightly. 

No one could ignore the presence of a dragon staring them down. 

Rhaegar clasped his hands in front of him, advancing step by step, and asked, "Aunt Rhaenys, you are a princess of House Targaryen. Do you support my proposal?" 

"Rhaegar, I am but a woman. I cannot determine the fate of an entire family." 

Rhaenys held her head high, meeting her nephew's gaze without a hint of fear. 

She was a sharp and wise woman. 

Since the day she first rode a dragon, she had experienced marriage, childbirth, competition for the Iron Throne, and countless battles, both large and small. 

But the world does not always bend to one's will. 

In Westeros, men held the reins of power. Simply because she was a woman, her voice was always weaker than a man's. 

She became a pawn in her family's marriage alliances, a subordinate to her husband. 

Though she held the title of the "Queen Who Never Was," she could only live a slow, stagnant life on Dragonstone, much like her dragon, Meleys the Red Queen, lazing away in a confined space. 

Day after dull day passed by. 

"Aunt, being born a woman is not your fault. You possess wisdom that rivals that of Queen Visenya herself." 

In their brief interactions, Rhaegar was convinced that Rhaenys's loyalty still lay with House Targaryen. Thus, he tried to persuade her: 

"When I return to King's Landing, I will secure a position for you on the Small Council. The dragons of House Targaryen must remain within the family, under Targaryen leadership." 

He intended to form a Dragonrider Corps. 

This plan would not only gather the Velaryon dragons but also prevent future complications arising from marriage alliances, where dragons would leave with daughters married into other houses. 

"What position do you intend to give Rhaenys?" 

Hearing talk of a Small Council seat and the issue of dragon ownership, Corlys was filled with suspicion. 

Rhaegar glanced at him but did not reply. 

Corlys frowned at the silence, wanting to press further. 

*"Screeech—"* 

The Devourer raised its head and roared, green dragonfire shooting into the sky, casting the entirety of High Tide in an eerie emerald glow. 

As the flames blazed, the temperature climbed higher and higher, making everyone feel as though they were trapped in a raging inferno. The suffocating heat was almost unbearable. 

Standing before the Devourer, Rhaegar's skin reddened slightly, his body radiating intense heat. 

Fueled by boiling blood, Rhaegar seemed unfazed as he issued a warning: 

"Lord Corlys, dragons are the wealth of House Targaryen. It is not your place to interfere!" 

His father had been too weak, allowing Corlys and House Velaryon to grow increasingly bold in dismissing the royal family. 

Initially, Rhaegar had not decided how to reclaim the Velaryon dragons. 

Now, a strategy that had appeared in his dreams provided him with the solution. 

When the time was right and his strength was sufficient, he knew he would have to act decisively to avoid future disasters. 

"Enough! They can't endure this heat any longer, Rhaegar!" 

The air grew hotter and hotter, nearly unbearable. Rhaenys supported her husband, who was struggling to breathe, and pleaded with her nephew. 

She bore the blood of the dragon, as did her children. 

But her husband was merely a Valyrian descendant. If the dragonfire continued, his aging body would not survive. 

"Aunt, do you agree with my proposal?" 

Rhaegar ignored her plea, repeating his question instead. 

Tonight was an excellent opportunity. The Velaryon dragons were scattered or fleeing, their spirits low. 

He would not let this chance slip away. 

Rhaenys was truly a remarkable woman, possessing both wisdom and courage. 

But unlike Rhaenyra, she never had the same opportunities. She was always caught between House Targaryen and her husband's family. 

I've noticed that in the TV adaptation of *House of the Dragon,* women are often constrained by circumstances beyond their control, left powerless to choose their own paths. 

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*(End of Chapter)*