𝙰 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 《ASOIAF》

Madness?

Warning: This chapter contains graphic content, including violence, gore, and spoilers for the story.

Rhaenyra sat upon her high-backed chair at the head of the council table, her brow furrowed in deep thought. The weight of the realm pressed down upon her shoulders, and the dance of dragons seemed to grow ever more perilous with each passing day.

Suddenly, an idea flickered to life in her mind—a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows of uncertainty. In her past life, two of the dragonseeds had proven their loyalty to her without question: Nettles and Addam of Hull. With the dragons as their allies, they had struck fear into the hearts of their enemies and secured victories that seemed impossible.

As murmurs of surprise rippled through the council chamber, Rhaenyra outlined her plan. Those who proved themselves worthy of claiming a dragon would be rewarded with lands, titles, and honors beyond their wildest dreams. But she knew that not all who sought the power of the dragons could be trusted.

In secret, she made arrangements with a select few—the shadows of the night, the silent knives in the dark. Hugh Hammer and Ulf the White, once her allies, had proven themselves untrustworthy, their ambitions threatening to unravel the fragile fabric of her reign.

With a silent nod and a steely glint in her eye, Rhaenyra set her plan into motion. The fate of the realm hung in the balance, and she would do whatever it took to ensure that her enemies were vanquished and her allies remained loyal.

As word spread throughout Dragonstone and Driftmark of Rhaenyra's call for dragon riders, a tide of hopeful souls descended upon the Dragonpit, each one claiming a lineage tied to the ancient houses of Targaryen and Velaryon. Some came with genuine intent, their bloodlines tracing back through generations of noble ancestry, while others, driven by ambition or desperation, sought to seize the opportunity for wealth and power.

As word spread throughout Dragonstone and Driftmark of Rhaenyra's call for dragon riders, a tide of hopeful souls descended upon the Dragonpit, each one claiming a lineage tied to the ancient houses of Targaryen and Velaryon. Some came with genuine intent, their bloodlines tracing back through generations of noble ancestry, while others, driven by ambition or desperation, sought to seize the opportunity for wealth and power.

Among the throng of would-be dragon riders, a diverse array of faces and features emerged. Some bore the distinctive blue eyes of House Velaryon, a trait passed down through centuries of noble heritage. Others displayed the telltale signs of Targaryen lineage, with eyes of vibrant violet and hair of silver-gold cascading around their shoulders.

Prince Jacaerys, standing tall amidst the crowd, raised his voice to address the gathered masses. With a commanding presence befitting his royal blood, he spoke of Rhaenyra's terms—the rewards awaiting those bold enough to claim a dragon as their own.

"Listen well, brave souls of Dragonstone and Driftmark," Jacaerys declared, his voice echoing against the ancient stones of the Dragonpit. "Today, you stand on the precipice of destiny. The opportunity before you is one of both peril and promise. For those who dare to seize it, riches and glory await."

He paused, allowing his words to sink in before continuing. "To those who would claim a dragon as their own, a small bag of gold and provisions for a day or two shall be granted. But to those who pledge their swords to Queen Rhaenyra's cause, I offer double the gold, double the provisions, and the honor of serving alongside the true rulers of the Seven Kingdoms."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the Dragonmont, two men prepared to claim the largest of the beasts that roosted there. Ulf the White and Hugh Hammer, their names whispered in hushed tones among the gathered crowd, stood on the precipice of destiny, unaware of the fate that awaited them.