Game of Thrones: Second Son of House Targaryen

Chapter 360: Break His Leg

Under Dany’s command, the red dragon and the black dragon each snatched a person in their jaws. The thick, sulfurous breath of the dragons nearly made Renly faint. As the yellow dragon spewed fire to block the advancing soldiers, Viserys leapt onto the silver dragon, and he and Dany swiftly fled Summerhall.

Brienne screamed in despair as she watched Loras Tyrell being carried away by the dragons. Overcome with guilt, she couldn't fathom how Viserys had managed to get so close, let alone escape.

“Brother, what’s that thing?” Dany asked, feeling two hard lumps on her back.

“Dragon eggs,” Viserys replied.

“Dragon eggs!” Dany echoed in astonishment.

“Renly claimed they were part of Princess Rhaelle Targaryen’s dowry. They haven’t turned to stone yet—they’re still alive.”

Viserys had just acquired nearly 300 years of Targaryen heritage in the form of those eggs. The Targaryens always placed dragon eggs in the cradles of their newborns, and with Shinelli’s child due soon, he thought they might try hatching them then.

As Viserys and Dany discussed potential names for the young dragons once they hatched, Loras, still trapped in the black dragon’s mouth, continued hurling insults.

“Viserys, you bastard! Traitor! The gods will never forgive you! You damned Targaryens!”

“Do not insult His Grace! Robert is the usurper!” Quentyn snapped, though his voice lacked strength.

Dany turned to look at Loras coldly, but he showed no sign of backing down.

“If you’re so brave, have your dragon bite me to death! Go on!”

“Brother, let’s land!” Dany urged.

“Agreed.”

Viserys was baffled by Loras’ insolence, even after being captured. He’s as good as dead, yet he still dares to speak like this, he thought, shaking his head.

They descended onto the top of a mountain, far from Summerhall, which was now hidden behind the northern and southern ridges. Safe at last.

When the red dragon vomited Renly onto the ground, the man was barely recognizable. His once-graceful demeanor was gone, replaced by a pitiful figure covered in dirt and blood. Though he hadn’t been bathed in dragonfire, the heat of the dragon’s breath had singed his silken clothes, warping the fabric.

Loras, disgorged by the black dragon Nymerion, continued cursing. Viserys, no longer willing to indulge him, unsheathed his sword and brought it down hard on Renly’s leg.

Renly screamed in agony, and Loras’ heart wrenched as if pierced by a blade.

“No! What are you doing?” Loras cried out.

“If you curse again, I’ll break his other leg,” Viserys warned, his voice cold. “If you keep barking, I’ll break his back. And if you push me further, I’ll crack his skull open.”

Faced with Viserys’ threat, Loras finally fell silent, his defiance extinguished.

Viserys untied Loras and commanded, “Go! Gather some firewood.”

Loras glared at him, then glanced at Renly, who was still groaning in pain. Reluctantly, he forced himself to comply.

In truth, Viserys and his group didn’t need firewood at all. They could easily rest by the dragons if they wished. The dragons’ bodies naturally maintained a temperature of around 40 degrees Celsius, and under their wings, the heat reached as high as 50 degrees.

No wonder Aegon the Conqueror only had a child in his later years, Viserys mused. His sperm must’ve been cooked when he was young.

It was for this reason that Viserys often raised his body to dissipate the heat while riding his dragon.

Before long, Loras returned, carrying a pile of firewood. His arms were scratched from the branches, and his feet, bare and bloodied, were torn by the rocky ground. He hadn’t had time to put on his boots when Viserys captured him.

Quentyn set about arranging the fire, and with a casual snap of his fingers, Viserys lit it, a small burst of flame igniting the wood.

Loras stared, dumbfounded. He had expected Viserys to summon the dragon to light the fire.

By the light of the flames, Viserys, Dany, and Quentyn gathered around to admire the captured dragon eggs. These eggs felt warmer compared to the fossilized ones they had seen before.

“Brother, do you think there’s another way to hatch these eggs?” Dany asked, her gaze fixed on the eggs with growing fondness.

“I’m not sure,” Viserys replied. “We should take them back to Tyrosh and let Aemon and Shiera study them. Though, I doubt they’ll find anything new. Dragons are genetically—magically—modified creatures, much like our Valyrian bloodlines. It’s probably like the relationship between a key and a lock. Under normal circumstances, you can only hatch a dragon the traditional way.”

Dany couldn’t take her eyes off the white egg. Its soft luster, tinged with pink spots, made it irresistibly beautiful. She turned to Viserys. “I want our child to have the white egg.”

“Of course,” Viserys agreed. The white egg had a gleam like fresh meat, and no girl could resist its charm.

‘What if we call it 'Snowy Red?’ he thought, but immediately dismissed it. That doesn’t sound right.

“Then you think of a name,” he said, a bit helpless. Viserys was never good at naming things. Coming up with Willemrys had already been an achievement for him.

Loras, who had been tending to Renly, suddenly approached Viserys and the others.

"Your Grace... could you please give us some water?"

Viserys glanced at Loras, then shifted his gaze to Renly, who lay on the ground not far away. Sweat beaded on Renly’s forehead, and he had fainted once again from the pain. Viserys had only shattered his knee—had he broken more than that, Renly wouldn’t have lasted this long.

"No," Viserys replied coldly.

"It’s just water!" Loras protested.

"Do I need to say it again?"

Viserys' refusal infuriated Loras, and he snapped, "Viserys, you can’t rule the Seven Kingdoms like this!"

"Robert killed my brother and his children. I’m already showing mercy by not burning Renly alive!" Viserys retorted sharply. "Do you not understand the situation? Do you really think House Tyrell matters that much to me? I’ve spared you both to end the war faster. Say another word, and I’ll kill him right here."

Loras fell silent, his anger fading into grim resignation. The hatred between the Targaryens and the Baratheons was irreconcilable. If he pushed Viserys any further, it would be Renly who paid the price.

"We’ll go to Bitterbridge next," Viserys continued. "I’ll leave you with Lord Mace."

"And Lord Renly?"

"That’s not for you to ask," Viserys said, his patience wearing thin. This Loras is too stubborn, he thought. Doesn’t he realize how much trouble he’s bringing upon his house?

The next morning, Viserys instructed Quentyn to "pack" Renly up, preparing for the dragon to carry him away in its claws.

"Can’t he just ride on the dragon’s back like you?" Loras asked, his voice edged with desperation.

Viserys stared at him, completely exasperated. Turning to Quentyn, he said, "Go on, give him two slaps."