Chapter 387: Laena Gives Birth
“Laena!” Daemon shouted, startled by his wife's sudden arrival.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Laena called out crisply, “Dracarys!”
“Roar...” Vhagar swooped down, unleashing Dragonfire that shattered the defenses of several watchtowers before quickly taking to the air again. Laena, with her silver hair flowing in the wind, rode gracefully in the saddle, her shoulders bound in chains for security. Restricted by her pregnancy, she wore no armor, only a thin white dress.
Vhagar, like a protective mother, flew fast and steady, ensuring Laena’s safety. Daemon stared for a moment before quickly grasping his wife’s intentions.
“Roar...” Caraxes, sensing the unity, shot up into the sky, following Vhagar and spewing Dragonfire in synchronization.
Over the eight years of traveling the Free Cities, the bond between Daemon and Laena had deepened, mirrored by the connection between their dragons. Vhagar and Caraxes frequently soared together, displaying scenes of two dragons dancing in perfect harmony.
Rewind twenty to thirty years, and the masters of these two dragons were Aemon and Baelon, known for their legendary achievement in the “Hundred Candles Battle.”
“Dracarys!” Laena’s eyes were resolute as she commanded Vhagar to break through the harbor’s defenses, carving a flaming path of destruction.
Vhagar roared repeatedly, its vertical pupils indifferent to the chaos, its huge body a relentless killing machine.
Even Caraxes, powerful as it was, dared not approach too closely, instead flanking to provide support. Despite Vhagar’s age and gradually aging body, it displayed an unparalleled destructive force, living up to his name as the Goddess of War
“Attack!” Daemon shouted. “Siege the free city...”
With the two dragons dancing in deadly harmony, the morale of their forces soared. They charged into Tyrosh, following the scorched path left by Vhagar’s fiery wrath.
In moments, Tyrosh descended into chaos.
...
A squad of guardsmen rushed up the tower, aiming their scorpion crossbows at the sky.
"Roar!" Vhagar's war consciousness was strong, and the dragon's head aimed at the tower, spewing black smoke and rolling Dragonfire.
Laena crouched low, protecting the child in her womb. She had received secret messages from several of her cousins about Daemon's intent to wage a private war. Each day, her worry and depression grew.
Now she understood how Vhagar felt. Determined to correct her husband's mistake, she mounted Vhagar's back, fulfilling her duty as both wife and dragon rider. With a mournful whimper, Vhagar carried her across the Narrow Sea. The old dragon had finally returned to the battlefield.
"Laena, help the army in the alleys!" Daemon, worried, urged his wife to stay out of range of the scorpion crossbows. Vhagar was too large, easily becoming a living target among the tall towers.
At 170 years old, Vhagar's scales had hardened over time, becoming harder than steel. Even the Cannibal's strengthened scales were not as thick. Age had not only weakened Vhagar's body, it had also increased his ability to survive.
Daemon shook his head and smiled. His wife, inheriting his cousin's quick mind, was much smarter than him. The couple rode their dragons, destroying towers as they soared above the city. With dragon support, the army's morale soared, driving them straight into the city.
Within an hour, the army defeated the defending forces and surrounded the Archon’s mansion on the west side of the city. Caraxes landed boldly, stepping into the mansion's vestibule.
Daemon looked around. The mansion was silent, a scene of abandonment.
Bang! The mansion gate was violently broken down, and soldiers poured in.
Daemon's face darkened as he ordered coldly, "Search every corner. Don't spare a single soul!"
Archon Milov had insulted him with numerous letters. Daemon was determined to roast him alive.
...
Tyrosh, a hidden beach on the east side.
"Move quickly."
"Hurry, or it will be too late."
Hundreds of well-equipped mercenaries fled, led by the brash Milov. They carried crates of gold, silver, and jewelry, and in the middle of the group, seven or eight rich prisoners were bound and dragged along.
Milov looked back at the city and saw the huge green dragon hovering like a massive mountain, pressing down on Tyrosh.
"Gulp." Milov swallowed hard, envy and jealousy twisting his face. "Damn it, how come Targaryen has so many dragons?"
He had thought he could barely resist with only Daemon attacking the city. The Sealord of Braavos had sent a message urging him to defend the city-state to the death, promising support from a hidden fleet in the Narrow Sea.
Bullshit! Sealord Braavos was clearly swindling him, using him as bait to attract the Iron Throne's attention. As a mercenary, he knew when it was time to cut and run.
Clap Clap Clap...
The tide surged onto the beach, and several small sailing ships hid outside the reef.
Daemon frowned slightly, unhappy with the turn of events. "I blocked the news. Who told you?"
"Daemon, I am your wife!" Laena's frustration boiled over. "My family has risked their lives for you. Do you think you can hide this from me?"
Growing impatient, Daemon said in a deep voice, "I fought for honor, to win a territory that belongs to me and to the child in your womb!"
"You only have honor and your pride in your eyes. Don't use me and the child as leverage!" Laena's disappointment turned to anger as she shouted, "For the sake of your pride, you'd rather sacrifice the soldiers who follow you. You're only doing this for your own selfish desires."
Having been his wife for many years, she understood his personality better than Daemon did himself. Beneath the lonely, arrogant, and magnificent exterior of the Rogue Prince was a selfish, paranoid, and reckless man—sometimes less understanding than a child.
Daemon's temper flared. He glanced at Laena's swollen belly and forced himself to say, "Whatever you say, I've already struck down Tyrosh."
"You struggled to make peace with the king. Have you thought about how you're going to face your brother after this battle?" Laena's anger was palpable, her breath growing sharper.
Fed up with wandering and her husband's constant foolishness, she felt a sudden warmth between her legs. Laena's face blanched. Ignoring the soldiers around her, she reached under her skirt, fumbling.
When she pulled her hand out, her fingers were stained with blood.
Daemon froze in place, his expression turning to one of shock and fear.
Laena's pale lips quivered. "I seem to be in labor."
She had been sleepless and depressed for the past month. After the argument with Daemon, her water broke.
Daemon's face changed drastically. He rushed to Laena, picked her up, and carried her to a nearby attic building, shouting anxiously, "Go call the accompanying maester, quickly!"
The soldiers didn't dare to be slow, rushing out of the mansion to summon help.
...
Not long after, Cannibal soared above Tyrosh, surveying the chaos below.
"Roar..."
A wail full of emotion echoed far and wide.
Cannibal's green vertical pupils locked onto the Archonh's mansion in the western city center.
Rhaegar was stunned for a moment, then said suspiciously, "Vhagar?"
He recognized Vhagar's grief-filled wail immediately.
"Cannibal, rush over."
Rhaegar frowned, sensing something was wrong.
Cannibal turned and soared away.
Soon, the dragon landed outside the mansion's gate.
"Prince..."
The soldiers guarding the gate brightened up and saluted.
Rhaegar nodded and barged straight into the mansion.
As he entered, Vhagar's huge, distressed form was conspicuous, lying among the rubble and wailing uncontrollably.
From hundreds of meters away, Rhaegar saw Daemon standing grimly in front of an attic door, at a loss for words and flailing around.
Rhaegar stepped forward, about to speak.
"Ah! Come out quickly..."
Laena's anguished scream echoed from behind the door, filled with heartbreaking pain.
Rhaegar winced, choking back the words that came to his mouth.
There was only one thought in his mind:
"She's giving birth! It must be hurting like hell!"