Fire and Blood

Chapter 125: Second Battle of Tumbleton (Part 1)

Viserys...

Stepping away from the door, Jaehaerys gathered his essential belongings and retrieved his straight-edged king's sword. As he emerged from his guest room, he coincidentally collided with Lord Manfryd Mooton, the ruler of Maidenpool and the younger brother of the late Walys Mooton, who had perished in the battle at Rook's Rest.

Lord Manfryd stumbled back. "Ah, Prince Jaehaerys," he stammered, quickly regaining his composure. "I did not expect to run into you here. I had assumed you were still in your room."

Jaehaerys studied the man before him, his mind racing with possibilities. Manfryd had always been a loyal vassal since he declared Maidenpool for the Blacks. "No need for apologies. I must extend my personal thanks to House Mooton for your hospitality in these trying times," he replied, his voice steady. "However, I cannot afford to remain idle for long."

"My prince?"

"Forgive me, Lord Manfryd, but my presence here would pose a risk to Maidenpool and its people should the fighting come to your doors. Whatever your men may have heard or suggested, this war is far from over. Not while Aegon Waters and Aemond are still out there."

"But word had already spread about your daring heroism at Harrenhal. The minstrels have already begun singing how you single-handedly defeated the accursed kinslayer Aemond Targa―"

"My uncle still lives," Jaehaerys interrupted, turning to face him. "While it is true that I beat him in battle, I could not finish him. All those agents who accompanied me... They're all gone. Once Aemond fully recovers, he will personally burn down every village and every holdfast in the Riverlands he suspects of harboring me." He slung his bag over his shoulder. "That's why I must go. As long as I stay, I'm only endangering your house."

"But my prince," Norren, Maidenpool's maester, chimed in, "your wounds, they haven't properly healed yet. You need to rest."

"I will be fine, Maester Norren. House Targaryen will not forget what you've done for us."

Jaehaerys wasted no time leaving Maidenpool, his mind consumed with urgency to get out of this place. Ignoring the confusion and protests that erupted in his wake, he swiftly made his way towards the outskirts of the town, where Vermithor awaited him. The streets were abuzz with whispers and gasps as the people witnessed the Silver Dragons's departure, but Jaehaerys paid them no heed. As he approached the spot where Vermithor had just finished devouring a bull, the pungent smell of charred flesh filled the air, mingling with the acrid scent of smoke. The remains of the slaughtered animal lay scattered upon the cold, unforgiving stones, a stark reminder of the dragon's insatiable appetite. With each step he took, the ground seemed to tremble beneath him as if acknowledging the presence of the Bronze Fury that awaited his arrival. And there, amidst the remnants of the bull, stood Vermithor, his new massive size of 287 feet in length, towering over Jaehaerys.

"Huh... 100 years old, and you're still growing bigger by the day."

As Jaehaerys drew closer, Vermithor lifted his head, his eyes meeting the young prince's gaze like pools of molten bronze. They seemed to burn with an intensity that mirrored the dragon's fiery breath, yet there was also a glimmer of recognition and loyalty within them.

"*Grrrrrrrr!*"

"Dohaerās, Vērmithari. Lykirī. (Serve, Vermithor. Be calm.)" With a nod of his head, Jaehaerys signaled to Vermithor, and the elder dragon responded by lowering his massive head, inviting his rider to mount him. As Jaehaerys climbed onto Vermithor's back, he could feel the power coursing through the dragon's body, the heat emanating from his bronze scales. Once strapped in, he gripped the reins of his saddle. "Sōvēs, Vērmithari! (Fly, Vermithor!)" he commanded.