Chapter 348: The Summer Prince


    "Hyah!"


    Daemon''s voice was deep and dangerous as he spurred his pitch-ck warhorse into a gallop. The uncle and nephew duo charged at each other like two bolts of lightning, one silver and one ck. Their red cloaks fluttered behind them as they advanced, and theirnces were aimed at each other''s chests.


    Bang!


    The shields, both emzoned with the three-headed red dragon of House Targaryen, shattered simultaneously, sending shards of wood flying. Rhaegar steadied himself, gripping the reins and holding his seat as his horse trotted to the other end of the fence. Daemon, less fortunate, struggled to stay upright, his ck armor nking loudly.


    Rhaegar''s strength prevailed. His ancient Valyrian blood coursed with vitality, fortifying every inch of his body.


    "Nephew, you impress me!" Daemon''s voice was cold as he quickly reced his shield and charged again.


    Rhaegarposed himself and replied, "Uncle, it''s not over yet!" The magic in his blood surged, the air around him heated as veins bulged at the corners of his eyes.


    Once again, silver and ck armor shed. Daemon''snce was aimed at Rhaegar''s chest, and he tossed his shield like a frisbee.


    Boom!


    Rhaegar blocked the flying shield with his own, then thrust hisnce at Daemon''s stomach. Bothnces hit their targets, and the twobatants were knocked down.


    "Phew~~"


    The warhorses whinnied in panic, veering off course and out of the arena.


    The collision sent the crowd into a frenzy. The nobles stood, their eyes fixed on the fighters sprawled on the ground. The match between the Regent Prince and the Rogue Prince would be the talk of the Seven Kingdoms.


    "Roar--"


    A pitch-ck dragon swooped into the clouds, its massive wings beating the air, green vertical pupils surveying the arena. Other dragons scattered to avoid this fierce and dominant creature.


    "Roar..."


    A scarlet dragon, serpentine and swift, swooped around the arena, not to be outdone. The fighting fervor of its riders seemed to ignite the dragons'' own instincts.


    On the tform, Viserys watched intently, his face grave. Though not a warrior, he had seen many thrilling matches. Rhaegar and Daemon, shing fiercely, seemed determined to unseat each other.


    Alicent, beside her husband, looked tense, subconsciously picking at her fingernails. The uncle and nephew fought as if they were mortal enemies, not blood rtives.


    On the field, two figures slowly rose from the mud, ready to continue the fight.


    "Hiss!"


    Rhaegar pushed himself up with one hand, the other gripping his aching shoulder. He took off his helmet and inhaled sharply. The fall had been hard and his left shoulder throbbed painfully.


    Across the field, Daemon rolled several times before staggering to his feet, his head spinning. Their fierce exchange had taken its toll on both of them.


    Attendants rushed to bring their weapons, and uncle and nephew faced each other once more. Blood trickled from the corner of Daemon''s mouth as he picked up a one-handed sword and shield, his preferred weapons even after losing Dark Sister. Swift and ruthless swordy was his path to victory.


    "Uncle, remember the family motto?" Rhaegar grinned, twirling Truefyre, the ruby at its hilt shing crimson as if fire danced within its core.


    Daemon sneered, a cold smile curling his lips. "What trick are you trying to pull?"


    "Oh, it''s Fire and Blood!" Rhaegar dered, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly. The ckened Truefyre glowed with heat, the air around it shimmering.


    He hadn''t intended to disy his pyromancy in public, but Daemon deserved a taste of his true power. He called upon his inner strength and felt his bloodline stir.


    [Rhaegar Targaryen]


    Talents: Dreamer (Gold), Pyromancer (Purple), Longevity (Green)


    Bloodline: Ancient Valyrian Dragonlord (+48%)


    Runes: Serpent (Blue), Bronze (Green)


    Blood Sorcery: Enchantment Spell (Blue), Dragonstone (Blue)


    Relics: Blood and Fire, True Dragon Blood, Dreamscape


    Evaluation: "Ancient and noble bloodline, looking forward to the day when the me is rekindled."


    His bloodline purity had been stagnant at 47% for a long time, despite his contact with Cannibal and other dragons. But now, with Rhaenyra''s pregnancy, this duel with Daemon, and the looming war, emotions surged within him. His blood suddenly boiled, showing signs of revival.


    "Hooooo~~"


    Rhaegar panted heavily, his breath hot and burning, eyes fixed on his uncle. In a sh, he moved like lightning. Truefyre descended with the force of a million pounds, aimed directly at Daemon.


    "Roar!"


    Cannibal roared repeatedly, its pitch-ck wings blotting out the sky as it hovered just below the clouds.


    Bang...


    Daemon didn''t dodge, raising his shield to block. The thick wooden shield cracked instantly under the force.


    Seizing the moment, he swung his steel-forged one-handed sword across Rhaegar''s waist, showing no mercy.


    A green dragon pattern red in Rhaegar''s eyes as his aura peaked. He was more ruthless than Daemon, allowing the sword to cut into his side, slicing through his silver armor and grazing the skin beneath. He knew the armor''s thickness well and trusted it could withstand a typical steel sword without issue.


    "Uncle, you''re getting old!" Rhaegar shouted coldly, kicking Daemon square in the chest and sending him staggering backward.


    Taking advantage of Daemon''s unsteady retreat, Rhaegar shed with Truefyre, each strike heavier than thest.


    Dang! Dang!


    Daemon retreated hastily, his shield already useless. He could only raise his one-handed sword to block, but it was no match for Rhaegar''s hand-and-a-half sword. The powerful swings erupted repeatedly, and with a final heavy sh, Rhaegar''s de rubbed with mes and heat waves.


    Ka-chow...


    The slender one-handed sword shattered, pieces flying everywhere. Daemon''s face twisted in grim determination as he drew a dagger from his waist, ready to continue the fight.


    "Daemon, admit defeat!" Rhaegarmanded, shing the dagger away and pressing his sword to Daemon''s brow.


    In an instant, the winner was decided.


    Daemon''s body stiffened, his face dark with anger.


    "Roar..."


    Caraxes, Daemon''s dragon, rose into the air, spitting scarlet dragonfire in fury. Cannibal''s green vertical pupils shed with hostility as it swooped down, ghostly green dragonfire zing.


    Boom...


    The green mes filled the sky, but Caraxes dodged nimbly, disappearing into the clouds.


    "Roar--"


    Cannibalnded on the north shore of God''s Eye Lake, his head held high in disdain. It announced a truce; now was not the time for a hunt. Caraxes, hidden above the clouds, left a faint scarlet trail across the white clouds.


    In the martial arena, the brief sh between the dragons was a stunning spectacle. The nobles watched in fear, knowing they would be the first to suffer if a dragon fight broke out.


    On the tform, the Targaryens were equally rmed, standing and staring at the duel below.


    Rhaegar stood over Daemon, sword poised, demanding his surrender. His cheeks were flushed, and his forehead glistened with sweat, but his violet eyes shone brightly.


    Daemon, with Rhaegar''s sword pressed to his forehead, forced a smile. "Not bad, you are strong."


    "Enough to deal with you," Rhaegar retorted, his tone devoid of manners. Trained by Syrio in the art of fast swordy since childhood, his speed and strength had reached an impressive level.


    Dang!


    The portly referee struck the gong with vigor, his red robes fluttering as he announced loudly, "Congrattions to Prince Rhaegar of House Targaryen! He has defeated all his opponents and is the champion of this tournament!"


    Drummers beat a lively rhythm and trumpeters yed celebratory tunes, filling the air with joy. The nobles in the audience erupted into cheers, their excitement palpable.


    "Prince Rhaegar..."


    "Long live the Hier Prince..."


    The nobility of Westeros, known for their admiration of strength, couldn''t contain their enthusiasm for the victorious prince.


    In the arena, Rhaegar smiled and raised his hands to acknowledge the cheers. Though he didn''t like the noise, he epted it as his reward for winning.


    The referee, still in high spirits, continued, "Prince Rhaegar has triumphed! This summer belongs to him. Thend flourishes, wisdom and wealth greet all!"


    His words, full of praise, resonated with the crowd. Inspired, the nobles began chanting Rhaegar''s titles, each more grandiose than thest. Known as the Good Prince, Breaker of Shackles, and Ruin Maker, Rhaegar''s des echoed across the Narrow Sea.


    Yet, none seemed fitting for the moment. The title "Young Dragonlord" felt out of ce. As thoughts turned to the lushness of summer and the promise of a bountiful harvest, someone remembered Rhaegar''s grandfather, Baelon Targaryen, known as the The Spring Prince.


    In the midst of the seasonal shift from spring to summer, a voice called out, "The Summer Prince!"


    Summer, representing the height of June and the zing sun, seemed perfect. Rhaegar epted the title with a nod, mounting his silver-white warhorse and riding slowly around the arena.


    The cheers grew louder, with the nobles embracing the new title.


    "The Summer Prince..."


    "Long live the prince..."


    On the high tform, Viserys pped his hands andughed, overjoyed at his eldest son''s victory.


    Hearing the title of "Summer Prince," his joy was palpable, and tears glistened in the corners of his eyes. His father, Baelon, had been known as the Spring Prince, a symbol of hope, glory, and theing of the spring. Baelon was also a remarkable Targaryen, having tamed thergest dragon of his time, Vhagar.


    Viserys caught a glimpse of Alicent and suddenly remembered something. He motioned for the Kingsguards, the brothers Erryk and Arryk Cargyll, to enter the field.


    Rhaegar was still basking in the cheers when the Cargyll brothers approached, one carrying a woodennce and the other holding a crown of flowers.


    "Prince," Arryk said, his face alight with excitement as he offered thence.


    "Thank you, Ser," Rhaegar replied, smiling as he took it.


    "Yoururels, Prince," Erryk said solemnly, presenting the flower crown woven with purple stamens.


    Though the flower crown was simple, it symbolized the highest honor. Rhaegar smiled brightly and dered, "I will give it to my loving and beautiful queen."


    "Roar!" Cannibal soared above the arena, letting out a high-pitched roar, sensing the emotions of its rider.


    "Haha, thank you partner," Rhaegarughed, raising hisnce high. He urged his silver-white warhorse into a gallop, circling the arena to bask in the glory.


    The shadow of the dragon swooped down, spraying ghostly green Dragonfire that dotted the blue sky, creating a dramatic backdrop.


    Finally, he reined in his horse beneath the high tform. His handsome face, framed by silver-gold hair, gleamed in the sunlight, his violet eyes sparkling. The ck dragon hovered above, his shiny silver armor gleaming and his red robes billowing.


    The fence of the high tform was lined with figures-exquisitely dressed nobledies, eyes bright with admiration, hoping to receive the "Crown of Love and Beauty".


    Rhaegar held hisnce high, his gaze fixed on one person. Her long silver-blonde hair flowed to her waist, pulled back in a thin braid. She wore a light purple gown and a Valyrian steel pendant with three dragon heads around her neck, the simplicity of the ensemble entuating her beauty.


    Rhaenyra leaned against the fence, hands in front of her, watching him with a smile. Rhaegar approached, offering the purple flower crown at the tip of hisnce, and said sincerely, "Rhaenyra, you my true queen of love and beauty."