Game of Thrones: Second Son of House Targaryen

Chapter 359: Night Attack on Summerhall III

“Wait, Loras! Stay a little longer.”

Leaning against the stairs, Viserys heard a familiar voice. He had only met Renly once, at one of Robert’s feasts, and the encounter had left little impression. Yet now, the voice was unmistakably Renly’s.

His tone was languid, almost sticky, laced with unfulfilled desire. The dynamic between him and Loras was unclear—Viserys couldn’t tell who was in control, and the ambiguity made him wince. A faint aroma of heather hung in the air.

Deciding this confusion presented an opportunity, Viserys entertained the thought of inviting himself to their private feast. As the footsteps moved further away, he silently climbed the stairs.

The third floor was smaller than the ones below, with screen-like curtains dividing the space. Behind the curtains, fresh, odorless whale-oil candles burned, casting flickering shadows of human forms. Viserys noticed that the material of the curtains was special, dampening the noise from the barracks outside.

Interesting. Knowledge.

Stormlands' military discipline was notoriously lax. In this era, it wasn’t unusual for armies to take camp prostitutes along on campaigns. Still, the fact that even peddlers wandered freely among Renly’s men was unsettling to Viserys. This is unbearable. I wonder if Westeros has any army that values swiftness or operates like an elusive shadow.

He crept closer to the tent and listened to the two men’s conversation.

“Loras, do you think we still have a chance to mend our relationship with the church?”

“It’s difficult. If His Grace Robert hadn’t been swayed by that Red Witch, things might be better than they are now.”

“It’s all Stannis’ fault. He’s always resented Robert for giving me Storm’s End and leaving him with Dragonstone. Funny enough, I’d actually prefer Dragonstone—a Targaryen stronghold, rich in Valyrian heritage and dragonglass, and closer to the Free Cities.”

“But it also means you’re closer to Viserys,” Loras pointed out.

“Loras, you know my grandmother is Rhaelle Targaryen. Do you think I might have a chance to hatch a dragon?”

How charming, Viserys thought, amused by Renly’s relentless curiosity. His tone even carried a hint of girlish flirtation. The dynamics between the two were becoming clear.

Suddenly, Renly’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Loras, I’ll show you something good.”

With that, Renly stood up and retrieved a box. Loras, intrigued by Renly’s mysterious manner, leaned in closer.

Viserys, even more curious, peered through the gap in the curtains. Renly had clearly brought some personal treasures with him to the war.

Renly placed a blue box on the bed and opened it. Inside, two dragon eggs lay quietly.

One was a brownish gold, with a diamond pattern and silver swirls etched onto it. The other was pure white, as white as snow, with a similar diamond pattern, but adorned with a few delicate pink spots.

“These were part of my grandmother Rhaelle’s dowry, and they’re not fossils. They’re real dragon eggs,” Renly said, his voice filled with wistfulness. “If only we could hatch a great dragon from one of them.”

Renly actually has something like this? Robert, you spoil him endlessly, Viserys thought from his hiding place. And no one says a word.

Loras reached out to touch the egg, the cool, smooth surface mesmerizing him.

“Unfortunately, only Viserys can hatch dragons these days,” Loras said, his voice tinged with frustration. “So why not keep them for recruiting soldiers?”

“We can’t recruit soldiers now either,” Renly replied, sounding defeated. “The Free Cities have all sworn allegiance to Viserys, and the mercenary groups in Westeros are too afraid to oppose dragons.”

Slumping onto the bed, Renly let out a long sigh.

Suddenly, he sat up with a huff. “My lord, if we fail, we could always flee. These two dragon eggs would be enough to live on for the rest of our lives.” He paused, then added with a fiery determination, “But if you want to stay and fight Viserys, I’ll die with you!”

“Loras?”

The air was thick with tension—and something else, the subtle scent of pheromones. They locked eyes, and a moment later, their lips met in a deep, passionate kiss. Outside, Brienne remained vigilant, still scanning the surroundings.

The kiss intensified, almost desperate, their lips making slurping sounds. Renly, as usual, kept his eyes open while Loras’s eyes were closed in the heat of the moment.

But suddenly, Renly saw a shadowy figure intruding into his line of sight. His heart leapt, and he was about to shout in anger when he recognized the face.

Pushing Loras away in a panic, Renly stood up, shielding him.

“Viserys! Guards! Guards!”

Loras, startled, fumbled for his sword but quickly realized it was lying on the ground, just out of reach.

Viserys, caught off guard, found it amusing that Renly wasn’t playing along. But then, he remembered—Brienne was standing just outside.

Though Brienne didn’t catch Viserys’ name, she heard Renly’s frantic call. With her sword drawn, she burst into the room, her eyes wide as she took in the scene: a man hiding under the bed and two men on it.

“Lord Renly? Ser Loras?” Brienne called out, her voice uncertain. No... they’re just tired, lying together to rest, she told herself, shaking off the strange thought. Dismissing it, she focused on Viserys, leveling her sword at him.

Pathetic, Viserys thought. Brienne’s loyalty blinds her, just like a lapdog who fawns over its master, oblivious to the danger.

Suddenly, the air was pierced by the thunderous roars of dragons, like the voice of the heavens themselves. All three of them—Renly, Loras, and Brienne—turned to Viserys in alarm. Seizing the moment, Viserys struck, knocking Brienne’s sword aside with a swift swing. Pointing his blade at Renly, he barked at Brienne, “Tie Loras up, or I’ll kill him now!”

Brienne hesitated, unsure of what to do. In an instant, Viserys pressed the tip of his sword into Renly’s face, drawing blood. Bright red droplets welled up from the wound.

Renly screamed, “No! No! My face!”

Appearance was everything to Renly, and the threat of being disfigured panicked him. “What are you waiting for? Tie him up quickly!”

Loras, too, couldn’t bear to see Renly harmed, his desperation clear on his face. Left with no choice, Brienne tied up Loras.

“And now him,” Viserys ordered, motioning toward Renly.

Reluctantly, Brienne obeyed, binding Renly as well. Just then, the muffled voice of a guard came from outside.

“My Lord! A dragon... it’s attacking—”

Before he could finish, Viserys swiftly raised his hand and fired an arrow, silencing the guard.

With both Renly and Loras secured, Viserys slung the dragon eggs over his back and hoisted both men with astonishing ease. He dragged them toward the palace rooftop, with Brienne following closely behind.

Loras was wide-eyed in disbelief. How can he be this strong? Together, Renly and Loras weighed well over 300 pounds, yet Viserys carried them as if they were nothing.

By now, flames had erupted around the palace, towering infernos casting an orange glow across the sky. Above, the dragon soared into the clouds, staying out of range of the soldiers’ ballistae. It swooped down suddenly, igniting flammable materials around the palace, creating havoc before the soldiers had a chance to react.

This chaos... Viserys thought, watching as the dragon moved with precision. Dany’s handiwork, of course.

Brienne, who had reached the rooftop with them, stood frozen in horror. The sight of a dragon swooping toward her left her paralyzed, her hair standing on end as the massive beast descended from the sky.

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