Rainfall

King's Landing in summer was a stinking, damp, sweltering oven.

The sun had already sunk behind the mountains, yet the people of King's Landing still found no relief. Heat clung stubbornly to the city, and the stone paving retained its scorching warmth.

The poor crowded along the river, fighting for every breath of wind. Later, when deep night fell, many residents would lie on the floor for a little coolness.

The nobles' silken gauze clung to their bodies, the guards' armor felt like stifling cauldrons, and sweat streamed down the commoners' necks.

Noble or commoner, wealthy or lowly, the blazing sun high overhead bestowed its scorching heat with perfect fairness.

Not even the Blackwater Rush or the rotten, salty sea breeze from the stinking bay could save King's Landing.

Until gusts of hot wind suddenly rose.

A shadow that blotted out the sun shrouded King's Landing. Thick clouds gathered overhead, bringing a little coolness.

Baelon arrived astride Vermithor, riding the wind and bringing clouds with him.

The people of King's Landing looked up. Having seen plenty of grand spectacles, they were not so afraid of dragons.

Dragons often swept over King's Landing. They were not people who had never seen the world; they were used to it.

Many old people recognized the dragon they had not seen in so long.

"It's Vermithor!"

The mount of Jaehaerys the Conciliator, who had died eight years ago.

The dragon they had watched grow up, who had circled over King's Landing for forty or fifty years!

"He's grown so big now!"

The bronze dragon vanished into the thick clouds and circled, like the sun appearing and disappearing among them.

Once the people of King's Landing had looked their fill, their excitement settled, and they lowered their heads to return to their business.

Many old people enthusiastically debated whether Vermithor, the Bronze Fury, could now rival Balerion the Black Dread.

When it came to comparing dragons, the worldly people of King's Landing all had opinions of their own. Soon they were talking animatedly, spittle flying.

The Red Keep.

Rhaenyra and Alicent leaned side by side against the windowsill, their eyes smiling as they watched the dragon in the sky.

Her gaze seemed to pierce the clouds and settle on the small figure on the dragon's back.

Her brother had returned safely to King's Landing.

"He... he's almost half again as big as when I last saw him!" Alicent was astonished and uncertain, to say nothing of that enormous wingspan stretching across the sky!

She had seen Vermithor more than once in the Red Keep's inner courtyard.

Though the Dragonpit on the Hill of Rhaenys had been completed at the end of the Year of the Stranger, Balerion had been the first dragon to move in, followed by three smaller dragons.

That same year, Jaehaerys the Conciliator had ordered the formation of the Dragonkeepers, requiring all dragons to be guarded day and night.

But Vermithor was different. He had never lived in the Dragonpit. Vermithor had always accompanied Jaehaerys the Conciliator, remaining by his master's side.

Alicent hesitated. "Don't you think... it's strange?"

Rhaenyra's smile faded a little.

A moment later, she smiled again.

Rhaenyra's tone was firm. "There's nothing strange about it. I don't think there's anything strange at all."

"Targaryens are closest to the gods. Whatever we can do is perfectly normal for us," she said calmly.

Baelon, her younger brother, had never had anything strange about him.

Whatever he was like, he was exactly as a Targaryen should be.

In another tower.

Daemon stared at the dragon in the sky with a complicated expression. "How did he do it?"

Could Viserys's prophetic dreams, those signs, actually be real?!

Could Baelon only make his own dragon grow, or could he make every dragon grow?!

No one in the room answered him.

Daemon scoffed. "Forget it."

If Baelon was determined not to speak, his brother would certainly side with Baelon. Could he really defy the king's will?!

He turned and said languidly to the naked woman on the bed, "Looks like Viserys will be back soon."

"If he finds out you've moved into the Red Keep, he'll certainly start shouting."

Daemon imitated Viserys's tone. "Daemon! You actually brought a whore into my court!"

Mysaria gave Daemon a cold glance and pulled the gauzy curtain over her slightly swollen belly.

For a woman of her origins, she had done reasonably well for herself, but the anger and helplessness in her heart had never faded. They only grew more intense.

Even with anger burning in her chest, she remained rational.

She merely said coldly to Daemon, "I told you not to do this. I don't see what good it does me to live in the Red Keep as your whore."

"You and the king are bound by blood. Every time you use me as a weapon to provoke your brother, you never care whether my child and I live or die."

If the king wanted to kill him, would Daemon really stand against the king for her?

High in the sky, Baelon knew nothing of the debate Vermithor had sparked.

He recalled a piece of knowledge he had long since handed back to his teacher: how did rain form?

Abundant water vapor.

Half the thick clouds brought from the Vale had already been scattered by the hot winds Vermithor stirred up, but coastal King's Landing had no shortage of moisture.

Warm, moist air rose and cooled.

Vermithor swooped down. Dragonfire evaporated the seawater, and the gale beneath his wings carried the vapor high into the sky.

Last came condensation nuclei.

Dark volcanic ash and billowing dust scattered from Baelon's hands.

Baelon did not know whether he could succeed.

But gradually, Vermithor gathered heavy black clouds high overhead.

At first, the people of King's Landing merely thought night was approaching unusually quickly.

Then someone who had been watching the dragon suddenly cried out.

"Look... look!"

Thick clouds hung low over King's Landing. Darkness spread, enveloping the entire city.

People had long grown accustomed to dragons breathing dragonfire, that magnificent dragonfire that destroyed everything.

But now the dragon gathered storm clouds like a god, wielding the wind and churning the clouds. That godlike power made their limbs go weak beyond their control.

Vermithor and Baelon were still enthusiastically experimenting.

In King's Landing, everyone raised their heads to watch the dragon circling and wheeling.

Everyone was silent.

At some point, damp, cold winds had replaced the hot currents.

A drop of water landed on the face of a child selling oysters. He blankly touched the spot where it had struck.

"It's... it's raining!"

A scream tore through the deathly silence.

Rain poured down. Countless droplets suddenly struck, beating down the dust and oppressive heat.

All at once, the whole of King's Landing erupted.

"It's raining!"

"It really is?!"

Some people's legs gave way, and they fell to their knees.

Some stretched out their hands in a daze to catch the rain.

The septons stood in silence, their thoughts churning.

Amid the crowds kneeling in swathes, two knights mounted on tall horses stood out.

"Jason, it's raining in King's Landing." Tyland Lannister's tone was unreadable.

"I know." Jason Lannister tipped his head back, letting the rain wash over his face.

His eyes shone as he gazed fervently at the dragon.

This was the power of dragons!

The power that allowed the Targaryens to rule the Seven Kingdoms!

If House Lannister, if his children, possessed the power of dragons too...

Just like Velaryon!

He only had to win Princess Rhaenyra's favor!

Jason suddenly clenched his fist and excitedly gripped his brother's shoulders. "Tyland, am I handsome?!"

Tyland: ?

"Come! Practice swordplay with me at once!" Jason grabbed Tyland and charged straight for the training yard!

Not even the downpour could quench the fire in his heart. Power, status, looks-he lacked none of them!

In another month came the Targaryen Dynasty's festival, the day Aegon the Conqueror had landed. To celebrate that day, House Targaryen would hold a tournament.

Even as he charged ahead, he did not forget to order his attendants to commission an entirely new outfit for him!

"A golden cloak! That will complement my hair!"

Then he would win the tournament and capture Rhaenyra's heart in one stroke!

Then bring a she-dragon back to House Lannister, hahahaha!

That month, the tailors' shops in King's Landing suddenly found their schedules fully booked.

High above, lightning tore through the clouds.

Baelon's view was filled with dark clouds flickering with lightning, the curtain of rain like silver fishing lines.

Like a streak of golden light, Vermithor tore through the thick black clouds and shot toward the Red Keep.

Once he rode a dragon into the heavens, Baelon understood the Targaryens completely.

Because when you rode a dragon, it was hard not to feel your heart expand without limit, confident that you could command everything.

Vermithor swept low over King's Landing, tearing through the curtain of rain. Baelon spread his arms in the wind, smiling as he let the rain wash over him.

He lowered his head and suddenly caught a fleeting glimpse of swathes of people kneeling on the ground.

They stretched their hands toward the sky, as though worshipping a god.

Baelon lowered his eyes. The fire that had burned in his chest ever since he began riding a dragon was suddenly quenched by the icy rain.

Vermithor's thick, sharp claws scored grooves into the Red Keep's red stone walls.

The sweltering world had receded, and everything was immersed in cool, damp rain.

Through the dim curtain of rain, people could still clearly see that enormous head, taller than the Red Keep's towers.

Unfortunately.

The rain did not last long.

When Baelon climbed down from the dragon's back and Rhaenyra hurried from her bedchamber, smiling as she held out her hand to him, the clouds dispersed and the rain cleared.

The clouds dispersed and the rain cleared.

Baelon: ...

All that effort, and it only rained for ten minutes?!