Chapitre 36: Fictive
My Uncle shared essentially all that I also knew.
The great black dragon known as the Cannibal was a sight to behold, with his ebony scales glistening in the sunlight and his piercing green eyes that seemed to hold an untamed ferocity.
Of the three wild dragons that made their home on Dragonstone, the Cannibal reigned as the largest and the oldest, alongside his peers, Sheepstealer and Grey Ghost.
I learned from my time on Dragonstone that the name "Cannibal" was bestowed upon him by the smallfolk of the island, a fitting moniker.
This mighty dragon had a penchant for cannibalism, indulging in the consumption of fallen dragons, newborn hatchlings, and even dragon eggs. His appetite knew no bounds, and his ruthless nature made him a feared presence on Dragonstone.
As for the Cannibal's age, Uncle Daemon had more a guess than most, but precise details were scarce. It was known that he surpassed even Sheepstealer in years, a dragon said to have hatched during the early reign of Jaehaerys I Targaryen.
After searching the island, my scouts found Cannibal's lair nestled deep within the caverns at the back of the Dragonmont, on its eastern side. The bones stretched ceaselessly into his dark abode.
In the past, many had attempted to ride the Cannibal, to bend his will to their own, but their efforts were in vain. A force of nature that could not be controlled.
I listened to Uncle Daemon's explanation and thought for a moment.
"I've seen the bones," I said sternly, "The Cannibal is a plague that must be eradicated. I propose we kill him."
The whole room stirred, save for Uncle Daemon, who barely reacted. He simply studied my face, our violet eyes locked together.
My uncle was no stranger to Valyrian lore. Much of the ancient ways were lost in the Doom over 200 years ago. Whether he had gleaned it from reading the scrolls as I did or simply put the pieces together by instinct, Daemon understood the significance of eye contact.
To a dragon, the eyes were the window to the soul(s). A dragon and its rider could exchange a thousand stories through a single gaze alone, so long as the rider had the eyes to see.
"Kill the Cannibal?" Uncle Daemon remarked. "My, my, nephew. How you've grown."
I giggled, brushing off the commotion our conversation had caused, "There you go again, talking like Aunt Rhea."
"Pardon me, Your Grace," Grandmaester Runciter babbled to the King, "But what the Prince suggests is no jest. It was dragons that conquered the realm. Tamed dragons. We should not take the wild dragons lightly. "
"The Grandmaester speaks wisdom," agreed Ser Otto. "Such an undertaking could put the realm in jeopardy."
A thing to know about my father: he was a King who listened to his advisers more often than not, especially when compared to the Targaryen kings of the past.
Ser Otto and Grandmaester Runciter had been around since the days of King Jaehaerys, and both were capable when it came to running the realm.
Yet, despite my father's inclination to heed his council, his response to my proposition was already set in stone, regardless.
"The Hand speaks sense," said my father, attempting to control his emotions. If we were behind closed doors, I'm sure he would have scolded me. "Whereas you do not. Explain yourself."
"The Hand's caution is warranted, but perhaps a tad dramatic," I responded. "We have no evidence of a disturbed dragon flying around and 'putting a realm in jeopardy'."
I proceeded with my speech.
"The Cannibal is a bad egg. Now, dragons are intelligent, don't get me wrong. I have no doubt they would hold a grudge if slighted. But isn't that the case with most men?"
I turned to my father. "What would happen if someone in our family, a dragon rider, went rogue? Would we sit by and let them burn as they please? Of course not. The Cannibal is no different, a rouge unchained."
My argument sent a surge of division around the room, which amused my Uncle, and surprised me. Uncle Daemon waited for my father to respond, but my father was flabbergasted, so he continued, "What do you propose?"
Now, I was dead serious about my intentions. I truly believed that for the Cannibal to live would compromise our standing, but I was not wedded to the idea.
You see, I discovered something about the small council.
If you had a main 'running point,' a significant idea you wanted to accomplish, they would simply assume that the naive royal Prince had his head in the clouds, conjuring lofty ideas without thinking through the details.
What did a 12-year-old know about running a realm? Any idea I came up with would surely be rooted in romanticism, seen as lofty and impractical.
It was the ultimate smoke screen. The bigger, wilder, and more absurd, the more the council would overlook the things I did in the shadows. The more dangerous and seemingly foolish, the better.
So it was that the Cannibal became my running narrative, the campaign slogan I vehemently associated with my name for the time being. It was a simple case of 'Look here, not there!'
The council would push against it and stall, thinking they were holding me back politically. But in reality, the more they stalled, the more I would benefit.
I proposed a number of plans to eradicate the Cannibal.
The initial "dumb prince" idea I put forward was for Uncle Daemon, Princess Rhaenys (the Queen who never was), and myself to mount our dragons and ambush the Cannibal when he left his lair.
Once that was declined, I suggested other avenues that would result in a massive loss of manpower, none of which were actually how I intended to kill the Cannibal.
"Absolutely not," my father said, asserting his final decision. I knew I had him when he played the rank card, saying, "That is your King's final say on the matter."
I feigned disappointment, as if I had expected a different outcome. I feigned humility, accepting his ruling with apparent gratitude. I feigned many things at that moment.
"Thank you for listening, your Grace," I said.
My face masked in compliance~
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
ssyffix
ssyffix Chaps 25 & 35 accidentally had the same title. Not that it's a retcon that has important story implacations, but if you wanted to know, last chapter has been renamed to 'Cite'.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone