YEAR 122 AC
Red Keep ― Maegor's Holdfast…
Viserys coughed before clearing his throat. Six years had passed since Rhaenyra's wedding to Ser Laenor Velaryon, and since then the king's physical appearance had significantly deteriorated with his hair having been thinned out. Although the disease slowed down a bit and rendered Viserys to have to mostly rely on a cane to keep himself steady, he was still in good spirits. He continued constructing his modeling of Valyria's capital city which after six years expanded to cover much of the large room it is in, though it was slowly proving difficult for him to manage since his left arm was amputated. Viserys heard of phantom limb syndrome, but never thought it would happen to him of all people. With his left arm gone, he required more help from his assistant, Eddard. Ah, Seven hells… feels as if it's still there.
"Shall I fetch more shaping tools, Your Grace?" Eddard inquired.
Viserys shook his head. "No… no, Eddard. That will not be necessary," he sighed. "Can't keep putting this off for too long." Otherwise, dust will swallow this blasted model whole. Just… just got to at least get the Kararudirys finished before moving on to the next."
"As you wish, Your Grace."
"Now where did I put that damn, blasted little―"
As Viserys muttered, searching the counter for his scalpel before the door to his room opened. One of his servants, Maxwell, bowed his head upon entry. "Excuse me, Your Grace. But a visitor has come to see you," he said.
"Whoever it is, tell them I'm busy."
"Sorry, Your Grace, but… this one is one you need to see―"
"Grandpa!"
Viserys's ears perked at the sound of a child's excitement entering the room. The king turned his head at the familiar voice calling out to him. It was Jaehaerys, his first grandchild! The little prince was now nine years old, and by the gods, he was dressed as gallantly and dignified as befitting a child of his stature. Jaehaerys was considered tall and more handsome than most boys close to his age, with large purple eyes and shoulder-length silver-gold hair which was kept neatly groomed. "Oh, ho ho ho!" he smiled warmly. Viserys hugged his grandson tightly – with the boy reciprocating with as much warmth and affection as he could muster. "My word, Jay. You are getting so big. Look at you! A fine prince. Did you get the gift I sent you?"
Jaehaerys nodded. "Yeah, I did. Thank you, grandpa!" he gestured. In his arms, he carried a large book entitled Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns: Their Unnatural History by Septon Barth, a pious yet brilliant historian who served as Hand of the King to Jaehaerys the Conciliator. His grandfather spoiled him and gave him whatever he wanted; the boy only ever wanted books. Day in and day out, Jaehaerys spent his mornings reading and studying – with a particular passion for history, like his father and mother. He looked up at Viserys. "Oh! I almost forgot. I made you something." The prince held out both his hands to present a handmade model of Balerion the Black Dread. Judging by the cuts and bandages on his fingers, Viserys determined that his grandson crafted the model himself in exact detail. "Happy nameday, grandpa."
Viserys accepted the model and examined it carefully. "Oh goodness, a truly great artist must have made this," he said with a soft whistle. "It is, my boy, quite the likeness too." He gently placed the stone dragon at the top of the great spire. "You know, Balerion might have been the largest and fiercest dragon. But your great-grandfather was so brave he once smacked the Black Dread himself on the snout with just a stick," he said, gently booping Jaehaerys's nose for emphasis, getting a grin and a giggle from his grandson. "And how's your High Valyrian coming along? Been practicing?" he inquired.
"Mmhmm. Aegot Ērinȳ se zȳhom mandȳma Visenȳsa hāedromā Rhaenys soltan hae rōvēgrie azantyr se Blākuata Rāsho drāñot vilinio viārtis. (Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters Visenya and Rhaenys sailed with a great army and made landing at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush.)"
"Ah. Sȳz, sȳz. Ziry iksos jollōris sȳz, yn sylugon daor inditan aōla tolī botose. Shifang? (Good, good. It's good you've been studying, but try not to push yourself too hard. Understand?)"
"Kessa, sȳzkepa. Nyke daor. (Okay, grandpa. I won't.) Grandpa?"
"Yes, my grandson?"
"I know you're busy with making that model of yours and all, and I don't want to distract you from it, but… Mother told me that we're going to Dragonstone later this afternoon. She said father had something to show us. So… we thought you would be interested. Do you… want to come with us?"
"Oh, well, I don't know…"
"Please, grandpa?"
Viserys thought for a long moment; it had been some time since he traveled to Dragonstone, or anywhere by sea. The rocking of the ship along with the smell of fish and saltwater made him seasick. But as the king looked at the wide hopeful eyes of his first-born grandchild, he felt his opposition evaporate. "Just like your namesake, you are a keen negotiator, my boy… I'll go," he said as he ruffled Jaehaerys silver hair.
"Hehee!"
King's Landing ― Docks…
Holding his grandfather's remaining hand, the prince accompanied Viserys to the docks where the rest of the family was waiting.
King Viserys saw Alicent with the rest of her children, the twins Aegon and Viserys (6), Aemma (5), and Daeron (3) who fussed in his mother's arms. Aegon and his brother looked so identical it was difficult to tell them apart from one another, which the twins used to their advantage for their mischievous ways – much to Alicent's chagrin. Since Aemma's birth, she was named after her late paternal grandmother, Queen Aemma Arryn. The little princess inherited the classic Valyrian features: beautiful, straight mid-back length silver hair and bright violet eyes, yet she closely resembled her mother Alicent regarding her face. When their daughter was born, Aeonar held Aemma in his arms and doted on her. Daeron, however, was a complicated child. His birth was the most difficult compared to his elder siblings. Indeed, it was a long and troubled labor of great concern. Although Daeron was healthy, Alicent almost died giving birth and was bedridden for half a year.
As is customary for each of the Targaryen children, they were given dragon eggs placed in a burning brazier next to their cradles. And since then, the eggs hatched. Although they were small – measuring between 6-9 feet long – and still were not rideable yet, the dragonlings were the size of miniature horses. One had gold and bronze scales with pale cream wing membranes; he was given the name Corxes and was bonded with Aegon the Younger. The second possessed a dark shade of purple in its membranes with cobalt and cyan scales; his name was Maelyx, and he was bonded with Viserys. The third dragon, meanwhile, had pale yellow membranes with grey scales; given the name Gaemon, he was bonded with Daeron. Aemma's egg, however, like her eldest brother's, did not hatch – leaving her without a dragon as well. Corxes, Maelyx, and Gaemon shrieked high-pitched, growled, and nipped at each other.
Alicent looked at each of her children. "Sweetlings, go say hello to your grandfather," she instructed.
"Grandpa!" the children greeted.
"Hi, gampa," Aemma looked up at the king.
Viserys embraced each of his grandchildren, commenting on how each of them had grown since he last saw them. He made Aemma blush when he said that soon every knight in the realm would be seeking to crown her as the Queen of Love and Beauty. He kissed Alicent on her cheeks. "My dear child, you are a sight for my sore eyes to behold," he said with a smile, happy that Alicent did not flinch at his appearance. Viserys's skin had yellowed slightly and become dry and flaked. He had lost some weight and his hair was receding. Grand Maester Orwyle's oils and sulfate baths had helped to slow the progress of his disease, though it still ate away at him. He looked around hopefully. "Where's Aeonar?" he asked.
"He said not to wait for us, Your Grace, and went on ahead to Dragonstone," Alicent explained. "I don't know what he's up to, but he says it's important. Rhaenyra said she will be there as well. We've prepared a private room for you on the ship and provided plenty of accommodations in case you get seasick again."
"I… I appreciate it," Viserys groaned, already feeling the motion rocking him internally.
Daeron whined and fussed.
Viserys soon got onto the shop and accompanied his grandchildren and daughter-in-law to the island fortress of Dragonstone. Screeching as the ship set sail, the dragonlings Corxes, Maelyx, and Gaemon took to the skies in pursuit.
Dragonstone ― Beaches…
Stationed upon the island's rocky cliffs near the Dragonmont, dozens of Lykirī Mēre assassins were perched high up, crouched down, and leaned closer, narrowing their eyes for an eagle-eye view. "Koíta. (Look.)" one murmured in Old Ghiscari. "Hum teliká huna. (They're finally here.)"
"Bialfiel, mou 'akh. (Indeed, my brother.)" another replied stoically. "Al prínkipas yakun anaménontas hum. (The prince has been expecting them.)"
"Tha 'ana légo al kýrios? (Shall I tell the master?)"
"Bidun kathystérisi. Emméno alzilal. (Without delay. Stick to the shadows.)"
"Emméno alzilal. (Stick to the shadows.)"
Dragonstone ― Dragonmont…
Upon their arrival, they all disembarked and noticed Aeonar in the distance near the Dragonmont holding a torch in one hand. What's more, the assassins were with him too. Viserys gazed upon his oldest son and heir. Aeonar was now twenty-seven years old, grew to stand six feet four inches tall, and donned his black assassin's attire with a piece of breastplate armor underneath in the center of his chest engraved with a three-headed dragon with emerald rubies, a set of draconic pauldrons on his shoulders, graves on his shins, and draconic gauntlets on his hands. "I've been waiting for you," Aeonar stated.
"Sorry, father," Jaehaerys spoke softly. "Grandpa... doesn't like boat riding."
"Yes, I know."
The little prince turned and saw Rhaenyra. "Aunt Rhaenyra!" he waved.
Rhaenyra smiled and nodded her head in acknowledgment. "Nephew." Since her marriage, the princess appeared calmer, composed, and more mature, though she can be frank and decisive should the need arise. She wore glittering pearls and diamonds, and a decadent off-the-shoulder black dress with two red dragons stitched to the bodice of the garment, paying homage to her house. "I hope you're excited. Because your father has a special kind of surprise for you."
"Really? What is it?"
"You'll see. We cannot spoil such a surprise as this, do we?" Rhaenyra turned to her sons. "Jace, Luke. Come greet your cousins, aunt, and grandfather."
Behind her were two little boys, Princes Jacaerys (6) and Lucerys Velaryon (4). As per the agreement negotiated between House Targaryen and House Velaryon, they were inducted into the royal family's line of succession and granted the title of 'prince' upon their birth. However, despite being presented as the legal sons of Ser Laenor Velaryon, both Jace and Luke had brown hair, brown eyes, and a pug nose instead of House Targaryen's Valyrian features such as silver hair or purple eyes – leading to speculation amongst the royal court that they were bastards born out of wedlock. Despite the gossip, King Viserys loved his grandchildren equally and was quick to anger when anyone mocked his Velaryon grandsons, threatening to have their tongues pulled out with hot pincers if they so much uttered a wrong word in his presence.
"Jay," Jace rushed over.
"Jace," Jaehaerys greeted.
"You got gifts from grandpa too?"
"Yeah. What about you? The same?"
"Yeah, you should've seen it. It's an impressive sword… even if it's made of wood."
Rhaenyra and Alicent watched as their sons spent time with each other on the sandy shores of Dragonstone. For a fleeting moment, there seemed to be a slow rekindling of the friendship they once had. Indeed, when Daeron was born, Aeonar and Rhaenyra were panicking when they saw Alicent fall unconscious – fearing she would die the same way as their mother did ten years ago. When Alicent finally awoke, it was said Rhaenyra wept for hours, thanking the gods for sparing her best friend/sister-in-law's life and apologizing profusely for everything she had done and put her through during their childhood. Moved to tears, Alicent finally accepted Rhaenyra's apology, and their friendship was slowly rekindled over this bonding moment.
"It's nice to see the boys play together like this," Alicent noted.
"Indeed," Rhaenyra agreed. "It's moments like this that remind me of our youth. But Aegon and Viserys, though… ooh."
"They still get up to no good no matter how many times we discipline them. Personally? I blame you for encouraging their behavior."
"Hah. I have no idea what you're talking about, Alicent."
"By the Mother, whatever am I going to do with you…?"
As the two conversed amongst themselves, a team of six Dragonkeepers arrived. "Ziry iksos jēda. (It is time.)" they announced. "Umāzīt… se Zaldrīzesblēnon (Come… to the Dragonmont.)"
––––––––––––––––––––––––––
Viserys, Alicent, and the children accompanied Aeonar inside the Dragonmont's cavernous entrance. Due to being a volcano, its hot and humid temperature served as a fitting location for a dragon's nesting area. At the foot of the volcano were villages bound to the castle Dragonstone which was a rich source of dragonglass. The cavern was dark, lit only by the torch in Aeonar's hand to show them the way forward.
"It's so hot in here…" Jaehaerys wiped his brow. "Father? Where are we going?"
Aeonar ignored them and began to sing to a melodic High Valyrian tune.
♪Drakari pykiros; Tikummo jemiros.
(Fire breather; Winged leader.) ♪
♪ Yn lantyz bartossa; Saelot vāedis.
(But two heads; to a third son.) ♪
♪ Hen ñuhā elēnī: perzyssy vestretis.
(From my voice: the fires have spoken.) ♪
♪ Se gēlȳn irūdaks.
(And the price has been paid.) ♪
♪ Ānogrose.
(With blood magic.) ♪
Before long, everyone began to hear a distant growl accompanied by the thunderous sounds of approaching footsteps. Viserys felt the ground shake beneath his feet. He instinctively knew that there was something big and it was nearby.
♪ Perzyro udrȳssi; Ezīmptos laehossi.
(With words of flame; With clear eyes.) ♪
♪ Hārossa letagon; Aōt vāedan.
(To bind the three; To you, I sing.) ♪
♪ Hae mērot gierūli: Se hāros bartossi.
(As one we gather; And with three heads.) ♪
♪ Prūmȳsa sōvīli.
(We shall fly as we were destined.) ♪
♪ Gevī dāerī.
(Beautifully, freely.) ♪
In the dark gloom of the huge cavern, something moved. There was a growl, followed by a roar, and then suddenly the entire cavern was lit with dragon fire. Torrents of fire spewed from the mouth of a huge dragon, thankfully none of it was directed at the party who entered its layer. Instead, it was all aimed at the roof of the cavern. This was a common display when dragons wished to scare away intruders.
Alicent shielded the children with her body, and Viserys held up his hand to block the heat and light of the fire. Only Aeonar remained perfectly still, one hand clutching the torch and the other on Jaehaerys's shoulder to keep the prince from stepping backward.
Once the dragon had finished breathing the torrent of fire, it simply growled and approached the glowing light of the torch. When its face got closer, Viserys immediately recognized the dragon.
Vermithor… the Bronze Fury!
He had been famously remembered as the dragon of Viserys's grandfather, King Jaehaerys I Targaryen, the Old King whose great and prosperous reign lasted more than 60 years. A huge, fearsome beast with great tan wings, Vermithor was one of the powerful second-generation dragons hatched after Aegon's Conquest. After the Old King's death, the Bronze Fury – almost 100 years old – had made his lair in one of the smoking caverns on Dragonstone with his mate, Silverwing. Accustomed to men, he was tolerant of the presence of people whose fury – once bonded with a rider – was nearly unrivaled when threatened. And now, with his great eyes, the elder dragon stared at the party standing before him, his jaws opened to reveal the great maw of fangs.
Not too far behind Vermithor, Silverwing shrieked to her mate as she approached. Measuring 193 feet long with a 300-foot wingspan, she was another second-generation dragon once ridden by Queen Alysanne Targaryen. Like Vermithor, she was a powerful dragon with silvery scales and a few years shy of a hundred. Unlike her mate, however, Silverwing was considered relatively docile and friendly to strangers. As the Bronze Fury growled gutturally, she simply tilted her head sideways at the sight of these new visitors.
Jaehaerys froze at the sight of Vermithor. Measuring more than 200 feet in length with a 400-foot wingspan, Vermithor was one of the largest dragons in Westeros, second only to Vhagar. The prince knew his dragon egg didn't hatch and he was promised a dragon of his own to claim one day, but this… If it was a young dragonling or a small drake, then fine, but this was a much older, larger second-generation dragon. Much, much bigger! He backed away with two steps, stopping when he felt his father's hand pressing on his back.
"Do not be afraid. A dragon can sense fear if it believes them from the prey," Aeonar told his son and forced him to the front. "You are a Targaryen. The blood of Old Valyria runs through your veins. Show no fear, do not hesitate, and demonstrate your worth."
"M-Mother?" Jaehaerys called out anxiously. He hesitated, glancing back at his family and grandfather. Alicent could not get passed the Lykirī Mēre or Dragonkeepers out of concern for her son's safety, regardless of their reassurance that it was safe for the young prince and that it was a test he needed to pass. Okay. Okay, calm down now, Jay. Calm down. It is just a dragon… a very big one. You've been trained for this. It is like father and mother said. You can handle it! Raising a small hand up, he tried to steady his nerves. "Dohaerās, Vermithor! Dohaerās! (Serve, Vermithor! Serve!)" Jaehaerys commanded; soft at first, but then firmer. "Lykirī! Lykirī. (Be calm! Calm down.)"
Alicent and Viserys watched as the blazing embers in Vermithor's jaws slowly fizzled away. The Bronze Fury growled softly as he stared at the child.
Jaehaerys cautiously approached Vermithor, his hand still raised. Placing his palm on the dragon's snout, his initial fear was soon replaced with calmness and eventual excitement.
"Ha… Hahaha!" he began to chuckle with excitement. "I-I did it! Father, look! I did it!"
Aeonar nodded in approval. "Very good, my son. You have tamed Vermithor, as the Old King himself did before you. He is all yours now. But it is your responsibility to take care of him. Understand?"
Jaehaerys nodded and looked back at Alicent and his grandfather. His mother felt relieved, silently congratulating her son for finally acquiring his own dragon. Viserys knew that look well; he had seen it the day when Aeonar officially bonded with Vaelor and when Rhaenyra had with Syrax. But there was still one final act that needed to be completed, to officially seal the bond between the dragon and the rider… they needed to fly together. It had been many, many years since Viserys had last been on the back of a dragon, but he could still remember it as if it were yesterday. The exhilaration and sheer freedom of soaring through the air. Seeing things that only a handful of people could. He gently wiped a tear from his eye with his hand.
"Now climb up and strap yourself into the harness," Aeonar instructed.
Jaehaerys approached Vermithor's side and saw the harness belts. Gripping each one, the young prince climbed up to the top and sat down on the saddle. He looked down at the others. Everyone looked so small from this height!
"Drāñēdan iemnȳ remio. (Open the inner gates.)" Aeonar commanded.
The Dragonkeepers proceeded to push open the Dragonmont's doors leading to the outside. Vermithor growled when the elder Bronze Fury turned to see sunlight.
––––––––––––––––––––––––––
On the outside, Vaelor remained nesting beside a half-eaten whale carcass. In the span of six years, the Swiftrunner had grown to be 196 feet long with an almost 380-foot wingspan – making him one of the largest dragons in the Seven Kingdoms behind Vermithor and Vhagar. Since the group was on Dragonstone, Vaelor asserted himself as the dominant male on the island. When Corxes, Maelyx, and Gaemon arrogantly approached, Vaelor hissed a warning at the smaller dragonlings. As the alpha, he gets to eat first. Syrax, on the other hand, chirped vocalizations. Vaelor growled but permitted the she-dragon to join in on the feast. Of course, being smaller, Corxes, Maelyx, and Gaemon had to wait their turn and hope their larger kin were generous enough to leave behind some scraps.
When the sound of the door leading to the Dragonmont began to open, Vaelor and Syrax stopped eating and turned to the volcano. From there, they could see both Vermithor and Silverwing emerging from their lair with their respective riders following close behind them.
Aeonar looked up. "Now… command him, Jaehaerys. Say the word."
Jaehaerys, once firmly strapped into his saddle, tapped Vermithor's back three times. "Uhh… S-Sōvēs (Fly), Vermithor. Sōvēs! (Fly!)" he called out to the Bronze Fury.
"*RROOOOOOO!*" Vermithor roared and stretched his wings out. It had been almost twenty years since he flew again. The Bronze Fury began to run along the sand to gain traction; once he was getting closer, Vermithor began picking up speed. Rearing on his hind legs, he kicked himself off the ground and took off to the skies. Silverwing screeched and followed closely behind her mate.
"WHOOOOOOOAAAA!"
Aeonar watched Jaehaerys flying on dragonback for the first time as Vermithor soared majestically in the sky, letting loose a powerful roar that could be heard for miles.
At the castle, guards and servants raced to windows and terraces. Meanwhile in the villages, fishermen and mongers looked up from their catches. From their caves, the other dragons inhabiting the island emerged. All of them looked up to the sight of Vermithor.
High in the air, Jaehaerys could see the entirety of the island. He could even see into the Dragonmont and the churning fiery lava bubbling inside it. Jaehaerys had flown himself before, only on Vaelor's back with his father. But now he was on his own, just him and his dragon. He could fly across the Narrow Sea to see the wonders of Essos; he could fly to the North and land Vermithor atop the Wall. He could fly west beyond Casterly Rock and the Iron Islands into the great unknown. Unable to resist the ecstatic joy that welled in his chest, the Targaryen prince let out a whooping cry almost as great as any dragon's roar.
After a prolonged period of flying, Vermithor descended lower until he landed on the shores. The ground made a thunderous boom when the elder dragon's feet hit the ground.
Unfastening himself, Jaehaerys hopped off Vermithor and sprinted excitedly toward his family. "Mother! Grandpa! Did you see that?" he painted.
Alicent rushed and embraced her firstborn child, plastering him with kisses and double-checking to make sure that he was all right.
Viserys's face hurt, he was smiling so much as he approached. "My boy, well done," he said as he ruffled Jaehaerys's hair. "You did brilliantly. You managed Vermithor as masterfully as your namesake, I would daresay better."
Jaehaerys's siblings rushed forwards to hug and congratulate him, including his cousins.
"That was impressive, Jay!" Jacaerys exclaimed. "What was it like up there?"
"I-I just can't describe it, Jace! I-I mean the wind was just, just blowing right past my face! A-And…!"
Aeonar watched with his arms crossed. Good. Now that he has a dragon, it is only a matter of time before he becomes a skilled dragonrider himself. He glanced up at the clouds. Do you see this from where you are, grandfather? What you gave to me, I now pass on to my son. Everything you taught me on taming a dragon.
"You know, he reminds me of you," Rhaenyra approached. "Back when you were old enough and Vaelor was big enough to ride. Always flying around King's Landing never wanting it to end."
"Funny. I was just about to say the same thing to you... although you had a little too much fun. Never mind the capital, you and Syrax went everywhere across the Crownlands without so much as a care in the world."
"I know, brother. We were both children back then. But now here we are. Passing on everything we have learned to our sons and striving to do better by them. The Caltrops will soon come for them, Aeonar. We must protect our children. Let us stand together once more, side-by-side."
She is finally understanding her role in our family. "They won't lay so much as a finger on their heads… or they will burn for it. Having a dragon is more than a testament to our lineage. It also comes with great responsibility." Aeonar turned to his daughter. "And what… is Aemma doing?" he pointed.
Rhaenyra turned to see Aemma on the ground in a giggling fit. Silverwing was nuzzling her with her snout in a gentle, affectionate gesture. "Well… I had not expected Silverwing to bond with someone else so quickly," she noticed. "Still, this does prove quite beneficial. Wouldn't you say?"
"Yes, it does, Rhaenyra. Yes, it does…"