113 AC
I was no longer a child. At 23 years old now, I finally asked the Dragonkeepers for leave to travel. I needed to see the world beyond the cliffs. Training Silverwing was important, but I couldn't stay locked away forever.
My ride seemed random, but it wasn't. I set out for King's Landing with one thing in mind: to find Hugh Hammer—or whatever his name truly was. He was supposed to be the rider of Vermithor, a dragon as big and powerful as Silverwing, if not more. If the Dance of Dragons was to come, he would be one of the last true riders of strength.
The journey from Dragonstone to King's Landing was short, but even so, I spent hours making the trip. I hadn't anticipated that even after riding a dragon, I could still get motion sickness. The rocking of the small boat crossing the Narrow Sea left me queasy and glad to finally set foot on solid ground.
Once in King's Landing, I rented a room in a modest inn. I had saved enough coin from years working as a Dragonkeeper to cover my stay without issue. With Silverwing resting on Dragonstone, I was free to move unseen.
Finding Hugh Hammer was harder than I expected. The city bustled with more than 100,000 souls, and white-haired bastards like me weren't exactly rare. Still, I had a small search area—the parts of the city where noble bastards, knights, and dragon-affiliated men might gather.
I asked around discreetly, listening for any mention of a man who carried a hammer, who was known for his strength and skill, and who had been seen near the Dragonpit or the Red Keep. Rumors floated like ash on the wind, but no clear lead emerged.
I stayed in King's Landing longer than I expected, searching for Hugh Hammer, the man destined to ride Vermithor. It wasn't easy—he wasn't some noble lord flaunting his name, but a tough, quiet man who kept mostly to himself.
One day, at a smithy's courtyard, I finally found him. He was massive, with calloused hands and a scarred jaw, his white-streaked hair like mine.
"Looking for trouble, or just a friend?" he asked, noticing me watching.
"I'm looking for Hugh Hammer," I said.
He laughed. "That's me."
We didn't start off as best friends overnight. But I showed him I was reliable, that I knew the weight of being bound to a dragon and the stakes ahead. We spent weeks talking, training, and sharing stories. I didn't just want to know him—I wanted to be someone he could trust, someone who'd have his back when everything burned.
As our bond grew, I realized that when the Dance came, if I could count on Hugh, maybe I wouldn't have to face the fire alone.