The sharp knock jolted Queen Alysanne from her sleep. Her eyes fluttered open, disoriented, just as Jaehaerys stirred beside her. He blinked, frowning groggily.
"Come in," Alysanne called, her voice sharper than she intended.
The door creaked open, revealing a trembling maid, her face pale and eyes wide with panic. "Your Grace," she said in a rush, "the dragonkeepers just informed us, Prince Aegon has gone into the Dragonpit. He's trying to claim Dreamfyre."
"What?" Jaehaerys sat up at once, eyes widening. Alysanne was already moving, throwing off the covers and scrambling for a robe. "No, no, no…" she whispered as her hands fumbled with the laces. Her face had gone pale with fear.
Though age and grief had weighed her down in recent years, Alysanne moved swiftly. "Get my slippers and robe," she ordered another servant as she rushed to dress. The King, now fully awake, donned his cloak and followed her out, his brow drawn tight with concern.
They descended the stairs in haste, robes flaring behind them, until they came upon an old dragonkeeper standing just outside Maegor's Holdfast. He bowed low as they approached, but the Queen was in no mood for ceremony.
"If something has happened to my grandson…" Her voice trembled with fury, "I'll see every last one of your order hanged!"
The dragonkeeper raised his hands quickly in supplication. "My Queen, please, calm yourself. The senior keepers have already gone in to investigate. We don't know what has happened yet."
But Alysanne could not be calmed. Her lips were tight with anguish. She had lost too many children already—Daella, Viserra, Alyssa. The very thought of Aegon burning beneath dragonflame made her knees weak.
Jaehaerys moved beside her and gently took her hand. "Do not let fear rule you, my dear. The gods… may not be so cruel this time."
Tears glistened in Alysanne's eyes. "Let's go. We must go to the Dragonpit. Now."
Just as they stepped out into the courtyard of the Red Keep, footsteps hurried toward them. Septon Barth, robes half-tied, his eyes wide with alarm, came into view. "Your Graces, what's happened? I heard shouting!?"
"The boy. Aegon," Alysanne said quickly. "He's gone into the Dragonpit. Dreamfyre."
Barth's mouth opened in shock. "Seven save us…"
But before another word could be spoken, the sound came. A roar, deep, ancient, unmistakable, split the morning sky.
All movement ceased. Servants, guards, the Queen and King, all froze and turned their eyes upward. A great gust of wind swept over the walls of the Red Keep.
Then they saw it.
A great dragon, her wings vast and shimmering in hues of ocean-blue and sky-silver, soared above the city. Her roar echoed across the rooftops, scattering birds into the air. Her eyes glowed with fierce pride and freedom as she wheeled through the air in a great arc.
"Dreamfyre…" whispered the old dragonkeeper, awe-struck. "She's flying again…"
"There's someone on her!" cried a maid, pointing skyward. "Look, there, on her back!"
All eyes followed. And then they saw him.
A boy. Small against the great bulk of the dragon, but unmistakable. Silver hair flashing like starlight in the wind, his frame seated firmly atop the saddle, riding as if born to it.
"Aegon," Jaehaerys and Alysanne breathed at once, the name rising like a prayer on their lips.
They turned to look at one another, stunned disbelief giving way to joy and pride. The Queen's hand flew to her mouth. Her tears, once born of fear, now disappeared, while she looked freely in wonder.
"He's just… seven," Septon Barth stammered, his voice nearly lost in the wind.
The King stood straight, his face cracking into a slow, broad grin. "Yes," he said, chest swelling. "He is."
Then, for the first time in what felt like years, Jaehaerys the Conciliator threw his head back and laughed. A deep, heartfelt laugh that echoed across the courtyard.
Septon Barth looked up at the young boy circling the Red Keep atop a dragon thought unclaimable. He exhaled, placing a hand over his heart, and smiled.
"Congratulations, Your Graces," he said with quiet reverence. "It seems the youngest dragonrider in the history of the Seven Kingdoms has just been born."
Aegon felt the rush of the wind against his face, the freedom and raw power beneath him. The sun climbed higher, gilding the dragon's scales in bright blue and silver, a living jewel cutting through the sky.
This is what I have been waiting for all these years, he thought, heart pounding with fierce joy.
From this vantage point, the troubles and fears that had weighed on him, the schemes, the shadows lurking in the halls of power, felt distant, almost insignificant.
Up here, he was no longer just a boy tangled in the tangled webs of court and suspicion. He was something more.
The wind ruffled against his hair and kissed his cheeks. Higher, Dreamfyre, he urged, and the dragon obeyed, soaring upward with majestic grace.
Deep inside Aegon's mind, something new stirred. The faint humming of the class tree, a quiet, constant presence, shifted suddenly. A grayed-out branch, a Tier 2 class he had forged in the quiet of last night but had not yet created, began to shimmer with a soft, ethereal light. The final prerequisite had been met: riding a dragon.
[Prerequisite Fulfilled.]
[Class: Dragon Rider – Creation Successful.]
A subtle pulse of energy rippled through Aegon's body. His vision sharpened, senses tingled with heightened awareness.
But the most profound change was the mystical thread now weaving between his mind and Dreamfyre's — a bridge formed of ancient blood and magic.
Suddenly, Dreamfyre faltered mid-flight, a flicker of panic flashing in her great eyes. The new connection startled her, a fresh presence invading her thoughts, unsteadying her graceful flight for a moment.
Steady, Dreamfyre, Aegon shouted, voice both loud and clear, yet somehow also inside her mind, a strange and intimate command. Calm now.
The dragon's panic eased. A soft, melodic voice echoed within Aegon's thoughts, Dreamfyre's own. Fly straight, he commanded, she immediately rebalanced herself, steadying her powerful wings.
Aegon smiled, feeling the bond deepen.
This is my voice.
Remember it.
We are partners now.
You are mine as I am yours.
The emotions that surged through their connection were profound: Dreamfyre's cautious joy, the trust blooming between ancient creature and young rider.
~Yes, her voice whispered like a breeze in his mind.
Together, they swept above the Red Keep, the city sprawling below like a grand tapestry of stone, smoke, and life. The wind carried them onward, the sun casting long shadows across rooftops and spires.
We are bound by more than blood, Aegon thought, more than fire. Together, we will rise.
The city beneath felt smaller, the world wider, and his purpose clearer than ever.
This is only the beginning.
The morning sun was high by the time Aegon guided Dreamfyre down from the skies. The blue-scaled dragon circled once before descending in a controlled spiral near the Dragonpit's wide entrance. Dust kicked up in swirling clouds, scattering across the courtyard where a few dragonkeepers stood frozen in awe.
Aegon sat tall in the saddle, wind-tossed silver hair framing his youthful face, though his eyes, calm, proud, and commanding. As Dreamfyre settled, wings folding in, she let out a deep, contented rumble.
When she lowered her massive body to the ground, Aegon slipped off with ease, landing lightly on the packed stone. Without hesitation, he walked up to her snout and placed his hand gently on her scales. Dreamfyre gave a low, affectionate grunt and nudged her great head softly against him.
"You flew well," Aegon whispered, smiling. "Now rest inside the pit. I'll call on you again soon."
Dreamfyre snorted, exhaling warm air that ruffled his tunic, then turned and lumbered toward the cavernous interior of the Dragonpit. Aegon watched her go, then turned to the nearby dragonkeepers.
"She's hungry. Feed her," he said simply.
"Yes, my prince," they replied in unison, bowing as Dreamfyre vanished into the shadows of the cave.
As Aegon turned toward the Red Keep, an older dragonkeeper approached with a measured gait. He bowed deeply.
"Congratulations, my prince," the man said, his voice heavy with reverence. "Dreamfyre… she has not flown for years. To think, claimed by a boy of seven. The king and queen await you in the Great Hall."
Aegon gave a small nod. "Thank you." Then, with quiet confidence, he ascended the steps toward the castle.
As he passed through the Red Keep's corridors, servants and maids paused to bow or curtsy. Whispers followed him.
"That's the prince, right?"
"He was riding Dreamfyre!"
"Did you see the way she flew?"
Their eyes were wide with awe, their voices tinged with wonder. Aegon kept walking, trying not to look too pleased, though a quiet pride stirred in his chest. Still, part of him felt… awkward. He wasn't used to all this attention.
A few days ago, he was just little Aegon, the clever boy with strange eyes and too many questions. Now? He was something else.
The doors to the Great Hall loomed before him, open wide. Torches flickered in iron sconces, and sunlight spilled in through the stained-glass windows high above. He stepped inside.
At the far end of the hall, the Iron Throne sat atop its jagged steps, a hulking monument of swords and shadow. King Jaehaerys Targaryen sat upon it, his long white beard braided, his expression grave but warm. Beside him stood Queen Alysanne, hands clasped together, worry still fading from her eyes.
Prince Aemon, the heir, stood off to the right, arms folded, brow slightly arched with curious scrutiny. Down below, Aegon spotted his brothers, Viserys and Daemon, watching him intently. Viserys looked bewildered. Daemon's expression was harder to read: admiration, annoyance, and perhaps something like envy flickered in his violet eyes.
The small council flanked either side, Septon Barth, Lord Tully, Ser Ryam Redwyne, and others, all staring at him, silent and expectant.
Aegon walked forward. His boots echoed against the stone floor. When he reached the base of the Iron Throne, he knelt on one knee, bowing his head.
There was a moment of silence. Then the King's voice rang out:
"Rise, Aegon Targaryen, rider of Dreamfyre. The youngest dragonrider in the history of Westeros."
Aegon stood slowly. He swallowed. "Thank you… Your Grace. Though, um…" he hesitated, scratching the back of his neck and glancing around. "That's… quite a lot of titles for someone who's still missing a few teeth."
A ripple of chuckles moved through the hall, even from the King himself.
"You gave your king and queen quite the surprise this morning," Jaehaerys said, smiling. "My guards were ready to storm the Dragonpit."
"I… didn't mean to cause a fuss," Aegon said sheepishly, glancing toward Queen Alysanne.
The Queen stepped forward then, her face softened with pride and motherly warmth. "You are safe, and that is all that matters. I feared… well, I feared the worst."
Aegon bowed his head to her. "I'm sorry for worrying you, grandmother."
The King nodded. "Dreamfyre was once the dragon of your Aunt Rhaena. She was a fierce woman, strong-willed and untamed. That dragon shares her spirit. You must care for her as your aunt once did."
"I will," Aegon replied, voice steady.
Prince Aemon finally spoke, his tone dry but not unkind. "Congratulations, Nephew. I look forward to flying with you one day. "
Aegon nodded in response, "Me too Uncle."
That drew a soft chuckle from the king. "No matter how it came to be, for such an extraordinary feat" Jaehaerys said, "this is a day that will be remembered."
As the council nodded in agreement and the court murmured with approval, Aegon stood still beneath the vaulted ceiling, no longer just a boy, but something more.
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