When Lord Grafton finally departed the chamber, the two sides had reached a quiet understanding, one that served them both. They would pass intelligence to one another and keep a close watch on Lord Egen's movements.
Grafton was clever. The queen was stubborn, even foolish at times, and the true wielder of power in the future would inevitably be the Prince of Dragonstone. The cake of Gulltown was far too large to be shared by three men; Grafton wanted to devour it whole. He had long coveted the wealth of Gulltown's Arryn branch.
What a seasoned old fox, Aegon thought.
Absolute loyalty did not exist, where loyalty was not absolute, it was never pure. Grafton had boarded Egen's ship, but he had left himself a path to jump off. Change, at least, was a good thing. Aegon needed people. The less the realm bled in war, the better. He had no wish to inherit a kingdom reduced entirely to ruins.
[Major Event: Words can be as sharp as swords.
The Gulltown double agent, Grafton, has been activated. He will benefit your cause.Your Fortune has increased.
You gain one attribute enhancement.]
After some thought, Aegon invested this enhancement in Magic. His first improvement had been Fortune, the second Strength, now, for the third, he chose magic.
The black flame that symbolized magic flared brighter, deepening and condensing.
[Magic: Dragon Dreams, Flame Sensitivity (Growth-type attribute, Danger Warning!)]
Aegon was more than satisfied. Even a rudimentary danger warning was priceless, a faint glimpse into what was about to happen around him.
Open battle isn't what truly frightens me, he thought. It's the hidden blades, the poisons. With this heightened sensitivity, his risk would be greatly reduced. Even if he returned to King's Landing, forever riddled with intrigue like a sieve, he would at least have some warning against poisoners, assassins, and cowards striking from the dark. Next time, perhaps I can strengthen resistance to poison.
The night was heavy and still. Aegon tossed one or two Myrish wooden carvings into the air. Just before they struck the ground, he caught them cleanly. When danger came, reacting swiftly was key, and this, too, could grow. With greater stamina, his reflexes would only sharpen.
Soon the excitement faded, and exhaustion claimed him.
Aegon lay down and fell asleep almost at once. After days of flight and turmoil, a stable bed was a rare blessing. These past days had nearly killed him. Even now, he could almost smell the lingering tang of fish from the Braavosi ship.
That night, in Gulltown, Aegon sank into a deep, true sleep.
In his dream, he stood on Dragonstone. His father and mother were there, as were his three brothers, two sisters, and his little brother... all together, a great and flourishing family. Jacaerys, Lucerys, Joffrey… and dearest little Viserys. They were harmonious, smiling, alive.
Three strong, handsome youths with brown hair, brown eyes, and broad noses, his Velaryon brothers. And two slighter figures, silver-haired and purple-eyed: Aegon himself and Viserys.
The vision shattered in an instant.
People and dragons descended upon them, some from the sky, some without warning.
His uncle, King Aegon, still handsome then, with a short beard and a face twisted in anger over the reversal of succession. A magnificent golden dragon opened its vast maw, Sunfyre, perhaps the most glorious dragon Westeros, even the world, had ever seen.
Then came one-eyed Aemond. He tore off his eyepatch, revealing the sapphire set in his socket. Vhagar exhaled fire, drowning everything. And the Shepherd, the mad prophet, laughing wildly, behind him an uncountable mob, swallowing them whole.
"No-!"
Tears streamed down Aegon's face as he watched his family burn to ash, leaving only himself behind.
Aegon the Elder and Aemond strode toward him, beating him as they laughed. Terrified, Aegon struggled back, only to be struck harder. He tried to flee, but his body would not obey.
"I'll drag you to the dragon and feed you to it!"
Blood soaked his body. Eyes shut, he groaned, then came a brutal tearing sound, followed by the thunderous crackle of flame, as if something had answered his despair. He opened his eyes.
Everyone was gone.
Towering pillars of fire rose around him. At their center stood a colossal dragon. It turned its head slowly, its eyes, like a green inferno, locking onto his.
Aegon awoke with a violent gasp, trembling, drenched in cold sweat.
He had seen that dragon.
Its body was black as char, its pupils vertical and green, an unmistakable mark of something malevolent. When Aegon looked at the dragon, the dragon looked back. It was savage, domineering, cruel beyond measure, like the embodiment of nightmare itself. Its horns swept back, ready to tear flesh at any moment. Its black scales were so heavy and oppressive that even time seemed to slow around them.
He heard the thunder of leathery wings, black as endless night. He felt its scorching breath. The dragon opened its jaws, and green fire poured forth. The flames were neither wholly gas nor liquid; once they entered the body, they could not be extinguished, burning like wildfire until all was consumed.
"I am of the blood of the true dragon."
There was nowhere to flee. Aegon spread his arms and embraced the fire, letting it swallow him whole, purifying him, tempering him. He felt his flesh char and peel away, his blood boil and evaporate... yet there was no pain. Instead, he felt stronger, denser, reborn.
"A dragon dream…"
Aegon wiped the tears and sweat from his face. The dream had been unbearably real. Dragon dreams haunted the Targaryens from time to time, some dreams had claimed their lives.
"Prince- are you all right?"
Ser Harrold entered the room, concern written plainly on his face.
This child was the hope of the Blacks. The Greens had no male heir left. Though the Blacks had only one male claimant, that alone was hope enough.
"I'm fine," Aegon said calmly. "You've worked hard, ser. It was only a dream."
Seeing the prince unharmed, Ser Harrold finally relaxed. After a moment, he withdrew.
The Cannibal, Aegon thought. I dreamed of the Cannibal.
He did not know what the dream meant, prophecy, or desire. Dragon dreams were the only true magic the Targaryens possessed… perhaps coupled with some resistance to flame. He needed a dragon to overturn the future. Of the living dragons, none was a better choice than the Cannibal. Silverwing was somewhere in the Reach and inferior in battle. Sheepstealer had long vanished, and already had a rider.
The best, and only, choice was the Cannibal.
But to tame the king of wild dragons… the difficulty was immense.
Sheepstealer liked mutton. Grey Ghost fed on fish. But the Cannibal lived up to his name, the ultimate terror of Dragonstone.
"The Cannibal is the fiercest and most untamable wild dragon alive."
Aegon knew its infamous reputation. Infamy was still fame, and on Dragonstone, no one dared provoke it. The Cannibal was ancient, at the very height of its monstrous power. Sheepstealer had been born during the early reign of King Jaehaerys I. The Cannibal was older still, the largest and eldest of the three wild dragons.
It fed on the corpses of dead dragons, newborn hatchlings, and dragon eggs—and sometimes on men. It attacked smaller dragons without hesitation and laired behind the Dragonmont.
Before the Dance, many dragonseeds had tried to claim it, only to become bones in its nest. During the war, when Prince Jacaerys called for riders, no dragonseed was foolish enough to seek out the Cannibal, and if any did, none lived to tell the tale.
When Silver Denys, who claimed descent from Maegor the Cruel, attempted to tame Sheepstealer, he lost an arm. As his sons tried to stanch the bleeding, the Cannibal descended, drove Sheepstealer away, and devoured Denys and his sons alike.
I need it, Aegon thought. But only after my attributes rise further. Time was short, only a few months remained. Yet no image was more stirring than a black demon dragon shattering the Baratheon host on the kingsroad.
Still, he could not rush.
Only with absolute certainty could he hope to survive that monster's jaws, and perhaps, just perhaps, tame it.
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A/N:
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