The giant dragon, black as endless night, bore its newly claimed companion through the sky. Aegon the bald, clung to its back as they wandered without destination, a dark shape against the heavens.
Below them stretched the peninsula of Claw Isle. Dim gray-green forests and reeking swamps slid past beneath the dragon's shadow as the Cannibal skimmed low. Men whispered that horrors lurked there, deep ones and bog-walkers, creatures born of marsh and shadow. Those sodden woods hid things better left unseen.
Then Aegon saw the sea.
The Cannibal swept down over the blue expanse and, in a burst of savage delight, loosed a globe of sickly green flame. Columns of water exploded skyward. The sea boiled and hissed, steaming into white mist that scattered on the wind.
Cool ocean air rushed over Aegon's skin, bringing a rare and blessed chill.
Dragons were creatures of fire. They loved volcanoes and heat. They would cross the sea, but they never lingered above it for long.
The Cannibal skimmed the waves, then hauled Aegon skyward once more.
"soves, Cannibal. My partner," Aegon commanded in High Valyrian.
The dragon beat its vast wings and climbed, striving toward the highest reaches of the sky.
The Cannibal was an old dragon, more than eighty years of age, rich in cunning and seasoned by countless battles.
Now it revealed its true mastery of flight. The reckless cruelty was gone. It flew with intention, with awareness, even with a measure of restraint.
The Cannibal could climb to the very limits of the sky.
It displayed all manner of dazzling maneuvers. Spirals and sways, rolls and sharp turns, level charges that tore through the air. Aegon was flung about until his senses reeled, yet his strengthened body endured the storm of motion.
Above all else, dragons loved one movement. They spiraled higher and higher, then plunged straight down.
Circling and tearing through the clouds, roaring as it breathed fire, the Cannibal soared like an eagle and twisted like a living wyrm.
It showed Aegon what a true apex predator was.
Wild dragons died more often than those raised in pits, but those that survived grew larger, fiercer, and far more cunning.
The Cannibal carried Aegon to dizzying heights, then roared and dove. The savage speed and unbound freedom were among the most intoxicating sensations a man could know.
It shot upward, then fell like a hurled stone, carving a long black arc across the sky, a flash of darkness against the horizon.
"I won. Hahahaha!" Aegon laughed aloud, unrestrained.
The Cannibal pulled up once more over the sea and carried him from the waters near Dragonstone toward the Kingswood.
Dark and heavy, the Kingswood had once been the royal hunting ground of King's Landing. Now, with war raging, bandits and broken men prowled its depths. No one dared hunt there anymore, and the beasts had flourished.
The Cannibal's fortune was excellent.
Deep within the forest, it spotted a massive black stag, thick of neck and heavy of antler.
The dragon's roar sent countless creatures fleeing in terror. The stag bolted blindly, its legs giving out beneath it.
Boom.
Green flame struck. The stag was roasted alive in an instant. It loosed a pitiful cry before the heat cooked it through, fire consuming flesh and bone alike.
The Cannibal landed in a clearing and lowered itself, bidding Aegon dismount.
Thick smoke hung in the air, heavy with the scent of charred venison.
Aegon leapt down and at last beheld the dragon in full. It was like a mountain. Like a demon. The massive head, the horned crown, the brutal jaws, and most unforgettable of all, those cunning, evil, sickly green vertical pupils.
Jet-black scales covered its body. Immense leathern wings folded at its sides. Beautiful spines ran the length of its back. Every line of it spoke of power, perfectly balanced and utterly lethal.
The king of wild dragons.
Up close, the Cannibal's breath stank of sulfur and ancient heat. The older a dragon grew, the more terrible its fire became.
Aegon smiled and thumped his bare chest lightly against the armored scales of the dragon's snout. His eyebrows and silver hair were gone, but trading them for the king of wild dragons was more than worth the cost.
Thankfully, he was not disfigured. He bore burns, but no crippling wounds. Hair and brows would grow back.
The Cannibal's scales were black as coal, and just as unbreakable.
The dragon lowered its head, accepting the contact. Flesh met iron-hard scale. Its breath washed over him, scorching hot.
"Well done, partner."
The Cannibal regarded Aegon in silence. In a world torn by chaos, kindred spirits always found one another.
Only then did exhaustion crash down upon Aegon. Utter, bone-deep fatigue. His strength was wrung dry. The day had swung from peak to abyss again and again, and even with every enhancement he possessed, it had nearly broken him.
But the Cannibal had accepted him.
That alone was everything.
The dragon tore a roasted haunch from the stag with one claw and pushed it before Aegon.
It ate quickly. The stag barely sated it.
Aegon was starving as well. He tore into the meat without ceremony, devouring it where he stood. Well-roasted venison needed no seasoning.
His destiny interface flickered into being.
A bonded dragon had arrived.
The image of three dragons shifted and reshaped, becoming the Cannibal.
[Bonded Dragon: CannibalAge: 82Status: Adult DragonDescription: Proud, solitary King of the Wild Dragons]
[Innate Traits]• Endless Hunger – An insatiable devourer, favors prey rich in magical power• Bully of the Weak – Master of ambush, excels at preying on lesser foes• Apex Hunter – Cunning battlefield analyst, adaptable survivor, elite escape artist
Balerion the Black Dread had lived nearly two hundred years. The Targaryens divided a dragon's life into stages.
Hatchling, from birth to twenty years. Juvenile, twenty to forty. Young, forty to eighty. Adult, eighty to one hundred and twenty. Prime, one hundred and twenty to one hundred and sixty. Elder, one hundred and sixty to two hundred.
Hatchlings were the most vulnerable. Elders grew sluggish. The most perfect stages were Young, Adult, and Prime.
Two hundred years had been Balerion's limit, and that was despite the grievous wounds he suffered in the ruins of Valyria. Without that battle, he might have lived longer still.
Now, few Targaryen dragons met peaceful ends. Even Vhagar had fallen in war.
Aegon regarded the Cannibal with renewed awe. Three innate traits. An absurdly powerful dragon.
Its pride and savagery were earned. Without fire attunement, enhancements, and heightened affinity, Aegon would have been devoured ten times over. Adult wild dragons barely tolerated men.
Endless Hunger above all. Dragons and magic were inseparable. The Cannibal delighted in devouring its own kind, drawn to the power within dragonflesh and eggs alike, accelerating its growth.
And Bully of the Weak. A master of ambush. Few dragons besides Vhagar could face it head-on, yet it preferred efficiency and cruelty over fair contest.
[Birth: 48 AC]
The year King Jaehaerys took the throne.
[Length: 79 meters | Wingspan: 237 meters]
A terrifying size—nearly unmatched even before the Dance. Dragons grew until near death. Balerion had reached perhaps 150 meters at the end.
The Cannibal was not yet a century old.
Monstrous.
[Dragon–Rider Synergy: Medium (Growth Potential)]
Aegon nodded. More battles together would deepen it.
Combat Ratings:
• Mind: Strong
•Experience: Strong
• Flame: Strong
• Speed: Strong
• Physical Might: Strong
A perfect monster. A six-sided killer.
If he could enhance anything next, it would be speed and agility. Great size robbed dragons of nimbleness. Smaller dragons survived by fleeing.
A more agile Cannibal would be the ultimate dragon slayer.
"Cannibal," Aegon shouted, "fly. Back to Dragonstone. There is more to eat there."
The dragon leapt skyward, no longer resisting his partner's command.
Beyond that mountain, the world would learn their story.
The Cannibal flew steady and swift toward Dragonstone.
No tricks. No torment.
Now, flying was pure joy.
Of course, riding was only the first step. True harmony would take time.
High above, the Cannibal roared, casting a shadow so vast that passing fleets screamed in terror.
It was the last dragon king. The king at the end of the world.
Aegon smiled.
He had changed fate.
"I had no glory of my own before this day," he said softly. "From now on, you are my glory."
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A/N:
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