90 AC. Driftmark
Leaving Viserra and their newborn son in their shared chambers, Corlys softly pulled the heavy oak door shut behind him. Deep, silent night held sway over the halls and corridors of High Tide. Only the wall torches crackled softly, casting long shadows across the marble masonry. The servants had long since gone to bed, so he met almost no one along his way, save for the guards slowly making their rounds through the hallways. The guards greeted their lord with measured inclinations of their heads, asking no unnecessary questions, for all knew that the night was ever a time of unfinished tasks and solitary labors for Corlys.
Descending a massive winding stair that led to the lowest vaults of the castle, Corlys passed through subterranean passages where the air grew ever more damp and chill. At last, he emerged into a long corridor lit not by ordinary torches, but by blue sorcerous fire. This flame cast a cold, steady glow and threw ghostly reflections onto the smooth stone walls. Right at the entrance to the corridor stood an invisible ward - spells woven in such a manner that none could pass save for those of Corlys's own blood.
At the very end of the hall loomed two massive doors carved with ancient runic script. Corlys approached one of the doors and deliberately laid his palm against its cold surface. In that instant, an intricate mechanism within the stone engaged, and with a distinct click, the heavy door swung open smoothly.
Corlys stepped over the threshold, feeling a wave of dry, palpable heat strike his face. Within the hatchings chamber stood forty-nine dragon egg incubators, which he himself had brought from the ruins of fallen Valyria. Upon each of these stone incubators Corlys had carved runes - the selfsame glyphs that had preserved the dragon eggs' life force for over a century since the Doom.
Drawing a carved box from the inner pocket of his doublet, Corlys retrieved an enchanted needle that held a single drop of his newborn son's blood. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and attuned himself to his inner senses. Reaching out with his magic, Corlys began to seek the one egg that would resonate with his son's magical essence.
He walked slowly between the long rows of incubators, passing his right hand over their lids. Some eggs yielded a faint response - their scales vibrating softly with magical warmth - but that was not enough for Corlys. He sought an egg that would hatch into a dragon perfectly suited to Daemon in temperament, magic, and spirit.
By the end of his walk, Corlys was beginning to frown. Not a single egg fully met his exacting criteria, and doubts began to creep into his mind that he might have to settle for partial compatibility. Yet as he reached the very last incubator in the corner of the chamber, he suddenly felt what he had been seeking from the start. His magic flared in response, and the blood within the needle seemed to quicken.
Corlys stood over the incubator for a moment longer, carefully inspecting all the magical currents and resonance. Satisfied of their absolute harmony, he gently lifted off the heavy stone lid, instantly feeling the intense warmth radiating from the egg. It was pure white, covered in exquisitely even scales that shivered with mother-of-pearl reflections under the blue light.
Laying his palm against the warm egg, Corlys whispered softly to the dragon sleeping beneath the scaled shell:
"Very soon, after all these years, you shall break free and soar into the sky, taking your rightful place beside your rider."
Corlys carefully lifted the egg into his arms and left the hatchings chamber, heading toward the higher levels of the castle where the ritual chamber lay.
Entering a spacious ritual hall paved with dark stone carved in concentric circles, he placed the snow-white egg at the exact center of the room. Then Corlys drew the enchanted needle once more and began to chant slowly in an ancient tongue. As the words of the incantation echoed, tiny runes upon the needle flared with brilliant blue light, and at its very tip gathered the single drop of his son's blood that had previously been absorbed into the metal.
The drop fell from the point of the needle onto the surface of the dragon egg. In that same instant, the flames of the torches lighting the chamber surged wildly, leaping almost to the ceiling. Corlys felt a powerful wave of magical energy pulse outward from the egg in every direction.
"You are strong," Corlys said with respect, addressing the dragon within the shell as he closely monitored the reaction of the magical field. "Stronger than I first believed."
He continued to chant, and the single drop of blood spread across the scales in a crimson web before being absorbed entirely into the egg. Corlys wrought this so that the dragon, from the very moment of its hatching, would be irrevocably bound to Daemon.
True compatibility between dragon and rider granted the rider greater health and physical endurance, while rewarding the dragon with swifter growth and strength. Should the rider also possess a magical gift of their own, the bond enabled even more wondrous feats, such as mental communication across vast distances or guiding the dragon without ever sitting in the saddle. In these days, no dragonrider in Westeros could lead a dragon into battle without mounting it, save for Corlys himself. A rider such as Corlys could lead an army on the ground in person while simultaneously directing his dragon to strike precise targets from the skies. Without such direction, dragons in the chaos of battle can scarcely distinguish friend from foe, which was why riders never commanded land forces on foot if they intended to unleash the power of their winged partners.
Once the ritual binding was successfully wrought, Corlys laid both hands upon the egg and began to channel his own magic into it without pause. The energy poured inside greedily and in vast measure, as though into a bottomless depth.
Through long observation of dragons, Corlys had come to realize a truth: freedom from chains was indeed vital to these beasts, as was abundant food for rapid growth. Yet no less essential was a high magical ambient field or another steady source of sorcery, enabling them to grow faster and become vastly stronger. No sorcerer nor ordinary man could supply a dragon with an uninterrupted flow of his own magic - it would never suffice, for such a drain would ultimately slay the caster. Dragons were like dry desert sands: no matter how much water you poured onto them, they would drink it all and still crave more.
Today in Westeros, almost no natural magic or magical creatures remained, and what scant remnants endured were somehow slowly drifting North - a phenomenon whose true cause Corlys did not yet fully comprehend. He was firmly resolved to investigate this strange occurrence in detail when the time came. He had first noticed the ebb of magic when he tapped two ley-lines beneath Driftmark to artificially elevate the island's magical background. Naturally, the result was a mere pittance compared to the natural ambient magic of Antillia, yet it would serve well enough for the dragons' thriving.
It was then that Corlys had first encountered this drain of power. He had managed to trace the magic flowing deep into the North, though he could not yet pinpoint the final place of its gathering. He was convinced that if magic was being siphoned away, it had to be flowing somewhere and pooling somewhere. Where exactly and to what end, he did not yet know, but he intended to uncover it in the future.
Naturally, Corlys could not allow his efforts to raise Driftmark's magical environment to be in vain. To solve this, he had devised another ritual designed to shield the entire island from external influences and prevent the leakage of magic. Crafting and tuning these wards had cost him over a month of unceasing toil, but he had succeeded, and now Driftmark was the most favorable place for dragons to flourish in all the known world.
Corlys continued channeling his magic into the egg until his own reserves had depleted by roughly a quarter, whereupon he halted. Attuning his senses and looking upon the altar with magical sight, he saw the egg blazing with pure luminescence, like a bright beacon in a pitch-black night. To the touch, the egg had grown almost red-hot, an ordinary man would have burned his hand severely at a touch.
"Now you are fully ready to hatch," Corlys said with conviction, gazing at the fruit of his labors.
He stepped back a few paces from the egg at the center of the hall and drew the Elder Wand from his sleeve. Focusing on the shape and form of the magic, Corlys unleashed a blinding burst of white fire at the egg.
This sorcerous fire possessed immense destructive force, far more dangerous than even traditional Fiendfyre. Corlys had reworked this spell back in his past life, when he had chanced upon a description of similar magic in the Black family library. Later he had even learned that the Dark wizard Grindelwald had nearly burned down all of Paris with this spell - so potent and unruly was its nature. Corlys had restructured the spell entirely so that it was no longer dark magic, yet in untrained hands it remained extraordinarily perilous.
Corlys felt the heat spreading swiftly through the ritual chamber and saw the stone floor around the altar glow red-hot, so intense was the temperature of the white flame.
After precisely one minute, he ceased channeling fire from his wand and peered intently at the egg. The shell had turned crimson with heat, it was hard now to believe it had originally been snow-white. Corlys watched it, feeling the shell literally throb with magic in time with the dragon's quickened heartbeat.
A few seconds later, the shell cracked loudly, and a small head of a tiny white dragon poked through the broken fragment. The hatchling set to breaking apart the rest of its scaled cocoon until it at last emerged completely, looking clumsily about and struggling to keep its footing on the hot stone.
Looking around a few more times, the small dragon focused its gaze on Corlys and hissed loudly, trying its best to look fierce. Owing to its minuscule size and awkward movements, it achieved quite the opposite, to Corlys, the dragon seemed endearing rather than dangerous.
"A spirited one, aren't you? That is well," Corlys said with a gentle smile, surveying the newborn predator.
Then he began to gently radiate his own magic, enveloping the hatchling in soothing waves of power. The little creature gradually relaxed and ceased its hissing.
Corlys stepped closer and drew from a pouch at his belt several small, pre-prepared morsels of well-roasted meat. The dragon instantly caught the enticing scent and began to gaze greedily at the meat in the stranger's hands. Corlys neatly set the pieces on the floor directly in front of the hatchling and spoke in Parseltongue:
"I have brought you food. You may eat in peace."
The small dragon's head twitched the moment it heard those strange sounds - sounds it was instinctively meant to comprehend, though it could not yet grasp their full meaning. Like Corlys's other dragons, upon hatching this dragon responded to Parseltongue without understanding specific words, perceiving only the general intent and emotion. Hatchlings do not understand speech at all in the dawn of their lives - much like human babes - and only after a time do they begin to comprehend speech, react, and respond to it.
Without much hesitation, the dragon greedily fell upon the food, devouring every single piece within five minutes. Corlys watched the sight with a pleased smile upon his face. Then he slowly extended his hand, continuing to project soothing magic toward the dragon.
The dragon eyed his palm with a measure of caution and sniffed tentatively. A few moments later, it allowed Corlys to touch its scales, and Corlys gently gathered the hatchling into his arms.
"Come, I shall take you to one who will care for you well," he said softly to the little dragon, stroking its wing.
The dragon did not object to his touch nor struggle, feeling safe.
Corlys cast concealment charms over himself and the hatchling, hiding them securely from prying eyes and muffling any noise, before departing the ritual hall. He made his way through the castle to the inner courtyard, where the dragons usually resided when not soaring over the island.
Stepping into the courtyard, the lord slipped past the guards standing watch at a distance. The guards noticed nothing. Corlys approached Dreamfyre, who, possessing keen senses, instantly felt his presence and raised her massive head. She watched the tiny dragon in Corlys's arms with intent eyes. The other dragons - Meleys and Silverwing - were also awake, observing the scene from nearby.
The hatchling in Corlys's arms grew visibly restless at the sight of such vast and mighty kin, pressing itself closer to the man.
"Fear not, they will bring you no harm," Corlys reassured it, stroking its head and sending a wave of calm. "Dreamfyre will look after you."
Stepping right up to Dreamfyre, Corlys dispelled the concealment spell and addressed the dragoness:
"Viserra has birthed her babe, Dreamfyre. Soon you and she shall take to the skies together once more."
Dreamfyre rumbled with contentment, letting out a low, vibrating hum, and conveyed to Corlys:
"Let her come to me soon and show me her babe."
"Viserra will surely visit you tomorrow," Corlys told her with a smile, then raised the hatchling slightly and added: "In the meantime, I ask you to look after this little dragon. It belongs to Viserra's child and mine."
Dreamfyre leaned down gently, sniffed the small white dragon, and snorted approvingly, exhaling a thin wispy plume of steam.
"He is strong and will serve Viserra's child well," she said, studying the family's newest dragon with interest.
Corlys offered his heartfelt thanks to Dreamfyre, then lulled the hatchling to sleep with a gentle touch of magic and carefully laid it upon the dry grass. Dreamfyre spread her wing and tenderly draped it over the sleeping babe.
"I entrust his care entirely to you," Corlys said to the dragoness. "Teach him and watch over him until he grows."
Dreamfyre rumbled softly in response, confirming her pledge:
"I shall teach the young dragon, and soon he shall fly with me and Viserra in the skies of our home."
Corlys thanked her once more, pulled the remaining shards of red-hot shell from his pouch, laid them gently on the ground beside the dragoness, and headed back into the castle.
He slipped past the guards once more, who had noticed nothing all the while. They had seen neither Corlys nor the hatchling, nor were they watching the adult dragons with any special diligence. After a month of regular watch duties, the guards had grown accustomed to the giant winged beasts and no longer stared at them every moment. Their main duty was merely to ensure no one approached them, save for the Dragonkeepers.
Corlys understood full well that such a turn of events would deeply displease the King. King Jaehaerys had once even forbidden males from approaching Dreamfyre for the express purpose of preventing her from producing new eggs beyond his command. Yet once Daemon formed a bond with the dragon tomorrow before the eyes of Queen Alysanne and the princesses, the King would have no choice but to let matters stand. The King would be sore vexed by this, but Corlys was entirely confident he could weather any displeasure from Jaehaerys and his councillors.
Corlys returned to the castle and went straight to his chambers, where his wife and newborn son awaited him. Little Daemon slept peacefully in his cradle, as yet unaware of the grand and truly royal gift his father had bestowed upon him this day.
Silently pushing open the heavy door, Corlys crossed the threshold back into his and Viserra's bedchamber. All was quiet, Viserra, heeding her husband's advice, had gone to sleep after his departure.
Corlys walked slowly over to the carved white-wood cradle set near the bed. Looking down, he stood still over his sleeping son. Little Daemon snuffled softly in his sleep, tiny fists pressed against his chest, absolute peace upon his pale face. Gazing down at the newborn boy, Corlys felt a deep, genuine satisfaction: the first and most vital step toward securing his son's future had been taken.
The rustle of silk sheets made Corlys turn slightly. Viserra, whose sleep remained light after her arduous labor, slowly raised her head from the pillow. Spotting the dark shape beside the cradle, she rose quietly from the bed. Slipping a soft robe over her shoulders, the princess crossed the room without a sound and approached her husband from behind. Her slender arms wrapped gently around Corlys's waist, her cheek resting against his back.
"Did you do as you intended?" Viserra whispered, gazing down at the sleeping child.
Corlys placed his hands over hers and offered a faint smile.
"All went perfectly, Viserra. The deed is done - our son's dragon has hatched."
The princess relaxed visibly, a spark of genuine wonder lighting up her eyes.
"And where is he now?" she asked with unfeigned curiosity, stepping back slightly to look into her husband's face.
"I took him straight to the inner yard, to Dreamfyre," Corlys answered calmly, turning to face her. "Your dragoness accepted the babe without the slightest hesitation. She sheltered him beneath her wing and pledged to rear and train him herself."
Viserra let out a breath of relief, a grateful smile blooming upon her lips. Knowing that her own dragoness had taken her firstborn's dragon under her wing brought her a profound, motherly satisfaction.
"That is glorious news, Corlys..." she murmured softly, though her expression soon sharpened with purpose. "What must we do next? How are we to proceed?"
Corlys gently took her hand and led her back to the grand bed. They sat together upon the edge of the soft mattress, and the Lord of Driftmark spoke in a steady, measured tone:
"Queen Alysanne's letter, sent by raven, shall reach King's Landing within the day. Your father will require time to gather his retinue. Depending on precisely when the King and your brothers take wing from the capital, they shall land at Spicetown within two days, three at the most. We must use this time wisely."
Viserra listened intently to her husband, missing not a single word.
"Tomorrow, once word of your recovery from childbed labor is firmly confirmed, you will surely be visited by Queen Alysanne, Rhaenys, and little Gael," Corlys continued explaining. "Once we have celebrated Daemon's birth among family, you must make the next move. Take Daemon in your arms and, under the pretext of wishing to present your newborn son to Dreamfyre, make your way to the inner yard."
Corlys squeezed her fingers lightly, emphasizing the importance of what came next:
"And most importantly: be certain to invite the Queen, Rhaenys, and Gael to accompany you. They will not refuse. When you reach the yard, Dreamfyre herself shall reveal the hatched babe to them. All must appear as though your dragoness secretly laid a clutch of a single egg, and it hatched of its own accord on the very day of our son's birth."
Viserra caught the essence of his design instantly, a keen gleam coming to her eyes.
"A dragon hatching on the very day its rider comes into the world..." she picked up with a smirk. "All of King's Landing and Westeros shall deem it the unmistakable will of the gods!"
"Just so," Corlys nodded in agreement. "Even your royal father cannot gainsay the 'will of the gods.' His decrees forbidding dragons of the male sex from approaching Dreamfyre shall crumble before an accomplished fact. Jaehaerys will simply have to resign himself and acknowledge our son's right to this dragon."
Viserra smiled warmly, feeling a heavy burden lift from her heart. The King's decrees had ever weighed upon her, and the thought that her son might be denied a dragon - never knowing the joy of riding such magnificent creatures due to his grandfather's political fears - infuriated her.
"I shall do everything exactly as you say," the princess declared with conviction. "I am overjoyed, Corlys. Our son will not be denied. He shall not grow up dragonless merely because of the commands and fears of his own grandfather."
Corlys wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving her strength.
"All shall unfold precisely as we have planned, Viserra. The King and his Council will have not the slightest pretext to punish us or take the dragon away, considering Daemon's dragon emerged from your own dragoness's egg before the Queen's very eyes. Rest now. Tomorrow is a monumental day for us."
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A/N
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