“No…
that can’t be right…”
Lord Daeron’s face suddenly went pale as death.
“Why would His Grace allow my own son to tame a dragon…”
“Doesn’t the letter say why?” Valera picked the letter up off the floor.
“Quenny only tamed the dragon to save my sister, and little Daemon, and little Gael besides.”
“My lady, what my lord means is…”
Maester Sven glanced between Daeron and the still-elated Valera, and decided it fell to him, as Harrenhal’s own counselor, to speak plainly.
“His Grace flew into a towering rage forty years ago over the matter of Lady Elissa Farman.
My lord fears His Grace may harbor some reservations now as well…”
“That was because Elissa Farman betrayed our elder sister.” A rare, hard resolve had come over Valera.
“She betrayed Rhaena’s own trust and stole a dragon’s egg.
She was a thief.
My son is a hero.
Maester Sven, since when has a lowly, treacherous rat ever been spoken of in the same breath as a dragon in the sky?”
“My lady, this is a genuinely serious political matter.”
Maester Sven laid out his own reasoning, calm and measured.
“Dowager Queen Rhaena, after all, never bore Ser Androw Farman a child of her own, so there was never any question over who Dreamfyre truly belonged to.
But you and Princess Rhaenys have both borne children of your own.
Now that young Lord Quentyn has claimed a dragon, Lord Corlys is certain to press for the very same right on his own child’s behalf.
And once that happens, young Lord Quentyn will find himself caught squarely in the crossfire between more than one great power…”
“The Sea Snake?” Valera had never, in her whole life, felt so fierce as she did in that moment.
“Whoever it is, if they mean to come after my son, they’ll have to walk over this mother’s own bones first!”
“It won’t come to that.” Daeron hurried to soothe his wife.
“No one wants to make an enemy of the king’s own sister.
Trust me on that, truly.”
Only then did Valera’s own temper begin to cool.
Just then, the sharp clatter of boots rang out from the corridor beyond.
“Lord Daeron.” Master-at-Arms Sebaston Mudd came hurrying up the stairs, appearing in the hallway, catching sight at once of the bedchamber’s own open door.
“Maester Sven’s here as well?”
Maester Sven tugged lightly at his own maester’s chain.
“Ser Sebaston, what’s happened?”
“Lord Osmund Strong, Lord Brynden Butterwell, Ser Karl Chambers, Ser Dennis Rosston, and Ser Hoster Rivan have all arrived, my lord Daeron.
They’re already waiting in the ruins of the Hall of a Hundred Hearths, asking for your audience.”
“What?”
Daeron started in genuine shock.
These were among Harrenhal’s own most powerful bannermen, men who had, for more than a decade now, treated the family with barely veiled indifference, paying lip service while doing as they pleased, even falling short on their own tax payments from time to time.
Valera rose to her feet, a cold smile crossing her face.
“They’ve heard my son’s flown a dragon into the sky now, and they’re afraid dragonfire might come raining down on their own heads one day.”
Daeron hurried to call for his own attendants to help him dress.
Valera’s own maidservants came at once from the small chamber beside the bedroom, arms full of fresh clothes.
“Have the lords wait in the Wailing Tower’s Black Sail Court.” Daeron spread his arms, letting his attendant fit him into his formal robes and fasten his own chain of office.
“I’ll be down directly.”
“No, Daeron.” Valera stayed the maidservant’s hand.
“Good Ser, tell the lords to be patient.
I’ll receive them together with my husband.”
Daeron froze. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
“My son is not only the youngest knight in the Seven Kingdoms.
He’s a dragonrider besides.” Valera picked up the black swan-feather fan resting on her dressing table.
“I want to see the look on their faces.”
Dragonstone.
The moon hung directly above the peak of Sea Dragon Tower, and beneath it, just as the old legends told, the castle’s own gargoyles loomed in every grotesque, twisted shape.
But not one of them was half so fearsome as the great dragons now coiled beside the castle itself.
“Hooof—”
Moon Crown came down to land with a heavy thud.
Silverwing lazily lifted her head, glanced once at Moon Crown, then tucked her own head back between her wings and settled back to rest.
Little Jade crept closer, curious, sniffing at Moon Crown’s own scent, then drew her neck back at once, hissing sharply.
Moon Crown lowered her head, jaws parting, and a whole mountain’s worth of assorted seafood spilled out before her.
She considered it a moment, then picked out a great tuna and tossed it toward Jade.
Jade craned her neck with a puzzled hiss, but Moon Crown had already picked through the pile again, plucking up a squid this time and tossing that to her as well.
The green dragon’s own hissing grew sharper still.
“Hoof!” Moon Crown let out a low growl, and Jade shrank back at once, obediently dragging the tuna off into a corner.
She cast one more puzzled glance at Moon Crown before sweeping the squid over to herself with her own tail.
Lake-green dragonfire cooked the tuna and the squid through in an instant.
Jade was just about to take her first bite when something seemed to occur to her.
She hesitated, then turned her head aside and bit the tuna neatly in two, unhurried, and swallowed one half down.
“Seven hells, I wish Caraxes were here.” Daemon hopped over toward the open ground where the dragons lay resting, a cup of fruit wine in one hand, the other slung around Quentyn’s shoulders.
The boy cast a slightly “jealous” glance toward Gael, plainly brighter and more radiant than before, sticking close to Quentyn’s side, and toward Quentyn himself, calm as ever.
Daemon had no idea, of course, what Quentyn was actually thinking just then.
Damn it all.
Whether in his past life or this one, Quentyn had only ever seen the techniques of courtship described, or heard them talked about.
He’d never once put a single one of them into practice.
Today’s tenderness toward Gael had been entirely unconscious on his own part, a reflex, nothing more.
By the time he’d realized just how thoroughly this girl had fallen for him, that she genuinely believed him her own fated knight, it was already too late to undo any of it.
Quentyn found himself, quite suddenly, at something of a loss for how to manage a bond like this one.
Perhaps he ought to ask his own parents, so devoted to one another after all these years.
For now, though, Quentyn decided to keep up the image he’d already built, if only to make sure Gael’s own devotion stayed unshakably firm.
Call it practice, he told himself, for over thirty years spent, in his last life, without ever once knowing a woman’s touch.
“Don’t worry, we’ll fly together once we’re back in King’s Landing.” Quentyn offered comfort to his “wounded” friend and nephew both at once.
“I hear the Barrowlands are covered end to end with the tombs of the ancient First Men kings, that in the Neck, lizard-lions carry the crannogmen’s own floating strongholds on their backs, that there are tears wept from the Giant’s Lance, and eagles nesting in the Red Mountains…
and further east, there’s the Great Grass Sea, stretching on without end, and a red desert littered with the bones of dead dragons, and Sothoryos’s own rainforests, and the legendary wyverns that live there.”
That was more than enough to light Daemon’s own interest.
Perhaps every boy carries some dream of becoming an adventurer, buried somewhere in his heart.
Gael twisted at the fabric of her own skirt, unsure how to work her way into the conversation between Quentyn and Daemon.
The three of them made their way over to where the dragons lay.
The instant Moon Crown spotted Quentyn approaching, her jaws parted at once.
Moon-silver fire swallowed the whole mountain of seafood in an instant, and the mingled scent of it all rushed straight into the boys’ own noses.
Moon Crown picked through the roasted seafood and finally drew out a hairtail fish, golden and crisp, tossing it down before Quentyn.
She stretched her neck out and brushed her own snout lightly against his hair, a low, rumbling growl rolling from her throat.
“For me?”
Quentyn picked up the fish, and knowledge rose at once in his own mind.
A dragonrider came to see his own dragon as kin, as a true companion, and the dragon felt the very same in turn, a bond that ran deeper, even, than the one two dragons might share between themselves.
History had proven, time and again, that even two dragons who had once hunted together, flown together, raised eggs together, would tear each other apart without a moment’s hesitation, claw and flame both, the instant their own riders became enemies.
Quentyn tore open the clean side of the fish at once, exposing a complete, clean skeleton and pale white flesh beneath.
There was no seasoning, no salt to speak of, but fish cooked through by dragonfire was far from unpleasant all the same.
The skin came out crisp, the flesh tender and fresh.
The boy tore off great mouthfuls of the fish and ate them down eagerly.
Moon Crown brushed her snout against Quentyn’s head once more, then bent her neck and drew a great, red-shelled crab from the pile of seafood.
One bite of her jaws split the shell clean through, and Quentyn reached out to take the crab, its filling already cooked to a rich, golden ooze.
Only once Quentyn had taken the crab did Moon Crown draw back, tearing eagerly into the rest of the roasted seafood herself.
Gael, meanwhile, stood cradling the half tuna Jade had brought her, at something of a loss for what to do with it.
The timid, delicate girl she’d been only hours before would likely never have managed to even lift the thing.
But now, she not only held the great fish steady with ease, but could stand before her own dragon without flinching in the least.
“Quenny…
what do I do…”
Gael looked to Quentyn, uncertain, and found him standing there with a half-stripped hairtail fish in one hand and a cracked-open crab in the other.
“This is the food your own dragon’s sharing with you.” Quentyn said patiently.
“Eat it.
Dragonfire purifies anything unclean, so food cooked by dragonflame is always perfectly safe.
And more than that, sharing in a meal your dragon offers you helps draw the two of you closer together.”
Gael nodded firmly, without a shred of doubt, and bit down at once into a piece of the fish, letting the rich, oil-laden flesh burst slowly between her teeth.
The dragonfire had rendered out whatever excess oiliness the flesh once carried, drawing out instead a rich, mellow flavor all its own.
The girl suddenly felt a hand appear before her.
She looked up to find Quentyn holding out his own hairtail fish to her.
Gael froze for a moment, entirely at a loss, still working to swallow the mouthful of fish already in her mouth, unsure which hand she ought to use to accept what he offered.
For one instant, the girl looked as though she might burst into tears on the spot.
Jade seemed to catch the stir of the moment.
She glanced over at the girl, then darted swiftly around the dozing Silverwing and pressed close against Moon Crown’s neck, nuzzling her.
The great moon-silver beast paused in her own feeding and let out a sharp “Hoof!” toward Jade.
Jade drew her neck back at once, then, quick as a flash of lightning, dove headfirst into Moon Crown’s own pile of prey and began devouring it eagerly.
“Hoof—”
Moon Crown snatched up the largest fish in the pile and swallowed it whole, entirely unbothered by Jade’s small “provocation.”
“Do Vermithor and Silverwing carry on like this together too?” Quentyn asked, keeping his own already-thorough knowledge of dragons carefully hidden, feigning simple curiosity.
“Never seen them act like that, personally.” Daemon took a sip of his fruit wine, his own eyes fixed on the crab still in Quentyn’s hand.
Quentyn passed the crab over to him, and with his now-free hand, tore off a large piece of tuna in turn.
Gael felt her own hand grow suddenly lighter.
She looked up at Quentyn with something like open admiration, and with her own free hand tore a strip of pale, golden-white flesh from the hairtail fish, popping it straight into her mouth.
“Fangs…” Gael mumbled, her mouth still full of fish, the word coming out garbled.
Daemon drained the last of his fruit wine in one go, tossed the wooden cup aside, and tore a leg off the crab with real relish, gnawing at the tender meat inside.
“So, Quenny.
What’s next on your list?”
Even as he asked, the boy’s whole manner practically buzzed with eagerness.
Quentyn swallowed his own mouthful of fish and settled himself down beside Moon Crown.
The great dragon glanced over at him and shifted her own body slightly, making more room for him to sit comfortably.
Daemon settled himself cross-legged as well, though Moon Crown showed him no such courtesy, simply sweeping her tail out of his way instead.
Gael sat hugging her knees near Jade’s own tail, playing the obedient listener.
“Pentos.”
Quentyn spoke the name of the place.