Nightfall.
High Tide.
Aegon leaned against the bed, watching Aemond slip out of the castle.
The histories said Aemond would claim Vhagar.
That didn’t stop the worry.
The boy was his blood.
If Vhagar decided to test him with a blast of dragonfire, no one would be compensating Aegon for the loss.
“Relax.
He’ll be fine.
We can go down and meet him soon.”
Helaena had appeared beside him without a sound.
“Fine.
I’ll head down in a moment.
Where’s Daeron?”
“Asleep.
Babies eat and sleep.
That’s what they do.” Her gaze drifted.
Over the years, Helaena had grown used to the dragon dreams.
She saw much in them.
But she never saw a fragment of herself marrying Aegon.
Yet she clearly remembered seeing exactly that as a child.
Even saw House Targaryen stripped of its dragons.
At some point, the future had changed.
Now it was a blur.
She caught only scraps.
A thought surfaced.
She asked, “House Tyrell has no suitable girl.
Mother says your marriage is yours to decide.
Under that clear stare, Aegon gave the question real thought.
“Not yet.
I’ll look again in a couple of years.
If there’s still no one by then, I’ll follow Mother’s arrangements.”
Helaena said nothing.
Her eyes dropped.
Unreadable.
Silence held between them until a terrible roar split the night.
Both turned.
Vhagar shot into the sky, climbing at a near-vertical angle.
On the shore of Driftmark, Rhaenyra and Daemon had just finished.
Both saw the dragon’s strange behavior at the same moment.
“Something’s wrong.”
Rhaenyra’s face was still flushed.
A cold premonition seized her.
Daemon’s expression darkened.
That reaction from Vhagar looked like a rider’s test.
Who?
Rhaena?
Unlikely.
And it certainly wasn’t Viserys.
A face surfaced in Daemon’s mind.
His stomach dropped.
If it was that boy, Rhaenyra had a problem.
At that same moment, Aemond was clinging to the reins for his life.
He hadn’t secured the saddle chains.
Vhagar had launched straight up. The source of this chapter is g.com.
He hauled on the reins, fought his way upright in the saddle, and then Vhagar dove.
The wind cut his face like a blade.
The pain didn’t matter.
The wild joy in his chest swallowed everything.
“Vhagar!
Obey me!”
The roar left his throat.
Something clicked between them.
A thread of understanding.
Vhagar accepted the boy on her back.
Aemond guided her down with clumsy hands.
She landed before High Tide like a thunderclap, crushing an entire row of stables.
He scrambled down the saddle, giddy, desperate to find Aegon and tell him he hadn’t failed.
He’d tamed a monster of a dragon.
Then he stepped into the corridor.
Joffrey was waiting.
The same Joffrey whose nose Aemond had flattened, whom he’d kicked into a pile of cow dung.
And Joffrey had brought a crowd.
“You stole my dragon!”
Rhaena, still dragonless, screamed the accusation the moment she saw him.
Anyone listening would believe Aemond had actually stolen it.
The truth was simpler.
A dragon without a rider was no one’s property.
Whoever claimed it, kept it.
“Is that so?” Aemond’s smile dripped contempt.
“Since when did Vhagar belong to you?”
“Who told you she was yours?
These bastards?” He snorted.
“They’re nothing but mongrels.”