“It is said they both hatched over fifty years ago.” A rare flicker of unease crossed Daemon’s face as he spoke of the two dragons.
“One black, one silver.
At first, the Dragonkeepers paid the black one no mind.
By the time they realized it was hunting hatchlings and stealing dragon eggs, the beast had grown massive.
So, they named it ‘The Cannibal’.” “Why not destroy it?” Quentyn asked, genuinely puzzled.
“Who knows?” Daemon shrugged innocently.
“Perhaps my grandfather believed a rider would eventually claim it and didn’t want to waste a fully grown dragon.
Or perhaps he simply knew there was another beast capable of keeping it in check.” “Keeping it in check?” Quentyn latched onto the phrase.
“Exactly.
That is the second dragon I mentioned.” Daemon let out an unsatisfied sigh.
When he first learned of its existence, he had sworn to claim it for himself.
However, after Princess Rhaenys claimed Meleys, the Red Queen, Daemon shifted his obsession toward the ‘Blood Wyrm’, Caraxes.
“It is said the silver-gold dragon is even fiercer than the Cannibal.
It was actually the mount my mother originally intended to claim, but the Dragonkeepers desperately talked her out of it.” A cruel, amused smirk touched Daemon’s lips as he recalled a piece of lore.
“Initially, because the dragon would sing into the night with a roar that sounded almost musical, the keepers called it the ‘Moon-Singer’.
But later, when the keepers and the local fishermen realized just how vicious it truly was, after it nearly tore a whaling ship to splinters, they started calling it ‘Moondancer’.” “Tore a ship to splinters?” “Aye!” Daemon nodded enthusiastically.
“The Cannibal rarely dares to challenge dragons larger than itself, but Moondancer does.
And Moondancer almost never attacks hatchlings.
According to the older Dragonkeepers, Moondancer once killed a dragon named ‘Fury’, a beast far older than itself that was abandoned by Maegor the Cruel.
When our ancestor Queen Visenya passed, Dragonstone fell into chaos, and the young dragons turned on one another.
Fury was considered the strongest of the survivors, which is why it claimed a peak on the Dragonmont all to itself.
The fishermen say ‘Jade’ was Moondancer’s mate, as they often spotted the two hunting whales together.” The more Daemon spoke, the more agitated he became, his eyes darkening with the sharp, biting regret of a missed opportunity.
Quentyn listened in silence.
The Wanderer glided slowly through the narrow inlet of Dragonstone.
The volcanic island was perpetually shrouded in thick, sulfurous mist.
Yet neither Daemon, Quentyn, nor Gael, who had emerged from the cabin to huddle nervously against Quentyn’s side, showed the slightest aversion to the harsh environment.
The heat in their blood seemed to welcome it.
Queen Alysanne was already waiting on the docks, flanked by two noble handmaidens and Ser Harrold Westerling of the Kingsguard.
“Mother!” Gael’s face was deathly pale from the voyage.
The moment the gangplank hit the stone, she spotted Alysanne and bolted forward, throwing herself into her mother’s embrace.
Alysanne gently stroked her daughter’s silver hair, her sharp eyes shifting to Quentyn and her crippled grandson.
“Grandmother.” Daemon lowered his head, a rare flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck.
After all, his reckless injury was the primary reason they had been exiled to Dragonstone.
“Aunt Alysanne.” Quentyn offered a deep, perfectly executed bow.
“That boy Baelon is truly insufferable.” Alysanne pulled Quentyn close, aggressively ruffling his silver hair.
“He didn’t even allow you a single day to comfort your poor mother.” Quentyn did not answer, merely allowing the Good Queen to thoroughly mess up his hair.
“What about me, Grandmother!” Daemon hopped forward, clearly unwilling to be ignored.
“You little terror.” Alysanne reached out with her other hand, rubbing Daemon’s short hair even harder.
“We will have words once that leg of yours is properly healed.
Ser Harrold, Ser Clement, you have my thanks for watching over this little menace.” The massive Ser Clement Crabb offered a respectful nod.
“It is my sworn duty, Your Grace.” Ser Harrold Westerling stood tall and spoke with grave solemnity, shifting a few paces closer to Daemon as if expecting the boy to make a break for it.
Just as Alysanne opened her mouth to speak again, a scream ripped through the air.
Aboard the Wanderer, a lookout in the crow’s nest pointed frantically toward the sky, his voice cracking with sheer terror.
“Dragon!” The scream shattered the quiet of the docks.
Above the eastern peaks, a colossal dragon black as charcoal was fighting a desperate, losing battle to keep its wings beating.
Its massive, curled horns were clearly visible even from a great distance.
A sickly green flame sputtered from the corners of its maw; it seemed to have just unleashed a torrent of dragonfire, but the blast had failed to hit its mark.
Boiling, black dragonblood rained down from the sky like a macabre storm, hitting the ocean surface and instantly churning the water into a frenzy of hissing foam.
“The Cannibal?” Daemon recognized the black beast instantly.
Alysanne instinctively pulled all three children behind her back, even though the two boys were already significantly taller than she was.
“Take cover!
Find cover now!
Ser Harrold, Ser Clement, protect the handmaidens!” Before Quentyn could fully process the chaos, Alysanne shoved him hard behind a massive boulder near the edge of the pier.
The two Kingsguard knights sprang into action without hesitation, throwing their white cloaks over the two terrified noble handmaidens and dragging them toward the safety of the stone walls.
The Cannibal plummeted toward the docks, its wings thrashing wildly.
The black dragon possessed an unusually long tail; typically, this appendage offered supreme balance in flight, but right now, it was a fatal liability preventing its escape.
A silver-gold dragon burst through the clouds, spreading its gilded wings.
Its roar shook the very foundations of Dragonstone.
Quentyn instinctively clamped his hands over his ears.
Daemon curled into a ball, baring his teeth in pain, while Gael huddled deep in her mother’s embrace, trembling violently.
Alysanne’s lips moved rapidly, shouting words lost to the wind.
Quentyn could read her lips.
The Queen was desperately calling for Silverwing.
He cautiously peeked out from behind the boulder, his eyes locking onto the silver beast in hot pursuit.
It was a creature of breathtaking, terrifying beauty.
Six massive, twisting horns spiraled upward, crowning a skull of pale silver scales.
Its golden eyes burned with a madness and fury so intense it made Quentyn’s blood run cold.
Sunlight pierced the gilded membranes of its wings, making them shine like molten gold.
Its broad tail fin whipped through the air, granting the massive beast blinding speed.
A torrent of pale silver dragonfire tore through the sky, igniting the Cannibal’s pitch-black tail fin.
The charcoal behemoth roared in agony, rolling wildly in the air in a desperate bid to shake its pale pursuer.
However, Moondancer was larger, and its wingspan was far broader.
The silver dragon’s tail fin snapped down hard, catching a powerful updraft.
With a single, explosive beat of its wings, Moondancer closed the distance in the blink of an eye, sinking its massive jaws directly into the Cannibal’s unnaturally long tail.
The charcoal dragon shrieked, a sound of pure, unadulterated agony.
It thrashed and beat its wings, but Moondancer’s fangs had already crushed through the scales and pierced the boiling flesh beneath.
The Cannibal’s own frantic struggles only widened the horrific, gaping wound on its tail.
The mortals below watched in paralyzed horror as one massive dragon dragged an even larger dragon upward through the sky by brute force.
The Cannibal was a creature of nightmares, yet this terrifying beast was currently being forcibly hauled through the air by the pale silver leviathan.
The Cannibal seemed to realize that if it did not fight to the death now, it would never see another dawn.
Like a hyena backed into a corner, the black dragon unleashed a shrill, bloodcurdling shriek.
It twisted its long neck back with vicious speed, unleashing a torrent of sickly green dragonfire that washed over its own body and engulfed Moondancer.
The black spikes and scales of the Cannibal cracked and popped within the green flames, its black blood boiling into steam, yet the beast seemed entirely oblivious to the pain.
Moondancer was utterly undeterred by the Cannibal’s suicidal ferocity.
The silver beast roared, extending its massive claws, its serpentine body bending backward in the air like a drawn bow.
With a sudden, explosive release of tension, the silver-gold bow snapped shut.
The Cannibal’s prized, slender tail, bathed in sickly green fire, snapped with a deafening crack.
Pitch-black dragonblood cascaded into the sea, instantly dyeing a massive stretch of the ocean a boiling, foul black.
Moondancer casually tossed the severed tail into the waves, spreading its wings to break free from the Cannibal’s desperate entanglement.
The Cannibal let out a final, broken shriek, rearing its head.
A massive plume of sickly green dragonfire bloomed like a grotesque mushroom beneath Dragonstone’s overcast sky.
The green fire rained down upon the docks.
The smallfolk and dockworkers scattered in blind panic.
Any man or structure touched by the falling green embers was instantly engulfed in an unquenchable blaze.
Qrinuntās nākostagon!
Cease the attack!
The Dragonkeepers stationed near the docks raised their long iron-tipped poles and heavy whips, screaming harsh commands in High Valyrian.
Arlī jās!
Return!
However, what greeted them was a Cannibal driven completely mad by pain.
The dragon was in pure agony, and a continuous stream of sickly green fire poured uncontrollably from its gaping maw.
Before the two nearest Dragonkeepers could even scream, they were instantly incinerated to ash.
The Wanderer desperately attempted to flee the docks, but the merchant cog was far too large and cumbersome.
Before the crew could even haul up the heavy anchor, the Cannibal’s erratic dragonfire rained down, completely swallowing the vessel.
The azure sails ignited instantly.
The wooden hull offered absolutely no resistance to the magical flames.
In the blink of an eye, the entire flat-bottomed ship was reduced to a floating inferno.
The Cannibal crashed heavily into the earth just beyond the massive boulder hiding Quentyn and the royals.
Moondancer roared and descended upon the tax collector’s tower, its massive claws tightening around the stone.
The marble structure collapsed with a deafening crash, sending a massive plume of dust and debris into the air.
Alysanne did not hesitate.
She threw her arms wide, her voice a low, frantic whisper as she shielded the three children behind her back like a mother hen facing a wolf.
Gael screamed openly, then bit her lip to stifle the sound, while Daemon ground his teeth together so hard his jaw ached.
Quentyn, however, felt the blood in his veins boiling so violently it felt as though liquid fire was coursing through him.
He could barely maintain his composure.
Ser Clement Crabb huddled in the corner of a burning warehouse, his white cloak stained with soot, his hands gripping his longsword so tightly his knuckles turned white as he cast desperate glances toward the boulder.
Ser Harrold Westerling had shoved the Queen’s handmaidens into a drainage culvert and lay completely flat in the mud, coiled like a spring, ready to throw himself over the Queen at a moment’s notice.
Just hold on a little longer.
Alysanne did not know if Silverwing could hear her desperate, silent calls.
She deeply regretted not visiting her mount this morning.
No, perhaps if I wait just a moment longer, Rhaenys will fly over to investigate the commotion.
Just hold on…
just a moment longer…
The Cannibal spotted Quentyn and the others behind the boulder.
Pain and rage had completely stripped the black dragon of its reason.
Unfortunately, Moondancer was in a similar state of bloodlust.
Sickly green and pale silver dragonfire clashed violently in the air above the docks, producing a deafening roar as molten flames rained down in all directions.
Ser Harrold, Quentyn, and the others were pinned down, unable to move a single muscle beneath the apocalyptic storm of fire.
Alysanne frantically comforted a terrified Gael while simultaneously shouting harsh commands in High Valyrian, desperately trying to drive the two enraged beasts away.
Neither dragon paid the Queen the slightest attention.
Gael was shaking like a leaf in the wind.
She cast a fearful glance at Quentyn, then at Daemon and her mother, before obediently burying her face deep into her mother’s chest, trying desperately not to be a burden.
“Daemon, we cannot wait this out.” Quentyn gritted his teeth.
If this dragged on and the two behemoths fully lost their minds, they would be reduced to ash long before Silverwing or the Red Queen ever arrived.
“Seven Hells, I told you I should have been allowed to fly Caraxes here…” Daemon’s inherent recklessness was fueled entirely by the adrenaline of sheer terror.
“Quentyn, you have the blood of the dragon too.
We take one each.
I refuse to believe the blood of the Dragonlords cannot bring these beasts to heel!” “Agreed!” It was the exact verdict Quentyn had been waiting for.
“Daemon, what do you think you are doing?
Quentyn, get back here!” Before Alysanne could even process the words, Daemon sprang out from behind the boulder, hopping madly on his good leg.
Quentyn vaulted over the stone, raising his right hand toward Moondancer, who was lowering its massive, silver-crowned head.
Lykirī.
(Calm) Dragging his stiff, uncooperative leg, Daemon limped several paces toward the Cannibal.
He raised his chin and began belting out the ancient song of dragon-taming, his voice cracking slightly off-key.
Drakari pykiros, Tīkummo jemiros.
Fire-breathing beast, master of the winged skies.
The Cannibal arched its long, bleeding neck, glaring at the boy with the hyper-vigilance of a coiled viper ready to strike.
Lykirī, umbās.
Calm, steady.
Quentyn had never been taught the dragon song.
He simply stared up into the colossal beast’s burning golden eyes.
He drew a massive breath through his nose, pulling the air deep into his chest, forcing it down into his diaphragm, and then unleashed it in a sudden, explosive shout.
He would bet his life he had never spoken with such absolute, commanding volume.
Qrinuntās nākostagon!
Cease the attack!
The pale silver beast, which had been in a state of absolute frenzy mere seconds ago, suddenly fell completely still.
A low, rattling wheeze vibrated in its throat.
It slowly, deliberately crawled down from the ruined stone tower, until Quentyn’s reflection was perfectly mirrored in the dragon’s massive golden pupils.
Is it judging me?
Quentyn closed the distance to Moondancer one slow, deliberate step at a time, until he was standing a mere arm’s length from the dragon’s maw.
Dohaerās udir!
Obey the command!
The feral cruelty slowly drained from Moondancer’s eyes.
Quentyn gently placed his bare hand directly onto the dragon’s scaled snout.
Under the shocked, entirely bewildered gazes of Ser Clement and Ser Harrold, the massive silver dragon actually lowered its head, yielding to Quentyn’s touch.
Alysanne clutched Gael tightly to her chest, her own eyes wide with profound disbelief.
The boiling fire in his veins could no longer be suppressed.
Quentyn could barely feel his own limbs.
He allowed pure, unadulterated instinct to seize control of his body, pressing his weight firmly against the dragon’s snout.
Moondancer lifted its head slightly, effortlessly lifting the boy from the scorched earth.
A sudden wave of weightlessness hit him, but in that moment, only one absolute certainty existed in Quentyn’s mind.
This beast will not harm me.
In the span of a heartbeat, Quentyn felt the hard, unforgiving texture of dragon scales beneath him.
He scrambled upward, his eyes locking onto the golden dorsal fins and razor-sharp spikes running down the beast’s spine.
Quentyn froze for a second.
The massive dragon tilted its head slightly, almost as if silently instructing him to grab hold of the spikes along its back.
Just then, Daemon’s singing abruptly cut off.
Hārossa letagon.
Aōt vāedan…
Fuck!
(Three bound as one, I sing for you…
Fuck!) A massive orb of sickly green dragonfire erupted from the Cannibal’s jaws.
Daemon’s reflexes proved faster than the flames.
He threw himself into a desperate roll through the mud, narrowly dodging the blast of green fire that scorched the earth where he had just stood.
The young dragonrider popped his head up, his face smeared with mud and soot, just in time to see Quentyn straddling the back of the massive silver dragon.
A wild, elated grin instantly split Daemon’s face, and he let out a triumphant cheer.
“Fuck yes, Quentyn!
Hurry up!”