The emerald dragon cast a single, wide-eyed glance at the crowd before instantly shrinking back into the shadows of the cavern, its hissing snarl laced with a palpable thread of fear.
Quentyn centered his mind, slowly sifting through the torrent of information he had just pulled from behind the black-and-white Door.
Just as the name implied, “Forgotten Knowledge” referred to ancient secrets that had been completely erased from the modern world.
Quentyn skimmed the sealed archives within his consciousness.
As he had anticipated, the boon granted by taming a dragon was intimately tied to the dragons themselves.
Specialized methods for incubating dragon eggs…
The arcane secrets surrounding the birth of dragons…
Techniques for training dragons for aerial combat…
Rituals to deepen the psychic bond between mount and rider…
Wards to shield dragons from the influence of hostile magic…
However, after carefully reviewing the vast index of information, Quentyn realized that the knowledge he now possessed did not offer any immediate, game-breaking power.
Take the legendary Dragonbinder horn, for instance, the artifact Euron Greyjoy would claim in the main timeline, boasting it could command dragons to his will.
According to the ancient Valyrian texts Quentyn now understood, forging such a horn was not only agonizingly complex, requiring massive blood sacrifices and materials he had never even heard of, but the final activation of the runes demanded the sacrifice of a king’s blood or a noble of pure Valyrian descent.
Furthermore, the horn’s binding magic was only effective on wild, unbonded dragons.
Moreover, the bond forced by the horn would rapidly decay over time.
A dragon subjugated by such methods would never forge a true, telepathic connection with its rider.
What truly captured Quentyn’s interest were the specialized incubation methods.
And the ancient techniques the original Valyrian Dragonlords used to claim their mounts.
The Song of Dragons was the foremost among them.
The ancient Dragonlords of the Freehold would sing with specific, resonant tones, mimicking the vocalizations of the beasts to lure them, soothe them, and ultimately bind them.
This was the exact method Daemon had clumsily attempted to use to calm the Cannibal.
“Mother…
Quentyn, I…
I…” Gael cast a desperate look at Alysanne before her small hands clamped tightly onto Quentyn’s velvet sleeve.
Truth be told, as a daughter of Old Valyria, it was impossible for her not to harbor a deep, burning desire to claim a dragon of her own, and she did not possess the paralyzing terror of the beasts that afflicted her elder sister, Daella.
“Why didn’t you call for me?” Daemon leaned in close, his soot-stained face twisting into a dramatic pout.
“Seven Hells, have you completely forgotten about your favorite nephew now that you have Quentyn?” “So you finally remember that you are our nephew,” Quentyn quipped, a dry smile touching his lips.
“Piss off.” Daemon rolled his eyes dramatically, throwing his arm over Quentyn’s shoulder.
Alysanne could not help but wipe a stray tear from the corner of her eye.
From her vantage point, Gael was leaning trustingly against Quentyn, while Daemon and Quentyn stood shoulder-to-shoulder, a united front.
The youth of the realm stood in perfect harmony; the new generation of House Targaryen was bound by genuine affection.
Was this picture of untroubled unity not the very thing she had prayed for her entire life?
“Go on.” Quentyn slid his arm gently around Gael’s slender waist.
The young princess had not yet fully blossomed into womanhood; her waist was so impossibly thin he could almost wrap his hands entirely around it.
With a gentle pull, she practically fell against his side.
The corner of Daemon’s mouth twitched upward.
He leaned in, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper directly into Quentyn’s ear.
“Brother, this is a golden opportunity to woo the girl.
Don’t say I never look out for you…” Daemon straightened his back, puffing out his chest with a wide, encouraging grin aimed at Quentyn.
During the chaotic voyage here, Daemon had already hummed the melody and recited the lyrics of the dragon song to Quentyn.
Quentyn’s Photographic Memory, combined with the ‘Forgotten Knowledge’ he had just unlocked, allowed him not only to memorize the lyrics and melody flawlessly, but to deduce the specific variations used by different Dragonlord families, and to correct the subtle tonal errors Daemon had made.
Quentyn was momentarily at a loss for how to evaluate Daemon’s crude encouragement.
He shot Daemon a look of profound exasperation.
Then, keeping his arm firmly around Gael’s waist, he leaned down to whisper the melody softly into the girl’s ear.
“Sing with me.” Drakari pykiros.
Tīkummo jemiros.
Yn lantyz bartossa.
Saelot vāedis.
(Fire Breather.
Winged leader.
But two heads to a third sing) Gael’s face instantly flushed a deep, vibrant crimson.
She stammered, entirely unable to form the words, completely overwhelmed by the prospect of singing.
Quentyn patiently guided her, coaxing the first verse from her lips syllable by syllable.
Initially, her voice was broken and trembling, as faint as the hum of a mosquito.
But slowly, her singing grew smoother, the volume rising as she found her confidence.
She repeated the melody Quentyn fed her over and over, weaving together an increasingly complete Song of Dragons.
Deep within the cavern, the emerald dragon quietly poked its head out.
It stared at Moondancer with clear confusion, letting out a low, questioning hiss.
Moondancer shook its massive, silver-crowned head slightly, its throat vibrating.
The pale silver behemoth’s voice was a deep, resonant bass, intertwining perfectly with Gael’s delicate, high-pitched song, creating a breathtaking harmony.
The dragon’s rumble and the girl’s voice merged so seamlessly that for a fleeting moment, it was impossible to distinguish where the human ended and the dragon began.
So this is the true principle behind the Song of Dragons…
Quentyn verified the lore from his ‘Forgotten Knowledge’.
It appeared the foundational structure of the song was indeed derived directly from the natural vocalizations of the dragons themselves.
Hen ñuhā elēni: Perzyssy vestretis.
Se gēlȳn irūdaks.
Ānogrose.
(Listen to the chant in my throat: The flames have spoken, the toll of sacrifice is paid, bound by the magic of blood.) Gael’s voice flowed like a clear stream.
By the second verse, Quentyn no longer needed to correct her pronunciation syllable by syllable; he merely needed to hum the opening note into her ear, and Gael would carry the rest of the verse flawlessly.
Caught between Gael’s song and Moondancer’s resonant purr, the emerald dragon hesitated.
It seemed deeply unsettled by the unprecedented situation, especially since Moondancer was making no move to shield it.
The unfamiliarity made the young dragon incredibly anxious.
Yet, the girl’s song carried an inexplicable, soothing comfort.
The dragon’s large blue eyes reflected the trembling girl.
It did not understand why, but the aura radiating from her song was intensely pleasing.
The handsome boy standing beside the girl carried the scent of its protector, Moondancer, alongside an ancient, overwhelming presence that made the young dragon shiver involuntarily.
The other boy, standing slightly apart, reeked heavily of ‘blood’.
It was the scent of another dragon, which immediately spiked the emerald hatchling’s alertness, but the sheer joy radiating from the girl melted that vigilance like snow in the sun.
The emerald dragon slowly crept out of the shadows of its lair.
Gael gasped softly in fear, her previously flawless melody instantly wavering.
“Do not be afraid.
I am right here.
Keep singing.” Gael felt a solid, reassuring warmth against her back.
She steadied her breathing and picked up the melody, following Quentyn’s lead.
Perzyro udrȳssi.
Ezīmptos laehossi.
Hārrossa letagon.
Aōt vāedan.
(With flames as words, with clear eyes, to bind the three, to you I sing) The emerald dragon crawled slowly toward the three youths.
Moondancer also crept down from the rocky slope, its massive silver wings sweeping over the loose gravel.
The violent fury that had burned in its golden eyes just hours ago was completely gone, replaced by a profound, ancient calm.
“Now, reach out and touch it.” Quentyn’s breath brushed against the girl’s earlobe, causing her already flushed ears to burn an even deeper red.
Yet at this moment, Gael was utterly captivated by the beautiful creature before her.
She slowly extended her hand.
The green dragon cautiously stretched its neck forward to meet her.
The girl’s slender fingers brushed gently against the emerald scales of the dragon’s snout.
Both human and dragon flinched back almost simultaneously, but a heartbeat later, they pressed closer together.
The distance between Gael and the dragon vanished, her courage swelling with every passing second.
Ultimately, she pressed her entire body against the dragon’s head.
The emerald beast obediently lowered its neck, allowing the girl to cling tightly to its scales.
Alysanne was the first to begin clapping, tears streaming freely down her face, followed by the two white knights.
Daemon stared in stunned silence for a moment before joining in with loud, enthusiastic applause.
“Congratulations, Gael.” Quentyn straightened his back, a genuine smile breaking across his face.
“You are a dragonrider now.” King’s Landing.
The Red Keep.
The Small Council Chambers.
The Sea Snake departed with King Jaehaerys’s solemn promise.
At sixty years of age, Jaehaerys now cherished the familial bonds of his children and grandchildren more than ever before.
Truth be told, in the grand scheme of things, the Sea Snake’s proposal did not cross his absolute bottom line.
Furthermore, since Quentyn had claimed a dragon, it would indeed be a glaring injustice if baby Laenor was denied the right to a dragon egg.
Jaehaerys had spent his entire life earning the title of the ‘Conciliator’, and now he found himself equally bound by the very rules and order he had spent decades establishing.
This was the bitter reality of politics; this was the heavy toll of being a wise king, a mediator, and the ultimate arbiter of the realm.
Therefore, after a tense debate, Jaehaerys finally granted the Sea Snake permission to select a dragon egg for his firstborn son, Laenor.
The Sea Snake was far from satisfied with the compromise, but he had no other viable options and was forced to accept it.
“Father, Lord Corlys is truly…” Baelon opened his mouth to voice his frustration, but the words died in his throat the moment he saw the profound exhaustion etched into Jaehaerys’s face.
Corlys Velaryon was a man who refused to settle.
During the succession crisis two years ago, Rhaenys, who should have been fiercely defending her own birthright, was noticeably less aggressive than her husband, Corlys.
However, this dynamic was entirely rooted in the fact that Corlys was Rhaenys’s lord husband.
In the ancient traditions of Valyria, as well as the customs of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, a husband asserting the rights of his wife was considered entirely natural and just.
Neither Baelon nor Jaehaerys found anything inherently wrong with his conduct.
Corlys had proven his profound ‘love’ for Rhaenys through his relentless efforts and resistance, which had earned him immense prestige among the nobility of Westeros.
“My boy, the burden of the realm will ultimately fall into your hands.” Jaehaerys’s voice was raspy; it was agonizingly clear just how deeply tired the old King was.
“You will eventually have to navigate these setbacks and balances of power yourself.
House Velaryon’s meteoric rise under Corlys’s command cannot be undone.
Rhaenys demanding the right for her children to tame dragons was an absolute inevitability.” “Father, that is precisely why I suggested you formally recognize Quentyn’s achievement in claiming a dragon, and bestow upon him an honor that binds him closer to the Crown.” Before setting out to tame the emerald dragon, Alysanne had meticulously documented the entire chaotic affair and dispatched it via raven to King’s Landing.
The fact that Gael had managed to claim a dragon was a completely unexpected, joyous surprise for House Targaryen, and a major factor contributing to Jaehaerys and Baelon’s softened stance.
Baelon sighed heavily, picking up his courtier’s orb once more.
“You are right.” Jaehaerys’s words were beginning to slur slightly; his advanced age was rapidly outpacing his will to rule.
“I remember recounting the history of Old Valyria to you and your brother…” Baelon immediately stood up, walking to the old King’s side to gently support his father by the arm.
“In the myths, the Dragonlords were gods who descended from the heavens.
But in true history, the Dragonlords were once nothing more than lowly shepherds struggling to survive in the shadow of the Fourteen Flames…
They forged a blood pact with the dragons, a symbiotic covenant.
From that day forth, the earth, the sky, and the seas were ruled by dragons and their masters.
We crushed the Ghiscari Empire and forged a dynasty of unprecedented, terrifying power…” The old King’s gaze grew distant, his mind drifting as he began to ramble through the historical tales he had recited to his children a thousand times before.
“For the first thousand years, the descendants of those shepherds held the dragons in absolute reverence.
When both an elder and younger brother claimed mounts, the parents would bequeath the family’s wealth to the elder, while bestowing the glory of forging a new bloodline upon the younger.
In this way, every dragonrider could establish their own lineage, every Dragonlord could carve out their own domain within the Freehold, and our shadow covered every corner of the sky.
We were gods…” Baelon silently finished the darker half of the history in his own mind.
Prosperity breeds corruption; absolute power shatters familial bonds.
During the first thousand years, the descendants of the shepherds placed no restrictions on dragonriders branching out to form new houses.
This indeed fueled Valyria’s rapid, explosive expansion.
But as the generations passed and the ties of blood thinned, brothers turned on brothers, and cadet branches rose to crush their parent houses.
No, it was more accurate to say that it became an era of Dragonlord families brutally subjugating one another.
Some ancient houses fell to ruin, while new ones rose from their ashes in a baptism of blood…
Therefore, at the absolute zenith of Valyria’s power, the forty established Dragonlord families forged a tacit, ironclad pact.
They would no longer permit dragonriders to break away and form cadet branches.
Instead, all dragonriders were to be centrally managed within the main house, ensuring the orderly inheritance of the beasts and the absolute supremacy of the family.
As the Freehold grew obscenely wealthy, both dragonriders and non-riders were more than content to remain under the protective umbrella of their great houses, drowning in the decadence and luxury of Valyria.
Yet there were always ambitious souls who lacked the blood to claim a dragon, unwilling to be treated as court jesters by the Dragonlords.
They chose to carve their own paths, sailing away to establish their own power…
During the Golden Age, if a descendant of a non-riding cadet branch managed to tame a dragon and take to the sky, the main house would immediately absorb them back into the fold to bolster the clan’s might.
However, if a cadet branch possessed access to dragons and eggs for three consecutive generations but consistently failed to produce a dragonrider, they were permanently downgraded.
They were no longer viewed as family by the Dragonlords, but merely as glorified vassals.
But this was no longer Old Valyria; this was Westeros…
Baelon and Jaehaerys had long been assimilated by the cultural traditions of the Andals, and consequently, they had internalized the Andal perspective on inheritance and family structure.
“Father, regardless of the past, Quentyn tamed a wild dragon with his own hands, and then guided Gael to bring another wild dragon into the fold.
Furthermore, he is the reason Mother is finally willing to mend the rift with you.
Viseryss and Daemon both view Quentyn as a true brother.
Nothing that has transpired today brings any harm to the Crown, and House Qoherys now serves as a perfect, heavily armed counterweight to House Valaryon.”