“No…
that cannot be right…” The color drained entirely from Lord Daeron’s face, leaving him deathly pale.
“How could His Grace ever permit my son to claim a dragon…” “Is that not exactly what the parchment says?” Princess Vaella snatched the heavy letter from the stone floor, her violet eyes burning with a fierce, manic light.
“Quentyn tamed a wild dragon.
He saved my sister, little Daemon, and little Gael.” “My lady, what the Lord means is…” Maester Swift glanced nervously between the pale, trembling Lord Daeron and the ecstatic, almost feral Princess Vaella, deciding it was time to fulfill his sworn duty as the primary counselor of Harrenhal.
“Forty years ago, His Grace was thrown into an apocalyptic fury over the treason of Lady Elissa Farman.
My lord fears that the King may harbor deep-seated reservations about…” “That is because Elissa Farman betrayed our eldest sister!” Princess Vaella cut him off, her voice cracking like a whip, completely abandoning her usual gentle demeanor.
“She spat on Queen Dowager Rhaena’s trust and stole her dragon eggs.
She was a petty thief.
My son is a hero.
Tell me, Maester Swift, since when does a treacherous rat warrant comparison to a dragon soaring in the heavens?” “My lady, this is a matter of the highest political sensitivity.” Maester Swift maintained his calm, analytical tone, though he took a cautious step back.
“After all, Queen Dowager Rhaena never bore a child to Ser Androw Farman, so the ownership of Dreamfyre and her clutches was never in dispute.
But both you and Princess Rhaenys have borne heirs.
If Lord Quentyn is permitted to claim a dragon, the Sea Snake will undoubtedly demand the exact same right for his own blood.
When that happens, Lord Quentyn will become the absolute center of a vicious political struggle between the greatest powers in the realm…” “The Sea Snake?” Princess Vaella had never been so visibly enraged in her entire life.
She stood tall, her silk robes flowing around her like armor.
“If anyone dares to raise a hand against my son, they will have to step over his mother’s corpse first!” “It will not come to that.” Lord Daeron hastily reached out, wrapping his trembling arms around his wife’s shoulders to soothe her.
“No man in the Seven Kingdoms is foolish enough to offend the King’s own sister.
Believe me, my love, truly.” Princess Vaella took a series of deep, shuddering breaths, the manic fire in her eyes slowly dimming to a cold, hard resolve.
The heavy thud of boots echoing rapidly down the stone corridor shattered the silence.
“Lord Daeron!” Ser Sebastian Mudd, the master-at-arms, hurried up the twisting stairs, bursting into the corridor.
He immediately spotted the heavy oak doors of the bedchamber thrown wide open.
“Maester Swift, you are here as well?” Maester Swift tugged nervously at his chain of office.
“Ser Sebastian, what has happened?” “Lord Osmund Strong, Lord Brynden Butterwell, Ser Galwyn Chambers, Ser Dennis Roxton, and Ser Hoster Hart have all arrived at the gates.
They are currently waiting within the ruins of the Hall of a Hundred Hearths, demanding an audience with you, Lord Daeron.” “What?” Lord Daeron was genuinely stunned.
These men represented the most powerful and historically unruly vassals sworn to Harrenhal.
For the past decade, they had treated their liege lord with a barely concealed, insolent indifference, frequently delaying their taxes and ignoring his summons.
Princess Vaella pulled away from her husband’s embrace, a sharp, cruel sneer curling her lips.
“They must have seen my son soaring through the sky upon a dragon’s back.
They are terrified that one day, dragonfire will swallow their keeps whole.” Lord Daeron hurriedly gestured for the handmaidens to fetch his formal attire.
The young women Princess Vaella had brought with her rushed out from the adjoining solar, their arms laden with heavy velvet doublets and gold chains.
“Tell the lords to wait for me in the Black Sail Courtyard of the Wailing Tower.” Lord Daeron raised his arms, allowing the handmaidens to swiftly dress him, fastening his heavy chain of office around his neck.
“I shall join them shortly.” “No, Lord Daeron.” Princess Vaella reached out, firmly staying the handmaiden’s hand.
“Ser Sebastian, inform the lords they will wait exactly where they are until we are ready.
I shall receive them at my husband’s side.” Lord Daeron blinked, completely taken aback by his wife’s sudden commanding presence.
“My son is not only the youngest knight in the Seven Kingdoms, he is a dragonrider.” Princess Vaella picked up a delicate fan woven from black swan feathers from her ebony dressing table, snapping it open with a sharp flick of her wrist.
“I want to see the exact expressions on their faces when they bend the knee.” Dragonstone.
The moon hung high above the Sea Dragon Tower.
Just as the ancient legends claimed, the stone gargoyles and hellhounds jutting from the fortress walls looked utterly grotesque and terrifying under the pale moonlight.
Yet no stone carving could ever inspire the sheer, primal terror radiating from the massive living beasts resting in the shadows of the keep.
Thud.
Moondancer landed heavily on the rocky earth, shaking the ground.
Silverwing lazily lifted her head from where she rested nearby, casting a mild glance at the silver behemoth before tucking her snout back under her wing to resume her slumber.
The small, delicate emerald dragon crept forward with deep curiosity, sniffing at Moondancer’s massive flank.
A second later, it shrank back, pulling its long neck in and letting out a nervous, rattling hiss.
Moondancer ignored the hatchling, lowering its massive head and opening its jaws wide.
A massive, towering pile of freshly caught seafood cascaded onto the rocks.
The silver beast seemed to contemplate the pile for a moment before delicately plucking out a massive bluefin tuna with its teeth and tossing it directly in front of the emerald dragon.
The emerald dragon stretched its neck, hissing softly, seemingly confused by the gesture.
Moondancer ignored it, sifting through the pile again to snap up a giant squid, which it also casually tossed toward the smaller green beast.
The green dragon’s hissing grew rapid and agitated.
Grumble.
Moondancer let out a low, warning growl deep in its chest.
The emerald dragon instantly made itself as small as possible, obediently dragging the massive tuna into a dark corner.
It watched Moondancer with a mixture of fear and intense curiosity, before using its slender tail to sweep the squid closer to its hoard.
A burst of aquamarine dragonfire instantly roasted the tuna and squid to a crisp.
The green dragon opened its jaws to feed, but suddenly hesitated.
It paused, glancing back at the humans, then bit the tuna perfectly in half, slowly swallowing its portion.
“Seven Hells, if only Caraxes were here.” Daemon hopped into the clearing where the dragons rested, holding a goblet of sweet fruit wine in one hand while throwing his other arm casually over Quentyn’s shoulder.
The rogue prince cast a look of mild, entirely manufactured ‘jealousy’ at Gael.
She was clearly far sharper than anyone gave her credit for, having stubbornly glued herself to Quentyn’s side ever since the flight.
Daemon then turned his gaze back to Quentyn, who wore his usual mask of calm indifference.
But Daemon had no idea what was truly racing through Quentyn’s mind at that moment.
Dammit.
Across two entire lifetimes, Quentyn had only ever read about or observed the subtle arts of romance; he had absolutely zero practical experience.
His gentle, accommodating behavior toward Gael today had been entirely subconscious, driven by a desire to comfort a terrified child.
By the time he realized this sheltered princess was a hopeless romantic who had now completely projected the image of her ‘fated knight’ onto him, it was far too late to walk it back.
Quentyn suddenly realized he had absolutely no idea how to navigate this dynamic.
Perhaps I should write to my loving parents for advice?
But for the time being, Quentyn decided the most politically sound strategy was to maintain the stoic, chivalric facade.
At the very least, he needed to ensure Gael’s romantic infatuation remained utterly unbreakable.
It was the perfect political anchor.
Consider it practice to make up for thirty years of bachelorhood in my past life.
“It’s fine.
Once we return to King’s Landing, we will take to the sky together,” Quentyn said, smoothly comforting his ‘wounded’ friend and nephew.
“I’ve heard the bards sing of the barrows of the First Men scattered across the North, the ancient lizard-lions carrying the moving castles of the crannogmen in the Neck, the Tears of Alyssa weeping from the Giant’s Lance at the Eyrie…
And further east, across the Narrow Sea, lies the endless Dothraki Sea, the Red Waste littered with the bones of dragons, and the steaming jungles of Sothoryos where wyverns rule the sky.” Daemon’s eyes lit up instantly, the fruit wine forgotten in his hand.
Perhaps every young boy, regardless of royal blood or common birth, harbored a burning, restless dream of high adventure.
Gael twisted the fabric of her skirt in her hands, desperately trying to think of a topic that would allow her to seamlessly insert herself into the conversation between the two boys.
The three youths walked closer to the resting dragons.
Seeing Quentyn approach, Moondancer immediately opened its massive jaws.
A torrent of pale silver dragonfire engulfed the towering pile of seafood.
The intoxicating, rich aroma of roasted meat and salt instantly filled the children’s noses.
Moondancer sifted through the steaming, charred pile, finally snapping up a massive, golden-crisp ribbonfish and tossing it directly at Quentyn’s feet.
The colossal beast stretched its long neck forward, gently nudging Quentyn’s hair with its scaled snout, letting out a low, rumbling purr.
“For me?” As Quentyn picked up the tail end of the massive fish, the ancient lore from the ‘Forgotten Knowledge’ surfaced in his mind.
The Dragonlords of Old Valyria firmly believed that the blood-bond they forged with their mounts was an entirely unique, sacred connection.
A true dragonrider viewed their dragon as kin and partner, and crucially, the dragon viewed the rider the exact same way, often forming a bond deeper and more profound than the connections they shared with their own draconic clutch-mates.
History had proven time and again that even if two dragons hunted together, flew together, and hatched from the same clutch, the moment their riders turned their blades upon one another, the dragons would mercilessly tear each other to bloody ribbons with fang and fire without a second’s hesitation.
Quentyn immediately tore into the cleaner side of the roasted ribbonfish, exposing the intact spine and the snow-white meat beneath.
Though devoid of salt or spices, the meat seared by magical dragonfire tasted incredible, the skin perfectly crisp, the flesh tender and dripping with rich oils.
The boy took a massive, entirely unlordly bite of the torn fish.
Moondancer gently nudged Quentyn’s head once more before bending its neck to pluck a massive, heavily armored red crab from the pile.
With a single, delicate crunch of its fangs, the heavy shell cracked open perfectly.
Quentyn reached out, taking the golden-roasted crab meat directly from the dragon’s jaws.
Seeing Quentyn accept the offering, Moondancer pulled back slightly, finally beginning to gorge itself on the remaining roasted seafood.
Gael stood entirely at a loss, holding the massive half of the tuna the emerald dragon had pushed toward her.
Had she been her usual, frail self, she likely wouldn’t have possessed the strength to lift the massive chunk of meat, let alone maintain her composure standing inches from a feeding dragon.
“Quentyn…
what do I do…” Gael looked timidly at Quentyn.
The boy held the half-eaten ribbonfish tail in one hand and the cracked red crab in the other.
“This is food your dragon is sharing with you,” Quentyn explained with infinite patience.
“Eat it.
Dragonfire burns away all impurities.
Meat roasted in this fire is absolutely safe.
Furthermore, accepting the food they offer deepens the blood-bond between rider and mount.” Gael did not hesitate for a single second.
She nodded firmly, buried her face in the tuna, and took a small, hesitant bite.
The rich, fatty oils of the fish exploded across her tongue.
The dragonfire had rendered out the excess fat, elevating the rich, savory flavor of the fish to an incredible degree.
Suddenly, the girl noticed a hand extending toward her.
She looked up to see Quentyn offering her the other half of the ribbonfish tail.
Gael froze, entirely overwhelmed.
She chewed frantically, trying to swallow the mouthful of tuna, completely unsure of which hand she should use to accept Quentyn’s offering.
For a fleeting moment, she looked as though she might burst into tears from sheer sensory and emotional overload.
The emerald dragon seemed to sense the subtle shift in the girl’s distress.
It cast a quick glance at Gael, then rapidly skirted around the slumbering Silverwing, marching directly toward Moondancer.
It boldly rubbed its small snout against Moondancer’s massive neck.
The pale silver behemoth paused its feeding.
It turned its head, letting out a sharp, warning hiss at the emerald hatchling.
The green dragon shrank its neck back, then moved like a lightning bolt, diving straight into Moondancer’s hoard of prey and gorging itself on the choicest cuts.
Grumble.
Moondancer merely snapped up the largest remaining fish, swallowing it whole, paying absolutely no mind to the emerald dragon’s blatant ‘provocation’.
“Are Vermithor and Silverwing like this?” Quentyn asked, expertly masking his deep knowledge of draconic behavior with feigned curiosity.
“I have never seen them act this intimately, I can promise you that.” Daemon took another sip of his fruit wine, but his eyes were locked hungrily onto the cracked red crab in Quentyn’s hand.
Quentyn tossed the crab to Daemon, freeing up a hand to tear off a massive chunk of the tuna Gael was holding.
Gael felt the heavy weight in her hands lessen significantly.
She looked at Quentyn with eyes brimming with absolute adoration.
Using her newly freed hand, she tore a piece of the golden-white meat from the ribbonfish tail Quentyn had offered and popped it into her mouth.
“Th-thank you…” Gael mumbled, her cheeks stuffed full of roasted fish, her voice muffled but incredibly happy.
Daemon drained the last of his wine in a single gulp, tossing the wooden goblet over his shoulder.
He viciously tore a leg from the crab, biting into the sweet, tender meat.
“So, Quentyn.
What is your next move?” As he spoke, the young prince’s eyes gleamed with a restless, eager light.
He was clearly itching for action.
Quentyn swallowed his mouthful of fish and sat down heavily on the rocks right beside Moondancer.
The silver dragon turned to look at him, then shifted its massive bulk slightly, creating a more comfortable crook for Quentyn to lean against.
Daemon moved to sit cross-legged nearby, but Moondancer was having none of it, casually flicking its heavy tail to shove the prince a few feet away.
Gael sat quietly by the emerald dragon’s tail, pulling her knees to her chest, listening obediently.
“Pentos.” Quentyn spoke a single name into the sea breeze.