One step.
Then another.
Maekar drew closer to the dragon, which had definitely already spotted him.
The Cannibal was massive, bigger than Maekar had initially thought.
Yet it was by no means strange.
No one had actually recorded its true size, so there had only been estimates based on tales and eyewitnesses.
The dragon studied Maekar as his heart rate rose higher and higher.
Then it roared.
It was loud, so loud that it took Maekar’s ability to hear for a single moment.
Spit flew in all directions, barely missing him.
In the next moment, he stopped, only a few paces away from the snout.
Was he afraid?
He was afraid.
How pathetic.
How could he ever hope to achieve anything with such a mindset?
Had he been afraid on his first tourney?
Yes.
Had he been afraid when taming Balerion?
Yes.
Had he been afraid his whole life?
Yes.
But every time, he fought against it.
And he won.
Only by winning against fear could one win against everything else.
Everything.
Fear was gone.
Now something else filled him.
He knew it was necessary if he wanted even the slightest chance of succeeding.
He straightened his posture, the trembling in his hand vanishing slowly.
His stance shifted as it was replaced by something else.
The way a king stands before a subject.
The way Maegor the Cruel once stood before men and dragons alike.
“Rytsas, drakon.”
Greetings, dragon.
His voice echoed through the cavern, as the mighty Cannibal grew more and more agitated.
A little boy, although of true blood, wished to claim him?
Him?
Never.
Another roar came, even louder, as his whole body rose from its position, towering above Maekar.
For a moment, dragon and boy looked at each other.
Then Maekar parted his lips once more.
“Ābrar ñuhi se iksis jorrāelagon.”
Our desires are one and the same.
“Biarvose ēdruta hen ñuhe aōhe paktot āeksio sōvegon.”
It was fate that brought our paths together.
Maekar squinted, slowly raising his hand.
It looked as if the dragon widened his eyes ever so slightly, surprised by the arrogance and impudence of the boy.
Maekar took another step closer when its jaw opened wide.
He stopped.
A smile was pasted upon his face.
Dancing green flames reflected in Maekar’s purple pupils.
They looked like death itself.
Yet he walked forward.
Another step.
Closer.
The flames erupted with a power unheard of.
The fire shot past Maekar’s left side, a thick green beam of flame, not hitting him.
Yet the heat was heavy, even for a Targaryen.
The air burned around him, the stone glowing next to him.
They also illuminated the full horror of what Westeros had named, The Cannibal.
He was hideous.
Riddled with all kinds of scars and old wounds.
Twisted horns growing off his head in all directions, some curled, others spiked.
“Beautiful,” Maekar whispered.
The flames were far enough not to hit him directly, but they still caught his fluttering cloak.
With one heave, he discarded it.
The beam stopped, and Maekar raised both his hands, now standing directly before the dragon’s snout.
“Perzys ēdruta.
Ao issa perzys, nyke issa ēdruta.”
Fire and Blood.
You are the fire, I am the blood.
There was something in his eyes.
Maekar was fully intoxicated by the dragon’s power before him, but he knew it.
The next time the Cannibal opened his mouth, the fire would rain upon him.
Unless he claimed it first.
He took a deep breath.
“Fine,” he whispered, then suddenly ran.
Not away, but to the side.
There was a slight canopy, and he climbed it with every muscle his little body could handle.
The Cannibal watched him carefully, thinking that he had finally driven away the peculiar little human.
But that was not the case.
Maekar finally reached the flat top, panting.
But he was not finished.
He ran straight toward the edge, which curled upward.
Then he jumped.
His body entered the air as he leaped across the short distance between the edge and the dragon.
It was two meters at best.
He landed nearly on his nose, but managed to grab something before slipping down.
His small fingers dug into the rough scales, and he held on with every ounce of strength his little body had.
The Cannibal twisted violently, trying to shake him off.
Maekar’s grip slipped, his body sliding for a moment before he clawed back, fingers bleeding, muscles screaming.
He was almost gone.
Almost lost.
But he held on, clenching his teeth.
The dragon roared, thrashing harder, and then surged forward.
With powerful strides, he moved through the cavern and exited the giant space through a large opening that led straight to the beach.
When it noticed that the human was still on his back, it was confused, almost shocked.
So it decided.
It was time for a test…
The dragon launched itself into the air, shooting upward.
With powerful heaves it ascended, the cold wind slicing at Maekar’s face.
He knew he could not hold on, so with a desperate gamble, he let go with one hand, his body immediately rising into the air.
With the other he pulled out something from behind his back.
A small dagger.
He had stolen it from Daemon before going out, in case things would get heated, although he hadn’t expected to use it in such a way.
He almost thought it would bounce off, but it managed to move ever so slightly, weak against the powerful dragon scales.
But powerful enough to at least find some space between them, not really penetrating them.
He finally had a grip.
The Dragon did not even seem to notice, as he rose higher and higher.
Maekar tilted his head, Dragonstone already growing smaller and smaller.
Just what did he get himself into?
Daemon breathed hard, his chest rising and falling like he had just run for miles.
Whatever might be happening to his brother right now got pushed to the back of his mind.
The only thing that mattered, the only thing that filled his head, was what stood right in front of him.
A massive red scaled snout, sniffing him aggressively, hot breath blasting across his face.
Daemon stood there like a tree in a storm, planted firmly, not moving even an inch.
The only thing that stirred was his hair, whipped around wildly by the powerful gusts coming from the dragon’s nostrils.
Then it opened its jaw, red flames gathering deep within its throat.
For a brief moment, Daemon could only stare, his heartbeat hammering.
Then, slowly, he raised his hand.
The dragon halted.
The flames died before they could fully bloom, and its jaws snapped shut.
“Dohaerās Carex.”
Obey, Caraxes.
It came out as barely a whisper.
His throat was so dry there was not any spit left.
The dragon tilted its head, long neck curving around him like a giant serpent, one huge eye studying him closely.
Daemon felt the weight of that gaze all the way down to his bones.
He swallowed hard and repeated the words, this time with a bit more strength and certainty.
Something clicked inside him.
He was starting to get it, starting to feel the dragon’s wild, ancient nature.
“Dohaerās Carex.”
Slowly but surely, Caraxes pulled back, lowering his massive head until it was level with Daemon.
The movement was almost curious.
Daemon stretched out his hand.
And they met.
He could not believe it.
The scales were warm under his palm, almost hot, and that warmth did not stop at his hand.
It flooded through his whole body.
It felt comforting and overwhelming at the same time, like nothing he had ever experienced.
Caraxes let out a deep roar, but it was not angry.
It sounded more like a greeting, like the dragon was saying hello to his new rider.
Then another roar echoed from deeper in the caverns.
Both Daemon and Caraxes snapped their heads toward the sound.
Daemon gulped.
That had to be his brother and “his” dragon.
He glanced at Caraxes for a split second, jaw tightening.
“Shit,” he muttered, finally making up his mind.
Daemon darted around the dragon and scrambled up onto its back.
A worn saddle was still strapped there, Prince Aemon’s old one.
Daemon fumbled with the chains, tying them around himself as best he could, hoping it was right.
“Sōvēs!” he shouted.
Fly.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then Caraxes lunged forward like an arrow, nearly throwing Daemon off.
The dragon surged through the connecting cavern and burst out into the open air, spreading his long crimson wings wide.
They shot into the sky, and Daemon felt true weightlessness for the very first time.
“HAHAHA!”
He laughed.
He laughed louder than ever before.
At least of what he could remember.
But before he could revel further, something appeared in the distance.
It was black and enormous.
“Cannibal.”Daemon muttered, but his eyes tore open when he saw a small lone figure on his back.
He was only visible because of the silver reflecting in the moon.
Did he succeed?
Daemon thought for a moment.
No.
He could see how the Dragon moved erratically, as if trying to shake Maekar off.
He directed Caraxes as best as he could towards the large black dragon although his own did not seem to like the idea.
He had to do something.
When he drew closer he met Maekar’s eyes across the distance.
Maekar looked at Daemon.
He had done it.
Of course.
From what he’d heard, Caraxes matched his temper perfectly.
Then he suddenly shouted at “his own” Dragon.
“Skoros ao yn jikagon nyke?”
Why won’t you accept me?!
Anger rose in Maekar as he felt his strength fading with every new maneuver the Dragon made.
Of course.
It had already been extremely impressive up until now.
His fingers were already bleeding when he pressed his head against the warm body of the Dragon.
It was partly because he was freezing, but also because he wanted to understand it.
Another spin but then…
For a moment, Cannibal calmed slightly.
Stillness.
The Dragon’s breathing slowed.
A deep, rumbling exhale rolled through his chest, warm against Maekar’s frozen skin.
As if it had grown tired.
Cannibal turned his head, just barely, one enormous eye finding him.
Watching.
Openly recognizing strength where it was.
Maekar’s breath caught.
Is this?
“Hah,” he breathed out.
And then he did something.
Maybe it was because he was Maegor’s.
Or maybe he just wanted certainty.
Certainty whether he would win this game or lose it.
Whether he would reach the pinnacle in this life as well.
“Ēdruta perzys dohaerzi!”He shouted.
It is blood that controls fire!
Maekar met the Dragon’s eyes.
And let go.
His body entered weightlessness.
He closed his eyes and stretched out his hands to the sides. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
For a second it was terrifying.
Then it was almost peaceful.
The moon shone on him.
He could hear nothing but the wind rushing past his ears and his clothes fluttering as he descended with crippling speed, Dragonstone growing bigger and bigger below.
For a moment he opened his eyes.
Daemon and Caraxes were to his right, rushing toward him, Daemon screaming something.
How sweet.
His brother cared for him after all.
But then his half-open eyes caught something directly above.
Through the cloud ceiling.
First a shadow.
Then the entire mass of Cannibal, shooting downward with incredible speed, wings aligned tight against his body.
Although the air in his lungs was sparse, Maekar laughed.
A breathless mix of a chuckle and something more.
“I will win it after all,” he whispered, closing his eyes once more.
In the next moment his body pressed against something warm.
Still descending, the angle slowly aligning, the fall slowing until it stopped.
And then he lay there.
And opened his eyes.
“The moon is beautiful tonight.”
“Yn skoros ao ziry iksos aozma, ñuha jorrāelagon?”
Don’t you think so too, my friend?
He asked, tilting his head and meeting the green eyes of his new Dragon.
The Cannibal roared, perhaps in agreement, as they glided over Dragonstone.
Baelon sat in his chamber, on his bed, an unhappy expression etched on his face.
“Fetch the Maester,” he called out to the guard behind the door, and a few moments later Maester Gerardys arrived, bearing a wooden coffer with him.
“Is it stomach pain again, my Prince?” he asked, kneeling beside Baelon, who nodded slowly.
“It is not that painful yet.
But it plagues me more often in recent times.”
The Maester nodded, searching through his coffer.
Glass clinking slightly.
Baelon only looked outside.
The moon really was beautiful tonight.
He did not notice the Maester’s hands trembling inside the coffer as he pulled out a small vial.
“This will help.” He held it out.
Baelon looked at it for a moment before taking it and gulping it down in one go.
It tasted awful.
He dismissed the Maester, saying he wished to sleep.
Maester Gerardys lowered his head before stepping toward the door.
He glanced once more at Baelon before closing it behind him.
A few minutes later a knock sounded.
“What is it?” he asked, annoyed.
“My Prince, a patrol spotted a Dragon in the air.
It was confirmed to be Caraxes.
We have checked.
Prince Daemon and Prince Maekar are not in their chambers.”
“What?!” Baelon shouted, springing from his bed.
Behind him, through the open window, another shadow crossed the moon, darkening it for a moment.
Far bigger than Caraxes.
Baelon spun around.
There was nothing there.
He shook his head and left his chamber in haste.
He should have listened more carefully.
They had talked about it.
It was so obvious.
“Shit,” he hissed through his teeth, the handful of Dragonstone guards following behind him, ignoring it.
He could not afford losing another one of his family.
Not after everything that had happened.
No.
After a few minutes he finally reached the sandbank, stamping through the thick texture beneath his feet.
“There!” A guard pointed into the sky.
Indeed Baelon saw it.
Caraxes.
The red worm.
The Dragon of his brother and now…
It turned slightly.
“Daemon,” Baelon hissed.
Yet behind the curtain of anger and fear, there was much pride hidden.
His son had done it.
Claimed a Dragon for his own.
A mighty one at that.
It seemed Daemon had noticed the small retinue of guards and his father through their torches poking out in the dark night.
His son descended, landing rather crudely on the sand.
Baelon quickly walked up to him.
“Daemon!” he shouted.
Daemon’s expression looked as if he had already accepted what was about to come.
Yet he seemed so happy that Baelon’s anger suddenly left him entirely.
“Never do something like this again.” He pulled him into an embrace as he had descended.
“Son.”
Daemon took it.
Then Baelon broke it.
He remembered something.
“Where is your brother?!” Concern filled him once more.
Daemon was speechless for a moment, not knowing where to begin.
“I am here, Father.”
A child’s voice came from the cliffs as Maekar revealed himself, hands behind his back.
“Maekar!” Baelon called out, embracing his youngest son as well.
“What about you?
Why are you here?” he asked, looking at him and touching his cheek.
He was cold.
“I saw Daemon sneak out so I followed.
And then Daemon claimed Caraxes,” he said, glancing at his brother while speaking.
Baelon nodded.
“Inside.
Both of you.” He gestured for them to follow.
Daemon left Caraxes, who disappeared back into the Dragonmont on his own, and joined Maekar at the back of the retinue, behind their father.
Maekar’s hands had remained behind his back the whole time.
Blood was trickling down from them, leaving barely visible stains in the sand.
Daemon noticed.
He said nothing.
And so both brothers walked back to the keep.
Side by side.
The Game has begun…