A Splendid Dragon Soars Through the Sky

The thunderous beating of Glutton's wings faded over the Narrow Sea, finally becoming a blurred dragon's cry that vanished into the morning mist.

On the docks of King's Landing Harbor, the lingering scent of sulfur mingled with the salty stink of the sea, like a forgotten cup of bitter wine.

King Jaehaerys's silver hair clung in disarray to his sweat-dampened temples. He gazed in the direction Daemon Blackfyre had vanished, the dragon motif atop his scepter gleaming coldly beneath the sun, as though silently accusing someone of something.

"Baelon." With only himself and Baelon left at the harbor, the old king's voice suddenly rang out, shattering the silence of the docks.

He turned, his deep violet eyes sweeping toward Rhaenys's Hill, where the Dragonpit stood. Sulfurous mist curled around it, and the shadows of slumbering dragons could vaguely be seen within. "Pass on my order. From this day onward, double the guards at the Dragonpit and Dragonstone. Not only must we prevent young dragons from becoming wild dragons, we must keep outsiders from approaching them. Especially those Dragonseeds in the city and on the island."

Prince Baelon froze for a moment before bowing. "Yes, Father." His hand unconsciously pressed against the old wound beneath his ribs. Its dull ache always seemed especially clear at such grave moments. "I will station the most reliable dragon guards and knights there. Any non-royal who comes within a hundred paces will be killed without mercy."

"Not enough." Jaehaerys shook his head and slammed his scepter heavily against the stone. "Little Daemon taming Glutton was a warning, not a miracle." His gaze swept over the awestruck people in the distance, and his voice dropped lower. "Do you think those Targaryen bastard descendants scattered beyond our reach do not covet the power within the Dragonpit? Do you think the Free Cities across the Narrow Sea are not watching our dragon eggs?"

Baelon fell silent. The sight of Daemon Blackfyre riding Glutton still stood vividly before his eyes, but the danger hidden behind it hung over him like a sword.

"Little Daemon is different from them," Baelon said, a faint and nearly imperceptible note of defense in his voice. "He is Aemon's son. He is family. His loyalty to this house is no less than any Targaryen's."

Jaehaerys suddenly laughed. The sound was thick with exhaustion, like wind passing through dead branches. "Precisely because he is Aemon's son, we must be even more cautious."

The old king's fingers rubbed the scale patterns carved into his scepter. "Count them. How many bastards has this family produced? Since Aegon the Conqueror, how many scattered bloodlines have there been, even among those whose names we know? But how many of them, like little Daemon, received guidance and understood duty and honor?"

He paused and looked toward the Red Keep, its towers like a row of silent tombstones in the morning light. "We do not even know who his mother was. Aemon was always the most sensible child from the day he was born. Why did he have to leave me such a problem in this matter?"

Baelon remembered the black dragon-mark branded upon Daemon's shoulder, remembered what he had said at Moon Gate Keep: "Blood and fire share one source." His throat suddenly tightened. "Perhaps... his mother was also a descendant of Valyria. Those other ancient dragonlord families must have secrets no one knows."

"Then we shall make that secret 'reasonable.'" Jaehaerys's tone abruptly became resolute. "Pass on my word. From now on, Daemon Blackfyre's origins must be rewritten. His mother was a Valyrian noblewoman from across the Narrow Sea, who lawfully married Aemon in Myr. But after giving birth to him, she fell ill and died. To protect the child, Aemon placed him in fosterage on Dragonstone."

Baelon's pupils contracted sharply. "Father, would this not hurt Jocelyn...?"

"I know." Jaehaerys's voice lowered, carrying a rare note of frailty. "She is my full sister, Aemon's lawful wife. But look at little Daemon. Look at how he has fought and bled for this family. Must he bear the mark of bastardry for the rest of his life?" His scepter smashed into the ground again, scattering chips of stone. "I will speak to Jocelyn myself. Tell her this is not a betrayal of Aemon. It is to protect the blood he left behind."

Just then, a clear dragon's cry suddenly tore through the sky!

It was unlike Glutton's deep roar, unlike Caraxes's wild arrogance. It carried the liveliness and resolve of a young maiden—it was Dreamfyre!

Baelon abruptly looked up and saw a splendid pale-blue dragon diving from the direction of the Dragonpit. Gold and silver gleamed across its scales beneath the sun like a gemstone kissed by the gods.

And upon its broad back sat two figures—Princess Gael in a sky-blue gown, and Mysaria in a gray-green maid's dress.

"Gael?!" Baelon cried out. The old wound beneath his ribs throbbed violently from the shock.

Jaehaerys's face turned livid at once, and he nearly crushed his scepter in his grip. "Has that girl gone mad?!"

In a tower on the western side of the Red Keep, Daemon Targaryen clung to the windowsill. The cast on his left leg had not yet been removed, but that did not stop him from shouting at the sky. "Aunt Gael! Take me with you! This damned tower is driving me mad!" His silver hair whipped wildly in the wind like a clump of burning grass. "Caraxes is still in the Dragonpit! We can go find little Daemon together!"

Dreamfyre seemed to hear his cries. Its massive wings beat sharply, and hurricane-force air swept over him. Daemon Targaryen felt an immense force slam into his chest, sending him tumbling backward like a fallen leaf. He hit the stone floor with a heavy bang, his shout turning into a muffled groan.

"Idiot." Seeing the blurred figure in the distant tower window, Jaehaerys cursed under his breath, but he had no mind to worry about his disheveled grandson.

His eyes remained fixed on Dreamfyre as the great dragon carried his most beloved youngest daughter over the harbor.

Gael's sky-blue skirts snapped loudly in the wind. She even turned back and waved toward the docks, her face lit with almost childlike excitement.

"Stop her! Stop her now!" The old king's roar echoed across the harbor. The guards hurriedly drew their swords, but could only watch Dreamfyre fly farther and farther away like a shooting star breaking free of its bonds.

Watching the dragon vanish, Baelon suddenly remembered that many years ago, when he was still a child, Aunt Rhaena had likewise ridden Dreamfyre over the Red Keep and flown to Harrenhal in pursuit of her freedom.

History was always astonishingly alike. Only this time, the one seated upon the dragon's back was his most delicate little sister.

"Damn you, Aemon!" Jaehaerys roared, his voice nearly breaking into tears. His scepter struck the ground heavily, cracking a fine line into the stone. "Leaving behind one problem was not enough? Now even Gael has been led astray! How am I supposed to answer to Alysanne?!"

His gaze swept across the royal family members who had returned after hearing the commotion. Viserys held Rhaenyra, his face pale. Aemma instinctively guarded her belly, her eyes filled with worry. Jocelyn Baratheon stood in the shadows, her face as calm as deep water, though her clenched fists betrayed her feelings.

"Baelon," Jaehaerys said suddenly. His voice was calm now, calm enough to chill the heart. "Pass on my order. Close every gate in King's Landing. Send riders to notify the lords along the way. The moment Dreamfyre is sighted, report it at once. Remember, we are to 'ask' the princess to return, not 'arrest' her."

Baelon bowed to accept the order, though he knew in his heart that since Gael had dared to fly away on Dreamfyre, she would not return easily.

That Child of Winter who had always shyly hidden behind Queen Alysanne had grown claws of her own the moment she donned the crown of a dragonrider.

The crowd at the docks gradually dispersed, leaving chaos in its wake. Sunlight broke through the clouds, casting mottled shadows over the stone pavement like a tapestry torn to pieces.

King Jaehaerys stood there alone, staring in the direction Dreamfyre had disappeared. Tiny glints of tears clung to his silver-white lashes.

He suddenly remembered that when Aemon was young, he too had secretly climbed onto Caraxes's back and declared that he wanted to see the world beyond the Narrow Sea.

Back then, Jaehaerys had laughed and smacked his son's backside, telling him he would take him when he was older. But now Aemon was gone. The son he left behind rode a wild dragon across the Seven Kingdoms, while his most beloved youngest daughter had gone mad along with him.

"Targaryen dragons never know how to obey," the old king murmured. His scepter slipped from his trembling hand. "Never..."

Another dragon's cry came from the direction of the Dragonpit. This time it was Caraxes's roar, full of the fury of being abandoned.

Then Vhagar, Vermithor, and Silverwing roared in turn, like a chaotic dirge that echoed over King's Landing for a long while.

Baelon picked up the scepter from the ground and looked at his father's hunched back. He suddenly felt that the storm stirred by Daemon Blackfyre had only just begun.

Those buried secrets, those suppressed desires, those forgotten bloodlines—all of them would ride upon dragon wings and unleash an unprecedented tempest across the skies of the Seven Kingdoms.

At that moment, Gael, riding upon Dreamfyre's back, looked down at King's Landing as it grew smaller and smaller beneath her. Mysaria clutched tightly at her skirts, platinum-blond curls flying in the wind.

"Your Highness, where are we going?" Mysaria's voice trembled, though a trace of excitement shone through it.

Gael turned back, and a light never seen before gleamed in her pale violet eyes. "To chase Daemon." Her voice rang as clearly as silver bells, carried far away by the wind. "Tell him that even if he runs to the end of the world, I can still find him."

Dreamfyre gave a joyful cry and beat its wings, soaring higher into the sky. The clamor of the Red Keep and the king's furious roars were soon left far behind.

Sunlight poured over them like a layer of golden armor, guarding this secret of courage, love, and rebellion.

The docks of King's Landing gradually returned to calm. Only King Jaehaerys's sighs and the distant cries from the Dragonpit mingled in the sea wind like a sorrowful song no one could understand.