Lys, the courtyard of the Prince's Residence.
Afternoon sunlight filtered through the vines, casting dappled shadows across the flagstones.
Several sheets of parchment covered in intricate runes lay spread across a stone table in one corner of the courtyard, their ink still fresh.
Aegon sat beside the table, his fingers tapping absently against its surface as his gaze lingered on the obscure Valyrian script...
He was slowly organizing and recording the ancient knowledge of blood magic in his mind, trying to understand it.
Clear cries and a girl's soft laughter drifted over from nearby.
Daenerys sat on a stone bench beside the pond, the milky-white hatchling Meraxes, whose wingtips were pale gold, resting on her lap.
The little dragon half closed its slit-pupiled eyes, letting Daenerys gently stroke the fine scales along the back of its neck as it purred in contentment.
Lya stood a little farther away beneath the shade of a tree, holding the emerald-green Vhagar in her arms.
Vhagar was quieter than Meraxes, but its gaze never left the most energetic figure in the pond...
Balerion.
The black hatchling was the liveliest of the three.
He was fluttering his young wings, skimming low through the courtyard and startling several resting birds into flight.
He plunged into the pond in a spray of water, then emerged moments later with a plump ornamental red fish in his jaws and landed on the rockery.
He raised his head, gave a smug rumble in his throat, then breathed a small jet of searing dragonfire. The flames swept precisely over the fish, roasting it to a fragrant char in an instant.
He gulped it down in a few bites, then shook his head in satisfaction, scattering water droplets and sparks together.
Daenerys could not help laughing softly at his mischievous, self-important air,