Chapter 32: The Dragon
Dragonstone, 95 AC.
3 days later.
I woke up with a groan. My head was pounding, and I felt a deep exhaustion unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. I glanced at my left hand and sighed in relief when I saw a fully grown, pink arm. Looking around, my gaze locked onto a pair of green eyes—Cannibal's—watching me intently.
"Finally, you are awake from your slumber, human. I'm disappointed. I thought you would die from all the energy you used to heal yourself… and from what I took to heal myself far faster than should be possible."
Cannibal's indifferent voice echoed inside my mind
I shook my head, trying to clear the fog clouding my thoughts. I entered by mental winterfell and I observed the changes. The dragon embedded in the weirwood tree had fully materialized now, almost similar to Cannibal. I reached out and touched the tree, and immediately, I sensed two connections within its roots—both deeply intertwined with me. One led to the dragon, and the other to Fenrir.
Energy surged through the link from Fenrir, and I peeked into his senses. Warmth and happiness flooded me as I saw a half-eaten whale before his eyes.
Our other senses picked up my daughter's voice.
"Come on, Fenrir! Why did you run off and attack the warehouse storing the whale? You've been eating non-stop for three days!"
"Ah, now I see why you survived. Your puny Dog saved you. Too bad I didn't burn the connection when I had the chance… in my magnanimity."
Cannibal's voice intruded again, breaking my warging and seeing my daughter through Fenrir's eyes. I could feel him observing me through the bond.
Fed up, I pulled myself fully back into my own mind.
"I thought dragons cared about their bonded ones… that they protected them," I muttered, watching as my mental version of the dragon twisted and transformed into Cannibal fully. The Cannibal observed the surrounding castle very curiously and snorted, seeing the snow getting vapourised by his sheer heat.
"Now, now, my human," Cannibal said with a huff. "That's true for lesser dragons. And don't call me that foolish name. I am not a cannibal. I have never eaten my own kind. Besides, if my human can't survive his own foolishness, then he doesn't deserve to live."
I blinked, bewildered by the entire exchange, and opened my eyes. The landscape around me had changed. Grey Ghost was almost completely devoured by Cannibal, and the forest where we had landed was no more. Flames still crackled, devouring everything in their path. Green fire continued to burn fiercely, smoke spiraling upward into the sky.
I scanned the area but couldn't see Sheepstealer anywhere.
"Don't worry about your pet. I had this one to fill my stomach and help me recover. Your own blood was enough to make Sheepstealer walk away, and I let it, as you seemed to like her," Cannibal's voice hit my mind.
"I see. That is surprising. You seem to be both with me and against me. You wanted me dead and now you're saying you left both Fenrir and Sheepstealer for me. Also, if you don't want to be called Cannibal, what is your name?"
The dragon moved its face, and I could only describe it as a grimace.
"This has been my instinct for centuries, human. I can't exactly stop my own thoughts, and I was intrigued by your memories since your birth. Your fear of threats and your abilities have intrigued me enough to give you a chance. At least you will lead me to worthy fights and even empower me more. My true name is something you will not be able to say. The lesser dragons call me Draxulion, meaning Eternal Devourer, and the Black Shadow called me Green Flame."
"I see," I said, annoyed by the dragon. I got up from where I was lying and walked toward the dragon. Slowly, I raised my arms and finally touched its neck. Cannibal was lying on the ground, and I could reach there.
"I am happy that you finally relented. It would be sad for me to kill you. And why do you sound like a female, bitching about everything at times? But since you want to annoy me and deny your name, I will still call you Cannibal," I said as I used my strength to scratch it.
The dragon, which had been preening at my actions, scoffed at the kill comment, and indignation flooded the bond at my "bitch" comment along with the name Cannibal.
"Idiot. I am neither female nor male. I take the form needed. I am not like the lesser dragons who are stuck with the same form for decades." The dragon snorted. "Call me what you want; I don't care enough to bother anyway."
"You've been saying 'lesser dragons' so many times. Come, let's move from here before dawn, and you can explain what makes you different from other dragons and how you are not a cannibal when you've been eating dragons. Come, let's fly together. I don't want my father's family to find me with you, when they finally bother to fly above us to see what happened" I said as I started to climb the neck.
"Oh, Don't worry about that. No sane dragon would enter my territory willingly and even dragons couldn't see anything through all the smoke and heat." Cannibal informed me.
I reached a good point where I would be safe against the wind and could hold on, even before I could settle perfectly and hold one of the many spikes around its head and neck.
With a casual jump and one flap of its wings, we were airborne. Within minutes, we were above the clouds, and the moon and stars surrounded us. It was a breathtaking experience, and I felt tears forming in my eyes even without knowing why. Everyone had thought about flying, but this was an indescribable thing. We flew over Dragonstone and the surroundings until dawn came.
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It has been two days since my first flight, and every night I flew with Cannibal. It was too good to experience, and I cursed my family for not allowing me to see the beauty of flying during the day.
Cannibal had explained that all the ruckus we caused with the fight had been noted, and many knights were sent to inquire, but the fire stopped them from coming nearer. Cannibal had breathed fire again to spread the flames further.
I had spent the entire time with the green dragon, trying to get information out of him. His usage of lesser dragons and the denial of the Cannibal name intrigued me, but no matter what, the dragon was obstinate and even threatened me when I inquired about it again and again.
For the last two days, I had observed and tested our bond, and I understood intuitively that he would never harm me, even though he had been wishing I was dead repeatedly. Yesterday, I saw Vhagar and Baelon arriving, flying over the burned-down forest, along with Cannibal's lair. I was inside the cave, surprised by Cannibal's response.
"I thought you were not afraid of lesser dragons. Vhagar and Baelon have been searching for you and flying in your territory for many hours now," I asked teasingly.
The response was immediate, as I felt incredulity from the dragon.
"You saw me defeating two dragons, even when they ambushed me, and one enhanced with your powers, after you tried to mentally attack me and yet you ask this foolishness of me? There is no dragon alive who has a chance to kill me after the The Black Shadow chose to die last year. For your knowledge, I do not attack Targaryen dragons, as per the pact formed between me and The Black Shadow all those years ago when they appeared here after the Wrath of the Fourteen."
I was surprised, as Cannibal was known for killing dragons and eating even eggs. Then it hit me: no rider was ever killed, and only unbonded dragons were killed. But that was irrelevant, as I heard someone mentioning the truth of the Doom for the first time.
"Wrath of the Fourteen? So you know what happened to cause the Doom. Tell me more," I commanded in excitement and curiosity.
The dragon just looked at me like I was an idiot.
"No. I will not tell you anything, as you are not deserving to have my great knowledge. You never told me anything about you. I saw everything in your memory. You can do the same if you want," Cannibal said to me, and I could feel the mocking laughter.
"What? How do you see memories? I couldn't enter your mind even with our bond. Your defenses are back, and I can't attack you," I snapped.
"Well, that's your problem, not mine. I will protect you, and I will fly with you. Flying with you was so exhilarating, and having a bond isn't so bad when you get so many benefits. But I don't have to do anything more."
I knew the stubbornness of this dragon, and I decided I would rather find the memories by trying to enter his mind later than argue now.
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It has been two weeks since I bonded with Cannibal, and it's been a time full of ups and downs. I had visited Sheepstealer to provide healing, and Cannibal almost attacked the dragon—I felt the jealousy surge through our bond when I petted Sheepstealer. Only a hard, authoritative order to stop stayed his hand, and that was a massive relief.
Even when the dragon was rebellious, he obeyed me in the important matters—flying, fighting, and even stopping his feral attacks. The only thing he consistently denied me was information. I still tried every day to access his memories, but I was nowhere close. I knew that, eventually, my own learning talent would pick up on how Cannibal accessed my memories, and that understanding would come to me naturally. In the meantime, I had tried various methods, but none had worked. I was waiting for my hair to grow back as I have obtained the black dye from the Velaryon merchants. I had been going bald over the last two years—my hair constantly singed by fire. For some reason, that was where my fire resistance was weakes
I spend much time with Fenrir as he was very worried about my injuries during the three days. Atleast Fenrir was happy as my own aim for two years has been finally accomplished and even he could feel the dragon in our bond.
Uncle Baelon had left Dragonstone, satisfied that Cannibal had retreated to his lair and would no longer cause any attacks. I sighed in relief when I saw Vhagar flying away—the biggest dragon in Westeros right now. I couldn't help but wonder what made them "lesser," as Cannibal always said. Even when confronted with a dragon nearly two times his size, Cannibal was completely indifferent. At the very least, I was relieved that if I were discovered, I could hold my own in a fight—if needed.
Over the past two years, I had been observing Gael, trying to see if she followed the canon version. In the stories, she was described as simple-minded and frail. I could see glimpses of foolishness, yes, but there was cleverness too. The Queen had become increasingly suffocating over the years to Gael in her presence, and to she found a way to reduce that. It was Gael who had written to Septa Maegelle to heal the rift between the King and Queen.
Alyssane had denied her lessons on noble families and Valyrian history, yet I saw her instructing servants to fetch books. Her own mother had claimed she couldn't read Valyrian, but I witnessed her reading it effortlessly. The closest match to her behavior, oddly enough, was the fanon eccentric version of Luna Lovegood, and that intrigued me greatly.
I could see her falling for a bard easily, especially after the Queen had denied her marriage suggestions and following Daemon's forced marriage to Rhea. It was a tragic tale— A mother suffocating a Princess while the court pities her- got seduced by a bard and have a child. The bastard child she loved died, and she killed herself afterward.
I wondered if I had seen the bard who managed to seduce a princess of the blood and then disappear. Then it hit me—I was a bard too. She was blooming into a proper Valyrian, inhuman beauty, and I was genuinely tempted to become that bard in 98 AC. But I remained undecided. It was a risky path and if found out it would only end with me being a Kinslayer.
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I entered the Dragonstone port, heading toward the tavern so that people could register my presence. I had timed my visits with the arrival and departure of ships. People had heard of my wanderlust—my supposed journeys to Driftmark and King's Landing while I was actually hiding in the mountains. That no one doubted me was evidence of how much my acting ability had grown. I had picked up the smallfolk's mannerisms and body language so well that no one suspected I'd grown up as a lord in a northern castle. Truly the learning talent is one of the best cheats I asked for.
Only when my mind stopped its wandering did I notice something strange in the port. Some people stood out like they were under a spotlight, while others felt like background noise—irrelevant. I was stunned. This was the first time I had ever felt anything like this. It wasn't something I had trained. I focused on the less noticeable individuals and noticed a distinct lack of Valyrian features.
"What the fuck? Did I get a discount version of mage sight?" I muttered as I entered the tavern and ordered a drink. Alcohol did nothing for me, but not ordering would have drawn attention.
I watched the crowd. The Valyrian-blooded ones had a stronger presence—more vivid and noticeable to my senses. Sitting in the shadows, I extended my awareness, slowly stretching my perception to sense emotions. The moment I did, pain flared in my eyes, but my perception of people changed—sharpened. The only logical conclusion was that this ability came from my bond with Cannibal. Perhaps dragons could identify Targaryen blood not by scent, but by instinct to see magic—and that instinct had been passed to me.
'Another skill to practice.' I sighed.
I was thinking of returning north soon to see my friends and, of course, my daughter, before heading to King's Landing in my bard persona. I wondered how much more would be my daughter and the northmen in my new senses. It was an intriguing thought.
My thoughts were broken by a commotion outside—I heard the name Princess Gael.
Intrigued, I went out and saw a retinue of knights escorting Gael to a newly docked ship. A woman in septa robes stepped off the ship, her Valyrian features unmistakable. I realized it was my aunt—Septa Maegelle.
I walked as close as I could to see Gael. It was only 20 metres away and the knights moved while walking and my breath hitched.
There was a visible aura of light surrounding and radiating from Gael. It screamed of magical power—beautiful and dreadful at once. I focused my senses, and my magic responded. Her reserves were immense, but underused, giving them a strange, black hue. And I understood. Her supposed frailty and simple mindedness came from unconscious magic use—magic that healed her, helped her answer questions. But whenever she heard her mother or the septa disparage magic, or felt forcefully suppressed by them, the magic simply stopped working and thus the frailty and simple mindedness.
I looked to Septa Maegelle—another Targaryen—and saw she, too, had a strong presence. But it was like a flickering candle beside the sun-like radiance of Gael.
How could that be? Then I realized: Gael was the thirteenth daughter of a King and Queen of considerable power. What if, in this world—as in many others—numbers had power?
I watched the retinue as they returned to the castle, then quietly returned to the inn.
"Such potential… wasted on a fucking bard and a meaningless death," I whispered bitterly. Maybe the entire Dance of Dragon wouldn't have happened if Gael was married to Daemon or even Viserys, but my grandmother's obsession stopped that in canon and even in this world.
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I stayed another two weeks in Dragonstone before I finally found a ship bound for Duskendale. The ship was set to sail tomorrow, and it was time to say my goodbyes—to both Cannibal and Sheepstealer.
I climbed the mountain at night, and to me, it looked no different than day. My night vision had always been sharp, but after bonding with Cannibal, it had received an upgrade. My own eyes has the most visible benefit I'd experienced so far, and I couldn't help but wonder what else might come. Cannibal had already fully healed, and I could even see a subtle growth in him. Just like Fenrir, even without sharing my blood, Cannibal was clearly being influenced by my abilities.
"Aye, I'm happy to see you too," I said, sarcasm heavy in my voice.
One large green eye cracked open and stared at me indignantly—then closed again.
"So," I began, stepping closer, "I'm here to say goodbye. I've secured passage on a ship and will be leaving—for now."
For a while, I felt nothing from the bond. Then, suddenly, as if Cannibal had just processed my words, a wave of anger and disgruntlement slammed into me.
"You dare… the voice hissed in my mind. You dare ride that floating firewood? You dare leave me behind and go your own way?"
I was struck silent. I hadn't expected this kind of reaction from Cannibal. The bond between us was still new, and until now I'd only received begrudging acknowledgment from him. But he was… angry I was leaving?
And suddenly, a thought struck me.
Grinning smugly, I replied aloud, "Oh? Is the great dragon going to be lonely and miss me?"
Indignation flared in our bond, followed by a flash of embarrassment. I laughed, taking that as all the confirmation I needed.
That embarrassment quickly turned to anger.
"Oh, you're laughing at me? Try living for five centuries without any company, then come talk to me. I'm glad you'll feel it too, one day—because you're immortal. But I, and even your overgrown dog, will die."
The words hit harder than any dragon's flame.
My laughter vanished. The truth of it settled like a weight in my chest.
I was pragmatic enough to accept reality. Deep down, I knew I would be alone. I'd kept my distance from most people, save for the few exceptional ones who had carved places in my heart—Cregan, Aethan, and my daughter, Lyanna. But even they wouldn't outlive me. No human would and I have accepted it long time ago.
Yet the bond I shared with Fenrir and Cannibal—that was different. I had hoped, even believed, that they would share my immortality through our bonds and my own sharing ability.
"That… you're wrong," I stammered, trying to deny his words. "You're both tied to me—tied to my soul. My abilities should heal you, sustain you—as long as I live, you should live too." I tried to speak firmly, like I was convincing him… or maybe just myself.
Cannibal snorted. "Idiot. You think your little trick of entering animals—of forming a deeper link with your wolf and me—makes it a soul bond? It's just mind-melding. Nothing more. Sure, our abilities are enhanced. We'll likely live for centuries if we're not mortally wounded or constantly near death. But your immortality? No, my Daemon. We are mortal, just like anyone else. You'll outlive even me one day."
For several long moments, I sat there in the cavern, lost in thought. Then two words echoed in my mind, over and over, pulled from Cannibal's own admission:
Soul bond.
"Wait—Cannibal," I said, voice urgent. "You said it's just mind-melding and not a soul bond. So… there is something called a soul bond? And it can make you share my immortality?"
I felt a flicker of smugness and devious glee in our bond, and I knew Cannibal had been waiting for me to ask.
And then, with no small amount of satisfaction, Cannibal began explaining the blood magic ritual required to form a true soul bond.
By the time Cannibal finished his explanation, I knew—I would be the bard who seduced Gael and the death would be at least meaningful. Not some senseless waste like in canon.
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The Great Tourney of 98 AC, held in celebration of fifty years of the Old King's reign, was widely considered a major turning point in Targaryen history. It was later confirmed by the Bastard King himself that it was during this very tourney he entered King's Landing disguised as a bard and seduced Princess Gael. His words were cryptic, but the truth was eventually grasped by those who listened closely and wise enough to understand.
"There I was, arrogant after I claimed the unclaimable—Cannibal—and now defying the Old King's decree that banished me from the South. I walked hidden in plain sight, fully aware that many eyes were on me because of my talent in music. And yet, not one of them recognized who I truly was.
Then I met the young princess. She was lonely, made melancholic by the madness of the old hag who raised her, and I… I brought with me music that lifted her spirits. Heavenly, she called it. But I didn't realize she had turned herself into a honeypot. Never in my life did I expect that to be used on a bard, of all people."
It is also said that the injury and stress caused by the events of this tourney and the following years eventually led to Prince Baelon's burst appendix two years later—an event that sparked one of the most unconventional and confusing chapters in the Game of Thrones.
Excerpts from The Bastard King. Chapter 5: The End of the Beginning. Written by Maester Theon in 200AC
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