The council chamber was heavy with tension, even in the morning light that streamed through the high arched windows. King Jaehaerys I Targaryen sat solemnly at the head of the great black oak table, his silver-white hair falling in fine strands over the carved dragonbone inlays. His purple eyes, sharp as amethyst blades, scanned the gathered lords and his family with a quiet, deliberate weight.
Before him were his sons Baelon and Viserys, Prince Daemon, Queen Aemma, and young Princess Rhaenyra, already proud and confident astride her own dragon Syrax. Around the room sat the Small Council—Grand Maester Ebrose, Lord Corbray, Lord Beesbury, and others whose faces betrayed a mixture of curiosity, concern, and unease.
The talk of the morning was the strange, untamed dragon on Dragonstone.
King Jaehaerys broke the silence, his voice measured but firm. "This creature… it has grown beyond hatchling size, you say?"
Daemon nodded. "The size of a bull now, Your Grace. Not fully grown by any means, but powerful and broad in his shoulders—thick neck, wide wings, like a living shadow with blood-red highlights. I've never seen a dragon quite like him."
Viserys leaned forward. "He was eating when we saw him on the beach. He did not notice us straight away. Only after finishing his meal a large fish of some kind he caught us looking. he roar and breathe flame across the sand in a warning line."
Queen Aemma shifted beside Viserys, looking uneasy. "It was a deliberate gesture, not an attack. The flame was controlled, measured. He wasn't interested in harming us, only in making clear we were not to approach."
"Like a wild beast guarding his territory," Jaehaerys said grimly.
"Exactly," Daemon replied. "And when Caraxes came running down the cliffs, the wild one took flight instantly. Not panicked, but fast. He fled without chasing. The other dragons just watched."
Lord Beesbury grunted. "A dangerous creature. Unclaimed, untamed. What happens if he comes to the Pit?"
Grand Maester Ebrose adjusted his spectacles and murmured, "Dragons sense one another. The presence of such a dominant, unknown dragon would unsettles the established bonds."
"More than unsettles," Daemon added. "He would disrupts them. He's a rogue alpha."
Jaehaerys stood, moving slowly but with unyielding strength. "This dragon is not ours, not yet. We have no claim. He does not accept riders. And he has not harmed us."
He looked to each face around the table, holding their gaze. "For now, we watch. We wait. Daemon, you will remain on Dragonstone with the dragonkeepers. Keep watch on the wild one. Study him. Record his movements and habits."
Daemon inclined his head. "At once, Your Grace."
"Grand Maester," Jaehaerys said, "search the old scrolls and histories. There are tales of dragons born in the shadow of Dragonstone, dragons of strange colors and fierce hearts. See if any match this one."
"Of course, Your Grace," Ebrose said, already making notes.
The King's gaze darkened. "We do not provoke him. We do not attempt to tame him, nor seek to claim him. Let him remain wild—so long as he does not threaten us."
Viserys exhaled softly. "And if he does?"
"Then we meet fire with fire," Daemon said.
Aemma looked toward Rhaenyra. "You understand what this means for Syrax and the others."
The young princess nodded solemnly. "this strange dragon. It is as if a new kind of flame has been born. One no one holds."
Jaehaerys's expression softened only slightly. "That flame must not burn our house."
A murmur rippled through the council.
Daemon leaned forward. "Your Grace, we must also note—this dragon's growth is far faster than any hatchling or young dragon I have seen. While he is roughly the size of a bull now, the strength and muscle density are more like a fully grown warhorse. He eats more than any of the dragons at the Pit, and yet he still looks lean—like a predator honed for speed and power."
"Remarkable," said Viserys, rubbing his chin. "Is it common for dragons to grow so quickly?"
"Not like this," Daemon replied. "Caraxes grew fast, but he was ridden from birth. This one is wild—no rider, no training. His growth is unnatural."
Ebrose adjusted his spectacles. "Dragons do vary in growth rates, but this is unprecedented for one so young and untamed. It suggests something remarkable in his bloodline—or perhaps his nature."
Baelon shook his head. "Or a danger we do not yet understand."
Rhaenyra looked up sharply. "Could he grow as large as Balerion one day?"
Daemon smiled darkly. "He might. But I doubt he would ever be tamed, like Balerion was."
Jaehaerys's voice cut through the rising tension. "We will watch. No one must provoke him or try to claim him. We do not know what he will become—but we must be ready for what that means."
The chamber fell silent again, each pondering the wild presence growing on Dragonstone—a black-and-red dragon that roared like the old legends, wild, proud, and alone.