At the entrance to the dragonpit, Rhaenyra smacked Aemon sharply on the backside without saying a word.
"Ow!" he yelped, whipping his head around in surprise.
What the hell? It's not like I said the dragon was friendly.
His indignant look only made Rhaenyra angrier. Her cheeks flushed with fury as she shouted, "Aemon! You almost got yourself killed!"
The dragon had clearly rejected him. To keep pushing after that—sheer suicide.
"But it didn't attack me," Aemon said, his tone serious. "It didn't want to."
He wasn't just saying that to defend himself—he meant it. He'd felt it when he stood before Dreamfyre. There was something ancient and aloof in her vast presence, yes—but no hostility. No bond. No recognition. Nothing.
Just… nothing.
It was like standing before a god that couldn't be bothered to notice him.
Rhaenyra's chest rose and fell rapidly. She turned cold and clipped. "Don't ever do that again."
What he'd done was beyond reckless. Even Daemon, who had a wild streak in him, had never been so brazen with dragons. If something had happened, how was she supposed to explain it to his parents? To her own father?
Aemon lowered his head, guilt prickling under his skin. "I'm sorry. I won't do it again."
It wasn't the attempt that made him feel bad—it was making her worry. Thinking back on it, it was reckless. He'd just acted on instinct.
"Good," Rhaenyra muttered, rubbing her chest like she was trying to calm her heart. "Just… don't be stupid."
She turned away, not trusting herself to say more.
Aemon shifted his feet, drawing little circles in the dust with his toes.
Yes, it had been dangerous. But it had also been worth it.
He glanced at Rhaenyra, who was still avoiding his eyes, and silently summoned the [Magic Essence Panel].
[Aemon Targaryen]
Talent: Dreamer (Gold)
Bloodline: Ancient Valyrian Dragon King (18%)
Skills: High Valyrian (Proficient), Arithmetic (Proficient)
Magic Cards: None
Pet: Golden-Nosed Rat (Blue)
Status: "Well-developed human cub, promising to become a powerful warrior."
Huh. The bloodline percentage had jumped up—5% more, out of nowhere. And a new pet slot had appeared.
Dreamfyre… she hadn't bonded, but she had given something.
He flipped the panel to check his magic card inventory.
Still just the one: [Miao Hand Empty].
Down in the corner, by the golden hourglass, he spotted it:
[Essence: 168]
That was up by a full hundred points. That came from Dreamfyre, no doubt about it.
Aemon grinned to himself. "Bloodline boost and essence? Not bad for a failed attempt."
"Prince, please—please leave," the old dragonkeeper said, wringing his hands in panic. "If something had happened to you down there…"
It was written all over his face—he'd seen enough close calls to last him a lifetime. The last time he'd felt this close to disaster was when "Bold Baelon" nearly lost control of his beast.
Aemon reluctantly closed the panel, still stealing glances back at the pit. His feet itched to stay. Though Dreamfyre hadn't accepted him, she'd acknowledged him in her own distant way. That had to count for something.
The old dragonkeeper mistook his hesitation. "Your father rode his dragon by the time he was four," he said gently. "But that was because the dragon was bonded from birth. It's unheard of—dangerous—for a child to try taming an unfamiliar dragon at your age."
Most dragonriders didn't mount their beasts until they were grown.
Aemon shook his head. "I'm not trying to ride her." Then, after a pause: "She's lonely. Dreamfyre was hatched here in King's Landing, a symbol of hope. Can you unchain her? Let her stretch her wings just once."
"That's madness," the old man said, eyes wide. "She could destroy half the city."
"She won't," Aemon insisted. "She's not angry. Just… forgotten."
The old man hesitated. Dreamfyre was one of the oldest dragons still alive, second only to Vhagar. She'd seen more of the world than any living man—and was, by all accounts, far more intelligent than the common beast.
"She'll go back to Dragonstone," Aemon added. "They always return to where they hatched. They're creatures of habit."
The keeper mulled that over.
Rhaenyra suddenly cut in: "Let her go."
Aemon blinked, surprised. He hadn't expected her to back him up.
Rhaenyra huffed and looked away. "I'm not doing it for you. That dragon's too beautiful to rot in chains."
Aemon's heart skipped. "Thanks," he said, beaming.
With both royal voices behind the request, the dragonkeeper could only sigh and bow. "As you command. Please step outside while we prepare."
"Alright!" Aemon chirped, catching Rhaenyra's hand without hesitation and tugging her toward the exit.
She rolled her eyes but let him lead.
As the bronze doors creaked open, sunlight poured in. A soft wind played across their cheeks.
Aemon squinted, breathing in deeply. The air tasted better somehow.
"Don't try that again," Rhaenyra said quietly, turning her head aside. "You're not invincible."
Aemon grinned, voice light: "I'll behave. Promise."
The guards spotted them and came rushing over.
"The prince returns!" Sir Ryan called out, smiling warmly. "Don't worry, lad. First time's not always the charm."
Sir Steve and William looked relieved—until they realised the boy had come out without a dragon.
"Pff." Gonsor spat orange seeds onto the floor, unimpressed.
Boom… Boom…
Heavy footfalls echoed from deep within the dragonpit.
"Protect the prince and princess!" Sir Steve snapped, immediately stepping in front of them.
High Valyrian filled the air—the dragonkeeper's voice, calm but commanding.
"Easy, Dreamfyre! Quiet now."
The shadows shifted.
A massive silhouette blocked the sunlight. A sleek, light-blue dragon stepped out, scales shimmering like polished sapphire. She lifted her elegant head toward the sky, eyes squinting against the unfamiliar brightness.
She hadn't seen the sun in years.
"Seven hells…" William croaked, nearly tumbling backwards.
Sir Steve and Sir Ryan froze, hands glued to their sword hilts. For all their training, this was their first time standing mere paces from a dragon.
Gonsor stared, jaw slack, half-chewed orange falling from his mouth.
The beast had seemed majestic from afar.
Up close, she was divine—and terrifying.
Aemon watched them all, then stepped forward, still holding Rhaenyra's hand.
"Give her space," he ordered. "Clear the area."
The guards obeyed immediately.
Soon, the clearing before the dragonpit stood empty, save for the light-blue dragon at its gates.
Dreamfyre shook her head, the chains rattling as they slipped loose. Her wings spread wide—vast, feathered sails of iridescent blue.
She took one look at the open sky…
And then—