As night deepened, the air around the dragon's lair thickened—not with the usual chill of darkness but with a heavy, hot scent tinged faintly with the musk of fish and sulfur. The cave yawned before Baelon like a gaping maw swallowed by shadows.
The silence was absolute. Not a chirp from insects nor a rustle of wings stirred the stillness. Baelon's heartbeat thudded thunderously in his ears, a constant reminder of the danger that lay ahead.
He had come unarmed, carrying neither sword nor armor, relying instead on the strength of his will and the fate that tethered him to the last living dragon.
Baelon's eyes met Vhagar's through the dim light filtering into the cavern. The great dragon's amber eyes glimmered with a cautious intelligence, the reflection of a beast as ancient as the world itself.
Slowly, Baelon's trembling hands reached for the heavy iron chains binding Vhagar's massive neck. His sweaty fingers clumsily worked to undo the knots, the sound of the links clinking faint but heavy in the silence.
Vhagar's tail lashed against the stone floor with a sharp swish, sending ripples of lime dust scattering into the air. The dragon's gaze fixed on Baelon, unblinking, yet there was no hint of hostility—only an inscrutable patience.
With a final tug, the chains fell with a resounding clang to the ground.
The dragon flexed his enormous wings, their backs scraping against the cave walls with a grinding sound, sending chunks of rock and dust cascading down. The cavern was too cramped for Vhagar's true size.
The dragon's former rider, Lao Bei, had died suddenly, leaving the lair ownerless. The dragon guards dared not disturb the beast by moving it to another cave. It was as if the lair itself mourned its fallen master, frozen in a reluctant stillness.
Baelon reached out and ran a hand over Vhagar's rough scales, feeling the powerful muscles ripple beneath. His other hand gripped the worn leather saddle strapped across the dragon's back. Years of careful preparation and secret practice flooded his memory—skills learned in the shadows, sneaking through windows, honing balance and courage.
Without hesitation, Baelon began climbing, his fingers and toes finding purchase on the ridged scales. Vhagar's eyes followed his movements, calm and calculating, until Baelon settled securely atop the saddle.
The silence shattered as Baelon felt a strange warmth in his mind, as if a silent bond was forming between rider and beast. It was subtle at first, like a whisper in his thoughts—a feeling of familiarity, of shared understanding.
"Vhagar… is that you?" Baelon whispered.
He recalled the strange meditative state he had entered once before on Dragonstone, where he had briefly touched the dragon's consciousness. Though he had never been able to return to that place of mind, the sensation now seemed alive again.
A triumphant smile curved Baelon's lips, excitement sparking through his veins. His heart hammered wildly in his chest as he tightened his grip on the reins, his hands wrapped twice with the spider silk he'd painstakingly prepared to prevent slipping.
"Fly, Vhagar!" he shouted, voice echoing into the vast cavern.
The dragon's response was immediate and fierce. Vhagar's massive legs began pounding the stone floor, causing the entire cave to tremble. A guttural roar echoed from outside—other dragons, perhaps alerted by the commotion.
With a powerful thrust of his wings, Vhagar scraped against the cave walls, sending showers of dust into the air before bursting out into the night sky.
The moment the cool breeze hit him, Baelon marveled at the raw power beneath him as Vhagar soared upward, the sun quickly swallowed by the shadow of those titanic wings.
The world blurred beneath them as they climbed higher, the air thinning. Baelon felt the familiar rush of wind against his face and the pounding vibration of Vhagar's muscles and heart.
Suddenly, the dragon banked sharply and plunged almost vertically, the sensation of weightlessness washing over Baelon, clutching the reins with white-knuckled determination.
"Is this your fastest speed?" Baelon yelled, excitement mingled with fear.
Vhagar responded with a frustrated roar, the dragon's emotions flowing into Baelon's mind. It seemed as though Vhagar was dissatisfied, pushed beyond his usual limits.
The dragon flapped her wings with renewed vigor, accelerating as they dived downward, slicing through the air like a blade. The wind screamed past Baelon, blurring his vision.
Suddenly, white shapes erupted from below—a flock of startled birds. Baelon instinctively pressed close to the dragon's spine, letting the birds scatter. Moments later, Baelon noticed crimson stains splattered across Vhagar's head, where a few birds had been struck.
Despite the fierce wind, Baelon felt an unexpected clarity—a sharpness of sight and mind that felt almost magical. Perhaps it was the ancient power running through his Targaryen blood or the mysterious Valyrian magic whispered in legends.
Gradually, the turbulent gusts softened to a gentle breeze as Vhagar leveled off, gliding gracefully with centuries of experience.
Baelon leaned to the right, peering down at the world below. The sprawling landscape stretched out, a long river cutting through the land—the Blackwater Rush, winding like a silver serpent through King's Landing.
With a subtle tug on the reins, Baelon directed Vhagar to follow the right fork of the river, noting with surprise the precision of his control and the clarity of his vision.
He wondered briefly if the remarkable eyesight and stamina he felt atop Vhagar would carry over once he dismounted, but he suspected not. The gifts were surely born of the bond between dragon and rider, a magic unique and profound.
Shaking off the thought, Baelon reminded himself that the mysteries he could not unravel were simply parts of the Targaryen legacy, and all the things he hesitated over were veiled by Valyrian magic.
After a time, Baelon spotted a ruined black castle with towering walls crumbled by time and battle—Harrenhal.
Memories flickered through Baelon's mind as he directed Vhagar to land gently on a small island in the center of a vast lake—the famed God's Eye.
Harrenhal lay on the shores of the lake, its ominous silhouette reflected in the dark waters. The lake itself was steeped in history, entwined with tales of Targaryen bloodshed and dragon battles.
Baelon's thoughts drifted to the legendary battles fought over the God's Eye—where Maegor the Cruel rode the mighty Balerion the Black Dread against his nephew Aegon, who rode the Silver Knight.
The smaller Silver had no chance against Balerion's overwhelming power, losing his wing and ultimately plunging into the lake's depths.
Later, in a second legendary battle, Daemon Targaryen flew Korakshu against his nephew Aemond on Vhagar. Both dragons fell to the lake, their riders dying alongside them. Legend says Korakshu barely survived, crawling ashore, but Vhagar sank deep into the cold waters.
Baelon patted Vhagar gently and whispered, "Be careful, Vhagar. Watch out for those bloodworms no bigger than your claws."
The dragon's pupils narrowed, nostrils flaring in a sudden burst of breath. Baelon soothed the beast, "It's not your fault. It's the rider's."
Reaching into his pouch, Baelon withdrew a handful of sticky spider glands, feeding them carefully to Vhagar. He watched with satisfaction as the dragon's healing magic began to close the fresh wounds on her neck.
Dragons might be born to grow without limits. Balerion had only stopped growing shortly before his death, residing deep in his lair for years. What size could Vhagar reach? No one knew.
One worry lingered in Baelon's mind—there were rumors that Balerion had once flown into the ruins of Valyria, drawn by a strange summons and beyond his rider Princess Aerea's control.
Vhagar had never seen Valyria before the Doom, but could she one day share the same fate when she reached Balerion's legendary size?
Baelon folded Vhagar's great wings inward and crawled beneath them. The air was thick with the scent of sulfur, pungent yet strangely comforting.
"Vhagar, help me protect the laws of our house," he said quietly.
Vhagar responded with a playful flip that nearly sent Baelon tumbling. Laughing, he steadied himself and closed his eyes, seeking the meditative state once more.
He felt the bond deepen, a connection beyond words—a melding of souls between dragon and rider.
Unbeknownst to Baelon, far away, Jun Lin was thrown into chaos by his sudden disappearance.