Viserys crouched, stroking the newborn hatchling. The resonance between the dragon king bloodline within him and the magic he had felt earlier let him win its trust and affection without effort.
"Brother… they all accept you."
Daenerys watched, entranced, wonder and longing written across her little face.
Viserys nodded, glancing at her. He could see the disappointment lingering; he knew the three dragon eggs had become an obsession for her.
He walked over and swept her into his arms. "Dany, I know what you're afraid of, but I believe you'll hatch those three eggs. They may just need a different kind of waking. You have all the time in the world to try. And even if they never crack, you still have plenty to choose from here."
The words gave the girl immense comfort and courage. She nodded hard and pressed her cheek to his chest.
"I won't give up, Brother. I'm Daenerys Stormborn."
"That's my girl. Now they need names—any ideas?"
Daenerys studied the three wyrmlings and gasped. "Oh! They look just like the three great dragons from Aegon the Conqueror's time!"
Viserys smiled. "Then let's name them after those legends. Black will be Balerion, green Vhagar, and bronze-yellow Meraxes. May they grow to match their predecessors and become new legends themselves."
By now Daenerys could hardly contain herself. She gazed at the hatchlings and whispered, "Brother… may I touch them?"
"Of course, Dany." He set her down. "Hold out your hand so they learn your scent. You're a Targaryen; you carry dragon-king blood—they'll feel it."
She cautiously extended her small hand. Balerion sniffed, Vhagar craned forward curiously, and Meraxes licked her palm.
Dany squeaked, then laughed, violet eyes curving into crescents.
The three new hatchlings were taken to Dragonstone and settled in Meraxes' temporary lair. Still tiny, the space was ample for all four of them.
The remaining five eggs stayed behind in the volcanic cavern, watched over by Ghidorah until they hatched naturally.
Viserys decided to raise the three wyrmlings himself, forging a deeper mental bond that would lay the groundwork for future command.
Keeping hatchlings secret forever was impossible.
Once the four were stable, he arranged a small ceremony—an inner-circle gathering for core witnesses only.
Barely twenty attended: Duke Arthur Dayne, Duke Willem Darry, Count Jonothor Darry, Count Alliser Thorne, and several of the first knights who now held titles, along with the castle's ladies—Ashara, Rhaenys, Daenerys, and Missandei.
The rite took place in Dragonwing's council hall. When Viserys and Rhaenys entered with the four hatchlings, awe filled the room in spite of prior warning.
Meraxes, already the size of a large hound, gleamed crimson in the torchlight, calm at Rhaenys' side, accustomed to being stared at.
Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxes followed Viserys. Seeing so many people for the first time, they tensed.
Balerion hissed low, Vhagar hid behind his leg, and Meraxes climbed onto his boot and refused to budge.
Ser Arthur exhaled. "The true dragons have returned, Your Majesty. These will be the bedrock of the realm."
Duke Willem's eyes glittered. "Four more wyrmlings. In time the lords of Westeros will remember the terror of dragon dominion."
Count Jon and Count Alliser flushed with excitement; the sight inspired loyalty more than gold or armies ever could.
After a brief ceremony came a celebratory feast, the hall alive with fervor.
The hatchlings lifted morale and strengthened loyalty to House Targaryen, reassuring everyone of the future.
Ashara sat beside Viserys, lilac eyes proud as he spoke with his lords. Dany clung to him, petting her fossil egg absent-mindedly.
All Valyria flourished.
Besides daily bonding with the wyrmlings, Viserys gave the women special lessons, familiarizing them with the feel of dragon-flight. Only Ghidorah and Black Flame could carry riders, so they practiced on Black Flame, preparing for the day each would ride alone.
With Ghidorah needed at the volcano, they soared over the Valyrian Peninsula—Viserys, Ashara, Rhaenys, and Dany.
But these flights served more than training.
He deliberately had Black Flame pass over new settlements, drilling troops, and busy harbors.
Whenever folk below saw the dragon's shadow, cheers erupted, proud to live under a dragon-king's protection.
In this silent way Viserys displayed imperial might and welded hearts together.
Ashara, tense at first, soon thrilled to the sky. Rhaenys focused on guiding Meraxes through simple maneuvers under Viserys' and Black Flame's watch.
Dany clung ecstatically to Viserys' waist, drinking in the world below.
Once she pointed westward. "Brother, can we fly all the way to Westeros?"
"One day," he promised. "With our dragons."
"Then I'll bring Vermax and the others," she declared. "Even if they're still eggs, I'll take them to see it."
Tranquil training ended with an unexpected discovery. Two months after hatching, Balerion demonstrated something strange during fire-practice. Normal wyrmling breath was simply hot flame.
Yet when Balerion exhaled, the ashes left behind glowed an unnatural violet after the fire died.
Viserys tested repeatedly and concluded the Dragonfire carried a corrosive agent.
Watching Balerion breathe again, Viserys saw pride flicker in the young dragon's eyes.
Excitement surged when Vhagar next produced different flame—threads of gold weaving through the fire, like Ghidorah's Golden Ray, hinting at annihilation.
Clearly, absorbing Ghidorah's magic during incubation had altered them, much like the "gods." These wyrmlings' potential far surpassed any born before.
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