Capítulo 13: Changes
Although Anarion's wing tears have nearly healed, only small fist-sized holes remain, and they are few in number. Vezofina has taken her rest. Two weeks after her birth, she began to create and control fire. Subsequently, I offered her daily treats to encourage her to produce more amount of flame and to control them completely. Another two weeks have passed, and I am confident she could heal Anarion's wings, but she will be exhausted afterward and will need to rest.
After pushing her healing flames to their limits, Vezofina became vulnerable. However, in six moons or a year, she will be capable of even more. Though she may not surpass dragons in raw power, my bond with her has yielded many benefits. At just one month old, she has already produced four tears, one each week, which possess the power to heal almost anything, even bringing individuals back from the brink of death.
If my speculations are correct, she will grow to at least seven feet, if not more. At the age of one month, she is already the size of a large eagle and looks every bit as majestic and royal with her coloring. She seems to understand every language I speak, as I can command her in both the Common tongue and High Valyrian. I instructed her to mend all the small holes in Anarion's wings. In response, she let out a trill and set Anarion's wings ablaze with soft, ethereal blue flames, tinged with hints of silver and gold.
Anarion let out a roar, but he didn't cause a commotion at my command. Minutes later, as the fire began to dwindle, Vezofina settled onto my shoulders. When I attempted to guide her towards the suitcase, she wouldn't move and instead clung tightly to my shoulders with her talons. She certainly is adventurous. I had to position her carefully on my shoulders because her talons are quite sharp.
I observe Anarion examining his wings. All the tears in Anarion's wings have fully healed, and they appear even better than when I first encountered him. Vezofina's healing abilities are remarkable, healing not just external wounds but also internal ones, including those we are unaware of. The only downside is that it significantly drains her energy to perform such healing.
After Anarion finished checking his wing, I began to climb onto the saddle. Vezofina took her seat at the head of Anarion, who grumbles every day when she does that. Anarion and I take daily flights, soaring as high as we can. My dragon-riding skills have improved to the point where I no longer need straps to stay on the saddle. And with our bond deepening through ritual, I don't even need a whip to command him anymore, as I can guide him with the strength of our bond.
We intend to visit all the renowned castles en route to the Red Keep. Winterfell, the Neck, Harrenhal, and the Eyrie may not be directly on our path, with some a short distance away, but that won't deter us from seeing them. Anarion let out a roar, and with that, we were soaring through the sky. Vezofina urged Anarion to fly beneath the clouds so she could take in the views below.
In less than an hour, we reached Winterfell, a castle as vast as it was ancient. Circling it twice more, we checked for magical wards. Finding none, I could still sense a faint trace of magic coursing through the walls and the keep, likely the reason Winterfell has stood for so many years. Once our inspection was complete, we continued on our journey.
The castle at the Neck is inactive and in disarray. However, there is a small settlement nearby, which I assume exists to mend and defend the castle should the need arise. Given the extensive swamp area of the Neck, I don't see how any land army could enter the North without sustaining heavy losses or facing complete destruction, depending on who defends the Neck.
Next, we will visit the Eyrie, renowned for its impregnable defenses and the ruling house, which is considered the oldest of Andal nobility. It is the pride of the Arryns and the Vale. Given Anarion's increased speed, it won't take us long to reach the castle.
En route to the Eyrie, I pondered the force I named "Bloodflame," which boosts my power at least tenfold. It's the one thing that hasn't yielded the results I anticipated. This force grants me unmatched magical and physical power, but it drains my stamina. Initially, I could only sustain it for a minute before feeling depleted. However, after six months of focus, I've extended its duration from one minute to seven. I've also discovered that in "Bloodflame mode"—a simple name, though "dragon mode" didn't seem fitting—my control over fire intensifies to the point where I can manipulate flames without my wand, even melting steel with its heat.
Since I am only fifteen name days old in this world, my stamina will naturally increase, but I must find a way to extend this state. This boost could be advantageous in many ways, as it significantly enhances my magical power.
As I ponder various methods to extend the duration of "Bloodflame," we've arrived at the Eyrie, and I must say it aligns perfectly with the knights and honor for which the Vale is renowned. Though impregnable, its security owes more to natural defenses and location than to its walls and architecture. Nonetheless, it is a beautiful castle, the exact opposite of the gloomy and dark structures preferred by dragon lords, which I also favor.
I bypassed circling the castle and proceeded directly to the next destination on our list, Harrenhal. Upon arrival, I could see it was indeed monstrous, just as the books described. While I didn't sense a curse, the place reeked of dark magic so intensely that, although not cursed, residing there would surely dampen one's mood, provided one could sense magic. At least the Dragonlords are wise enough not to conduct blood magic on the scale of massacres within their castles. The families have designated sites for such rituals.
Harren the Black certainly did not consider magic when constructing this monstrosity. Utilizing weirwood trees also proved unwise, as the Old Gods would not overlook such an affront. Even if they resemble pagan deities. Moreover, my reverence for them grew when they chose not to harm me during the ritual, as they could have effortlessly wiped me from existence if they so desired. In this world, gods cannot directly intervene in the mortal realm but during that time I had foolishly give them power to kill me.
They require a catalyst to manifest or utilize their powers in this world. The creation of the catalyst necessitates sacrifices, and the extent of the sacrifice depends on the power of the gods. It took a significant sacrifice to the Rhoyne River to manifest and expel the dragon lords, preventing them from seizing the knowledge that was saved from destruction. Some, in their greed to possess the magic of the Rhoynars, even lost nearly all their dragons.
It seems our next destination is the Red Keep. I'm eager to witness the Targaryen's' reaction upon seeing Anarion or myself. Reflecting on the adage that the first impression is the best impression, I guide Anarion to descend into the Kingswood. Upon landing, I retrieve my Valyrian armour and the Valyrian sword with which I've practiced daily since abandoning the wooden one. Adorned in the dark armour, with the sword and whip at my belt, I forgo the helmet; I find it cumbersome in flight, only serving to catch the wind and buffet my head. Clad in this armour, I embody the very essence of a Dragon Lord.
King's Landing, The Red Keep
A day after sheep stealer's death [Flash back]
Viserys POV
I make my way through the corridors of the Red Keep towards the small council chamber, fortified by a hearty breakfast. The Seven know that food, along with my dear Aemma's support, provides me the strength to bear the realm's burdens. The small council, too, plays a crucial role in governance. If only the gods would grant me an heir to inherit the leadership of the realm. Upon my entrance, Harrold Westerling, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, announces my arrival, and all members show their respect by standing and bowing. After I take my seat and gesture for them to do the same, we begin addressing the pressing matters facing the realm.
In our discussion with Lord Corlys Velaryon regarding the Stepstones, he failed to recognize that the realm is enjoying a period of peace and that we do not need a war over some deserted islands whose only value is their location. He has elevated his house to such heights that a few stolen ships should not cause him any distress. I am confident that the newly formed Triarchy will soon be embroiled in internal conflicts. If not, we can always send a representative from the Seven Kingdoms to negotiate with them. They would likely agree to spare Lord Corlys' ships out of fear of retaliation from the Seven Kingdoms.
As Lord Otto Hightower and Lord Corlys began their dispute over the Stepstones, the council room door swung open. It appears our cupbearer has at last recalled her duties. Rhaenyra is the "Realm's Delight," as well as the joy of both Aemma and myself. She is our sole child, my and Aemma that has survived the childbirth.
"You are late. We've been waiting for our cupbearer. Where have you been?" I inquired of Rhaenyra, driven by curiosity. She bore no trace of dragon scent, and her presence help me keeps me company. When needed the lords started their bickering.
After serving wine and pacifying Lord Corlys and Otto, the council began discussing other matters. As the meeting drew to a close, Grand Maester Runciter stood up and began to speak, "Your Grace, at the first ray of sunlight, a raven arrived from the Vale. It brings news that some smallfolk at the Fingers claim to have witnessed two dragons battling each other."
"Did the letter mention their description? Because as far as I know, there is only one dragon outside of Dragonstone and the Dragonpit, and that is Sheepstealer. So, who is the other dragon?" I asked, surprise evident in my voice. Wild dragon fights do occur, but not to the extent that nearby residents are alarmed by their battles.
"Yes, Your Grace. The smallfolk flee at the first sign of their conflict, but some have reported seeing one creature of muddy brown and another of silver hue. The skirmish between them has led to the destruction of the nearby forest, and small tremors have been felt even at some distance," replied the Grand Maester as he handed me the letter that had arrived from the Vale.
"There are only two dragons with silver coloring, and those two were last seen in Dragonstone," said Rhaenyra. And she is correct; Silverwing and Grey Ghost are the only ones with silver coloring.
"Your Grace, it might be the Grey Ghost, as they are two wild dragons and could have fought among themselves over some cattle," said Otto. There has never been a case like this before.
"Even so, I will send Daemon to investigate since the injured Dragons might consume more than usual, posing a threat to the smallfolk of the Fingers. It was also to determine if either dragon was injured sufficiently to be chained and thus tamed, given their considerable size." I expressed my view. It would benefit House Targaryen greatly to increase the number of dragon riders in our ranks.
"Let me accompany Uncle Daemon as well; two dragons could easily subdue the injured one," Rhaenyra said, her tone brimming with excitement and eagerness to venture out of the keep with her uncle. But Aemma would have my head if I allowed it.
"No, your service is needed here in this council. Syrax is too small for now. Caraxes and Daemon can handle this," I said. At that, she stomped her feet in annoyance and left the council room, most likely to go to her mother and complain about me.
King's Landing, The Red Keep
105 AC
Viserys POV
How could be this possible? Last month We've received news from free cities that three dragons the size of conquers dragon is roaming the skies of Volantis. With the dragon rider atop them. Did another Dragon lord family survived the doom? If so, then why have they been hiding until now? And most important what is their intention toward House of Targaryen.
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