Rhaenyra was bored, the embroidery project she was working on looked a mess and crooked.
She looked down at the horizon, seeing Caraxes following a ship going to Dragonstone. "I wish I could have gone along." She said with a bit of envy about her uncle and Aerion going on adventures.
Her father had said over dinner with her mother that he was allowing his nephew to finally claim a dragon as is his right, she had, however, felt a little left out considering she was originally supposed to be her father's cupbearer.
"Is something troubling you?"
She looked at Alicent, her friend holding her own with sincerity. "No, I am fine." It was a lie, and she knew Alicent knew it too. "I asked to go with Daemon and Aerion to Dragonstone."
"Why?" Alicent asked with curiosity and she smiled, remembering when she was seven and rode Syrax around the city for the first time.
It was exhilarating, the rippling of her scales as she stretched her wings and took flight was a sensation she would never forget, she assumes the same feeling is what her cousin will feel once he rides for the first time too.
"You've seen how I or my other cousins fly our dragons, Aerion and Daemon will have a fantastic time, and I... I feel envious."
She's never flown with Daemon, not once since her uncle had been so deeply preoccupied with his work inside the city or with the Small Council.
Alicent offered some comfort, "It's alright for one to feel a little envy from time to time, I oft feel some when around you and Laena."
It was a shock to hear, surely her friend had to be mistaken. "You are a beautiful maid, graceful and our elder. What is there to be envious of?" She asked and Alicent scratched at her fingers again.
"You and Laena seem so perfect, any knight or lord in the court dream of you or her than the plain daughter of the Hand of the King."
Rhaenyra took the hand of one who she considers a sister in all but blood, "Any man would be happy to have you, and honestly, I'd much rather be as Jeyne Arryn in the Vale." Marriage wasn't a prospect she was interested in, and the childbed even less.
Her mother was on her sixth attempt at having a son, out of three miscarriages and two infant stillbirths.
She had often thought why her father was so obsessed, especially when he has Daemon, and through Daemon is Aerion thus the line could be secured if and when her cousin marries or even when Laena has had sons or Laenor though him having any children was impossible in her eyes.
Rhaenyra even imagined herself be just like Jeyne and rule the Seven Kingdoms, she could achieve what Princess Rhaenys could not and be the realm's sole Queen.
Alicent shook her head to what she said, "I don't believe so, Rhaenyra, but I thank you for saying so... "
The Seafox, a sleek and formidable ship, cuts through the choppy waters of the Blackwater. On board are Aerion Targaryen and his father, Daemon, both dressed in the traditional black and red of their house.
Aerion stood at the bow of the ship, his eyes fixed on the horizon. He is restless and eager, his mind consumed with the thought of claiming a dragon for himself.
As they approach the island of Dragonstone, Aerion's eyes widen in awe at the sight before him.
The smoke from Dragonmont blended with the misty clouds covering the fortress where the conquest began one hundred years ago, it was where he will get his dragon.
The damp and dreary fortress of Dragonstone looked ominous, black as night and he could smell what could be compared to smoke and brimstone.
"The castle of Dragonstone is as impregnable as it is fearsome to gaze upon, the island was not made with labor or mortar. Dragonflame and the old magic made what we see with our eyes." It must be true, he thought and looked as they came to port.
The staircase was sleek like Caraxes slim form, leading up through the three curtain walls and he saw gargoyle statues and dragon statues among many things along the merlons and crenelations.
The steward of the fortress met them with the Maester. "Prince Daemon, Prince Aerion. Welcome."
"My brother sent word, did he not?" Daemon questioned the men and they both nodded, "I want the keepers watching over Vermithor to be warned, my son will attempt to rouse the Bronze Fury."
Aerion and his father discussed it at length on the way here, of which dragon he is to take.
On the island, there are five unclaimed dragons, three of them have been wild since the days Jaehaerys ruled and two belonged to the Old King and Queen Alysanne.
There were others, Dreamfyre and the young dragon Sunfyre back at the Dragonpit but they didn't go there. His father made plans to come here, the King giving them a few days' leave to see it done and return to court.
"You need a dragon as formidable as Vhagar, and battle-hardened." His father said to him as they boarded the ship, "You will claim Vermithor the mount of the king who denied you your egg as a babe." And now here they are, on their way to make it happen.
Leaving the fortress, the pair of them made their way up a path formed to lead around the island.
It was a desolate place, rocky with patches of grass and no trees. It honestly reminded Aerion of his days in Runestone, days he partly missed already having been in King's Landing for half a month.
"What's involved with claiming a dragon, Father?" He asked as they walked.
The Prince turned and cracked a grin, "There is no sure way, each dragon takes to those attempting to ride them differently but for Vermithor, I learned a trick taught by my father who was taught it by his father." They stopped and looked down some stairs leading into a large cave, it was immense and black like the sun itself had burned its way down.
Aerion looked at his father who continued, "There is a Valyrian song, how is your mother tongue?" Aerion had to clear his throat before answering Daemon.
"Ziry iksos sȳz, kepa. Nyke līs vestragon ziry iksos daor hae kostōba hae aōhon nykeā se tolie."He said explaining he wasn't so fluent but he knows enough to keep up, and he is sure to learn even more once he claims a dragon of his own.
His father actually seemed proud to hear him speak in their ancient tongue, "Good. Just repeat everything I say, alright?"
Nodding, both of them descended down and Aerion learned a tune to lullaby the great dragon. The Dragonkeeper in charge followed down with some others, their torches illuminating the way as it got darker and darker till it seemed like an endless night.
Eventually, his father and the keepers stopped, he wondered what they did that for till he saw Daemon urge him forward without speaking.
Which each passage of the lullaby he sang, he heard the rustling of something large and the groaning of the dragon was all he could detect as he could not see far from the light.
"Drakari pykiros. Tīkummo jemiros. Yn lantyz bartossa. Saelot vāedis. Hen ñuhā elēnī. Perzyssy vestretis. Se gēlyn irūdaks. Ānogrose. Perzyro udryssi. Ezīmptos laehossi. Hārossa letagon. Aōt vāedan. Hae mērot gierūli. Se hāros bartossi. Prūmysa sōvīli... Gevī dāerī."
It was a melody sung to Jaehaerys and his siblings by the late Kings Aegon and Aenys. His father said when he went to claim Caraxes, that he had sung the same lullaby to it.
As the last words left his lips, the rustling got louder before red and yellow flame burst from the dragon's mouth and shot towards the roof of its lair, heating and giving light to what it looked like which Aerion was both fearful and excited.
Vermithor was indeed the bronze fury, large and frightening, his wing membranes were tan brown almost copper and as the fire died down the beast inched closer, Aerion raised his hand which was just seconds from touching Vermithor on the snout.
"Lykirī. Lykirī, Vermithor... "
The dragon's amber eyes met his lilac ones and an intense staredown took place, eventually, the dragon lowered its head for him to get on and his father approached and put a hand on his shoulder. "This is important now, it will seal the bond between you, you must fly."
Dragons aren't like horses, they are highly intelligent and deserving of respect.
Aerion took a deep breath as he got on top of Vermithor's back, his father and the keepers hastily made their way back up to the entrance of the cave so the dragon's path wasn't impeded.
The Bronze Fury upon reaching out into the shook its head and made a stretching motion before standing still, remembering what to say next, Aerion got himself strapped in and holding on tight, "Ivestragī's jikagon, Vermithor. Sōvegon." He spoke and with a few flaps of its wings, the dragon was in flight and climbing higher in the sky.
It was a feeling he had only dreamed of doing since he could run, and now here he was, flying on one of the largest dragons apart from Vhagar and the Cannibal.
"Woo!" He screamed as Vermithor took him through his paces, flying faster around the fortress.
Daemon Targaryen stands at the edge of the cave, watching as his son, Aerion, rides the mighty dragon Vermithor. The old dragon looks confident and fearless as he soars through the air, his wings beating powerfully and Daemon can't help but feel a surge of pride as he watches his son fly the beast.
Daemon turns to his own dragon, Caraxes, who flew down beside him and had followed from King's Landing.
He climbs onto its back. He feels a thrill of excitement as the dragon takes off into the sky, its wings beating hard as it gains altitude. Daemon feels the wind rushing past him, the sun on his face, and the power of the dragon's muscles beneath him.
As he flies with Aerion and Vermithor, Daemon can't help but feel a sense of victory. His wife must have tried often to turn him but after today, he knows he's won him over. Do you hear me? Bronze Bitch, I may not have been interested then but I still won.
Daemon looks over at his son, who is grinning wildly as they flew higher, eventually getting high enough and past the clouds and could see across the horizon.
As they circle one another, Daemon shouts to his son, "Race to King's Landing? Show what you've got, Aerion!"
His son grinned and grabbed the reins of Vermithor's saddle. "Game on, Father."
The flight took little less than half a day due to Vermithor's size, the dragon was large, and the first time in a few years since Jaehaerys grew too old and ceased flying that he was taken for a flight by a new rider.
Daemon was glad however, he was Viserys heir unless Aemma finally shows herself useful in bearing a son.
If, and the possibility is high that he will ascend the Iron Throne when his brother dies, and if it happens, he is sure that Otto and whatever conniving schemers at his side will attempt to depose him.
With Caraxes, Vermithor, Syrax, and his relatives among House Velaryon... No one, not even Otto Hightower will stop him from achieving his destiny.
Fire and Blood will follow if the cunt tries, in fact, I hope he will just so I can burn him. Daemon smirked, Caraxes shrieked and he saw the highest tower of the Red Keep coming up ahead.
The city's populace seemed surprised seeing the Bronze Fury return to the capital after decades of living on Dragonstone.
He and Aerion landed at the entrance of the Dragonpit, the massive Vermithor taking up plenty of space but not enough to fit the dragon through the building.
His son seemed so cheerful, "You had fun. I know it." He said as they dismounted from the two dragon's backs, he steadied his seed as he had been flying for a few hours, "The first ride is the roughest, you will get used to it."
"I know, Father... Wait until Mother sees him, she'll be amazed."
And just like that, the moment was ruined and he realized his son still holds feeling for the wretch who birthed him instead of the father who got him close to the King, his presence which allowed Viserys to finally give Aerion his rights to claim a dragon of his own.
Daemon forced a smile and put a hand on his shoulder, "Come, let's get back to the Red Keep, night is falling and the streets aren't too safe after dark." He said calmly and the both of them got a pair of horses and made their way home.
It was late when he came back to the White Wyrm, taking Mysaria for a tumble to wear out the rough flying and the last five days at sea.
He had her rougher than usual, leaving a bruise on her shoulder. She didn't seem to mind, though as she moaned loudly.
"Sorry about that." He whispered and kissed her neck, then rose out of bed and sat down near the window.
Mysaria chuckled to herself, "I expected you to be over the moon, your son flying with you. I saw it on the balcony, the dragon is powerful and large." It is, Vermithor is an incredible beast.
"It was fine until he had to mention her." He said, even remotely speaking her name was like down a cup of brown from Flea Bottom. "I did everything for him and yet he still holds some affection for his mother, it's sickening."
Mysaria pouted and rose to his side, "Oh, my Prince, the ingrate isn't worth your time- " Out of impulse, Daemon's hand reached out and grabbed the woman by the throat, tightening very little as not to choke her, "Did I misspeak? The boy insults you, send him home if it pains you so... "
He cannot, "My brother owns him now, he is the cupbearer and will no doubt become one of those white cloak's squires."
Looking into a brazier, he downed a cup of strongwine, looking forward to the next few hours of oblivion before the morning comes.
A bit basic of a dragon choice but it will make sense for the near future, just trust me.