Chapter 4: A Different Dragon

The sleep was deep, but finally, Vaegon let out a yawn. His entire body felt relaxed. He tossed and turned in bed, stretching his arms and legs involuntarily. He opened his eyes heavily and brought a hand to his head. He felt warm, wrapped in linen sheets and wearing a fur tunic. There was a bitter taste in his mouth, and he felt somewhat cold. Then he snorted.

"He has woken up," he heard Maester Elysar say, who seemed to have been watching over him.

Oh, oh... the consequences.

"Grand Maester..." Vaegon said in a high-pitched but somewhat hoarse voice, likely due to whatever he had been given.

Although that was irrelevant, for the figure of the queen appeared with the fury of Caraxes and the bad temper of Vhagar. Worst of all, Vaegon was the center of her fury, for she slapped him the moment she saw him, numbing his right cheek. Then she grabbed him in her arms and shook him like a maraca.

"What were you thinking?!" Queen Alyssane roared, giving him another slap.

"Mother..." he tried to say.

"Do you have any idea of the anguish you've caused us?!" she asked, beside herself.

Vaegon endured a series of shouts and slaps for the next hour, under the intimidated gaze of the Grand Maester, who had never seen the queen lose her temper.

"You will be locked in a dungeon for seven days with nothing but fasting!" she shouted as the guards entered. "Guards, take my son and give him a good whipping each day!"

Vaegon was dragged to a dungeon. Fortunately, it was a clean one, although there was only straw instead of a bed and a chamber pot for his needs. Every morning, a guard six feet tall entered and gave him a good whipping on the backside. At midday, he received a jug of water, and at night, they emptied the chamber pot. His stomach growled every day, and by the seventh day, he barely had a notion of time; in fact, his pale skin was beginning to turn almost milk-colored. But he endured without saying a single word, illuminated by a dim torch.

By the time his punishment was about to end, the door opened, and the dignified figure of the king entered the dungeon, looking at him with severity. He wore his crown and a dark-colored doublet, although Jaehaerys's beard had grown, and it seemed he hadn't slept well in days.

He sat beside him on the pile of straw.

"Vaegon... I'm sure you have a story to tell me," he said calmly.

But Vaegon looked away. In this life or the next, he didn't handle dealing with parents well.

"I just claimed a dragon... I don't see that I did anything wrong," he replied with a frown.

"You have probably claimed the largest dragon in the world, I think it's at least a fifth larger than Balerion," he said calmly. "Do you have any idea how complicated it is to make a dragon submit to your will?"

Vaegon snorted.

"I managed to claim the Cannibal and bring it to the capital," he said with some pride.

"A tragedy could have occurred," the king replied calmly.

"Why can't you congratulate me for my achievement?" Vaegon asked, looking somewhat disappointed. "I claimed a dragon on my own, while Aemon and Baelon receive praise just for breathing. I have to break my back for you to notice I exist... but of course, what can I expect... I may be a child, but I know my fate as the third son."

Jaehaerys sighed. In a way, he understood his son, as the king himself had been a third son, and although he loved his brothers, he wouldn't deny that he had once felt loneliness and marginalization. He was not Aegon, and Viserys was still longed for by the common people. Of course, he never had the chance to delve into those feelings thanks to his dear uncle Maegor.

"You don't have to feel that way... you are a very capable boy, with prodigious abilities," he acknowledged with a hint of a smile. "And what you have done has some merit," he acknowledged, less angry.

Vaegon remained silent for a moment. He wasn't very sure about what he was about to say, but he probably wouldn't find a better moment to speak to him.

"I know it will seem ridiculous to you... but I had a dream," he said to the king, looking exhausted.

That caught the conciliator's attention.

"A dream?" he inquired with curiosity. "What kind of dream?"

Vaegon was silent for a moment and turned to look at his father with a somber expression.

"It was in a dark night... it was winter, but not just any winter. It was one that seemed eternal... nobles were dying of cold in their castles, while mothers killed their newborn children to spare them the misery. And I saw from the north, beings white as snow, with eyes like sapphires. They had no breath of life, and they rode horrifying ice spiders. Those beings brought death in their wake, and the dead rose to join their ranks. And the last thing I saw was the world covered by an absolute and endless darkness... while a paladin of light and fire rose to battle."

Jaehaerys stared at his son, not daring to say a word. The conciliator widened his eyes. He looked at him gravely, but then closed his eyes, and after a seemingly endless moment, the king sighed.

"For some strange reason, I felt the call of the Cannibal," Vaegon said, appearing confused. "I don't know why, but something called me to it... perhaps I was destined to be its rider."

"It's possible," the king acknowledged. "The bond between a dragon and its rider is something unique."

Then there was silence between them. Until the king stood up.

"You have served your punishment, come on, you must be hungry," he said with a kind smile.

And Vaegon took his father's hand. But before leaving, the king stopped him for a moment.

"Son, don't tell anyone about this, not even your mother. It will be our secret," the old king said with a paternal smile that didn't completely hide his concern.

Vaegon nodded.

Then Jaehaerys had Vaegon taken to his chambers, where he received beef, roasted chicken, and honey cakes in large quantities. Due to Vaegon's weak constitution, the pain from the whippings, and hunger, he had to stay in bed for another week. But he received several books on the histories of the ancient kingdoms of Sarnor. And he was visited by Maegelle, who spent hours praying to the Seven and reciting the writings of the Faith, much to Vaegon's great boredom.

When he could finally get out of bed, he dressed in a black doublet and walked through the halls of the Red Keep. As usual, he was the center of attention, but now more than ever, he heard murmurs without end. When he reached the gardens, they were deserted. Not surprisingly, in a remote area, the Cannibal was sleeping alone, for Silverwing feared him, and Vermithor acted defensively, so the dragons had to be moved to the other side of the fortress.

Though Vaegon only had to take a few steps for the Cannibal to wake up. He didn't like the place much, but he was glad to see his rider. Around him were ashes, so Vaegon deduced they had fed him pigs and sheep, lest he start devouring servants and courtiers. Vaegon smiled and petted his snout.

"I missed you too," he said, happy to see him again.

Then the Cannibal opened his mouth, revealing the Valyrian steel sword on his tongue. Vaegon entered the dragon's mouth and pulled out the sword with some difficulty, emerging somewhat wet but grateful to be free of the dragon's breath of death and fire.

"Good steel you have, my prince," said a serene voice.

Vaegon turned to see Septon Barth standing and unperturbed. Apparently, he had seen the prince's audacity and approached him calmly.

"It's a pleasure to see you again," Vaegon said with a tired smile. "This sword was embedded in the Cannibal's back... it has a strange inscription that says Vaoserys. What could it mean?"

Septon Barth examined the sword closely; it was undoubtedly Valyrian steel. But what caught his attention the most was not only the size of the dragon but how sharp the edges of its wings were, as they were covered in sharp scales, almost like two thick, elongated swords. On the other hand, he had some doubts, for according to various rumors, the Cannibal had been a dragon residing on Dragonstone since before the Targaryens arrived. He had never given much credit to those rumors, but the dragon's size indicated otherwise. Although the sword gave him another perspective. Especially when he heard the name Vaoserys.

"As far as I understand, the Vaoserys were one of the forty families of Valyria, not the most powerful, but much more powerful than the Targaryens," said Septon Barth.

Vaegon thought for a moment. It had crossed his mind that the Cannibal might be Auryon's dragon. But this was different.

"Then he must be the oldest dragon in the world," Vaegon reasoned. "But if so, how can he look younger than Balerion?" he asked with curiosity.

Septon Barth pondered for a moment.

"The Targaryens were an average family in Valyria, and it is very likely that the rest of the families had dragons and abilities completely different from those of the Targaryens," he said cautiously, as Septon Barth was knowledgeable about the lingering evils in Valyria, and it was very likely that the sorcerers had created different types of dragons through horrible experiments. It was not unusual; the Valyrians conducted all sorts of experiments, fusing men with beasts for the practice of blood magic.

"Perhaps the Cannibal was a survivor of the cataclysm," Vaegon said thoughtfully.

Septon Barth was surprised by such reasoning, but it was not entirely dismissible.

"What leads you to that conclusion?" he inquired with interest, for it was clear that Vaegon was no ordinary child.

Vaegon showed him the sword, but when Septon Barth touched it, the Cannibal let out a roar that made the entire fortress tremble, making his displeasure known to the entire court. The Hand of the King got the message and returned the sword to Vaegon.

"When the cataclysm occurred, almost everyone perished. That is true, but among the few who managed to escape were several dragonlords," Vaegon said calmly. "But the curse reached them sooner rather than later, for it is well known that the dragonlords in Myr and Lys were killed along with their dragons under the cover of night, in the immediate political turmoil that followed the doom. Perhaps a dragonrider from House Vaoserys managed to escape from one of those two cities but was badly wounded and probably died in the Narrow Sea, or shortly after reaching Dragonstone," Vaegon said.

The Hand of the King could not confirm this theory but could not deny it either.

But Vaegon sighed.

"I suppose I am building castles in the air; the most likely thing is that we will never know the exact origin of the dragon."

Septon Barth nodded.

"My prince, you must be careful when riding the dragon... it can have disastrous results," he warned with concern, still remembering the tragic fate of Aerea as if it were yesterday.

But the conversation was interrupted by a roar in the sky. Apparently, Caraxes, the blood wyrm, was being ridden by Prince Aemon. According to some rumors, as soon as it was known that Vaegon had claimed his dragon, both Aemon and Baelon had declared their intention to claim their own dragons, so Baelon had gone to Dragonstone to claim Vhagar, while Aemon had gone to Dragonpit. As for Alyssa, she was screaming and eager to have her own dragon. Unfortunately for her, the kings had forbidden it.

And Vaegon frowned.

"How short-lived my glory was."

And the Septon laughed.