Dragonstone, Dragonstone Caves – 131 AC
I've always preferred the open sky. The cold winds of the North, the vast expanse of snow beneath my paws, the endless horizon where anything could happen—that's where I belong. Not here, in these dark, confined caves on Dragonstone. But even I can feel it, the strange energy in these walls, something ancient and powerful that hums through the stone like a heartbeat. There's a comfort in it, a warmth that wraps around me, reminding me that this place is steeped in something greater than I can fully understand. Maybe it's the dragonglass, black and sharp, glistening in the dim light, or maybe it's the generations of dragons and Targaryens who have called this island home. Whatever it is, it makes me feel… at ease, in a way I didn't expect.
I'm not a wolf anymore, not truly. That life seems like a distant memory now, a dream I had once before I became something different, something more. I'm a dragon now, a creature of fire and wings, not fur and claws. But some things don't change. I still have the instincts of the wild, the need to learn, to understand the territory I find myself in. That's why I'm here, in these caves, trying to learn more about the other dragons that inhabit this place—Vermithor, Silverwing, Vermax, Arrax, Dreamfyre. They're my kin now, and if I'm going to live among them, I need to know where I stand.
Lucerys, my rider, is busy helping Jacaerys and Helaena get used to their new roles as Prince and Princess of Dragonstone. It's all politics, duties, responsibilities that don't concern me. I'm here to keep an eye on the other dragons, to understand their dynamics, to make sure that Lucerys—and by extension, I—aren't walking into something we're not prepared for. Of course, wherever Lucerys goes, Aemond follows, his gaze ever watchful, ever intense. Arrax, Aemond's dragon, is never far behind either, a delightful if energetic juvenile who seems to have boundless energy and a tendency to get into trouble.
Arrax is young, barely more than a whelp, but he's loyal to Aemond, and there's a certain charm in his enthusiasm. He's curious, always darting around, exploring every nook and cranny of the caves, chattering excitedly about whatever catches his interest. He's a stark contrast to Vermax, who, despite being only a few years older, is much calmer, more reserved. Vermax prefers the company of Dreamfyre, coiling around her like a protective shadow, not letting anyone get too close. It's clear that Vermax has chosen his place here, aligning himself with those who are content to keep their distance, to watch and wait rather than engage in the exuberant play of youth.
Silverwing, on the other hand, seems to enjoy the company of the younger dragons. She's been entertaining them with tales, her voice soothing and melodic, filling the caves with the echoes of old stories. She's wise, kind, the sort of dragon who draws others in with her warmth and gentle demeanor. But it's Vermithor who catches my attention. He's an old, massive beast, with scales the color of dull bronze and eyes that burn with a deep, ancient intelligence. And those eyes—those piercing, unblinking eyes—never leave me.
I know what he sees. He sees the wolf that I used to be, the direwolf who roamed the frozen wastes of the North, who fought alongside Joanna Snow, who lived and died as a creature of ice and shadow. Vermithor is old, older than most can imagine, and he's seen things that no living creature should have to endure. He knows what I am, what I was, and he doesn't trust it. I can feel it in the way he watches me, the way his gaze seems to strip away the scales and fire, seeing straight through to the wolf beneath.
Silverwing notices her mate's behavior, and she nudges him gently, a soft reminder to mind his manners. She turns her attention to me, her eyes warm and welcoming, a stark contrast to Vermithor's cold scrutiny. "I'm glad you finally decided to join us, Ghost," she says, her voice like a soft breeze, carrying with it a hint of laughter, of understanding. "I thought that you would have remained up in the clouds for the rest of your long draconic life."
I meet her gaze, my red eyes narrowing slightly. "I was simply waiting for Lucerys," I reply, my voice a low growl, more out of habit than intent. Even now, as a dragon, the instincts of a wolf are hard to shake. "Most humans—even Targaryens—are annoying."
Arrax, ever the eager pup, chirps in agreement. "Lucerys is great!" he says, his voice bright and full of energy, his wings fluttering with excitement. He's like a child, so full of life and joy that it's almost infectious.
Vermax, more subdued but still loyal to his clutch brother, nods in agreement. "I tend to only like whoever mt rider likes," he adds, his voice calm and steady, a perfect counterpoint to Arrax's exuberance. "And my prince dotes upon his little sister Lucerys."
Vermithor scoffs, a deep, rumbling sound that resonates through the cavern. He doesn't say anything, but the message is clear. He's not impressed, not by me, not by the younger dragons, not by the humans who ride us. He's seen too much, lived too long, and there's little that could surprise him or earn his respect.
But I don't need Vermithor's respect. I don't need his approval or his acceptance. I'm here for Lucerys, and that's all that matters. Silverwing seems to understand this, and she offers me a knowing smile before turning her attention back to the others, her voice picking up where she left off, weaving tales of the past, of dragons and riders, of wars fought and won.
As I listen to her, I can't help but feel a strange sense of belonging, something I haven't felt in a long time. This place, these dragons—there's a connection here, something that goes beyond the physical, something that ties us all together in ways that are difficult to explain. It's in the walls, in the air, in the very stones beneath our feet. It's the legacy of the Targaryens, of the dragons who came before us, of the magic that binds us all to this place.
I can feel it in every breath, in every beat of my heart, in the way the air hums with a life of its own. This is Dragonstone, a place where dragons are born, where legends are made, and where even a direwolf turned dragon can find a home. I settle down, my wings folding neatly against my sides, my eyes half-lidded as I watch the others. The cave is filled with the sound of soft voices, the occasional rumble of a dragon's breath, the quiet rustling of wings.
Vermithor's gaze still lingers on me, but I meet it with calm indifference. Let him watch, let him question. I'm not here to prove anything to him or anyone else. I'm here for Lucerys, for the bond we share, for the future that lies ahead of us. And in this moment, in this place, I feel something I haven't felt in a long time—contentment.
My head snapped toward the entrance of the cave the moment I felt her approach. That connection between us—between Ghost and Lucerys, between Ghost and Joanna—had never faded. No matter what we were or what we had become, that bond was as strong as Valyrian steel, unbreakable and true. It didn't matter if I was a direwolf padding silently through the snow beside Joanna Snow, or a dragon soaring through the skies with Lucerys Velaryon on my back. We were always connected, always in sync. That bond was my anchor, my constant in a world that seemed to shift and change with every passing day.
Finding my place among the dragons had been... satisfying, in its own way. I had found kin here, a new pack of sorts, and I had learned to embrace what I had become. But there were moments, late at night when the cave was quiet and the others were sleeping, that I missed my old pack. I missed Nymeria, with her wild spirit and fierce loyalty. I missed Grey Wind, with his strength and courage. I missed Summer, Lady, and Shaggydog, each of them unique, each of them a piece of a past that felt like a distant dream now. I had found a new life, a new purpose, but the memory of my old life, of my old pack, lingered like a half-forgotten scent on the wind.
But Lucerys—my human, my bondmate—was still here. That bond between us was what kept me grounded, kept me from losing myself entirely in this new life. Without her, I'm not sure what would have become of me. Maybe I would have lost my mind, torn apart by the conflicting instincts of wolf and dragon, by the weight of memories that didn't quite fit together. But she was here, and that was enough to keep me whole.
I ignored Ser Erryk as I slipped out of the cave, my presence startling him as it always did. Humans were always so jumpy when I appeared out of nowhere, whether I was a wolf or a dragon. Even back in the North, people used to flinch when I suddenly materialized beside Jon or Robb, moving silently, my white fur blending with the snow. It was the same now, with these Targaryens and Velaryons—no matter how many times I appeared out of the shadows, they never quite got used to it. But that was fine. I didn't need them to understand. The only one who mattered was Lucerys.
She stood there, waiting for me, and when she saw me, her smile bloomed like a flower in the spring, bright and beautiful, the kind of smile that could warm even the coldest of days. Her eyes were Velaryon-blue now, a striking contrast to the gray ones she had as Joanna, but that smile—that was the same. Open, genuine, and given freely, just like it had always been. I didn't need her to command me; I never had. I lowered myself to the ground, the movement smooth and fluid, and waited for her to climb onto my back.
Ser Erryk, bless him, looked as if he might protest, but Lucerys silenced him with a wave of her hand, still smiling. She bid him goodbye, her voice warm and kind, and I could tell that he was torn between his duty to protect her and his respect for her wishes. But in the end, he stepped back, giving us the space we needed.
The moment Lucerys was secure, I rose into the air, my wings beating powerfully as we ascended into the sky. The wind whipped past us, cool and invigorating, and I could feel Lucerys's laughter bubbling up from deep within her, that startled, joyous sound that always came when we flew together.
Flying was something that had taken me by surprise, even after all this time. As a direwolf, I had loved running through the forests, feeling the snow crunch beneath my paws, the cold air filling my lungs as I raced alongside my packmates. There was a freedom in it, a wild, untamed joy that I thought could never be matched.
But flying—flying was something else entirely. There was nothing like the open sky, the endless expanse of blue and gray, the way the clouds parted as I soared through them. The ground far below, the world reduced to a patchwork of greens and browns and blues, was a distant memory when I was up here. And Lucerys, her laughter ringing in my ears, was the perfect companion. She was fearless, as Joanna had been, but there was something more now, something that came from being a dragon rider, from sharing this incredible power.
I felt her lean forward, her hands gripping the ridges of my back, and I knew what she wanted. With a playful growl, I tilted my wings, diving down toward the ground, the wind howling around us as we plummeted. Lucerys's laughter turned into a delighted scream, and I could feel her heart pounding in time with mine, the thrill of the dive coursing through us both.
At the last moment, I pulled up, leveling out just above the water, and Lucerys let out a breathless laugh, her joy infectious. I rumbled in response, a deep, contented sound that vibrated through my chest. This—this was where I belonged. Not in the caves, not on the ground, but here, in the sky, with Lucerys on my back.
We flew like that for a while, just the two of us, lost in the exhilaration of the flight, in the bond that tied us together. The world below could wait. The politics, the duties, the responsibilities—they could all wait. Up here, it was just us, just the wind and the sky and the freedom that came with it. My presence, my loyalty, my unwavering bond with her—those were my answers. I had been with her as a direwolf, and I would remain with her as a dragon, through fire and blood, through whatever came next.
The air was sharp with the scent of salt and sea, the sky stretching out endlessly before us as we soared above the waves. There was nothing quite like the feeling of freedom that came with flying, nothing to match the way the wind whipped past us, how Lucerys's laughter filled the air as we moved in perfect harmony. It was a moment of pure, untainted joy—until it wasn't.
It happened so quickly that I almost didn't register the change. One moment, the sky was clear, the next, the clouds darkened, rolling in with a malevolent speed that set my instincts on edge. This wasn't just any storm brewing; there was something wrong, something unnatural about the way the light drained from the world, replaced by a suffocating darkness.
Lucerys's gasp of fear cut through the air, sharp and sudden, and I felt it like a knife to my gut. My wings beat faster, almost of their own accord, pushing us forward, away from whatever was coming. But even before I looked back, I knew. The Cannibal. The massive, coal-black beast that haunted the skies, the oldest and most savage of the wild dragons. He was a nightmare given flesh and fire, and now he was hunting us.
He came out of the clouds like a shadow made real, his scales blacker than night, his eyes glowing with a sickly green light that seemed to pierce straight through the soul. He was a mountain of a dragon, a creature of pure malice and fury, and he was on us in an instant.
I felt the heat before I saw it—the sudden, blistering rush of fire as the Cannibal opened his maw and unleashed a torrent of flame. Lucerys yanked hard on the straps, pulling me to the right, and I banked sharply, narrowly avoiding the inferno that would have incinerated us both. The air crackled with the remnants of the fire, the smell of burning flesh and ash lingering in the wake of the attack. But we were alive. We had dodged it, but only just.
Lucerys's voice was steady, but I could feel the tremor beneath it as she commanded me to go up, to hide in the clouds. My body responded without hesitation, muscle memory taking over as I shot upwards, the thick clouds swallowing us whole. Grey Ghost had survived this way, hiding from stronger dragons using the sky itself as a shield. Now, that same instinct was keeping Lucerys and me alive.
For a moment, there was silence. A pause, a breath of peace that felt almost fragile in its stillness. I listened, every sense on high alert, every nerve screaming for me to stay hidden, to remain in the safety of the clouds. But Cannibal was smart, and if there was one thing I knew about him, it was that he wouldn't give up easily.
Lucerys was cautious, her grip on the straps tight as she leaned forward, her eyes scanning the skies. "Lower, Ghost," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the wind. I complied, descending slowly, carefully, making sure not to break through the cloud cover just yet. The world below was hidden from sight, but the sense of danger was palpable, hanging in the air like a threat waiting to strike.
As we descended, Lucerys's gasp brought my attention to the horizon. We had drifted far from where we started, all the way to the Narrow Sea, the territory between Westeros, the Narrow Sea, and Dorne. But it wasn't the geography that caught her breath—it was what lay below.
Ships. Dozens of them, their sails emblazoned with the sun of Dorne and the symbols of the Triarchy. They were clustered together, moving through the narrow waters like a fleet of serpents, sleek and deadly. But that wasn't all. As I looked closer, I saw them—massive wooden constructs mounted on the decks of the ships. Scorpions. Dragon-killing scorpions.
The sight of them sent a chill through me, colder than any wind that had ever blown across the North. Those infernal machines were designed for one purpose and one purpose only: to bring down dragons. And here they were, in numbers that could make even the mightiest of our kind falter.
Lucerys's grip on the straps tightened, her knuckles white as she processed what we were seeing. There was no doubt about it—this was an ambush, a trap set by our enemies, by those who sought to destroy the Targaryen line once and for all.
We were caught between two threats: the monstrous dragon hunting us from above and the deadly weapons lying in wait below. My mind raced, searching for a way out, a way to keep Lucerys safe, to avoid the fate that seemed to be closing in on us from all sides.
"Quick! We need to make it to Bloodstone to tell Kepus Daemon!" Lucerys's voice was urgent, cutting through the haze of fear and adrenaline that clouded my mind.
The words were barely out of her mouth when the worst happened. Cannibal, that monstrous black beast, appeared from the clouds like a shadow of death, his green eyes burning with malice. There was no time to react, no time to think—only the blinding, searing pain as his fire engulfed my wing.
I cried out, a sound that was more than just a roar—it was a howl of anguish, raw and primal, ripped from the deepest part of me. I had never felt pain like this before, not even in my days as a direwolf when battle wounds were a part of life. This was different. It was like my entire wing was being consumed by flame, the membranes burning, the bones cracking under the heat. It felt like I was being torn apart from the inside out.
Lucerys screamed my name, her voice laced with terror, but I knew what I had to do. I couldn't let the pain control me, couldn't let it bring me down. If I did, she would die, and I couldn't allow that. I had to push through, had to keep going, because without her, I would be lost. Without her, there would be nothing left of the wolf or the dragon—only madness, only despair.
Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to move, my damaged wing screaming in protest with every beat. The pain was excruciating, every flap of my wings sending waves of agony through my body, but I flew in the direction of Bloodstone, driven by sheer will and the desperate need to protect my rider. I would cut my own wing off if it meant saving her—nothing mattered more than that.
As we neared Bloodstone, Lucerys spotted a cluster of jagged rocks between the island and the Grey Gallows. I could feel her mind working, her thoughts sharp and focused despite the fear that clawed at her. "There!" she commanded, her voice firm. "We need to use the rocks. Go up as fast as you can!"
I didn't hesitate. I angled upward, flapping my wounded wing with all the strength I had left, the pain nearly blinding me. But I pushed it aside, focusing on Lucerys's voice, on her commands. We rose above the rocks, the wind whipping past us, the world below a blur of gray and black.
And then, we were above Cannibal. The massive dragon was still searching for us below, his massive head swiveling from side to side, unaware that we had outmaneuvered him. Lucerys was quick, her instincts honed from countless battles. "Now, Ghost!" she shouted, the urgency in her voice snapping me into action. "Blind him!"
I tucked my wings in and descended like a bolt of lightning, talons outstretched, aiming straight for Cannibal's eyes. The world narrowed to a single point, the target that was his face, and everything else fell away. There was nothing but the kill, nothing but the need to end this monster before he could end us.
My talons found their mark, ripping through the first eye in a spray of dark blood. Cannibal's roar of pain was deafening, a sound that shook the very air around us, but I didn't stop. I went for the second eye, my fangs sinking deep into the soft flesh, tearing it from its socket. The taste of his blood was bitter, acrid, but it had the taste of victory.
Cannibal thrashed wildly, his massive form crashing into the jagged rocks below. The pointed stones pierced his underbelly, and he howled in agony, a sound that reverberated through the sky like the death knell of an ancient god. But Lucerys didn't let victory blind her, didn't let the thrill of the moment take her focus. She knew what needed to be done.
"Dracarys!" she commanded, her voice ringing out with the authority of a true dragonrider.
I didn't need to be told twice. I unleashed a torrent of fire, the flames engulfing Cannibal's already wounded form, burning through scale and flesh alike. The stench of burning meat filled the air, a sickening, acrid scent that I would never forget.
But Lucerys wasn't done. "Go for the throat, Ghost!" she cried, her voice sharp and unyielding. "Finish him!"
With a roar of my own, I surged forward, my jaws closing around Cannibal's thick neck. My fangs sank deep, crushing through bone and muscle, tearing out his throat in a spray of hot blood. Cannibal's death rattle was a gurgling, pitiful sound, his massive body convulsing as the last of his life drained away.
And then, it was over. Cannibal, the terror of the skies, the nightmare that had haunted so many, was dead. His blood stained my snow-white scales, the crimson seeping into every crevice, every scale, until I was more red than white. I roared in victory, the sound echoing across the sky, a declaration of triumph that I wanted the whole world to hear.
But as the adrenaline rushed out of me, the pain returned with a vengeance. My wing throbbed, the wound pulsing with every beat of my heart, and the strength that had carried me through the battle began to fade. My vision blurred, the world spinning as I struggled to stay on my feet. I could hear Lucerys calling my name, her voice filled with fear, with desperation, but I couldn't hold on any longer.
My legs buckled, and I collapsed onto the ground, the weight of my body pressing down on Cannibal's corpse. The last thing I heard before the darkness claimed me was Lucerys's cry of "Ghost!" echoing in my ears, a sound that was both a plea and a command.
And then, there was nothing but blackness.
The pain was gone, the fear, the urgency—all of it faded into the void. I didn't know if I was dead, if this was the end of everything, or if I was simply lost in a sea of unconsciousness. All I knew was that I had done what I needed to do. I had protected Lucerys, had saved her from the monster that sought to destroy us both.
And for now, that was enough.
The darkness was quiet, peaceful in its own way, and I let it take me, let it pull me under. I had fought, I had bled, and I had won. Whatever came next, I would face it, just as I had always faced the challenges of this world—with strength, with determination, and with the unbreakable bond that tied me to my human.
Because that's who I am. Ghost, the protector, the guardian, the constant in a world of chaos. And no matter what, I would always be there for Lucerys, in this life or the next.
That's my promise. That's my truth.
And nothing will ever change that.