Chapter 20: The Dragon's Heir
The morning light broke through the canopy of trees, casting long shadows across the snow-covered ground. The camp was eerily silent, the usual morning sounds muted by an uneasy tension that hung in the air. The men of the Night's Watch stirred restlessly in their blankets, their sleep troubled by the strange presence that had settled over the forest during the night.
Jaime was the first to wake fully, his instincts honed by years of battle and survival. He sat up, scanning the camp quickly, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the empty spot where Daemon had been sleeping.
"Daemon?" Jaime called out softly, not wanting to alarm the others, but his voice carried an edge of concern. When there was no response, he stood quickly, his heart pounding in his chest. He looked around, his eyes searching the shadows, but there was no sign of the boy.
Benjen Stark, already awake and sharpening his blade, looked up sharply at the tone in Jaime's voice. "What is it?"
"Daemon's gone," Jaime replied, trying to keep his voice steady, though a cold dread was creeping into his veins. "He's not here."
The words sent a ripple of alarm through the camp. The other men stirred, rising quickly to their feet, their expressions ranging from concern to fear. Alliser Thorne, always the most practical of them, was the first to move, grabbing his sword and checking the perimeter of the camp.
"There's no sign of a struggle," Thorne muttered, his eyes scanning the untouched snow around them. "No tracks leading away, nothing."
"He wouldn't just leave," Benjen said, his voice tense as he joined Jaime in the center of the camp. "Not without telling us. Something's wrong."
"Daemon!" Jaime called out again, louder this time, his voice echoing through the trees. The forest remained silent, the only response the distant rustling of leaves in the wind. The unease among the men grew, each of them well aware of the dangers that lurked in these woods.
"We need to find him," Jaime said, his voice filled with determination. "He could be in danger."
Without another word, the men began to spread out, carefully searching the surrounding area. The tension in the air was palpable, each of them acutely aware of the potential dangers that lay hidden in the shadows. The thought of the boy lost or worse in this treacherous wilderness gnawed at their nerves.
It was Martyn who found the first clue. "Over here!" he called, his voice carrying through the trees. The others rushed to his side, their breath visible in the cold morning air.
Martyn was pointing to a patch of disturbed snow, where it looked like something large had landed. The snow was compacted, the outline faint but unmistakable—something massive had been there.
Jaime's eyes widened as he looked closer, his breath catching in his throat. "A dragon…"
The word hung in the air, filling the men with a mixture of awe and fear. Dragons were creatures of legend, their kind thought to be long gone from the world. Yet the evidence was undeniable. Jaime felt his heart race, not with fear, but with a strange sense of understanding. He had seen the bond between Daemon and the dragon's back at Casterly Rock, but this—this was different.
"Look," Benjen said, his voice low, as he pointed toward a break in the trees. There, just beyond the edge of the clearing, was a trail—a faint line in the snow, leading deeper into the forest.
The men followed the trail cautiously, weapons at the ready, their breaths quickening with each step. The further they went, the more the sense of dread grew, until they came upon another clearing, this one bathed in the soft light of the rising sun.
And there, in the center of the clearing, was Daemon.
He lay peacefully on the ground, his small frame curled up against the massive form of a dragon. The dragon was a breathtaking sight, its scales shimmering white with gold swirls, its wings folded protectively around the boy. The dragon's eyes were closed, its massive head resting beside Daemon, as if it were standing guard over the child.
The men froze, a collective gasp escaping their lips. None of them had ever seen a dragon in the flesh, let alone one so close, and the sight left them both awestruck and terrified.
Jaime was the first to break the silence, his voice hushed with a mix of wonder and relief. "Daemon…"
At the sound of his name, Daemon stirred, blinking sleepily as he slowly awoke. When he saw the men standing at the edge of the clearing, he smiled, though the gesture was more tired than anything.
"Good morning," Daemon said softly, his voice still thick with sleep. He sat up, stretching slightly before placing a hand on the dragon's snout, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
The dragon opened one eye, its golden gaze locking onto the men. There was no aggression in its gaze, only a deep, ancient wisdom that seemed to pierce through them. The men instinctively took a step back, though the dragon made no move to attack.
"Daemon… what…?" Jaime began, struggling to find the words to express the mix of emotions swirling within him—relief, fear, disbelief.
Daemon stood slowly, his hand never leaving the dragon's scales. "It's alright," he said gently. "This is my father."
The men exchanged confused, uneasy glances, none of them understanding what Daemon meant. But Jaime's breath caught as he realized the truth of Daemon's words, the impossible truth.
"This dragon," Daemon continued, his voice calm and sure, "is my father, Rhaegar Targaryen. He was reborn in this form, waiting for me. We're connected, through magic, through blood. He's here to protect us."
Benjen took a hesitant step forward, his voice filled with concern. "Daemon… are you sure? How can this be?"
Daemon nodded, his eyes filled with a quiet certainty that belied his age. "I can hear him, in my mind. We're connected. I know it sounds strange, but it's the truth."
The men stood in stunned silence, struggling to process what they were hearing. Dragons were already creatures of myth, but this—this was something beyond even the wildest stories they had heard.
Jaime stepped forward, his heart aching with a mixture of pride and worry. "Daemon, this is… it's incredible. But you need to understand the risks. People will fear you, fear him. They won't understand."
"I know," Daemon replied, his voice steady. "But this is who I am. This is our legacy, Jaime. I'm ready to face whatever comes, with him by my side."
The dragon let out a soft, rumbling sound, almost as if in agreement, and the men felt a strange sense of calm wash over them. The fear that had gripped them was still there, but it was tempered now by a deep respect for the bond between the boy and the dragon.
Benjen finally spoke, his voice filled with resolve. "Then we'll protect you both. Whatever happens, we're with you, Daemon."
The other men nodded, their expressions firm. They had sworn to protect Daemon, and now, that duty extended to the dragon as well. Whatever lay ahead, they would face it together.
Daemon smiled, his heart swelling with gratitude. "Thank you," he said softly. "We'll need all the help we can get."
He paused, feeling the presence of his father in his mind, urging him to share something more. Daemon's expression grew serious, and he turned to Jaime.
"Before you found me," Daemon began, his voice carrying the weight of the message he had been entrusted with, "my father shared something with me. A memory, meant for you."
Jaime's eyes narrowed slightly, uncertainty flickering in his gaze. "A memory?"
Daemon nodded, stepping closer to Jaime. "Something that happened a long time ago, at Harrenhal. My father told me about a conversation he had with Elia Martell. She told you about the annulment, didn't she?"
Jaime's breath hitched, his mind flashing back to that day, long buried in the recesses of his memory. "Yes… she did."
Daemon's eyes softened as he relayed the memory. "She told you that the annulment had been granted in secret, that my father was free to marry Lyanna Stark. She confided in you because she trusted you. My father wanted you to know that he never forgot that promise, Jaime. He trusted you then, and he trusts you now."
Jaime's face paled, his mind reeling as the memory was brought to the surface with such vivid clarity. It was something he had shared with no one, something that had haunted him for years. He had never understood why Elia had chosen him, why she had confided in him, but hearing those words from Daemon—he knew it was true.
"He's here, Jaime," Daemon continued, his voice steady. "He's watching over us, just like you promised to watch over him."
Jaime's throat tightened, emotions he had buried for years rising to the surface. The weight of the past, of the promise he had made, now pressed down on him with renewed force. But there was something else—a sense of relief, of closure, knowing that Rhaegar had never forgotten, that his loyalty had meant something.
"Thank you, Daemon," Jaime whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for sharing this with me."
Daemon smiled, a soft, understanding expression that spoke of a wisdom beyond his years. "We're in this together, Jaime. My father chose you for a reason. We'll protect each other, just like he wanted."
Jaime nodded, the last remnants of doubt melting away as he accepted the truth of Daemon's words. He had been given a second chance to fulfill a promise made long ago, and this time, he would not fail.
As the men of the Night's Watch continued their preparations, Jaime took a moment to stand in silence, reflecting on the memory that had been gifted to him. The weight of the past was still there, but now it felt different—less like a burden, and more like a guiding light.
The other men, though still shaken by what they had witnessed, began to organize themselves for the journey ahead. Benjen Stark moved with purpose, his resolve strengthening as he accepted the reality before them. He knew the legends, knew that the old gods and the magic of the North were powerful forces. If this boy—Daemon Targaryen—truly had the spirit of Rhaegar guiding him, then they would need all the strength they could muster for the challenges to come.
"All right, men," Benjen called out, his voice firm and steady, drawing everyone's attention. "We move out in an hour. Make sure your gear is ready, and keep your eyes sharp. We don't know what's out there, but we'll face it together."
The men nodded, their movements more confident now, as if the presence of the dragon had somehow bolstered their spirits. There was still fear, of course—fear of the unknown, of the power that Daemon wielded, of the dragon that had come to life in front of them. But there was also a sense of purpose, of duty. They had sworn to protect Daemon, and they would do so, even if it meant facing the darkest parts of the North.
As the men busied themselves with preparations, Daemon stayed close to the dragon, feeling the warmth of his father's presence in his mind. The bond between them was strong, unbreakable, and Daemon knew that with his father by his side, he could face any challenge.
Jaime watched Daemon for a moment, seeing the boy's quiet strength, his unwavering resolve. It was hard to believe that someone so young could bear such a heavy burden, but there was no doubt in Jaime's mind that Daemon was ready. He had the blood of the dragon and the honor of the Stark line running through his veins—a powerful combination that would serve him well in the trials ahead.
But as the men prepared for the journey deeper into the North, Daemon felt a sudden shift in the bond with his father. The urgency that had driven him here, that had pulled him through the cold and darkness, began to ebb, replaced by a profound sense of peace. The dragon's presence in his mind was still strong, but now it was comforting, guiding him not forward, but back.
Daemon looked up at the dragon, his heart pounding with the realization. "We don't have to go further," he said softly, his voice filled with certainty. "The dragon—my father—was what was calling to me. He was what I needed to find."
Benjen, who had been giving orders to the men, paused and turned to Daemon, a questioning look in his eyes. "You're sure, Daemon? We don't need to press on?"
Daemon nodded, feeling the warmth of the dragon's thoughts enveloping him, reassuring him. "Yes. He's found me, and I've found him. There's no need to go further into the wilds. We should return to Castle Black."
The men exchanged glances, relief mingling with the lingering awe of the situation. They had prepared themselves for a dangerous journey into the unknown, but the prospect of returning to the relative safety of Castle Black was a welcome one.
Jaime stepped closer to Daemon, his voice low and filled with a mix of concern and pride. "Are you sure, Daemon? We don't have to go further if you think it's not necessary. Your safety comes first."
Daemon smiled, the weight of the decision lifted from his shoulders. "I'm sure, Jaime. My father's spirit is with me now, and I know he's guiding us. We've done what we needed to do."
Benjen nodded, the decision made. "Then we'll return to Castle Black. We'll make our report to the Lord Commander and prepare for what comes next. The North has its secrets, but for now, we've uncovered the most important one."
As the men began to gather their gear, preparing to head back the way they had come, Daemon turned to the dragon, his heart filled with a mix of emotions. This was his father, reborn in a form that was as majestic as it was terrifying, and the bond between them was something beyond anything he had ever imagined.
Ghost, who had been quietly watching from the edge of the clearing, padded forward, his red eyes gleaming with understanding. The direwolf had always been a silent sentinel at Daemon's side, and now, more than ever, he seemed to sense the significance of the moment.
Daemon reached out, his hand resting gently on the dragon's warm scales. "Will you come with me?" he asked, the question more of a feeling than words, conveyed through the bond they shared.
The dragon's eyes, those ancient, golden orbs, softened, and Daemon felt a surge of warmth and love flow through their connection. The answer was clear: the dragon would always be with him, guiding him, protecting him.
Slowly, Daemon moved to the dragon's side, his heart pounding with anticipation. He had seen others fly on dragons, but now it was his turn—his birthright. The dragon lowered itself slightly, making it easier for Daemon to climb onto its back.
Ghost, sensing Daemon's intention, moved closer and, with an agile leap, settled himself onto the dragon's back behind Daemon. The sight of the direwolf, his white fur stark against the dragon's shimmering scales, was as awe-inspiring as it was surreal. The bond between Daemon and Ghost was unbreakable, and now, it seemed, they would share this experience together.
Jaime watched, his breath caught in his throat as Daemon and Ghost settled onto the dragon's back. There was a moment of stillness, a quiet pause before the storm, as everyone held their breath, waiting for what would happen next.
And then, with a powerful beat of its wings, the dragon rose into the air, carrying Daemon and Ghost with it. The ground fell away beneath them, the clearing, the men, the forest—all becoming distant as the dragon soared higher into the sky.
For Daemon, the experience was beyond anything he could have imagined. The cold wind rushed past him, but he felt only the warmth of the dragon beneath him, the steady, rhythmic beat of its wings, and the comforting presence of his father in his mind. He was flying—truly flying—and for the first time in his life, he felt completely free.
Ghost, seated securely behind Daemon, let out a low, almost contented growl as the dragon soared through the sky. The direwolf's instincts were sharp, but there was no fear, only a deep bond with Daemon and a sense of unity with the dragon that carried them both.
Jaime watched from below, his heart swelling with a mixture of pride, awe, and a touch of fear. Daemon was no longer just a boy; he was the heir to a legacy that spanned centuries, and he was embracing that destiny with a courage that took Jaime's breath away.
The men of the Night's Watch stared in stunned silence as the dragon and its rider, accompanied by the direwolf, circled above them, a sight that would be etched into their memories forever. This was not just a moment of magic; it was a moment of history, of destiny.
As Daemon guided the dragon back toward Castle Black, he felt a profound sense of peace and purpose settle over him. He knew there would be challenges ahead, battles to fight, and decisions to make. But with his father by his side, and the loyalty of those who had sworn to protect him, he felt ready to face whatever the future held.
The North had called to him, and he had answered. Now, with his father's spirit soaring beside him, Daemon was ready to fulfill the destiny that had been laid out for him.
As the dragon began its descent, Daemon could see the sprawling fortress of Castle Black coming into view. The men below looked up, their faces a mix of astonishment and reverence as the dragon touched down gently on the snow-covered ground. Ghost leaped gracefully from the dragon's back, landing silently beside Daemon as he dismounted.
The moment his feet touched the ground, Daemon felt the weight of what he had just experienced. The exhilaration of flight was still with him, but so too was the solemn realization of the path ahead. He knew that what had transpired here would change everything—his future, the fate of the North, and perhaps even the fate of the realm.
Jeor Mormont, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, emerged from the shadow of the Wall, his eyes fixed on Daemon and the dragon. The grizzled veteran had seen much in his time, but nothing like this. He approached slowly, the crunch of snow under his boots the only sound in the still air.
"So, it's true," Mormont said, his voice low and gruff. "You are Rhaegar's son. And that... is no ordinary dragon."
Daemon nodded, the weight of his lineage resting heavily on his young shoulders. "Yes, Lord Commander. My father, Rhaegar Targaryen, was reborn in this form. He has been waiting for me."
Mormont's eyes flickered with something between respect and fear, but he kept his composure. "The North is full of old magic, things most of us have forgotten—or never knew. If this is your destiny, then so be it. But understand this, boy—this dragon, this power you wield—it's as much a curse as it is a gift. You must be careful."
Daemon met Mormont's gaze with the quiet strength that had grown within him. "I understand, Lord Commander. I will do what I must to protect those I care about, and to fulfill my destiny."
Mormont nodded, accepting Daemon's words. "Good. Now, let's get you and your companions inside. The Wall might keep out the wildlings and the cold, but there's nothing it can do against the kind of power you wield. We need to regroup, to plan our next steps."
As the men of the Night's Watch began to move, Daemon took one last look at the dragon. The bond between them was strong, unbreakable, and he knew his father would always be with him, guiding him. But for now, the dragon would remain outside the Wall, its immense form a silent sentinel against the dangers that lay beyond.
Daemon gave a silent nod to the dragon, and with a final rumble, it turned and moved to a nearby outcropping of rock, settling itself down. Its golden eyes never left Daemon, even as the boy began to walk back toward the gates of Castle Black.
Ghost padded beside him, his presence as comforting as ever. The direwolf, too, seemed to understand the gravity of what had happened, his red eyes glancing up at Daemon as if to reassure him that he was not alone in this journey.
As they passed through the massive gates of Castle Black, the men inside stared in awe, whispers following in their wake. Word had spread quickly of the dragon's appearance, and Daemon could feel the weight of their gazes—some filled with fear, others with hope, and a few with suspicion. He knew that his presence here, and what he represented, would change things. But he was ready for it.
Jaime stayed close to Daemon, his hand resting lightly on the boy's shoulder, a silent reassurance that he wasn't facing this alone. Benjen followed just behind, his gaze thoughtful as he took in the reactions of the men around them. The Stark uncle had always been a calming presence, and now more than ever, Daemon was grateful for his support.
Inside the Great Hall, Jeor Mormont gestured for them to sit. The warmth of the fire crackling in the hearth was a welcome change from the biting cold outside. The men settled around the large wooden table, their faces etched with concern and curiosity.
Mormont leaned forward, his hands clasped in front of him. "We've all seen what's out there. And we've heard what Daemon has to say. This isn't just about protecting the Wall anymore. There's a much larger game at play."
The Lord Commander's words hung in the air, heavy with implication. The men around the table exchanged glances, knowing full well the seriousness of the situation.
Daemon sat quietly, absorbing the weight of the responsibility that had been placed upon him. The connection with his father, the knowledge of who he truly was, and the power that came with it—it was all overwhelming, but he couldn't afford to falter now. Too much was at stake.
Jaime broke the silence, his voice measured but firm. "We need to prepare. Whatever comes next, we have to be ready. Daemon isn't just a boy; he's the heir to the greatest houses this realm has ever known. But he's also a target."
Mormont nodded, his expression grim. "Aye. We can't keep this hidden for long. Sooner or later, word will spread. And when it does, the enemies of House Targaryen will come looking."
Benjen spoke up, his voice low and steady. "We need to strengthen our alliances. The North may be loyal, but loyalty is often tested in the face of fear. We'll need more than just oaths if we're going to protect Daemon and his claim."
Daemon looked up, meeting the eyes of those around him. He could feel the tension, the fear of the unknown, but also the resolve. These were men who had dedicated their lives to defending the realm, and now, they were placing their trust in him.
"I won't let you down," Daemon said quietly but with a firmness that belied his age. "Whatever comes, I'll face it. But I'll need your help—now more than ever."
There was a moment of silence, and then Mormont nodded, his voice carrying the weight of a command. "You have it, boy. The Night's Watch stands with you. And so will the North. But know this—once we start down this path, there's no turning back."
Daemon met his gaze, a quiet determination settling over him. "I understand. I'm ready."
As the meeting concluded and the men began to disperse, Jaime lingered by Daemon's side, his thoughts swirling with the gravity of their situation. He had promised Rhaegar that he would protect his son, and now that promise was more important than ever.
"Daemon," Jaime said softly, drawing the boy's attention. "Whatever happens next, remember—you're not alone. We're with you. I'm with you."
Daemon looked up at Jaime, his expression a mix of gratitude and resolve. "Thank you, Jaime. I don't know what's coming, but I know we'll face it together."
Jaime smiled, though there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. "We will. And whatever we find beyond the Wall, we'll be ready."
Daemon nodded, feeling a strange sense of calm settle over him. The journey had only just begun, but he felt prepared for whatever lay ahead. The North had called to him, and he had answered. Now, it was time to fulfill the destiny that had been laid out for him.
As they left the Great Hall and headed back into the cold, Daemon couldn't help but glance back at the Wall, its massive, icy form towering over them. Beyond it lay untold dangers, mysteries that had yet to be uncovered. But with his father's spirit by his side, and the loyalty of those who had pledged to protect him, Daemon knew he was ready to face whatever the future held.
And so, with the dragon watching over them, and the promise of battles yet to be fought, Daemon Targaryen stepped forward, his heart filled with a quiet determination.
This was his legacy, his birthright.
And he would claim it.