The wind whipped through Robert's hair as the Cannibal soared high above the clouds, the dragon's powerful wings cutting through the air with rhythmic beats. The world below them seemed like a distant, miniature version of itself. Castles, cities, and sprawling farmlands all looked like tiny specks from such great heights. The once-mighty walls and towers of Westeros were reduced to toy-like structures, and Robert couldn't help but marvel at the sheer scale of his new perspective.
From up here, everything felt so insignificant. The concerns of men, the conflicts of kings and lords—it all seemed small in the grand scheme of things. He was no longer tied to the earth, no longer bound by the limitations of a mere mortal. He was a dragonlord now, riding the most fearsome creature in the known world. And with the Cannibal beneath him, Robert felt a surge of exhilaration that coursed through his veins, as if the dragon's raw power was his own.
As they crossed the Narrow Sea, the connection between him and the Cannibal deepened. It was as if their minds were linked, an unspoken bond that allowed Robert to guide the dragon without uttering a single word. He didn't need to tug on the reins or call out commands—the Cannibal seemed to sense his thoughts, adjusting its flight path in perfect harmony with Robert's desires.
It was this bond that guided them toward Essos, the vast continent that stretched endlessly before them. Robert's eyes scanned the horizon, taking in the unfamiliar lands below. He had read countless books about the Free Cities and the lands beyond, but seeing it from the back of a dragon was an entirely different experience. The once-mighty cities he had only imagined now lay beneath him, their winding streets and towering buildings mere dots on the landscape.
He glanced at the map tucked into the satchel strapped to his side. Essos was vast and full of dangers, but Robert had a destination in mind. His thoughts turned to Qohor, the city famed for its worship of the Black Goat and its proximity to the thick, mysterious Forest of Qohor. He had read about the immense forest that surrounded the city, a place of dark magic and ancient creatures. It was the perfect place to hide, to gather his strength, and to plan his next move.
The Cannibal seemed to sense his intentions, veering slightly to the east without needing any direction. Robert felt the dragon's instincts merge with his own, guiding them both toward the great expanse of trees that lay beyond the horizon. The world passed beneath them in a blur, but Robert's mind was sharp and focused.
Qohor was not the only place on his mind, however. He had considered other destinations in Essos—the Axe, a small peninsula that jutted out into the Shivering Sea, or perhaps the Bitterweed Bay, a coastal area far from the eyes of the Westerosi. Both places were isolated, and both offered the kind of seclusion Robert needed to avoid the prying eyes of the Targaryens.
But the forest of Qohor called to him, its ancient trees shrouded in mystery. If there was a place to disappear, to lay low while he gathered his wits, Qohor's forest seemed like the best option. There, under the canopy of twisted branches and thick foliage, he could bide his time, assess his situation, and figure out how to navigate this new life as a dragonlord.
Robert couldn't shake the thought of Rhaenyra as they flew. Leaving her behind had been one of the hardest decisions of his life, but it was necessary. He had made a promise to her, and he intended to keep it. But for now, survival was his priority. He couldn't return to her as a hunted man. He needed to become something more—someone powerful enough to challenge those who would seek to destroy him.
The flight across the Narrow Sea was long but exhilarating. The sun rose and set as they crossed the open waters, but Robert felt no weariness. He felt alive in a way he never had before, the power of the Cannibal beneath him filling him with a sense of purpose and destiny.
As they neared the coast of Essos, Robert's eyes scanned the map once more. He traced the paths with his finger, following the winding rivers and mountain ranges that would eventually lead him to Qohor. The dense, foreboding forest loomed large in his mind, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation. He had read stories about the dark magic that permeated the trees, about the strange rituals performed by the inhabitants of Qohor. But he was a dragonlord now—he had no need to fear such things.
The Cannibal's wings began to beat more slowly as they neared the shore, the dragon's great head tilting slightly as it scanned the land below. The thick forests stretched out before them, a sea of green that seemed to go on forever. In the distance, Robert could make out the faint outlines of the city of Qohor, its dark towers rising up against the horizon like sentinels watching over the vast wilderness.
The Cannibal's massive wings sent a gust of wind sweeping through the dense forest as it landed gracefully, shaking the trees that surrounded them. Robert slid off the dragon's back, his boots sinking into the soft earth. The air was thick with the scent of pine, moss, and damp soil. The forest around him was unlike anything he had ever seen, with towering trees whose branches wove together so tightly that barely any sunlight could break through. It was a deep and ancient place, where few, if any, men had set foot.
Robert had chosen well. This part of the Forest of Qohor was remote, untouched by human hands, and, more importantly, filled with enough wildlife to keep the Cannibal well-fed. He had no desire for his dragon to feast on humans, especially given the dark reputation the beast already held. And here, in this secluded forest, the Cannibal would have plenty of deer, wild boar, and other creatures to satisfy its appetite.
As Robert set about creating a temporary camp, his thoughts wandered back to the friends and comrades he had left behind in Westeros. The Blackstone Legion, the warriors he had fought beside, all those who had trusted him—they were still unaware of his quest, still fighting whatever battles had arisen in his absence. He had left without a word, not because he wished to abandon them, but because this path was one he had to walk alone. The thought of returning to them one day, with the power of a dragonlord and the title of king, kept him moving forward.
He would make contact with them again, but not yet. Not until he had truly secured his place in Essos.
Despite the solitude of the forest, Robert's heart was not at peace. The Cannibal had taken him to explore the surrounding lands of Essos, and they had visited both Bitterweed Bay and the Axe. While both locations were relatively close to each other, they were strikingly different in terms of terrain and defensibility.
The Bitterweed Bay, though beautiful with its wide stretch of sandy beach and calm waters, felt exposed. Robert could see how easily it could be attacked from the sea, and the thought made him uneasy. It was a place for trade, not for defense. It might have been useful as a fallback location, but it wasn't the stronghold he sought.
The Axe, on the other hand, was something else entirely. Perched high above the sea, it was an imposing landmass, its jagged cliffs rising like natural fortifications. From the moment the Cannibal had landed there, Robert had been struck by the sense of security the place offered. The steep cliffs made an attack from the sea virtually impossible, and there was only one narrow path that led in and out of the peninsula. It was a place that could be easily defended, especially with a dragon like the Cannibal guarding the single entrance.
What puzzled Robert was the fact that the Axe appeared uninhabited. For all its natural advantages, no city or stronghold had ever been built there. The land seemed fertile, the cliffs provided a natural defense, and the location was perfect for anyone who sought to remain hidden from the rest of the world. Yet, it was empty.
As he wandered through the Axe, Robert couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to the place, some hidden history or curse that had kept men away. But whatever it was, it didn't deter him. This place felt right. It felt like the perfect spot to build his future—a fortress that could withstand any assault, where he could gather his strength, build his forces, and one day return to Westeros.
With the Cannibal at his side, he would make the Axe his own.
The dragon seemed content here as well. Its dark, fearsome form blended in with the shadows of the cliffs, and it often took to the air to scout the surrounding areas, flying over the waters of the Narrow Sea or the forests of Qohor. The connection between Robert and the Cannibal had grown stronger with each passing day, and he could sense the dragon's satisfaction with their new home.
As the days passed, Robert began the work of turning the Axe into a true home. He scouted the cliffs, marking the best locations for lookouts and defenses. He explored the surrounding forests for food and resources. And he planned. Every step he took was with the future in mind—a future where he would return to Westeros not just as a dragonlord, but as a king.
But as much as Robert was focused on building his cabin, he couldn't ignore the questions that lingered in the back of his mind. Why had the Axe been abandoned? What had driven men away from this place? He had seen no signs of battle or destruction, no ruins of castles or fortresses that had once stood here. It was as if the place had simply been forgotten by time.
Whatever the reason, Robert knew that he had been given a rare opportunity. The Axe was his now, and with the Cannibal by his side, it would become a place of power—a place where he could prepare for the future.
One day, when the time was right, he would return to Westeros. And when he did, he would do so as a dragonlord, with a kingdom of his own to offer Rhaenyra.
But for now, the Axe was his kingdom, and the Cannibal his most fearsome weapon. Together, they would carve out a new life in Essos, far from the prying eyes of the Targaryens and their enemies.
Robert stood at the edge of the cliff, overlooking the jagged coastline of the Axe, his thoughts heavy with the realization that his journey was far from over. He had claimed the land, secured a cabin, and had the power of the Cannibal at his side—but none of that would make him a true king. To be a king, he needed a kingdom, and a kingdom was nothing without its people.
The Axe, for all its security and promise, was empty. Its cliffs echoed only with the winds and the occasional roar of the Cannibal as it flew over the Narrow Sea. It was a place of isolation, not of civilization. Robert knew that no one would follow a king who ruled over nothing but rock and trees. He needed subjects—people who would trust in his leadership, work the land, and build a life here.
His mind drifted to the nearby settlements he had seen during his flights over Essos with the Cannibal. Scattered villages, small cities, and nomadic camps dotted the landscape beyond the forests of Qohor. These people, some traders, some warriors, might be convinced to join him. They needed to see that Robert Stone could offer them safety, land, and a future.
But how to reach them? How to convince them to leave their homes and follow him to the Axe?
Robert knew he had a few advantages. He had the power of a dragon, which alone was enough to inspire fear or awe in most men. But brute strength wasn't the way to build a kingdom. No, he would need to appeal to them with more than just the fire and fury of the Cannibal.
He thought back to his childhood, to his early days in the Vale, where he had been trained by maesters and tutors in the ways of diplomacy and trade. He had learned Valyrian under their tutelage, not just because of his grandmother's insistence, but because the Valyrians had once ruled the world, and their language had opened doors in trade and politics. It was a skill that had served him well in the past, and now it would serve him again. His blood might be of the Stormlands, but it was also of Valyria, through his grandmother's Targaryen lineage.
Before his falling out with the Targaryens, they were family. His grandmother had been a Targaryen, and while his claim to Valyrian blood was distant, it was real. He had learned the language of his ancestors, not only to appease his grandmother but because he had always been fascinated by the Valyrian culture—their conquests, their dragons, and their mysterious rise to power from simple shepherds to rulers of the known world.
The Targaryens were not the only ones who could claim dragons. Robert had proved that by claiming the Cannibal. And the myth that only the blood of Valyria could ride dragons was just that—a myth. Anyone with the courage and strength could bond with a dragon if fate allowed. But to the people of Essos, the Valyrian bloodline still held power, and Robert could use that to his advantage.
He decided that his first step would be to visit the settlements near the Axe, speak to the people, and invite them to his new kingdom. He would present himself not as a conqueror, but as a King who could offer them safety, prosperity, and land in exchange for their loyalty. And to communicate that, he would use the High Valyrian he had learned in his youth, as well as the more commonly spoken bastard Valyrian.
With that plan in mind, Robert began his preparations. He couldn't go into these settlements looking like a ragged wanderer. No, he needed to present himself as a king—someone worthy of respect and allegiance. He polished his armor, preparing his weapons, and made sure that his appearance reflected the image of a man who was not only a warrior but a leader.
The next morning, as the sun rose over the cliffs, Robert mounted the Cannibal and soared into the sky, flying toward the settlements that lay beyond the forest. He decided to start small, visiting a few of the isolated villages first, where the people would be more receptive to a new leader. He would build his reputation slowly, spreading word of his dragon and his kingdom, until the larger settlements had no choice but to take notice.
Author's Note:
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