Robert couldn't stop his hands from trembling as he sat at the edge of the rocky outcrop, staring out over the horizon. The sun was sinking beneath the waves, casting Dragonstone in a blood-red light, but his mind was far from the beauty of the sunset. The events of the day—riding the Cannibal, of all dragons—still rattled inside him like a storm he couldn't calm.
The weight of what had just happened hung over him, thick and suffocating. The Cannibal, a dragon who had never allowed anyone near it, had chosen him. But why? What had he done that had caught the attention of such a beast? He couldn't figure it out, no matter how many times he replayed the moment in his head. He hadn't been brave; he hadn't been strong. If anything, he had been a fool, stumbling onto the volcanic slopes of Dragonstone in search of glory and instead finding what should have been his death.
And yet, here he was. Alive. And a dragonrider.
Robert's stomach twisted as the realization settled deeper into his bones. The Cannibal had made its choice, but what did that mean for him? He had heard the tales all his life—dragons only bent their will to those with the blood of Old Valyria in their veins. The Targaryens, with their long silver hair and violet eyes, were the only ones who could control the fire-breathing beasts. To fly a dragon was a mark of the gods, a symbol of Valyria's ancient power.
The implications of that were staggering. Robert's mind raced with possibilities, but with each came a greater, darker truth: if the Targaryens found out that someone outside their bloodline was riding a dragon, it would be the end of him. They couldn't afford to let this secret escape. For centuries, the Targaryens had built their rule on the idea that only their blood, their family, had the right and ability to command dragons. It was the foundation of their power. Without it, their reign would crumble.
If they learned that a man like Robert—someone with no Targaryen blood—had bonded with a dragon, they would stop at nothing to reclaim their dragon and silence him forever.
"They'll kill me," Robert whispered to himself, his voice lost in the wind. "They'll kill me and the Cannibal."
He had seen what happened to those who threatened the Targaryen claim to power. They were swift to act, merciless in their punishment. Kings who challenged their rule were burned alive. Rebels who thought to rise against them were reduced to ash. And Robert, a mere man with no great name, would be no different. He was expendable. And worse—he was a threat.
The Cannibal was the last of the great wild dragons on Dragonstone, a relic of a time when Valyria ruled the skies. If the Targaryens found out he had tamed the creature, or worse, that the dragon had tamed him, they would come for him. There would be no negotiation, no offers of alliance. They would send their best dragonriders to burn him alive and reclaim the beast for themselves. After all, they could not let the world know that their exclusive hold on dragonkind was a lie.
A shiver ran down Robert's spine. He had never considered himself a man of great consequence, but now, with the Cannibal, everything had changed. He had power—terrifying, uncontrollable power—and with it came danger. There would be no safety for him so long as the Targaryens ruled the skies.
He stood up and paced along the outcrop, his mind racing. What was he supposed to do? He couldn't hide a dragon forever. The Cannibal was a creature of myth, enormous and unmistakable. If he flew too often or too close to populated lands, word would spread. Someone would see them, and it wouldn't take long for the rumors to reach the Targaryens.
But what was the alternative? Abandon the Cannibal? That thought made his chest tighten with panic. The dragon had chosen him—why, he still didn't know, but there was a bond there, something primal and fierce. He couldn't just walk away from it. Not now.
He had no one to turn to for advice. No one he could trust with the truth. If anyone on Dragonstone suspected, they would report him in a heartbeat, hoping to earn the favor of the crown. And what favor would that be? A swift death for Robert and a brief moment of praise before the Targaryens wiped the slate clean, erasing any trace of his betrayal.
Robert clenched his fists. He couldn't let that happen. Not to himself, and not to the Cannibal. The dragon had spared him, and now, it was his responsibility to keep them both alive. But how?
Robert paced back and forth in the dim light of his small clearing, his mind running wild with thoughts of his next move. The Cannibal had made its choice, and now, his path was clearer than ever. He knew what he had to do: escape to Essos. The vast, endless continent held the promise of freedom, far away from the prying eyes of the Targaryens. Once there, with the Cannibal at his side, he could disappear, hide among the many cities and kingdoms, and live beyond the reach of Westeros' dragonlords.
Essos was vast enough to lose himself in. From the Free Cities to the Dothraki Sea, the Summer Isles, or even further east, there were places the Targaryens' influence would never reach. And there, in those foreign lands, he could be free—not just from the Targaryens, but from the weight of the secret he now carried.
But as much as survival gripped his mind, something else began to take root as well—a word, a promise he had made to Rhaenyra, the woman he loved. He had sworn that one day, he would become a king, that he would make her parents agree to their union. At the time, it had been a distant, impossible dream, but now… now he had a dragon.
With the Cannibal at his side, what king could stand against him?
In the back of his mind, Robert had always been fascinated by the old tales of Valyria. The Valyrians, who had once been nothing more than shepherds tending their flocks, had somehow risen to greatness. They had tamed dragons—beasts of fire and fury—and with those dragons, they had conquered the known world. But Robert had always wondered how they, mere commoners, had managed such a feat. The ancient Valyrians hadn't been born into noble bloodlines; they hadn't carried the so-called purity of Old Valyria in their veins when they first mounted their dragons. They had been ordinary men and women.
And yet, they had ridden dragons.
That truth gnawed at him now, more than ever. If the first Valyrians, the shepherds, had been able to tame dragons, what was stopping anyone else? The myths and legends that the Targaryens spread—about how only their blood could rule dragons—seemed more like lies designed to protect their power.
For centuries, the Targaryens had carefully cultivated the idea that only their bloodline held the magic to bond with dragons, that the dragons would only obey those who carried the blood of Valyria. But Robert now knew that wasn't true. The Cannibal had no Targaryen rider. No Valyrian lineage had ever sat upon its back. And yet, it had chosen him—a man with very little claim to Valyrian blood.
"If I can ride a dragon, anyone can," Robert murmured to himself, the truth settling heavily in his chest.
It all made sense now. The reason the Targaryens guarded their dragons so fiercely, the reason they kept their dragon eggs under lock and key, wasn't just about protecting their family's power. It was about protecting the secret that anyone could be a dragonlord if the dragon willed it.
The first Valyrians had been shepherds, unremarkable until they bonded with dragons. It was the dragons that made them rulers, not their blood. The magic, the laws, the rituals—they had all come later, after the shepherds had secured their place as conquerors. The Targaryens, and all those who claimed to be the descendants of Valyria, had merely inherited the power of the dragons, but that power had always belonged to the dragons themselves. The bloodline was irrelevant.
Robert's heart pounded in his chest as the enormity of this truth settled over him. If the world knew that dragons could bond with anyone, it would change everything. Lords and kings would fight to the death for the chance to claim a dragon's egg. Armies would march, and blood would be spilled in a desperate race to control the skies. Even commoners—thieves, cutthroats, anyone desperate for power—would seek to steal an egg and rise above their station.
And the Targaryens knew this. That's why they had hidden the truth for centuries, perpetuating the myth of their exclusive control over dragons. If they admitted that anyone could ride a dragon, it would ignite a war unlike anything Westeros had ever seen.
Robert shook his head. He couldn't risk anyone finding out. He had to keep this secret, not just for his own sake, but for the Cannibal's. If the Targaryens learned that the Cannibal had bonded with him, they would come for him—and they wouldn't stop until both he and the dragon were dead. They had too many enemies already, and they couldn't afford to let another dragon rise up against them.
Still, the thought of what he could accomplish with a dragon at his side was intoxicating. He thought again of Rhaenyra. He had promised her that he would become a king, and now, that dream no longer seemed so far away. With the Cannibal, he could carve out his own kingdom, perhaps even in Essos, where no one would challenge him. And with the power of a dragon, even the Targaryens wouldn't dare oppose him openly.
But he had to be careful. One wrong move, and everything would come crashing down. The Cannibal might have chosen him, but that didn't mean he was safe. Not yet.
He needed a plan—something more than just fleeing to Essos. He needed to gather allies, resources, and above all, he needed to stay hidden until the time was right.
Taking a deep breath, Robert made his decision. He would leave for Essos, but not immediately. First, he would gather what he needed—gold, food, maps, and perhaps even a few loyal men who could help him navigate the dangerous waters ahead. Then, when the time was right, he would take the Cannibal and fly east, far beyond the reach of the Targaryens.
And when the time came, he would return. Not as a bastard of Dragonstone, but as a dragonlord in his own right.
And perhaps—just perhaps—as a king.
With a final glance out at the darkening sea, Robert turned away from the window. The future was uncertain, but for the first time in his life, he felt a flicker of hope. He had the power of a dragon behind him now, and with that, anything was possible.
The moon hung high over the trees of the King's Wood, casting faint silvery light over the dark scales of the Cannibal. The great beast lay low in the dense forest, its massive form blending into the shadows, waiting silently for its rider's return. Robert ran a hand over the dragon's rough hide before stepping away, his heart heavy with anticipation and worry. This would be his last night in Westeros, but before he fled to the unknowns of Essos, there was one person he needed to see—Rhaenyra.
He had promised her that he would become a king, and now, more than ever, he believed it. The dragon was his, and with it, his destiny was within reach. But to leave without telling her, without saying goodbye, felt like a betrayal. She needed to know his plans. She needed to know that he would return for her.
The trek from the King's Wood to King's Landing wasn't long, but Robert's thoughts weighed heavy on his mind as he moved through the forest and onto the King's Road. His heart raced with each step, not out of fear of being caught, but from the thought of what he was about to tell Rhaenyra. His dragon, his escape, his uncertain future—all of it depended on her understanding.
At last, he reached the outer edges of the city. King's Landing, even at night, was alive with activity—torches lighting the streets, the hum of the city echoing in the air. But Robert kept his head low, blending into the throngs of people. He had grown skilled at moving unnoticed when he needed to.
Once he found a safe place in the city, he penned a short letter to Rhaenyra, asking her to meet him in their usual secret spot—a secluded corner in the Red Keep's gardens, away from prying eyes. His heart pounded as he handed the letter to his trusted messenger, Tyson, who had helped him countless times before.
"Make sure she gets this," Robert said, his voice low but firm.
Tyson nodded and slipped into the night, while Robert found a hidden alcove to wait. The minutes stretched into what felt like hours, but at last, Tyson returned with a single nod.
"She'll be there," he whispered, and Robert let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
The Red Keep loomed before him as he made his way through the familiar corridors, taking the hidden paths that had allowed him and Rhaenyra to meet in secret for so long. He moved with practiced ease, slipping past guards and avoiding the bustling servants. And finally, he arrived at the gardens, where the night's silence was broken only by the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze.
And there she was, waiting for him. Rhaenyra stood beneath the shadow of an ancient tree, her silver hair gleaming faintly in the moonlight, her violet eyes wide with curiosity and concern. When she saw him, her expression softened, and she rushed to meet him.
"Robert," she breathed, relief flooding her voice as she threw her arms around him. "What's happened? Why did you call for me so urgently?"
He held her close for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of her, before gently pulling back to meet her gaze. This was the hardest part—telling her that he was leaving, telling her that he couldn't take her with him.
"I've claimed a dragon," Robert said, watching her eyes widen in disbelief. "The Cannibal—he chose me."
Rhaenyra's lips parted, her breath catching as the weight of his words sank in. "A dragon…" she whispered, her eyes filling with wonder. "You're… a dragonlord."
He nodded, taking her hands in his. "I am. But that's not all. I have to leave, Rhaenyra. I'm going to Essos. It's the only way I can survive. The Targaryens—your family—they can never know that I've claimed a dragon. If they do, they'll come for me, and they'll kill the Cannibal to keep their hold on power."
Her face fell, the excitement fading as reality set in. "Essos?" she echoed, her voice trembling. "But… when will you come back? Why can't I go with you?"
Robert's heart clenched at the sight of her distress, but he forced himself to remain firm. "I don't know what I'll find there, Rhaenyra. I don't know what kind of life I'll have. It's too dangerous for you. I need to go alone, for now. But I promise you this—I will return. And when I do, I'll be ready. I'll have everything—land, power, wealth—everything a princess deserves."
Rhaenyra looked down, her hands trembling in his. "I don't care about power or wealth, Robert. I care about you."
His chest tightened with emotion, and he pulled her close, kissing her deeply. The kiss was filled with the urgency of farewell, a mixture of passion and sorrow, of promises made and yet to be fulfilled. When they finally parted, her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
"I'll wait for you," she whispered. "No matter how long it takes. I'll wait."
Robert pressed his forehead to hers, his voice low and filled with resolve. "I will come back for you, Rhaenyra. I swear it."
After one final, lingering embrace, Robert knew he had to leave. The longer he stayed, the harder it would be to walk away. With a heavy heart, he pulled himself away from her, forcing his legs to carry him back through the secret passages, back to the Cannibal waiting for him in the King's Wood.
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