Blood of the Dragon

70 AC

Alyssa Targaryen darted across the dusty grounds of the Dragonpit, her boots scuffing up little clouds as she weaved between the towering stone pillars. The cavernous structure echoed with the guttural growls and occasional screeches of the dragons housed within. To Alyssa, the sounds were a symphony, the thrill of it all making her cheeks flush. She peered up at the grand beasts with wide eyes, her mind racing with dreams of the day she would claim one as her own.

She stopped to watch her brother Aemon, perched a cautious distance from Caraxes. The blood-red dragon hissed, his long neck undulating like a serpent as his tail lashed behind him. Aemon, calm and resolute, stood his ground. Alyssa couldn’t help but admire his poise, though she would never say it aloud. “Aemon the Calm,” she thought with a smirk.

Nearby, Daenerys stood with her hands clasped, watching their brother with an expression Alyssa couldn’t quite read. Daenerys had claimed a dragon once, a beautiful green creature whose name Alyssa had heard whispered in sorrowful tones. The Shivers had taken it, and though Daenerys never spoke of it, Alyssa sometimes caught her staring longingly at the skies, her violet eyes filled with a wistful ache.

Lately, Daenerys had taken to spending much of her time with the dragonkeepers, scribbling their words in Old Valyrian into her little notebooks. Septon Barth often joined her, the two of them speaking in hushed tones for hours. Alyssa wondered what all the fuss was about, though she found it strange how deeply her sister had thrown herself into learning about dragons.

“One day, I’ll have a dragon too,” Alyssa muttered to herself, her voice tinged with defiance. She surveyed the dragons in the pit, each one magnificent in its own way. Vermithor, her father’s mount, lay sprawled near the back of the pit, his massive bulk radiating an air of disinterest that made Alyssa wrinkle her nose. "Aloof and boring," she thought. Silverwing, her mother’s dragon, was beautiful and charming, a creature Alyssa had ridden beside Queen Alysanne once, clutching her mother’s waist tightly as the wind whipped through her hair. And then there was Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm, who now bent to Aemon’s will. He was fierce and strange, his elongated neck giving him a serpentine appearance that Alyssa found both thrilling and unnerving.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Aegon’s voice, cutting through the murmurs of dragonkeepers and the crackle of torchlight. “I’ve decided,” he announced, his tone imperious as ever. “I will claim the Cannibal.”

The statement hung in the air like a thunderclap. Alyssa’s head snapped toward her eldest brother, her eyes narrowing with interest. Aegon stood with his arms crossed, his silver hair catching the firelight, a self-satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. He thrived on attention, and this was no different.

“The Cannibal?” Aemon’s voice was even, but Alyssa could see the tightness in his jaw. “That dragon is untamable, Aegon. It’s been said it kills for sport, even against its own kind.”

Aegon shrugged, his smirk unfaltering. “All the more reason to claim it. What kind of king would I be if I feared a dragon?”

Daenerys tilted her head, her expression calm but curious. “It is daring,” she said softly, her voice carrying an undertone of concern. “But you know it’s dangerous. Even the dragonkeepers avoid it.”

Baelon scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. “Dangerous? It’s suicidal. But I’d like to see you try,” he added with a challenging grin. “You’d have to be mad to go near that beast.”

Alyssa couldn’t hold back her laughter. “Madness suits you, Aegon,” she teased, her grin mischievous. “The Cannibal for the Cannibal’s heir. How poetic.”

Aegon raised an eyebrow at her, clearly unbothered. “And what about you, little sister? Which dragon do you fancy?”

“Silverwing,” Alyssa answered without hesitation. “She’s beautiful, loyal, and far less likely to bite my head off.” She shot him a cheeky grin.

Aegon chuckled, shaking his head. “Safe choices are for the small-minded. Remember that.”

Alyssa rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

The air on Dragonstone was sharp and briny, carrying the tang of the sea even in the dead of night. Alyssa crouched low behind a stack of barrels on the castle grounds, her excitement bubbling to the surface as she watched her brothers finalize their preparations. Aegon was inspecting his bow, his features sharp and determined in the moonlight, while Aemon and Baelon debated the best way to avoid the dragonkeepers.

Alyssa had begged to come along the moment she overheard their plan to sneak out and track the Cannibal. It was too thrilling to resist—her eldest brother, heir to the throne, sneaking about like a common thief in pursuit of the most feared dragon on Dragonstone. Aegon had waved her off at first, claiming she was too young and too loud, but Aemon had spoken on her behalf.

“She’s quiet when she wants to be,” Aemon had said, his voice reasonable. “And she’s quick. If we need someone to warn us, she’ll be useful.”

Now, she was watching as Aemon and Baelon worked together to lift a sack of weapons. They had raided the armory earlier that evening, each grabbing a sword while Aegon insisted on bringing only his bow. “A bow is all I need,” he had said with his usual arrogance. Alyssa had rolled her eyes at the memory.

“What’s taking so long?” she whispered harshly, darting from her hiding spot to join them. “We’re going to get caught if we don’t leave soon.”

Baelon turned to her with an exasperated look. “We’re waiting for you to stop talking.”

Alyssa stuck her tongue out at him, unbothered. “You’d be lost without me.”

Aegon didn’t look up from his bowstring. “She’s right. If we get caught, it’ll be her job to distract the guards.”

“Gladly,” Alyssa shot back, grinning. “But only if I get to see the Cannibal first.”

Aemon shook his head, his calm demeanor betraying a hint of apprehension. “We’re not going to see it up close, Alyssa. We’re just scouting for signs of its lair.”

“That’s what you think,” Baelon muttered under his breath, his eyes gleaming with barely concealed excitement. “If we find it, I say we see how close we can get.”

Aemon’s gaze sharpened. “We’re not risking our lives for this, Baelon. Father already made it clear that Aegon was to claim a dragon, not die trying.”

At the mention of their father, Alyssa glanced toward Aegon. He hadn’t reacted, but there was a tension in his posture that hadn’t been there moments before. Alyssa had heard bits and pieces of the arguments between Aegon and their father. Jaehaerys had wanted his heir to claim a dragon worthy of a king—Vhagar, or perhaps even Balerion. But Vhagar had shown no interest in Aegon, and Balerion was already claimed by Princess Aerea. Their father’s irritation had grown with each passing year that Aegon remained without a mount.

Baelon broke the silence, his tone laced with mischief. “Maybe it reminds him of his brother Aegon—the Uncrowned one. He claimed Quicksilver, didn’t he? And they both died under Balerion’s jaws.”

Alyssa frowned. She didn’t know much about Aegon the Uncrowned, only that he had been the older brother of their parents and had ridden Quicksilver, a dragon that hadn’t stood a chance against the might of Balerion during the war against Maegor the Cruel. She shivered at the thought of such a fate.

“We’re wasting time,” Aegon said abruptly, slinging the bow over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

The group moved in near silence, their steps light as they navigated the rocky paths leading toward the island’s cliffs. The Cannibal was said to make its lair in the most remote and inaccessible parts of Dragonstone, feasting on livestock—and sometimes other dragons. Alyssa’s pulse quickened as they neared the edge of the island, the crash of waves far below masking the sound of their footsteps.

“What if we don’t find anything?” Alyssa whispered, glancing at Aemon.

“Then we turn back before the guards notice,” Aemon replied, his voice steady.

Baelon grinned at her, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Or we could keep looking. Who’s going to stop us?”

“Daenerys will have our heads,” Alyssa said, trying to keep her voice serious but failing to suppress a giggle. She could still hear her sister’s parting words in her head: Don’t take too long. The guards will notice the missing swords.

“Daenerys isn’t here,” Baelon said with a shrug. “And besides, she’d probably write a ballad about it if we actually found the Cannibal.”

Alyssa laughed at that, imagining her sister sitting by candlelight, scribbling furiously in one of her notebooks about her foolish siblings and their midnight escapades. She was about to respond when Aegon held up a hand, signaling them to stop.

“What is it?” Aemon asked, his voice low.

Aegon pointed ahead, his eyes narrowing. In the faint moonlight, they could just make out a trail of scorched rock leading toward a dark crevice in the cliffside. Alyssa’s breath caught in her throat.

“Do you think it’s—” she began, but Aegon silenced her with a sharp look.

“Stay quiet,” he said, his voice barely audible. “We’re close.”

Alyssa’s heart pounded as they crept forward, every shadow seeming to move, every gust of wind sounding like the growl of a dragon. She clutched at Aemon’s sleeve, her earlier bravado replaced by a mix of fear and exhilaration. Whatever lay ahead, it would be a night she would never forget.

She clutched her small dagger, not that it would do her any good if they ran into trouble. Still, it made her feel braver than she was willing to admit.

Ahead of her, Aemon and Baelon moved like shadows, their swords strapped to their hips. Aegon led the way, his bow slung across his back, his silver hair glinting faintly in the pale light. His confidence was unshakable, every step deliberate, as if he was already certain the night would end with a dragon beneath him.

“Keep quiet,” Aemon hissed, glancing back at Alyssa when her boot dislodged a loose stone. “We’re not supposed to be here.”

Alyssa bit back a retort, rolling her eyes. “Do you think I don’t know that?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. Still, her heart raced with the thrill of sneaking about in the dead of night. This was what she lived for—the secrets, the danger, the promise of something extraordinary.

Baelon, always the troublemaker when Aegon wasn’t, grinned over his shoulder. “Let her make noise. If the Cannibal’s here, it’ll come for her first.”

Alyssa stuck her tongue out at him. “And you’ll be the second course.”

Aegon didn’t join their banter. He kept moving, his eyes scanning the darkened cliffs ahead. The air felt heavier the closer they came to the lair, tinged with a faint, acrid scent Alyssa recognized from the Dragonpit. Dragonfire.

“This is foolish,” Aemon muttered as they reached the edge of a blackened cave mouth. The ground was scorched, littered with bones—some large, some disturbingly small. “Father will have our heads if he finds out.”

“Then he’d better not find out,” Aegon said, his voice steady but charged with an intensity that silenced the rest of them. He turned to face his siblings, his violet eyes sharp and unyielding. “I’ll claim this dragon tonight, or I’ll die trying.”

Alyssa shivered but hid it well. She couldn’t tell if it was the night air or the weight of her brother’s words. This wasn’t just another one of Aegon’s theatrics. This was something else—something real.

“Are you sure it’s even here?” she asked, her voice softer now, almost reverent.

“It’s here,” Aegon said, stepping into the cave’s shadow. “It’s waiting for me.”

Baelon exchanged a glance with Aemon, but neither tried to stop him. They followed, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords, while Alyssa trailed behind, every nerve in her body alight with anticipation.

The cave swallowed them whole, the air growing hotter with every step. The faint glow of moonlight faded behind them, replaced by a dim orange flicker up ahead. Alyssa’s nose wrinkled at the sharp stench of sulfur and charred flesh. She could hear the faint crackle of something burning, and then—a deep, rumbling growl that seemed to vibrate through the very stone beneath their feet.

The Cannibal.

Alyssa’s breath caught in her throat as they rounded a corner and came face to face with the beast. The dragon was massive, its dark, ragged scales glinting like obsidian in the firelight. Its wings were torn in places, its body scarred from countless battles. Its eyes, molten gold and blazing with feral intelligence, fixed on them with a predatory gleam.

For the first time, Alyssa felt a flicker of fear. This wasn’t like the dragons in the pit, majestic but familiar. This was something primal, ancient, and untamed.

Aegon stepped forward, unflinching.

The Cannibal snarled, its teeth bared in a display that could have cowed the bravest warrior. Smoke curled from its nostrils, and Alyssa half-expected it to incinerate Aegon on the spot.

But Aegon didn’t waver. He raised his arms, his voice ringing out in High Valyrian, steady and commanding. “I am Aegon of House Targaryen! Blood of Old Valyria! I am fire made flesh, and I will be your rider!”

The dragon’s growl deepened, its massive body shifting as it lowered its head to glare at him. For a moment, the air itself seemed to hold its breath. Alyssa’s heart pounded in her ears.

And then it happened.

The Cannibal let out an ear-splitting roar, a sound that shook the very walls of the cave. But it didn’t attack. Instead, it lowered its massive head, its golden eyes never leaving Aegon. Slowly, deliberately, the beast shifted, its wings folding as it knelt before him.

Alyssa’s mouth fell open.

He had done it. Aegon had claimed the Cannibal.

For a heartbeat, none of them moved. Then Aegon turned, his expression triumphant, though his hands trembled ever so slightly. “Well?” he said, his voice tinged with exhilaration. “Are you coming, or shall I take my first flight alone?”

Baelon let out a whoop of laughter, and even Aemon couldn’t hide the ghost of a smile. Alyssa, her awe quickly giving way to her usual mischief, grinned up at her brother.

“I always knew you were mad,” she said, her voice brimming with pride.

As Aegon mounted the dragon, his siblings watching in stunned silence, Alyssa felt a surge of something she couldn’t quite name. It was more than excitement, more than awe. It was the realization that, for all his arrogance and theatrics, Aegon was their brother—and tonight, he had proven himself worthy of the blood that ran in their veins.

When the Cannibal spread its massive wings and took to the skies, Alyssa’s laughter rang out, wild and unrestrained, carried on the wind like the roar of a dragon.

75 AC

The dawn after her wedding was warm and golden, the kind of morning that seemed to hum with promise. Dragonstone basked in the afterglow of the celebrations, though most of the castle still lay quiet. Alyssa, however, was anything but.

She stood on the scorched sands of the dragon yard, her chest heaving and cheeks flushed. Her wedding gown had been replaced by a riding outfit of crimson leather, her hair braided tightly back. The fire in her mismatched eyes matched the rising sun.

Ahead of her loomed Meleys, the Red Queen, a sleek, magnificent beast whose scales gleamed like rubies. She had never known a rider, despite years spent circling Dragonstone and sunning herself atop its crags. Meleys was wild, proud, and unyielding—traits Alyssa understood all too well.

Baelon watched from the edge of the yard, his broad shoulders framed by the massive wings of Vhagar, who crouched behind him like a sentinel. His own dragon claim was already a story for the ages: Vhagar, the oldest and mightiest dragon alive, who had served the Conqueror’s sister-queen. But Baelon wasn’t here to overshadow her; he was here to witness.

“Are you sure about this?” he called, his deep voice carrying across the yard. There was no mockery in it, only a flicker of concern buried beneath his usual confidence. “You’ve nothing to prove, Alyssa. Not to me.”

Alyssa turned to him, her smile fierce and unrelenting. “This isn’t about you, Baelon,” she said. “This is about her.” She nodded toward the dragon.

Meleys lifted her massive head, her golden eyes narrowing as she studied Alyssa. Smoke curled from her nostrils, and her tail swept across the ground, leaving deep furrows in the sand. The dragon let out a low growl, the sound vibrating in Alyssa’s chest, but she didn’t flinch.

“Besides,” she added, throwing Baelon a look over her shoulder, “I won’t have it said that you’re the only one in this family with fire in your veins.”

Baelon chuckled, leaning lazily against Vhagar’s foreleg. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Alyssa faced Meleys again, her heart pounding. She took a deep breath, the salt-tinged air filling her lungs, and stepped forward. Each step felt like an eternity, the sand shifting beneath her boots, the weight of the dragon’s gaze bearing down on her.

She stopped a few feet from Meleys, craning her neck to meet those golden eyes. For a moment, neither moved. Then Alyssa spoke, her voice steady and clear, every word ringing with Valyrian pride.

“Red Queen,” she said in High Valyrian, “you are fire unclaimed, a jewel of the sky, but your time alone has ended. I am Alyssa of House Targaryen, daughter of the Dragon, blood of Old Valyria. I will be your rider, and together we will set the skies aflame.”

Meleys growled again, a deeper rumble that sent a tremor through the ground. She unfurled her wings, their translucent membranes catching the sunlight in a dazzling display of red and gold. Alyssa braced herself as the dragon leaned closer, the heat of her breath washing over her.

The silence stretched, thick with tension, until at last Meleys shifted. Slowly, deliberately, the Red Queen lowered her massive head, her golden eyes still locked on Alyssa.

Alyssa felt the rush of victory before it even fully dawned on her. She stepped forward, her fingers brushing the rough, warm scales of the dragon’s neck. Meleys let out a sharp snort, but she didn’t pull away.

Alyssa didn’t hesitate. With a grace born of years spent in the dragon yard, she climbed onto Meleys’ back, settling herself between the ridges. The world tilted for a moment as the dragon shifted beneath her, and then Meleys let out a triumphant roar, the sound echoing across the castle.

From his place by Vhagar, Baelon grinned up at her, his face alight with pride. Alyssa leaned forward, resting her hands against Meleys’ warm scales, and called down to him, her voice ringing with playful triumph.

“Red maidens, the two of us,” she declared, her laughter carrying on the breeze. “But now we’ve both been mounted.”

Baelon laughed, the sound full and unrestrained. Even Vhagar let out a low, rumbling growl, as if the great dragon understood the moment’s significance.

Alyssa didn’t wait for her husband’s reply. She urged Meleys upward, and the Red Queen responded with a leap that sent them soaring into the sky. The wind tore at Alyssa’s hair as the castle fell away beneath them, her laughter mingling with the dragon’s triumphant roar.

Above the waves and cliffs of Dragonstone, Alyssa felt invincible. She was no longer just a daughter of fire—she was a rider, a queen of the skies.