The sun had barely begun its climb above the eastern horizon when Damon Targaryen rode out from the Red Keep.
The city was only beginning to wake.
Bakers opened their ovens, fishmongers hauled fresh catches from the docks. Gold Cloaks changed shifts atop the walls.
Yet even at this hour, eyes followed him.
Not because he was a prince.
Not because he was going to sit on the Iron Throne.
But because the shadow of Caraxes still haunted every conversation in King's Landing.
Damon rode through the city gates accompanied by only two men.
Ser Harwin Waters and Ser Jon Hollard.
Both were utterly loyal. Both had followed him long before the dragon appeared.
And behind them four goats were led on ropes.
The guards exchanged confused glances.
Neither dared question him.
Eventually Ser Harwin broke the silence.
"Your Grace..."
Damon glanced toward him.
"Yes?"
"Are the goats for Caraxes?"
A faint smile touched Damon's lips.
"What else would they be for?"
Harwin looked toward the animals.
Then toward the distant forest.
Then back at Damon.
He wisely chose not to ask another question.
Away from King's Landing, deep within the Kingswood, Caraxes waited. The dragon had once again moved his resting place to the Kingswood; this arrangement wasn't ideal at all. Damon planned to rebuild the Dragonpit, but improved it so the dragon could come and go as they pleased, as he didn't want to chain them again and wouldn't. He believed that with how intelligent they were, the dragon would not wonder to far and would always return. This idea wasn't set in stone completely yet, as he was still thinking about how to improve it, and he didn't have the funds to rebuild and improve the pit, but that would soon be solved.
The Blood Wyrm rested atop a rocky clearing surrounded by ancient trees.
He was magnificent.
Crimson scales gleamed like fresh blood beneath the morning light.
Smoke drifted lazily from his nostrils.
His wings remained folded against his enormous body.
Even resting, he looked dangerous.
The ground trembled slightly as Damon approached.
Caraxes immediately lifted his head.
Golden eyes fixed upon him.
A low rumble emerged from the dragon's throat.
Recognition.
Approval.
Possessiveness.
Damon felt the bond instantly.
It was becoming stronger every day.
More natural.
More real.
Almost like another mind brushing against his own.
The Blood Wyrm rose slowly.
Trees shook from the movement.
The two guards immediately froze.
Even after seeing Caraxes before, the sheer scale of him remained terrifying.
Damon dismounted calmly.
"Bring the goats."
The animals were practically dragged forward.
The moment Caraxes smelled them, his attention shifted.
The dragon's tongue flicked out.
Smoke thickened around his jaws.
Then.
Fire.
A torrent of bright crimson flame erupted from his mouth. The goats vanished instantly.
The clearing exploded with heat; ash drifted upward.
The smell of burned flesh filled the air. When the fire ended, nothing remained but charred remains.
Caraxes lowered his head.
A single bite swallowed half of them.
Another finished the rest.
The dragon's teeth crushed bone like dry twigs.
Harwin swallowed, visibly nervous.
The saddle gleamed atop the dragon's back.
Black leather.
Valyrian steel fittings.
Ancient craftsmanship.
The System had provided it after their bonding.
Damon approached confidently. Caraxes lowered himself instinctively, the bond again.
Already the dragon understood.
Already he obeyed.
Damon climbed upward.
Hand over hand.
Scale after scale.
Until he finally settled into the saddle.
The view alone stole his breath.
From here he sat higher than most castle towers.
The world suddenly seemed smaller.
Fragile.
Conquerable.
His heart pounded.
Not from fear.
Excitement.
Power.
Possibility.
He placed one hand against the dragon's neck.
The scales felt warm beneath his palm.
Almost hot.
Then he spoke.
"Soves."
Fly.
Caraxes moved instantly.
The dragon's muscles tightened.
Wings unfolded.
Massive.
Terrifying.
Beautiful.
The clearing vanished beneath shadows.
The trees bent beneath the pressure.
Leaves exploded into the air.
The guards stumbled backward.
And then, Caraxes leapt.
The world dropped away.
King's Landing heard the roar before they saw him.
Thousands looked upward.
And gasped.
The Blood Wyrm rose above the city like a living mountain.
Wings beat against the sky.
Clouds scattered before him.
Children screamed.
Men pointed.
Women fell to their knees.
The dragon flew directly over the city walls.
Over Flea Bottom.
Over the Great Sept.
Over the Red Keep itself.
Upon Caraxes' back sat Damon Targaryen.
Silver hair streaming behind him.
Black cloak snapping in the wind.
For a moment he looked less like a man and more like something from legend.
A dragonlord reborn.
In the Tower of the Hand, Varys watched from a narrow window.
His eyes widened despite himself.
The Spider rarely allowed emotion to show.
Yet now he stared openly.
The prince was flying the dragon.
Confidently.
Naturally.
As though dragonriding had always belonged to him.
Varys felt cold realization settle deeper within his stomach.
The dragonlords were back.
Elsewhere in the Red Keep, Tywin Lannister stood upon a balcony.
The shadow passed overhead.
His eyes followed it.
Calculating.
Always calculating.
A dragon changed wars.
A dragon changed politics.
A dragon changed history.
Yet watching Damon ride through the sky, Tywin realized something even more dangerous.
The people loved it.
The common folk stared upward with wonder.
Fear.
Awe.
Reverence.
Already stories were being born.
Already legends were forming.
Tywin's expression hardened.
The longer Damon lived, the harder he would become to challenge.
And that made marriage even more important.
Cersei needed to arrive quickly.
Very quickly.
Within the royal apartments, Rhaella stood near a window.
Viserys beside her.
Elia nearby.
All three stared upward.
Caraxes swept over the Red Keep.
The dragon's roar rattled glass.
Rhaella's eyes filled with tears.
Not fear.
Wonder.
For a moment, she looked younger.
Like a girl hearing stories of Jaehaerys and Alysanne.
Of dragons filling the skies.
"We truly have them again."
Her voice trembled.
Viserys looked almost feverish.
"I want one."
The words escaped him instantly.
"I want a dragon."
Elia remained silent.
Watching Damon disappear beyond the city walls.
Her expression was harder to read.
Concern.
Uncertainty.
The prince she thought she understood seemed increasingly like a stranger.
Damon laughed as Caraxes flew.
The wind tore at him.
The world stretched endlessly beneath them.
Fields.
Roads.
Forests.
Rivers.
Everything seemed small from above.
Insignificant.
The Blood Wyrm climbed higher.
Then higher still.
The air grew colder.
The city disappeared behind them.
The Kingswood expanded beneath like a green ocean.
Eventually, Damon guided Caraxes downward.
The dragon obeyed immediately.
Massive wings angled.
Air screamed past.
Trees rushed upward.
Then.
Impact.
The forest exploded.
Ancient trees shattered beneath Caraxes' weight.
Branches snapped.
Birds erupted into the sky.
Dust rolled through the clearing.
When everything settled, the dragon stood among broken trunks and crushed earth.
Damon climbed down.
His boots touched soil.
The exhilaration remained.
His first flight.
And only the beginning.
He approached Caraxes.
Placed a hand against the dragon's neck.
The Blood Wyrm rumbled softly.
"I'll be back."
The dragon blinked.
Watching him.
Damon smiled.
Then his expression hardened.
He had told his guards when he took flight to return to the city; he had no intention of revealing what he was about to do to anyone else.
Because now came the true purpose of this journey.
The second use of his gift.
Two chances remained.
Two opportunities to reshape history.
And he knew exactly what he wanted.
Another dragon.
Not merely a dragon.
A female dragon.
One capable of laying eggs.
Capable of restoring House Targaryen completely. Damon knew he having dragons wasn't enough; his future children needed their own dragons too, and he meant only his children; he had no intention of giving his brother, mother, or Rheagar's children a dragon or egg, and if they tried going against his decision, he would make sure they learned the consequence.
For several moments, Damon considered his options.
Vhagar.
Too dangerous.
Too difficult.
Silverwing.
Possible.
Dreamfyre.
The answer appeared obvious.
Ancient.
Powerful.
Female.
And most importantly...
There existed a period when she had no rider, and he knew when that was.
Perfect.
Damon inhaled slowly.
Then activated the gift.
"Year 119 AC, Kingslanding Dragonpit."
Reality shattered.