Janice let out a short gasp, her face instantly flushing crimson.
Lo Quen, after a moment of stunned surprise, was overwhelmed by immense joy. Without pausing to compose himself, he strode to the windowsill, stretched out both hands, and gently cradled the three newly freed, slimy little creatures into his warm, broad embrace.
They squirmed in his arms, emitting faint, weak hisses. One was covered in deep, pure crimson scales, like solidified blood. Another was cloaked in dark purple scales, their subdued luster making them seem even more mysterious. The last shimmered with flawless silver, as if forged from condensed moonlight.
Three young dragons—three exquisitely crafted living jewels—blinked around in dazed wonder. Moonlight streamed gently through the window, bathing them in its soft glow, as though the heavens themselves were crowning this miracle of new life.
Cradled in Lo Quen's sturdy arms, the newborn dragons let out excited, childish hisses—sharp, yet brimming with life. Their long, serpentine necks nuzzled affectionately against his chest, their rough yet warm scales brushing against his clothes.
Three pairs of eyes, bright as burning coals from the heart of a forge, shimmered with the faint, innocent light of newfound awareness. Unblinking, they fixed their gaze upon Lo Quen's face, filled with trust and dependence.
Janice stepped closer, her expression soft and tender, violet eyes brimming with awe and affection. She extended slender fingers, gently stroking each young dragon's small, scale-covered head in turn. The touch was warm and strange, thrumming with the vibrant pulse of new life.
Sensing the unfamiliar yet gentle touch, the three little dragons turned their remarkably flexible necks, tilting their heads as they studied Janice with bright, curious eyes. Among them, the one cloaked in dark violet scales seemed to share a mysterious resonance with her soul.
It let out a clear, high-pitched hiss. Its foreclaws—thin as cicada wings, yet already faintly sharp—hooked carefully onto Lo Quen's arm for leverage. With a quick push from its hind legs, it arced gracefully through the air and landed neatly in Janice's hastily outstretched arms.
The purple hatchling immediately curled up comfortably in her embrace, its tiny head nuzzling her arm.
"It recognizes you, Janice."
Lo Quen smiled as he watched the scene unfold. The warm, living creature in her arms filled Janice's heart with joy. Her violet eyes curved into two crescent moons, and a radiant smile bloomed across her face, pure and heartfelt.
As a descendant of the ancient bloodline of Valyria, dragons had long been etched into her soul—an obsession almost instinctive in nature. Though she had once witnessed Lo Quen transform into a golden dragon vast enough to shroud the skies, holding a living dragon of her own stirred an overwhelming thrill deep within her veins, a wave of emotion so intense it nearly took her breath away.
These awakened dragon eggs, all infused with the [Dragonbond Lineage], shared a soul-deep connection with those who carried Lo Quen's blood. Janice's acceptance by the young dragon was not due to her Valyrian heritage, but to the Dragonblood Pact ritual that had imbued her with Lo Quen's essence.
This meant that if another bearer of pure Valyrian Dragonlord blood dared approach this purple dragon, they would not be greeted with affection—but with unrelenting, lethal Dragonfire.
Lo Quen's gaze softened as it lingered on the small, violet life nestled in Janice's arms. Moonlight streamed through the stone window like strands of silver silk, draping across the young dragon's body. Its scales gleamed with a deep, restrained purple hue that, under the moon's glow, refracted a magnificent brilliance like the finest amethyst. Each scale seemed to conceal its own mystery, exuding an air of noble grace.
Withdrawing his gaze, Lo Quen looked down at the two other hatchlings in his arms. One of them was clearly more robust and slender than the purple and silver dragons—the very one he had favored from the beginning, its scales the deep crimson of congealed blood.
Now it lay quietly in his embrace, its red scales gleaming faintly in the dim light, rich and pure as if freshly forged from volcanic fire—its stillness concealing a boundless, explosive energy within.
What struck Lo Quen even more deeply was that this blood dragon not only had forelimbs connected by nearly transparent, pale-red wing membranes, but from the junctions of its hind legs and powerful torso also extended two more semi-translucent wings, glimmering like blood-colored glass.
This unique physical trait instantly stirred a memory in Lo Quen. In his mind's eye, he recalled Daemon Targaryen's mount, the "Blood Wyrm" Caraxes, which bore a similar form. Could this blood dragon share some mysterious bloodline connection with that legendary creature?
The last hatchling nestled in his arms was the silver-white little dragon. Compared to the blood dragon's sturdy frame, it appeared smaller and more delicate, its entire body cloaked in flawless scales that seemed to have crystallized from pure moonlight, gleaming with a gentle yet striking radiance.
This little dragon, like a spirit born of moonlight, was meant to be Jaelena's companion.
Lo Quen smiled warmly at Janice, who was still basking in happiness. "Janice, these little ones... they don't have names yet."
Janice looked up from the purple dragon, meeting the hatchling's curious violet eyes. For a moment, she seemed unsure.
According to ancient Valyrian custom, the Dragonlords usually named their dragons after the true names of the Fourteen Flames deities, symbolizing reverence and a bond with power. Yet, as she lowered her gaze to the small dragon in her arms, she could feel the profound, inseparable link between its soul and Lo Quen's.
She sensed clearly that these three young dragons felt absolute trust and devotion toward Lo Quen. Even if he wished to ride them now, none would resist. The old Valyrian traditions no longer applied to these miracles reborn through his blood.
"As for their names..." Janice said softly, "you should be the one to choose. They were born because of you—bound to you by blood."
Lo Quen understood her meaning. He glanced down at the hatchlings in his arms and decided on the most fitting and graceful approach: to name them after their most distinct traits.
The Targaryens had four common methods for naming dragons. The first was to borrow directly from Valyrian deities, such as Balerion or Vhagar. The second was to name them after their physical attributes—names like Quicksilver or Silverwing. The third drew from their temperaments or habits, such as Cannibal or Sheepstealer. The fourth was to use human names, as Daenerys had done with her three dragons.
Lo Quen found the second method the most elegant. Names chosen this way carried a natural beauty, while the others often sounded awkward or crude.
His gaze drifted toward the stone window, where cool moonlight streamed in like flowing water, wrapping the three newborn dragons in a soft, silvery glow. An idea came to him.
His voice was low and steady. "The crimson hatchling has wing membranes on its hind legs—its flight will surely be as graceful as a dance. I'll call it 'Blooddancer.' The purple one's scales are deep and subdued, like the shades of dusk—it shall be 'Duskshadow.' And the silver hatchling's scales shine like a cascading silver waterfall—let it be 'Silverfall.'"
The moment he finished, Duskshadow, nestled in Janice's arms, let out an excited cry, bobbing its little head up and down as if eagerly nodding. Blooddancer and Silverfall, still in Lo Quen's arms, also lifted their heads at once, emitting clear, crisp hisses.
Blooddancer affectionately nuzzled Lo Quen's chin with its crimson-scaled neck, while Silverfall opened its tiny mouth and puffed out a thin wisp of sulfurous smoke.
Janice couldn't help but laugh, her violet eyes sparkling with delight. "Look! They really seem to love their names. Their reactions are almost human!"
A flicker of astonishment crossed Lo Quen's eyes. That they could so clearly recognize and respond to their names was remarkable. It seemed the hatchlings awakened through his [Dragonbond Lineage] possessed far greater intelligence than the dragons of Valyria.
Which meant their future growth might well exceed anything he had imagined.
...
The next morning, as Lo Quen and Janice entered the hall carrying the three young dragons—each curiously studying their new surroundings—ready for breakfast, Archmaester Marwyn nearly choked on his hard bread.
His eyes went wide as the bread fell from his trembling hand with a soft thud. He pointed with a shaking finger toward the trio of vibrant, energetic young dragons before him.
"G-gods above, last night... they hatched?!"
Marwyn's voice cracked with sheer disbelief.
As if to answer the Archmaester's astonishment, the three young dragons simultaneously lifted their tiny heads in perfect unison, letting out a series of soft, high-pitched hisses—like proud declarations of their birth.
Lo Quen smiled as he sat down, picking up a piece of bread. His tone was light but carried a deeper undertone. "Indeed. Under the deepest moonlight last night, these three little ones gave us quite the 'surprise'—and what a commotion they made."
He cast a meaningful glance at Janice. Her fair cheeks instantly turned crimson. Lowering her head shyly, she gently stroked Duskshadow in her arms.
Unable to contain his scholar's curiosity, Marwyn reached out to touch Blooddancer, the most imposing of the three and the closest to him.
However, Blooddancer's slender, crimson-scaled body twisted with astonishing agility, elegantly evading his hand. Its serpentine neck turned toward Marwyn, and its blood-red eyes—like glowing embers—suddenly sharpened. Fixing its gaze on the unfamiliar Archmaester, it let out a low, warning growl from deep within its throat.
Startled by the hatchling's open display of ferocity, Marwyn awkwardly withdrew his hand, chuckling at himself. "Ah, it seems my diluted Dragonlord blood isn't even enough to earn me the right to get close to these little ones..."
House Velaryon and House Targaryen had intermarried, sharing the blood of old Valyria's dragonlords.
Lo Quen tore off a small piece of cooked beef and fed it to Silverfall, who had curiously leaned closer. Smiling faintly, he replied, "Archmaester, this has nothing to do with thin blood. Even if Aegon the Conqueror himself were reborn and stood before them, the result would be no different.
They are miracles reborn through my blood. The core of their soul contracts has long replaced the ancient Valyrian Dragonlord pacts. They acknowledge only my will—and those bound to me through my blood."
Marwyn nodded slowly, his eyes gleaming with academic fascination. "I see... a completely reshaped soul contract. This touches upon the very essence of the soul itself. Perhaps Maester Qyburn would be better suited to comment—his research in that field is... extensive."
Lo Quen interrupted calmly, "You'll meet him soon enough. I've chosen a location along the coast of Essos—near the Crown Tree Hills—to build a strong fortress. It will serve as our outpost to oversee the Disputed Lands and watch over the Narrow Sea.
Qyburn will depart from Bloodstone Isle to take charge of the operation there. As for you... Torturer's Deep, though well-defended and naturally fortified, is cold, damp, and cramped year-round—hardly a suitable place to raise dragons and aid their growth. We must move to the mainland and carve out a wider realm for them.
To the east of the new castle lies a secluded, fertile river valley. That will become their future home and nesting ground. You will come with me to Crown Town."
At those words, Marwyn immediately grabbed the fallen piece of bread from the table and took a hearty bite. Speaking through a full mouth, his voice was muffled yet full of relief. "Good! Excellent! I've had enough of this damned place! If not for those precious Valyria manuscripts, I wouldn't have stayed another day!"
..
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