Just as Duke Beaumond was meeting the king, Gaimon, soaring freely on Bahamut's back, finally managed to calm the excitement that had been racing through his chest. He took a deep breath, turned Bahamut around, and began heading back toward the Red Castle.
With a mighty burst of smoke and dust, Bahamut descended gracefully onto the castle's training grounds. The ground trembled under the dragon's massive feet, yet the landing was steady, controlled, and precise. Gaimon nimbly leapt from Bahamut's back, landing with such flair that any onlooker might have mistaken him for a master acrobat.
"Good boy! You've done well," Gaimon said, his voice brimming with pride. "Go and have a good meal, then rest properly."
He walked over to Bahamut, resting a hand against the dragon's sleek, python-like neck. "You've earned this, my friend," he whispered. Bahamut, sensing the calm tone in Gaimon's voice, moved to one side of the training ground where a skinned goat lay ready.
The dragon's massive jaws exhaled a torrent of platinum flames, instantly roasting the meat to perfection. Bahamut, having just completed a strenuous flight, bent his neck like a living coil and began devouring the meal with a speed and precision that matched his fearsome reputation.
Gaimon watched quietly, a sense of profound satisfaction filling him. There was something deeply fulfilling about seeing his dragon strong, content, and well-fed.
"Gaimon!"
A voice called out, snapping him from his reverie. Turning, he saw his second brother, Baeron, approaching.
"Second brother! Are you calling me?" Gaimon asked, curiosity twinkling in his eyes.
Baeron smiled faintly, though his expression was tempered by a hint of seriousness. "Good job, Gaimon. You've done well today. You've proven yourself worthy of our Targaryen family."
Gaimon's chest puffed with pride. "Haha! I know, right? I'm awesome, aren't I?"
Baeron's gaze hardened slightly. "Don't get too proud, kid. You only have the advantage because Bahamut chose you. Without him, who knows when you'd even be riding a dragon?"
Gaimon's grin didn't falter. "I know! But my brothers are all incredibly brave and skilled dragon riders. I want to learn from them and become useful to our family."
Baeron's tone softened, though his words remained blunt. "Your current skills aren't far above an average knight. In a few years, when you grow stronger, there won't be many who can match you—but don't let this make you arrogant."
"Of course, it's all thanks to your guidance, brother. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have improved so fast," Gaimon said, seizing the opportunity to flatter Baeron.
Baeron's lips curved into a small, approving smile. Over the past two years, he had often tested Gaimon, pushing him to his limits to ensure he wouldn't become complacent. Gaimon had grown accustomed to this, and it never dampened his admiration for his brother.
"By the way, did Father agree to what I asked him earlier?" Gaimon asked, shifting the topic.
Baeron shook his head slightly. "I'm not sure. If you're anxious, go ask Father and Big Brother directly. Some things are better not left to me."
Gaimon nodded, though a hint of impatience lingered. "I just asked for a piece of wasteland. Why is he so stingy?"
Baeron chuckled softly. "Kid, it's not stinginess. Land is a serious matter. I don't even have any of my own yet."
"I promised Father I wouldn't ask for money to build on it. I only want a patch of unused land. Nothing more. No one knows what it could become in the future," Gaimon explained, his voice steady with determination.
He had made this proposal to King Jaehaerys some time ago. His plan was simple: to claim a section of the Royal Forest and relocate some of King's Landing's growing population there. He assured the king he did not need state funds—he would raise all necessary resources himself.
King Jaehaerys had not refused outright, nor had he approved. His response was ambiguous, and the matter lingered in Gaimon's mind like an unfinished thread. Riding Bahamut today was more than a flight—it was preparation. Preparation for a future where he could establish his own territory.
Baeron, despite his loyalty and care for Gaimon, was not entirely optimistic. "Opening wasteland and cultivating it? That requires manpower, supplies, and time. You're young, Gaimon. Even with your skills, your father isn't yet convinced you're ready."
Westeros was vast, and the Targaryens had no shortage of land. The Royal Forest alone spanned thirty thousand square kilometers. Yet for a king, handing out even a small portion was never trivial. There were countless logistical and political considerations. King Jaehaerys intended to wait until Gaimon was older, more experienced, before granting such a privilege.
But for Gaimon, time was a scarce resource. He understood the speed required to build, cultivate, and establish influence in a new territory. Years could be wasted waiting. Every day mattered in shaping his future.
Baeron, seeing the determination in his brother's eyes, placed a hand on his shoulder. "I cannot promise the king will agree now. But your resolve is admirable. Keep honing your skills. Prove yourself not just as a dragon rider, but as a leader. Then, perhaps, your wish will be granted sooner than anyone expects."
Gaimon's eyes sparkled with a mixture of excitement and resolve. "I will, second brother. I will make sure that when I finally get this land, it becomes a legacy worthy of the Targaryens."
The two brothers watched Bahamut finish his meal. The dragon's golden eyes reflected the sunlight, almost as if he understood the weight of Gaimon's ambitions. For the boy, the path ahead was filled with challenges, rivalries, and responsibilities. But in that moment, as the wind whispered through the Red Castle's towers and the dragon's breathing steadied, Gaimon felt a rare sense of harmony.
He knew the road ahead was long, and the king's hesitation was only a temporary barrier. With his brothers' guidance, Bahamut at his side, and unwavering determination, Gaimon's dream of carving out his own destiny was no longer just a fleeting thought—it was becoming an inevitable reality.
Gaimon took one last look at the sprawling city of King's Landing, its streets teeming with life, its towers climbing ever higher. The city was overcrowded, chaotic, and in desperate need of order and planning. To Gaimon, it was more than just a city—it was a canvas. And on that canvas, he intended to leave his mark..
With Bahamut at his side, and the guidance of his family behind him, Gaimon felt ready. Ready to step forward, ready to claim his piece of the world, and ready to shape a future that would be remembered for generations.
Ãdvåñçé çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn (Gk31)