"A wild dragon, huh.." he repeated, disbelief plain upon his face.
In all the years since the Doom, only three creatures were counted among the true Wild Dragons. Beasts without rider or master. Beasts that answered to nothing but hunger and instinct.
What unsettled him was not the report itself, but the silence within his blood.
Sunfyre lay roosting scarcely half a league away, yet the bond between them stirred with no alarm. No ripple of warning. No flicker of agitation. It was as though nothing amiss had drawn near Drakoncrest at all.
That troubled him deeply.
"Take me to it," Aegon said at once. His voice was calm, but his eyes had hardened. "Has anyone seen the creature clearly? Its color. Its shape."
He did not wait for an answer. Already he was striding from the chamber, boots echoing against stone, his cloak snapping behind him. In the outer hall he encountered Princess Helaena and Prince Daeron, both drawn by the disturbance.
Helaena's brow was knit, pale fingers clutching the folds of her gown.
"Aegon," she said softly, but there was unease in her voice. "Whatever it is, it is large. Dreamfyre has been restless since dusk. She has not been so agitated since the storms last winter."
One of the castle guards stepped forward, his face drained of color. He swallowed before speaking.
"Your Highness, the dragon is enormous. Not Vhagar, gods no, but close to Princess Dreamfyre in size, from what the fishermen saw before fleeing."
"Close to Dreamfyre?" Aegon echoed.
That alone ruled out one name.
The Cannibal was larger still, ancient and monstrous, black as a moonless night. If this beast rivaled Dreamfyre and no more, then it was another.
Yet that only deepened the mystery.
Why would a Wild Dragon dare approach Drakoncrest now?
Sunfyre had grown vast these past years, his golden scales thick as plate and his wings stretching wider than fifty paces. With Dreamfyre beside him, even Vhagar would have to consider the cost of battle, let alone a wild beast.
Aegon turned to Helaena, studying her face.
"Come with me," he said. "We will see what this dragon wants."
Helaena hesitated only a heartbeat before nodding. "Very well."
"I want to come too!" Daeron blurted, already half-smiling, excitement sparking in his eyes.
Aegon's hand shot out and caught Daeron by the ear.
"You?" he said sharply. "Absolutely not."
Daeron yelped as Aegon twisted, his face flushing red in an instant.
"Tessarion is still a hatchling compared to this beast. Are you eager to be torn from the sky and swallowed whole?"
"I was wrong, I was wrong," Daeron gasped, clutching at Aegon's wrist. "Brother, let go. You will rip it off."
Aegon released him with an irritated shove.
"When will any of you grant me a single moment's peace," he muttered.
Wild Dragons were not like those raised in the Dragonpit or the caverns of Drakoncrest. They did not know restraint. They did not hesitate. A single misjudgment, and Tessarion's slender blue form would be nothing more than broken bone and ash.
A thunderous hiss rolled across the yard.
Sunfyre unfurled his wings, molten gold catching the torchlight as he surged skyward. Dreamfyre followed, her pale blue form rising with a cry that rattled stone and soul alike.
The two dragons wheeled together.
From far to the north came answering roars, deep and resonant, echoing across the sea cliffs.
Aegon swung into Sunfyre's saddle and glanced back once.
Helaena was already mounted, her silver hair streaming loose as Dreamfyre coiled and leapt.
Aegon raised a hand, fingers curling in the Valyrian signal.
Follow.
Sunfyre surged forward, wings beating harder as he cut through the night air. Dreamfyre matched his pace, her roar echoing alongside his.
The sea wind tore at Aegon's cloak and hair, salt stinging his eyes. Below them, moonlight shattered upon black waves.
Then he saw it.
A vast shape ahead, wings broad and heavy, scales the color of dried earth. The moonlight did not gleam upon it as it did upon Sunfyre or Dreamfyre. It drank the light, dull and coarse.
Aegon's breath caught.
Recognition struck like a blade.
"Sheepstealer," he whispered.
The Mud Dragon.
Ugly, foul-tempered, and ancient in his own right. His hide was a mottled brown, his wings stained darker by years of soot and blood. In the histories, he was said to favor sheep and goats, stealing them from shepherds along the cliffs, hence his name.
In the years to come, he would be counted among the greatest prizes of the Dance.
Aegon leaned forward, urging Sunfyre on.
Helaena gasped as well, her eyes widening as she saw not only the dragon, but the shape astride its back.
"There is someone riding him," she said, disbelief threading her voice.
The three dragons cut through the night, moonlight silvering their forms. At last, Sheepstealer's rider seemed to tire of flight. The Mud Dragon descended toward a rocky clearing, folding his wings with surprising obedience.
Sunfyre and Dreamfyre landed opposite him, earth shuddering beneath their weight.
Aegon remained mounted, every muscle tense.
Then Sunfyre did something unexpected.
However, Sunfyre voluntarily lowered itself, allowing Aegon to dismount.
Aegon froze.
Sunfyre would never do this in the presence of a threat.
He dismounted slowly, eyes never leaving Sheepstealer.
"Is he one of ours?" Aegon murmured.
The rider slid from Sheepstealer's back.
As the figure straightened, moonlight revealed a familiar, broad-shouldered man, hair tangled, clothes torn and scorched.
Aegon stared.
"Hugh?"
Princess Helaena inhaled sharply but did not dismount. Her hands tightened upon Dreamfyre's reins.
Hugh strode forward and dropped to one knee, head bowed.
"Your Highness," he said hoarsely. "I beg leave to explain myself."
Aegon did not answer at once. His gaze flicked from Hugh to Sheepstealer and back again.
"How," Aegon asked at last, his voice measured, "did you tame that dragon?"
Hugh hesitated, then lifted his head slightly.
"It was not my intent," he said. "It was an accident."
He spoke then of fire and blood, of Sheepstealer wounded and gasping, half-strangled by the Cannibal in a savage clash among the skies. Of words spoken in High Valyrian, not commands but pleas.
Aegon listened in silence.
When Hugh finished, something unreadable crossed Aegon's face.
To bind an adult Wild Dragon without blood sacrifice. Without meat. Without days of patience.
Two sentences.
If word of this spread, every dragonseed on Drakoncrest would be tempted to gamble their lives.
Hugh had been destined to claim Vermithor in the original story. But Sheepstealer was scarcely smaller, and far more feral.
"You understand," Aegon said slowly, "why this troubles me."
Hugh bowed his head again. "I do. I never sought this power. I am only a bastard."
Aegon studied him.
Sheepstealer lifted his head, sensing his rider's fear, and loosed a warning roar.
Sunfyre answered at once, gold scales blazing.
Dreamfyre followed, her cry sharp and furious.
Three dragons faced one another, the air trembling with threat.
Aegon stepped forward and placed a hand on Hugh's shoulder.
"Enough," he said.
Hugh looked up, stunned.
"I know what you fear," Aegon continued quietly. "You think I will strip you of your dragon. You think I will punish you for daring beyond your station."
He met Hugh's eyes fully now.
"Before this night, did I ever treat you unjustly?"
Hugh swallowed hard.
"No, Your Highness."
"I have means to address your birth," Aegon said. "But understand this. You are now a dragonrider. That grants you power, but also choice."
His gaze sharpened.
"You may choose to stand with me, or you may choose another path. But do not place yourself in my way."
The night seemed to hold its breath.
"Do you understand me, Hugh Hammer?"
Hugh bowed his head to the earth.
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A/N:
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