The carriage came to a halt, and Viserys I stepped down with the support of Queen Alicent.
On his other side, Princess Helaena gently held her father's hand as well.
A black dragon was the most ferocious and cruel of all, and its combat power was unrivaled among dragonkind.
The royal guards dismounted and formed a line, while Aemond also rode up.
The first thing that caught the eye was the mountain-like silhouette of Vhagar.
The legendary old dragon's half-spread left wing looked like a living shadow in motion.
Helaena was unusually quiet, looking at Aemond only with wide violet eyes.
The giant golden pupils slowly turned, sweeping past the small crowd below before finally settling on the hatchling beneath her wing.
The old dragon let out a low rumble deep in her throat, the scales along her neck lifting slightly—an instinctive gesture of a beast protecting its calf.
Aemond stepped forward at once.
"Likiri, Vhagar," he called softly in High Valyrian.
Vhagar lowered her head, breathing out white smoke that carried the scent of sulfur. Aemond reached out and stroked the rough scales of the she-dragon one by one.
The old dragon's agitation gradually subsided.
Viserys narrowed his eyes. "He recognizes you?"
Aemond turned his face slightly. "He has only just come out of his shell today, Father."
"Novelty?" The king shook his head. "Dragons are most sensitive to scent."
"Once a rider has bonded with a dragon, other dragons lose interest in that rider."
"But the look in this young dragon's eyes… That is not curiosity. It is closer to acknowledgment of a master."
Seeing the hatchling approach Aemond without any reaction, Vhagar closed her eyes, lowered her head, and settled down to rest.
The young dragon took a few more steps forward, nearly stumbling, barely managing to stand.
He lifted his head, his dark red eyes fixed on Aemond, and a sharp, rasping chirr burst from his throat, as if calling to him.
Aemond looked at the young dragon and crouched down.
The black dragon rushed straight into his arms, tiny claws hooking into his collar as its head rubbed against Aemond's chest.
This unbelievable scene made Viserys's pupils contract sharply.
The captain of the Dragonkeepers, Rosso, approached at once and whispered a few words into the king's ear.
Viserys's brows drew together, his thin fingers tightening around his scepter.
Soon, only father and son remained.
Viserys pointed at the black dragon. "A dragonrider can bond with only one dragon in his lifetime."
"Vhagar chose you."
"And yet this young dragon shows you such… attachment."
Aemond was silent for several moments.
"Father," he finally said,
"when it comes to the mysteries of dragons, even the dragonlords of Valyria never dared claim complete understanding."
"I do not know what has happened."
"It seems… he can sense my thoughts."
Vhagar's eyes suddenly opened.
Pupils of molten gold fixed upon the king.
The old dragon rumbled deep in her throat—a warning.
Viserys froze in place, his hand still extended in the air.
"Likiri," Aemond's voice sounded again. "Calm."
The young dragon, however, poked his head out from Aemond's arms and hissed sharply toward Viserys, baring his tiny fangs.
It was clearly a refusal.
The king studied this second son of his—the one who had always been so unexpected.
Viserys took a deep breath.
"Give him a name, Aemond," he said, his voice regaining its strength.
"You will tame him—or rather, he has chosen you, and that is your right."
"Lothron," Aemond replied without hesitation, the word in High Valyrian leaving his lips.
"Lothron…" Viserys repeated softly. "In the old tongue, that means a sign?"
"That is correct." Aemond carefully set the little dragon back on the ground. The hatchling wobbled back toward the pile of meat, though he kept glancing back at Aemond from time to time.
"His very existence may be a sign."
"A sign…" the king murmured.
Viserys recalled the ancient legends passed down through generations of House Targaryen.
The earliest Valyrians had been nothing more than wandering shepherds, until they encountered dragons among the Fourteen Flames.
Some said they tamed the dragons. Others claimed they created blood magic—mixing dragon blood with their own—so that dragons came to regard them as a separate race…
Those Valyrians who possessed the blood of dragonriders became known as Dragonlords, or in other words, the forty families of dragon kings.
Other Valyrians without dragon blood became the nobility of that rising empire.
From there, the Valyrians who controlled dragons conquered and expanded across much of the eastern continent, enslaving it.
They fled with dragons and eggs to the western continent—Westeros—and eventually settled on Dragonstone.
Thus began the generations of Targaryen restoration.
More than a hundred years ago, the Targaryens set out on their journey to conquer the Seven Kingdoms.
The kings of the Seven Kingdoms were forced to bow beneath the might of dragons, remove their crowns, and become the lords of the realms they ruled today, loyal to and acknowledging Targaryen dominion over Westeros.
Now, in this world, there was only one family left with dragons—House Targaryen—and the bloodline of dragons…