A bloody maw opened wide—and from it, orange dragonflame erupted, flooding the dark cavern in searing light.
In an instant, the temperature soared.
The dragon keepers barely had time to react before the fire washed over them in a roaring arc.
"AHHH!"
Screams echoed through the stone halls as they scattered, fleeing through smoke and heat, shadows dancing in the firelight.
"Aemon, go!"
Rhaenyra moved fast, grabbing his small hand and pulling him back.
But he didn't budge.
She tugged again, harder this time.
Still, he stood rooted to the ground, his eyes locked ahead.
"Hsssss!"
The fire died as suddenly as it had come, and the true form of the dragon was revealed—light blue scales shimmering with silver threads, eyes glowing amber, nostrils flaring with smoke.
It stood, massive and coiled, like an ancient beast jealously guarding its hoard. A deep-throated snarl rolled from its chest, warning them all back.
Aemon drew in a breath. "Wait, Rhaenyra."
He could see it clearly now.
It wasn't attacking. Not anymore.
"What?" Rhaenyra blinked, startled.
"Princess, Prince—please, for your safety, step back," the old dragonkeeper called, rushing to them, his white hair singed and smouldering. Behind him, the other keepers stumbled upright, forming a shaky defensive line.
But Aemon didn't look at them.
He was staring at the dragon.
The chains clinked softly as the beast shifted, every breath sending ripples through the fire-lit air.
In the flickering glow, the details came into focus: slender, regal, a light blue hide marked with silver veins. A crown of pale horns curved from its skull, and its great wings—webbed in a soft sky-blue membrane—arched protectively.
"Dreamfyre," Aemon breathed, his heart thundering.
House Targaryen's second-generation dragon.
Boom.
Dreamfyre stepped forward. Her eyes narrowed, suspicious and watchful.
She'd tolerated their intrusion—but only barely.
"So big," Aemon whispered, trembling with awe. He wanted nothing more than to climb onto her back and soar into the sky.
Dreamfyre bent low to fit beneath the cave ceiling, but even then she was massive—easily fifty feet long. Among the elder dragons, she wasn't the largest, but the force of her presence was overwhelming.
"Aemon, do you still want to try?" Rhaenyra whispered, still holding his arm tightly, afraid to let go.
Of course he did.
Before this, he'd doubted. He thought a dragon kept in chains for decades might never accept him.
But looking into her eyes now—feeling the heat of her breath—those doubts vanished.
"I want to try."
He turned to the old keeper. "If she's not attacking, is it safe to approach?"
The old man looked grim. "We'll do our best."
He signalled for the other handlers to bring out the taming sticks—thin rods carved from dragonbone, used to help calm the beasts.
Dreamfyre was known to be temperamental. She'd rage for no reason, even lash out.
Still, she needed to eat—and handlers had to feed her, to touch her, to get close.
Her sudden fury today might've been triggered by the sheer number of people.
"Step back," Aemon said, serious now. He gently pushed Rhaenyra towards the wall.
Dragons were dangerous. That much was clear.
Rhaenyra opened her mouth to argue, but Aemon was already moving. She let him lead her to safety, momentarily shocked by his strength.
The old keeper stepped forward, humming an old Valyrian tune under his breath. Slowly, the melody softened the dragon's mood. Dreamfyre's wings twitched, then relaxed.
With a heavy rumble, she lowered herself onto the stones.
"She's calming," the old man whispered. "You may approach, Prince."
Aemon nodded, steadying his nerves.
"Don't be scared," he murmured to the trembling mouse in his satchel. "She won't eat you."
And with that, he started forward, small feet padding softly on the stone floor.
Dreamfyre lay still, exhausted perhaps.
"What do I do?" he asked, now just steps away.
The old keeper kept his voice low. "Stand before her. Raise your hands. Let her see you."
If she doesn't attack, climb onto her back. If she lets you, then you've passed the first test. After that—fly.
Aemon took a breath.
"I understand."
He squared his shoulders and slowly raised his chubby little hands, pale and soft like fresh lotus roots.
He faced her head-on.
Dreamfyre opened one amber eye, huffed, then turned her massive head away.
She didn't even look at him.
A bored huff of breath rolled from her snout.
The boy blinked. "Oi! Look at me, Dreamfyre!"
They'd said no rejection meant he could try to ride her. But this? This wasn't yes or no—it was complete disregard.
He ran to her left. She turned her head right.
He dashed to her right. She swung back to the left.
Back and forth, again and again.
"She keeps ignoring me," Aemon huffed, panting now, arms flailing. "Dreamfyre! What'll it take for you to say yes?!"
This wasn't how he imagined it—no dramatic bond, no silent understanding, no heroic moment of acceptance.
He was just a sweaty boy chasing a disinterested dragon.
Finally, his persistence tipped her over the edge.
With a furious snarl, Dreamfyre rose up, wings flaring.
"HISSSSS!"
The force of her roar shook the rubble beneath them.
If not for the lingering scent of her old rider—the same scent clinging faintly to Aemon—she would've torched him by now.
"She's magnificent," Aemon whispered, eyes wide even as the heat blasted against his face.
But he didn't move.
She wasn't attacking. Not yet.
"ROAR!"
Dreamfyre had had enough. She lunged—not with flame, but with a firm nudge of her snout, knocking him backwards.
"Oof!"
Aemon hit the ground and rolled, his belly aching. He landed on his back, arms sprawled.
When he looked up, she was turning away, leaving him behind.
"Wait!" he cried, scrambling to his feet. "You haven't even seen the sky in years! Come with me!"
Dreamfyre paused—just for a heartbeat—then continued on, chains clinking softly.
People chose dragons.
But dragons chose their riders too.
Her first rider had been a girl—young, brave, radiant. That was the bond she remembered.
"Don't go!"
Aemon didn't understand why he'd failed.
He sprinted after her, wrapping his arms around one of her thick legs, clinging tight.
Everyone around him gasped.
"AEMON!" Rhaenyra shrieked, eyes wide with terror. In a blur of motion, she raced forward, grabbed the back of his tunic, and yanked him away.
He tumbled back into her arms, breathless and panting.
"You reckless little fool," she hissed, holding him tight.
The dragon keepers rushed in, quickly forming a barrier between the young royals and the dragon.
And slowly—cautiously—they began to pull them both back.