Chapter Text
Numb. That is the only word I can think of that could describe how I feel.
It’s been three years since Uncle has left for the Stepstones, and just as long since I’ve last felt any warmth.
I tried to keep going at first, truly, I did. I was civil with Alicent, I remained my Father’s cupbearer, and attended all my lessons dutifully, even with the extra ones added since I’ve been named heir. I make Aegon giggle and laugh, I make sure he sees his dragon oft enough that their bond may continue to grow, and I sing to little Helaena the lullabies Uncle sang to me as he would rock me to sleep. And yet I have never felt more alone. I have never felt so cold .
It tires me.
From the blood where fire once blossomed, only chills emerge. I can no longer stomach it.
Today is Aegon’s second name-day. The sun has barely risen and the world is still half-asleep. I strap on my riding leathers without the help of any of my ladies and open my door. I am greeted by a relaxed but very-much awake sworn shield.
“How is it that you are so alert at this time, Ser Criston?” I ask with a small smile.
“I could ask the same of you, Princess,” he replies to me with a smile of his own.
I do not deign to reply to him, only walk forward to the direction of the dragon pit. I have sought solace in the dragon pit after a visit from nightmares enough times that Ser Criston doesn’t even question why I am headed there so early in the morning. I have found that only the shelter of my Lady Syrax’s wings can compensate for the loss of the comfort my Uncle’s hugs used to provide me. But there will be days when even that is not enough. Today is one of those days.
When we arrive at the dragon pit, there are no dragon keepers awake yet but it matters not. Since that time when I faced my Uncle on dragon stone to take back my now late brother’s egg, I have stopped putting Syrax on a leash. It hurts that it took me facing my Uncle to realize her true glory but now she roams the skies free. And though she seems to still prefer sleeping in the dragon pit, having no restraints on her has let her grow thrice she was expected to. My Syrax.
“I will be back before the hunt, Ser, I just want to clear my head first,” I lied to Ser Criston. The hunt dedicated to my brother will take place in the afternoon and it is morning yet, so I believe my lie is quite plausible.
“Are you alright princess? I did not hear you wake last night.” He doesn’t need to say it out right, but we both know he refers to my nightmares. Last night was one of the few nights I didn’t dream of my mother’s death bed, her womb cut open, her sheets bloody. But I seek solace in Syrax still, though for different reasons.
Soon enough, the day dedicated to the celebration of the birth of the King’s first son will forever be marked as the day the King lost his most beloved daughter. The Realm’s Delight. Some might think me selfish for choosing to do this today of all days, but I think it rather poetic. The name-day of the one person whose birth and existence stands in the way of my birthright will now be the day dedicated to mourning me.
“I’m well, Ser Criston, thank you. Indeed, I did not have any bad dreams last night, but I have a long day ahead of me. I would like Syrax’s company to comfort me before I have to brave the day,” I responded to him.
He nods, probably thinking that the long day I refer to is the hunt and all the attention being on Aegon, but I do not correct him.
“Very well, Princess. I will wait here for your safe return then.”
I mount Syrax once she is saddled and command her to Dragonstone. “Sōvegon, Syrax! Naejot zaldrīzesdōron!” Fly, Syrax! To Dragonstone!
In a matter of minutes, my hair falls out of its single messy braid as I didn’t have any of my ladies properly dress me and do my hair. It is blown by the wind and whips at my face but instead of finding myself annoyed I can’t help but laugh. I have ridden with Syrax everyday since I first mounted her at 7 name-days old and became the youngest ever dragon rider. We have had many wonderful flights and memories together, but it has been a while since I’ve felt this free. Today will be the day it all ends. Today I will finally rest.
⚔
The flight to Dragonstone takes only two hours on dragonback. The skies are clear, the winds strong, and the world still at peace.
Once I dismount off Syrax, she heads straight for the caves where the majority of the unclaimed dragons reside, but I am off somewhere else.
It only takes around 10 minutes on foot to get to my destination. Dragonmont. The volcano where all the mildly-feral, feral, and wild dragons reside. And at the back of the volcano is the lair I seek.
The sun has risen now, not fully, but the sky is blue and I don’t need a torch to light my path into the lair. Gods above, it reeks of dragon. No wonder mother always hated when I would smother her in hugs right after my morning flight.
As I step further into the cave, I feel the hairs on my arms rise, but I feel no fear.
It all began that dreadful day when mother took her last breath, followed soon after by my brother, not even a day old. My sweet mother who was cut open for a son that didn’t even last a day in this world.
Then, barely a year after her sweet mother’s death, my father remarries the one true friend I had in the world. Alicent.
From childhood, to girlhood, to womanhood, Alicent was my constant. Yes, Kepa was the one whose arms I ran to when I scraped my knees. Yes, Kepa was the one whom I mounted Syrax for when I was seven name-days only, in want of stopping him from leaving. And yes, Kepa shows me a gentleness he shows to no one but I alone. But he is also the same Kepa who would leave me in lieu of his adventures. He would always come back to me but in his absence, it was Alicent who stayed.
I remember giggling in the corridors with her as we would eavesdrop on the conversations of the older ladies; I remember sneaking into the kitchens with her to get cake; being scolded by the Septa for gossiping in class instead of paying attention, blushing furiously at the stories of my Uncle’s escapades, chasing each other in the Godswood ‘till our legs give out. But I also remember the days when I was inconsolable when my favorite Uncle would leave me. How she never sought to replace him in my heart but always made sure I knew she was still there. And I recall, too, the days where her father would scream at her and scare into obedience, and how she would shake in my arms seeking the comfort nobody in her family could give her.
There is bitterness and betrayal in my heart for what she did to both me and the memory of my mother, but there is also grief, for I know Alicent. I know, more than anyone, what it is like to be a girl alone in this world. So though I cannot absolve her of her crimes, I do not blame her either.
As for my father, he is a different story.
I don’t hate him. I don’t think I even resent him. I am just disappointed.
Growing up, I always heard tales of how my Uncle was the fiercest warrior in all of Westeros. People would whisper about his temperament, about how he was more dragon than man. Not once have I seen him back down from a fight, and there was no man he ever bowed to, for it would acknowledge that there was someone greater than him. No man but my father.
I remember seeing the admiration in his eyes. The respect. The love . My Uncle, who people said was Maegor come again, bowed to one man only. My father.
I think of my father now. King Viserys, first of his name. I think of his soft heart and his inability to say no to my wants. Of his model of Valyria. Of his love for my late mother. And I think of how easily manipulated he was by the Hand. I think of how blinded he was by his grief that he could not see that Alicent, a girl of one and ten who has never shown any interest in him in all the years she grew with me, was simply a calculated distraction. I think of how this is the man my mother sacrificed her life for, and the man who was able to make my Uncle kneel.
I can’t help but feel disappointed.
With mother, father, and Alicent all gone, all I have left is my Uncle. Kepa . Daemon.
Calloused hands, frown lines, long hair, and hostile aura. Fucking whores left and right in the streets of silk, Dark Sister at his hip, charismatic, and violent. This is the man who would cradle me gently in his strong arms and sing to me in Old Valyrian the same lullabies his own mother sang to him as a child. Kepa . This is the same man who would shower me with gifts and spoil me rotten, even by the standards of a princess. The same man who flew me on Caraxes at only two weeks old despite the protests of the King and Queen, who would perch me on his lap as we broke our fast, braid my hair to match his, read to me in High Valyrian, play with me in the Godswood for hours on end, and kiss my temples and cheeks goodnight when I would sneak into his chambers to snuggle. This is the one person in the world who I know in my heart will always choose me. And yet, he has left me alone.
I know it was not his intention when he left for the Stepstones, especially considering how accustomed he is to being exiled, but in the end, he left me alone, like everyone else. He has not written to me in the last three years, for the war is a dangerous and chaotic place, but I know he will come back eventually. But right now, I am alone, and I am tired of waiting. Patience has never been my strong suit, much like him. And a dragon alone in the world is a terrible thing.
Which brings me here.
I see his eyes before anything else. I have never seen anything like it.
The only other black dragon to exist was Balerion the Black Dread. Balerion was known to be the representation of the House of the Dragon, his eyes red and his scales black. Fire and Blood. Similarly, Cannibal has black scales, but unlike Balerion, his eyes glow green.
It shines bright in contrast to everything else. It is not unlike the colors of House Hightower, but it is… more. It glows. I see in his eyes the magic of Old Valyria, glowing with power and danger. Ironically enough, green, the color of life, also happens to be the color of wildfire. It is violent. Dangerous. Beautiful . I see it now in the face of the glowing green eyes of this dragon. The glowing green of this cannibal .
I do not back down.
The further I step closer to him, the further away the light gets, and the further I see him. His scales gleam, shiny and dark, black as the midnight sky. He is glorious .
He is rumored to be one of the oldest living dragons of our age. Possibly older than even Vhagar, but nobody knows for sure for he has always remained isolated.
Wild dragons, unlike other dragons, have never been bonded. Vhagar, for example, is currently riderless, but is not considered wild, for wild dragons somehow reach adulthood without ever bonding with a rider. They have never felt the familiarity of human interaction or the presence of a bond, which makes them twice as volatile, for they don’t know better than to lash out. And today there are only three wild dragons that remain, one of them being Cannibal.
Known to eat smaller dragons, dragon clutches, people, and even dragonseeds who attempt to mount him, Cannibal has the reputation of being one of the most dangerous dragons in existence.
I feel no fear. I am too tired. I am too alone. I am ready to leave this world. But I refuse to leave the world in any other way than by the hands of another dragon.
The only problem being that I don’t have the heart to command my sweet Syrax to kill me. It would be more cruel than any torture could inflict, for a bond of dragon and a rider was more sacred than any. So here I stand instead.
After a few heartbeats, I see his large black wings spread and cast a shadow on the little light I have left. His presence looms over me and from what I can tell, he stands as tall as Vhagar, or at least fairly close in height and size. Possibly fatter, with all of the humans and dragons that live in his belly. I stand to my full height and only reach the top of his claw.
He stalks forward, steps shaking the ground of the cave, and I see through the darkness his mouth open wide. I am ready. To be eaten, to be burnt, to be crushed, I am ready.
My ears ring and my body shakes when I hear his deafening roar. It is ear piercing and shakes the entire cave. I open my eyes and find him looking down at me.
I wait.
And wait.
And wait.
Nothing comes.
I step forward. Closer. Perhaps that will prompt him.
His head leans down to my level, glowing green eyes meeting my own amethyst ones. Green to purple, dragon to dragon. I do not close my eyes again, but I wait. He breathes a heavy breath through his nose, nostril flaring hot, and I feel its warmth. It reminds me much of my lady Syrax’s own breaths.
He opens his mouth again and I see his fangs, as large as my torso, and I am sure this is the moment. Instead, I hear him roar again.
I feel his fiery breath blow my hair back as his roar shakes the ground once more, my ears buzzing. His roar echoes throughout the cave and I suspect can be heard from the castle. I hold my ground and I wait.
Nothing comes.
I meet his fiery gaze again; green to purple, dragon to dragon.
Moments pass and he does the last thing I would have ever expected him to do: he sits.
Cannibal, the most feared dragon of our time, sits.
Huh. This was not part of the plan.
I have no idea what to do.
We stare at each other for a long time.
I come closer. I am mere steps away from his face, but he still doesn’t eat me.
I take another step.
Then another.
And the last one.
I am a breath away from Cannibal. My hands move on its own accord, guided by my instincts perhaps. They lift and slowly, slowly , touch his snout.
My eyes close.
And gods above, I can feel him.
I can feel him.
It’s not the same bond as I have with Syrax. Syrax hatched in my crib when I was a newborn. Syrax grew with me and slept by my side until she could no longer fit in my bed. Syrax is part of my soul.
This is different.
I don’t intertwine my soul with Cannibal’s, but I can feel his. And he feels me, too.
Cannibal, the most dangerous dragon in all of Valyria.
Cannibal, the most lonely dragon in all of Valyria.
He understands.
I let my instincts continue to guide me and I press my forehead against him. He breathes out through his nose and my hair is blown back again. Face flushed with warmth, I stroke him softly. There is violence in his soul as well as bitterness, but there is also abandonment. The whole world has shunned him and has given up trying to approach him in fear. Even his fellow dragons. And though you could argue it is his own doing, I understand him.
Just as you expect a snake to have venom, you must expect a dragon to follow its nature. Most snakes do not bite unless attacked or hungry, but that does not mean they do not have venom. Dragons, too. Most dragons do not burn or eat unless attacked, but they could. Cannibal is no monster for biting and burning, the others are simply more merciful than he.
I feel his body rumble in pleasure as I stroke him. He knows I understand. He knows what it is like to be alone.
He lowers his head to me and gently, I climb upon him slowly. It’s almost as if I have no control over my limbs, as if they are acting on their own accord. I slide down his neck carefully as they are riddled with sharp spikes, and once I am on his back, I hold onto his scales and back to keep me in place since he has no saddle. He grunts, unused to anybody touching him, let alone mounting him. I have no idea what I am doing or why I am doing this. It is nothing like when I first mounted Syrax, determined and stubborn. Now I am just confused, but I follow my instincts anyway.
I debate whether or not to command him to move forward, not knowing how he will respond to commands. Unlike Syrax, we have not bonded. But it is like I have opened a channel between us where we can now communicate. Whereas everyone who approaches him cannot speak with him, I can send him a message and know he will hear it, but it will still be up to him whether or not he will follow me.
“Cannibal,” I speak, voice clear and assertive, though not demanding.
He stalks forward to the entrance of the cave, groaning as he finally stretches his limbs in what must have been a while.
“ Cannibal, ” I say again, louder this time. He grumbles, though not in anger, more of as an acknowledgement that he hears me.
“Issa riñnykeā syrax iksos kesīr rūsīr issa. Nyke līs jikagon jiōragon zȳhon isse se lair skoriot se tolie zaldrīzoti reside. Ziry iksos ry nyke emagon geptot. Nyke epagon bona ao gaomagon daor ossēnagon zȳhon nykeā se tolie zaldrīzoti bona reside konīr. Rȳ least syt sir. Kostilus.” My lady Syrax is here with me. I must go get her in the lair where the other dragons reside. She is all I have left. I ask that you do not kill her or the other dragons that reside there. At least for now. Please.
He grunts again as we step out into the light and out of his cave. He does not growl and I feel no protest in the tether that connects us, so I hope this means he understands and will listen.
“Gūrogon issa konīr.” Take me there .
His wingspan spreads wide, and by the Gods, I have never seen anything more majestic. Syrax’s golden scales and wings are more beautiful than any other dragon’s, and I still attest to that, but Cannibal’s is dark and powerful. Some parts of his body have spikes, like his neck and tail. It is haunting and terrifying, and something some others would call monstrous. But it is how I imagined the dragons were once, before the Doom of Valyria. It may not be beautiful, but it is bold, powerful, and raw .
I can’t help but smile.
We arrive at the caves where the dragons reside in just a few heartbeats of flying. I tug on my bond with Syrax and call for her.
“Māzigon kesīr, Syrax. Ziry iksos jēda naejot jikagon lenton.” Come here, Syrax. It’s time to go home , I call out.
A good minute or two passes before she exits the cave. Seeing me on top of another dragon that is not her or Caraxes, she screeches. I see her getting into a defensive stance as Cannibal shifts under me, ready to attack.
“Syrax daor! ȳdra daor nābēmagon! Cannibal iksos īlva raqiros, sweeting. Ziry's māzis lenton rūsīr īlva.” Syrax no! Don't attack! Cannibal is our friend, sweeting. He's coming home with us.
She lets out another screech and all I can do atop of Cannibal is reach out to our bond to give her comfort.
“Kostilus, dōna hāedar, nyke kivio konīr iksos daorun naejot zūgagon nykeā sagon jealous hen. Nyke jāhor explain naejot ao tolī, yn gīmigon nyke nykeēdrosa aōhon hae ao issi ñuhon. Yn nyke daor henujagon cannibal ry mērī kesīr. Gaomagon ao shifang?” Please, sweet girl, I promise there is nothing to fear or be jealous of. I will explain to you later, but know I am still yours as you are mine. But I cannot leave Cannibal all alone here. Do you understand?
She grumbles and shifts her weight. I don’t know how much of what I say is actually understood by her but I feel her panic lessen through the bond.
“Nyke kivio konīr iksos daorun naejot worry bē syrax. Nyke sepār ȳdra daor jaelagon naejot henujagon cannibal ry mērī kesīr. ȳdra daor ao pendagon bona's cruel sir bona īlon've found zirȳla? Would ao jaelagon naejot sagon geptot mērī kesīr knowing bona someone could emagon taken ao rūsīr zirȳ?” I promise there is nothing to worry about Syrax. I just don't want to leave Cannibal all alone here. Don't you think that's cruel now that we've found him? Would you want to be left alone here knowing that someone could have taken you with them?
She grumbles again but changes her stance into a less defensive position. I tug at our bond again and feel her tug back. It makes me smile.
“Māzigon va pār byka riñnykeā. Ivestragī’s jikagon lenton. Se court iksos isse syt olvie se show.” Alright, come on then little lady. Let’s go home. The court is in for quite the show.
I actually don’t know why I am bringing Cannibal home with us, but I just feel that I must. And so when he turns us around and I hear Syrax follow, I call out, “Sōvegon, Cannibal! Sōvegon, Syrax!” Fly, Cannibal! Fly, Syrax!
⚔