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Chapter Text

Gaemon II

Time was of the essence, but Gaemon could not ascend the Dragonmont without saying his goodbyes to the only family he had. It was for this reason that he found himself in front of their windswept hovel, situated in the cliffs above the town he called home. He arrived in what he assumed to be the midst of the Hour of Ghosts, which he was sure many would consider an ill-omen. Dragons fear no shade of mortal man, he thought to himself with a scoff. Hesitating, Gaemon regretted for a moment that he was about to wake his grandparents from their slumber (as they likely had assumed he would stay overnight at the inn as he had not returned by the Hour of the Bat). He considered leaving them to their peaceful sleep, not troubling them with his plans. They raised me, a voice emanated from within, and you might die in these next few hours. Leaving them with only regrets and loss would be cold. His mind's eye remembered the way his grandparents had described his father's treatment of his mother. I may be a dragon, but I am not HIM. He knocked on the door, clenching his fists as he waited. He found his hand gravitating towards the gold dragon around his neck, as it often did in times of apprehension. He forced it to return to his side, as he heard what he assumed to be his grandfather approach the door cautiously. The door creaked softly, with the wrinkled and cautious face of his grandfather appearing in the opening, clutching a candle. As recognition lit his tired eyes, the door opened more fully, and his hand beckoned him inside. Gaemon, beginning to shiver from within his soaking wet clothing, and from the relentless rain that fell from above, was only too happy to oblige.

Entering the hovel that had been his home for all his life, he took in the humble, but familiar features. The remains of a fire rested within the hearth, the embers still glowing and casting a hazy orange glow across the floor, meeting the dancing light of the candle in his grandfather's gnarled grasp. Pulling an ancient chair out from under an equally ancient table, Gaemon took a seat across from the bed his grandmother sat on, and that his grandfather had returned to. They both looked expectantly at him from where they sat. His grandfather was the first to break the silence.

"We did not expect you to return to us tonight, Gaemon. It had grown so late we thought you might have bedded down at the inn." Inquisitive eyes regarded him from under bushy, drooping eyebrows. "Does something trouble you lad? Have you come to seek our counsel?"

Gaemon sighed, and returned their gaze, making eye contact with each of them before speaking. "Earlier this evening, I was informed at the inn that Queen Rhaenyra and her firstborn, Jacaerys Velaryon, have issued a call for dragonseeds. They have promised titles and riches to any who can tame one of the unmastered dragons who have made their lairs on the island. I have come here tonight, because I intend to go and claim my birthright." His grandparents shared a knowing glance before his grandmother turned to regard him once more, her eyes saddened.

"Gaemon, we have known this day would come ever since you discovered the golden dragon amongst your mother's belongings. I, no we, prayed to the Seven that you would find reasons to stay in the village, to not risk your life pursuing such things. Your father may be a Prince, but you carry the stain of bastardy. Even if they let you within the keep, you would never be one of them."

His grandfather had been watching his grandmother while she spoke, but finally turned to face him once she had finished. "We knew the minute you began to carry that dragon 'round your neck that you wouldn't… no couldn't let go. Mayhaps it is the fire in your veins, or mayhaps it is simply that you were never cut out to farm, or herd, or fish, like us smallfolk have done for generations. I fear we cannot give you our blessing to go seek a dragon, but we will not seek to stop you either."

Rising, his grandparents crossed the room and embraced him. He held them tightly. His grandmother, muffled in his shoulder, spoke after a few moments. "If you are to attempt to tame a dragon, we cannot allow you to go in soaked rags. At the very least, please change, and dress warmly."

Gaemon smiled, some things never change, he thought to himself.

Trudging up the path towards the Dragonmont, Gaemon chewed on a crust of bread his grandmother had insisted he take "for the road." He was becoming increasingly nervous, but he knew he could not turn back now. I cannot go back, only forward. I'll never prove I have the blood of the dragon otherwise. If my father will not claim me, I will prove myself otherwise. The rain continued unabated, hammering down, turning the well-tread stoney path to a treacherous muddy slope. Gaemon climbed carefully, watching where he stepped and making sure each step he took found purchase. It would not do for this would-be dragonrider to slip and crack his head before he even reached his dragon, he thought with amusement. He was thankful to be dry, at least. His grandmother had been right to make sure he changed into a completely new set of garments that were warm and dry, still smelling of woodsmoke. He was doubly grateful for the sheepskin cloak that hung from his shoulders, keeping the majority of the rain from soaking his clothing and preventing him (hopefully) from catching a chill. Despite being warm, his hands were shaking, no matter how tightly he clenched them.

He stopped, having finally reached the top of the first hill he had to surmount. Below, he could see a few lights still burning in the village below. Melyssa is most likely entertaining one of those soldiers by now. If she is lucky, perhaps he has already spilt his seed and fallen asleep. Any other evening, he'd have traded roles with the soldier, convincing Alyssa or Malda that he would indeed pay his debts at some point, and that he'd be likely to eventually hand over his dragon to make good on what he owed for his several daliances with Melyssa. One mention of the dragon and they'd have let him do as he wished. He knew that they'd have let him play that game for at least a year before demanding him to pay up, especially with Wat covering for him. He forced himself to focus on the present. Standing at the crest of the first hill, he had reached the winding cobblestone road that led to Dragonstone's citadel. As he glanced up the road, looking for any glimpse of the imposing, dragon crafted citadel, all he could see was the rain pouring down and a winding road, lit by brief flashes of lightning. He was about to turn to resume his trek up the next hill when one such flash of lightning illuminated a man walking down the road towards him, bent over and clutching a cloak about him. Gaemon was immediately intrigued by this stranger; he couldn't imagine why anyone would be traveling at this time of night in a storm this intense. Unless… unless they intend to do the same as I? The thought made him nervous, he did not wish to give away his knowledge of the cave's location to any potential rivals.

Deciding he was being exceedingly paranoid, Gaemon stopped, and waited for the stranger to approach. I won't risk the ire of the Seven for turning away a stranger in need on a night as important as this, he thought to himself. After a few moments, the stranger became aware of his presence, and began to walk briskly towards him. Reaching a spot, only a few feet from him, he raised his head from beneath his hood, regarding him with a youthful, but drenched face.

"Well met my good man. Why are you traveling these roads so late, and in such a fearful storm?" He asked with an expression Gaemon could only assume was one of calculated, feigned disinterest.

If he hadn't been certain before, Gaemon was certain now that he was speaking with a lord. Now that he could see the man's accoutrements, it was clear he was well dressed, if not especially well-prepared for this particular bout of harsh weather. The lord (or knight) was wearing mail over his clothing, and over the mail he wore a white surcoat, which, although thoroughly drenched, still displayed a ring of seven golden stars, each with seven points. Gaemon tried desperately to search his memory for any memory of what House that particular coat arms signified, but he returned empty-handed.

Realizing he had remained silent for a bit too long, for the sake of courtesy, he responded: "I am bound for the Dragonmont. I have heard that the Queen's son has called for Dragonriders, and I intend to answer that call."

The knight scoffed. "I cannot stop you from pursuing your goal, but men of higher birth than you have tried, and failed, to accomplish that task. I myself, Runcifer Sunglass, am committed to the same goal, and will bring honor to House Sunglass when I return, having tamed the fiercest of the remaining dragons on behalf of her majesty, Rhaenyra the first."

Gaemon had to bite his tongue to prevent any disrespectful remarks, as he was painfully aware that he was lacking a true blade at his side, unlike the knight of House Sunglass. "Do you mean to tame the Cannibal then?" Gaemon asked, feigning innocent curiosity.

"Of course. Although once mastered he shall receive a new and more fitting name for so noble a creature. I would be loath to allow local smallfolk and their superstitions the opportunity to grant such a creature its name for posterity." The knight's eyes narrowed. "How come you are so knowledgeable about these creatures?"

Gaemon silently cursed himself for continuing the conversation for so long. There is no going back now. Fleeing is not an option. I must simply be honest and hope fortune lies with me. "I too hope to tame the Cannibal. As a younger man, I believe I stumbled across his cave. I aim to return there tonight and to master him."

Sunglass raised an eyebrow. "Well it appears we both have the same goal. If you guide me to this beast's cave, I will reward you handsomely. In return, I demand as an anointed knight to be given the first attempt to master the dragon."

Gaemon frowned. Realizing that he was unlikely to receive a better offer, he extended his hand. Sunglass, after attempting (and failing) to hide his disappointment to have to shake hands with a member of the smallfolk, gripped his hand firmly, pumping it twice. Their arrangement done, they began their trek up the second, and steeper hill towards the slopes of the Dragonmont.

Their climb took several more hours, and by the time they had reached the craggy slopes of the Dragonmont, Gaemon estimated they had reached the Hour of the Wolf, or perhaps even early in the Hour of the Nightingale. The rain, once powerful and unyielding, had died down to a soft drizzle, filling the air with cold moisture that seemed to sink through even the sheepskin and chill Gaemon to the bone. It was the most peaceful time of night, where the early predawn hours were still inky black, but somehow one could sense the coming of the dawn. Gaemon considered the soft rain amidst the silence to be peaceful. That was until he realized just how silent the entire area they had entered was. Dragonstone, despite being a rather grim volcanic island, was never truly silent, whether it be the distant baying of a hound, the bleating of sheep, the sound of human voices, or even the cawing of gulls. Where they had entered was well and truly silent, a detail that Gaemon found unnerving but also took to be a good sign, for it could herald the presence of a dragon.

Once they had reached the slopes of the Dragonmont itself, the grey slopes had become steeper and stonier, and the air had begun to smell of sulfur. Gaemon was able to begin retracing his steps from his earlier adventure, following a defile running between the craggy peaks that ran lazily upward until reaching the ledge he remembered from before. Reaching the ledge behind him, Sunglass hoisted himself up, grunting heavily from the effort. To Gaemon's ears, the sound of Sunglass' grunts and the scrape of mail on stone seemed deafening; he was certain they had already given themselves away. The smell of ash and sulfur was particularly strong on this ledge, and straining his eyes in the darkness, Gaemon could just barely make out the yawning mouth of a cave. Facing it head on, the entrance was far larger than he remembered. The stench of burnt meat emanated from it, and for the first time, he was certain that a dragon had made its lair within. Moving as quietly as he could, he took a position outside the mouth of the cave, and waited for Sunglass to join him.

Moving quickly, Runcifer Sunglass crossed the distance between the ledge and the cave quickly, though not as quietly as Gaemon would have liked. Once he was there, he opened a satchel hung from his waist and passed him several silver stags.

Turning to Gaemon, he whispered "I will now go. Do not follow. If the Seven are kind, I will return on dragonback." Without saying another word, he entered the cave.

Gaemon looked down at the coins in his hand. The thought did occur to him that he could leave this place. He didn't have to die for his birthright, or to earn the recognition of a father who hadn't claimed him. I don't have to… but I will. A dragon cannot be bought, no more than a storm, or a wildfire. A dragon does not fear other dragons. And most of all, a dragon does NOT step aside for lesser men. He tossed the coins aside and entered the cave. Either way, he needed them not.

The interior of the cave stank of sulfur and charred meat far more strongly than its entrance had. It was almost overpowering. If not for the slight sound of Runcifer Sunglasses footfalls ahead, Gaemon would have no idea if he was truly taking the same path. He followed the smells and the footfalls until the darkness seemed to expand above his head, growing blacker and deeper, seemingly signifying he had stumbled into a larger cave. As he followed Sunglass, he stepped in what must have been a pool of standing water, as his foot sank deep into the cool pool.

Ahead, Sunglass cursed, whispering "I TOLD you to stay outside, you fool! I'll have your head for this you idiotic peasant!"

As the knight turned to confront Gaemon, Gaemon noticed two bright green orbs above where he imagined Sunglass was standing. He strained in the darkness to make out what they might be. He feared somehow this cavern might be far larger than he expected, and that they had somehow woken the Cannibal at the far end of the cave. That cannot be right, for those to be its eyes, it would have to be hundreds of feet away, making this cavern so big that it would take up the majority of Dragonmont's peak, he thought. So what are those things? One more he strained to see through the inky darkness. Had Sunglass lit a torch? The two orbs did seem to be flickering slightly, but they were too high off the ground to be held by a man's arm. Sunglass himself was also not illuminated. Suddenly, a chill ran down Gaemon's spine. Two flickering torches, too small to be eyes, yet too far from the ground to be held by a man. Gaemon suddenly knew exactly what those things were, and he immediately threw himself into the pool.

Above the surface of the water, a piercing green sun bloomed. The water itself, which had been freezing cold a moment before, became uncomfortably hot after a moment of the blinding light. Gaemon surfaced, knowing he needed to move immediately. Once his ears had left the water, he regretted surfacing so quickly. The first sensation he experienced was the heat. The feeling was so intense he felt as though the air itself would catch him alight. Then he registered the screams. Runcifer Sunglass had transformed into a sickening, writhing torch. Flailing this way and that, his screams were nearly inhuman, guttural, the kind Gaemon imagined a man could only make after having his entire form set alight. Thankfully, the screams ended quickly. Sunglass, or what was left of him, collapsed into a kneeling position, the flames still dancing so brightly about him that his appeared to be a green candle. And just like a candle would, he began to melt. The sight was sickening, but Gaemon had little time to observe. The cavern that had until recently been blacker than night had been set alight in many places, and Gaemon quickly realized its floor was littered with bones. The most terrifying aspect of all was the massive specter that loomed behind the burning remains of Sunglass, a dragon with scales black as night and eyes that shone with a baleful green light. The Cannibal, thought Gaemon. He regarded it for only a single moment, before obeying the only command his body was giving him. He ran.

He had run for only a few moments when he realized that he had sprinted the wrong way. In his terror, Gaemon had run deeper into the cave. Cursing himself, he had to fight back tears of rage and desperation. I should never have come here. I will burn just like the other fools. Forcing himself to concentrate, he could see that he had run down a side passage. He could not hear much, other than the flickering and sputtering of flame, which he took to be a good sign. The Cannibal was far too large to move without disturbing the bones and stalagmites about the cave. His suspicions were confirmed when he heard what at first sounded like a series of twigs being snapped. His heart sank when he heard the subsequent unmistakable sound of crunching, which he now knew to be the Cannibal beginning its feast. The Cannibal is large enough that it could eat several men. I must needs hide, or I will be joining Ser Sunglass in its belly. Using the unnatural light of the dragon's green flames, he found a fissure in the rock, where after removing his sheepskin, he was able to wedge himself into.

After what felt like an eternity of silence, he felt he might go mad between his terror and his straining to hear any sort of noise that might betray the Cannibal's approach. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a noise akin to the scraping of a thousand blades on the cavern floor. As it grew louder, he realized with a sinking realization that the dragon was dragging itself closer to where he was. It can most likely smell me, he thought. Or if not me, that damned soaking sheepskin. After a few more moments where it could clearly be heard approaching, the noise stopped suddenly. Gaemon found himself clenching his fists, holding his eyes closed, preparing himself for the blast of heat that would signal his demise. Instead, he found himself waiting for what seemed like another eternity. His nails were digging into his palms so deeply that he had begun to tear rents in the skin, the blood running warmly down his hands. Despite himself, through the terror, he began to grow curious. What is that damned creature doing? Why can it not simply end my suffering already? At least Ser Sunglass was afforded a quick death. He could barely stand waiting. He realized he was beginning to inch ever so closely out of the fissure. When he had emerged enough that he was able to turn his head, he slowly, ever so slowly, turned it to gaze down the passage he had come to attempt to glimpse if there was any sign of the beast.

If he had expected to be rewarded with a glimpse of an open passageway, signifying a chance at freedom, he was to be sorely mistaken. Gaemon instead found himself gazing directly into those same baleful green eyes he had seen only moments before, even though it felt like ages. He returned to the fissure as quickly as possible. Gaemon had never placed much stock in the worship of the Seven, but he found himself praying now. He couldn't be certain that the creature had seen him, but he felt that it almost certainly had. He had begun to shake, despite himself.

Once again, he fought back tears of frustration, of disappointment, of grief. Frustration at his youthful foolishness, disappointment at his failure to prove himself a true dragon, grief for his grandparents, who were to be left without anyone to help to provide for them in their old age. Most of all, however, Gaemon began to feel a new emotion begin to flicker in the depths of his being. It began to make its presence known as a low smoldering heat within him. Once he became aware of his presence, the embers burst fully into flame. Gaemon was shocked to find the strongest emotion he was feeling at that moment was rage. I may have failed my father, my mother, my lineage, but I will NOT die a coward. I cannot stomach that. If this dragon is to be the death of me, I will die burning, but not with my back to it. I will face it, I must face it. Gaemon's other emotions made way for the conflagration that burned and raged within him. Looking to the exterior of the fissure he had hidden himself away in, he saw what appeared to be a human bone, one that would likely be from the leg. That will suit my purposes well enough, he thought with a grim smirk.

Taking the bone into his bloody hands, he took what he thought was likely to be his last breath, and stepped into the passage. The green eyes met his, and a low hiss emanated through the passage, carrying with the smell of fire and death. Tightening his grip around the bone, he screamed, letting his rage burn out of him, echoing down the passage.

"Bugger yourself wyrm, you will not cow me as you did the others. I will die a dragon."

With that he began running, screaming as he ran. He crossed the space of the passage quickly, and the dragon began to open its maw, revealing those flickering flames situated behind raws of razor sharp teeth half his own height. Crossing the last of the distance, Gaemon brought the thigh bone down with all the strength he could muster upon its snout, shouting as he did so. The bone rebounded, sending his arms flying back behind his head with the force of the reverberation. He accepted the end, hoping he'd feel little of it.

The end did not come. When he opened his eyes, he realized the Cannibal's mouth had closed slightly. It's eyes regarded him with a wary cunning, and if he was not imagining (which he supposed he most likely certainly was) there appeared to be something almost akin to shock emanating from those terrifying green orbs. He tensed again, certain that this had been only a momentary lapse in the dragon's attack. When the Cannibal instead closed its maw fully, it was Gaemon's turn to be stunned. At that moment, his knees simply gave out. Falling before the head of the massive creature, he simply sat, and stared, as it stared back at him. He waited for what seemed like hours, as neither seemed to be particularly interested in making the next move. Finally, Gaemon raised his hand, and began to move slowly towards the massive beast. It's eyes followed him every step of the way, and steam hissed from its nostrils. Crossing the last of the remaining distance, Gaemon placed his hand upon its head. A deep heat emanated from within the dragon, a primordial, terrifying heat, but one that seemed to resonate with a heat that he felt inside his own chest. He could not explain it, but his fear began to subside. Despite himself, he began to smile.

"Mayhaps I was a bit hasty. I may rescind that last command to bugger yourself."

The rest of the night he had spent within the cave, still in a state of complete disbelief. Despite apparently having resolved to no longer eat Gaemon, the Cannibal was by no means a creature that could be described as friendly or inviting. Everything had to be done cautiously, he knew when he was moving to quickly or suddenly when Cannibal snapped at him. Once, he had sent a gust of flame to his left when Gaemon had touched a wound that was still healing, smoking blood emanating from within. Even though he had not aimed to hit, Gaemon was fairly certain his hair had been close to being set alight. After that, he'd taken a break. After some time, he had fetched his sheepskin cloak and decided it was time for the real question. He approached the Cannibal slowly, but as confidently as he could. He walked slowly, maintaining eye contact as he began to circle to the right of the Cannibal's head. He then closed the distance, placing a hand on one of the spines that extended from the dragon's jaw. He began to lift himself, stopping when a low, gravelly growl emanated from the dragon.

When it appeared the Cannibal was not going to do anything worse than grumble, he continued his climb, until he seated himself in the base of its neck, between its two massive, leathery wings. They sat there for a moment, before the Cannibal lurched forward, the sound of his scales producing the familiar sound of swords scraping the cavern floor once more. Gaemon began to shake; he was still half convinced he had indeed died, and that this was some sort of vision he was experiencing immediately prior to his horrific death. Such thoughts were dispelled the moment the Cannibal cleared the cavern entrance, spread his wings, and beating them powerfully, began to lift himself into the air. Gaemon was giddy with excitement, but clung as tightly to two spines before him as he could. It would not do for me to have come this far, only to end as a splattered corpse on the Dragonmont below.

As they circled higher and higher, Gaemon was glad he had brought his cloak, for he would have never guessed the winds and air would be so much cooler amidst the clouds. He allowed the Cannibal to choose their path, reveling in a feeling he could have never imagined he would feel, soaring above the island he had called home for all his life. It was only after they had almost completed their circling the island from above that Gaemon felt the tears that had fallen down his cheeks. I AM a dragon. I AM a Targaryen! He realized with deep sadness that despite all he had said, he had not truly believed those words until this moment. It was one thing to hold a gold dragon in one's palm, and another entirely to ride one amidst the clouds. I have succeeded in mastering a dragon. I can take my place at Queen Rhaenyra's side, claim my birthright, and help to seat her on the Iron Throne!

He laughed, out of pure joy, with only his dragon and the wind as the witnesses to his joy. Eventually after circling the island a second time, he pulled as hard as he could on the spines he had been clutching, guiding the Cannibal in a lazy spiral towards the island. Surprisingly, the dragon responded, following his commands and arcing downwards. Gaemon felt for a moment a sensation akin to though he was falling, as though his stomach was falling out from his chest, but acclimated to it quickly. Guiding the Cannibal down through the clouds, finally resting his eyes upon the citadel rapidly approaching below him. He was able to make out what appeared to be hundreds of dragon themed gargoyles, and different buildings molded in ways to resemble dragons in various poses. Spotting a relatively empty courtyard, he guided the Cannibal towards it, and saw with some satisfaction that many people were scattering to avoid being landed on. Reaching the ground, the Cannibal beat his wings, slowly lowering himself to the stone floor. Gaemon climbed off, his legs aching and trying to keep himself from shaking. As the Cannibal cast baleful glances with its green eyes as the crowd rapidly surrounding them, Gaemon once more found himself smiling. It is time to meet my family, he thought to himself.