The Monster of Dragonstone - Jonothor Targaryen - The Green Dragon

Hello Everyone!

To read early

Chapter 13: 'Bastard'

Chapter 14: 'The Scheming Mind of a Targaryen Prince'

Chapter 15: 'The Patriarch of House Targaryen'

Chapter 16: 'Silver Hair'

Chapter 17: 'The Boy who loved his family'

Chapter 18: 'Dragons, Dreams and Children'

Chapter 19: 'Lovely loving sisters."

Chapter 20: 'The Duty of a Prince'

Chapter 21: 'Tormented Dragons'

Chapter 22: 'A Dragon has many desires'

Chapter 23: 'Powerless'

Chapter 24: 'Drowning'

Chapter 25: 'A Dragon's Dream'

Chapter 26: 'A Sweet Time'

Chapter 27: 'The Heart of a Little Girl'

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The Monster of Dragonstone

Jonothor Targaryen, eldest son of Viserys Targaryen and little brother of Rhaenyra Targaryen, was enjoying the only moment of rest he would get in his long day. Lying against Ghost in a small green valley, his limbs exhausted and his head heavy, the young prince took full advantage of the warmth of his dragon to let his worries flow away with his sweat and his fatigue. It had been six months since he had been exiled to Dragonstone, and although he had enjoyed living on the island more than he had anticipated, his time away from his family only fueled his anxiety. He had recently received news from his brothers and sisters, as well as his mother. According to their last raven, Rhaenyra was pregnant, which was nowhere near as good news as everyone seemed to think. As he knew her, his sister was quite capable of incinerating the Red Keep in the state she was in. This fact was enough in his eyes to hasten his return to Court in order to avoid a catastrophe. But Jon was also afraid to return, because he had learned from his mother's raven what he had inflicted on his twin.

Indeed, Aegon's wrist was having difficulty recovering, and the rider of Sunfyre had not managed to wield the sword half as well as before his injury. Regret took hold of Jon's heart after reading this news, the young prince blamed himself for the suffering and humiliation he had inflicted on his brother.

Of course, Aegon had crossed the line by attacking Aemond, however, Jon could have found a less permanent punishment in order to discipline his twin. But the anger that had seized him that day, the hatred, the violence, the desire to hurt and inflict pain, he had not recognized himself, something that happened to him far too often in this new life of his.

Jon was aware of his uncontrollable mental state, but he was unable to explain or even understand it. Sometimes his emotions took over his person, sometimes... what he had buried deep in his heart emerged like a hungry beast and devoured his conscience and his restraint. Jon wondered if it was the dragon's blood in his veins that sometimes boiled so hard it took over his body, or maybe it was just his unique situation and his family's internal conflicts that were wearing him out faster than he realized.

If he was honest with himself, Jon had had enough, enough of being stuck in the middle, enough of having to run after each member of his family to appease their ardor, he missed his mother terribly.

This was surely the biggest inconvenience of his exile, and the biggest change between his two lives.

Alicent Hightower was the only mother he ever had and ever would have. If he had felt a heavy absence as the bastard of Ned Stark, it was nothing compared to the absence of a real person who loved him with a motherly love similar to that which Lady Stark had given to her children. Jon wanted to see her again, he wanted to take advantage of his new childhood to fully appreciate the attention his mother gave him. When he'd become a man again, he wouldn't be able to enjoy it as much.

Not for the first time, Jon found himself comparing his old life to his new one. Despite the tumultuous times he was reborn into, he couldn't help but appreciate this life more than he had appreciated the old one. Jonothor Targaryen was loved by almost his entire family, his younger brother, nephew and sister looked up to him. His big sister loved him and held him in high esteem, and if he was not the heir to the Iron Throne and did not wish to be, he had nothing to envy Robb with. He only regretted his father's behavior, fortunately for him, the lessons of Ned Stark were still engraved in his mind.

Jon turned to his sleeping dragon, who, like him, seemed to be enjoying his new life. As the runt of the direwolves and the Snow among the Starks, Ghost and Jon had exiled themselves together to the Wall, a decision the former bastard now regretted, but one that had been forced by the sentiment of constant rejection he had felt at Winterfell. In King's Landing, the prince and the dragon were fully part of their family, they were at home, they had a home, and although the situation was not always easy, Jon would not trade his new life for his old one, and often thanked the Old Gods for their generosity.

When he opened his eyes, he had the unpleasant surprise to discover large gray clouds approaching quickly from the West, therefore from Driftmark, where he was supposed to go for his lesson with Corlys Velaryon. The Targaryen shook his head, they were going to have to fly high for a while to avoid the clouds, but by the time they'd reached their destination they would probably be soaked, requiring him to take a bath and change his clothes. Lord Corlys would no doubt chastise him for being late.

Not wanting to make his situation worse, he woke his dragon up, mounted it and flew towards the frightening clouds. He warged inside Ghost to increase their altitude, and enjoyed the Sun as they flew above what was sure to be a torrential downpour.

Jon sighed in relief, Gods he loved flying, what a pleasure it was, to escape from the problems of the earthly world into the calm and beautiful skies. This feeling of freedom generally reserved for birds, was exhilarating, relaxing and liberating for a man. He warged out of Ghost's mind, and took a deep breath to fully enjoy the calm before the storm.

It was then that without warning, Ghost plunged at full speed into the nearest cloud, drenching his rider with rainwater and narrowly avoiding a flash of lightning that would have dazzled Jon if he had not closed his eyes .

"Ghost!" He shouted, wiping his face off rainwater with the back of his sleeve. "What is happening?"

A roar, powerful enough to shake a mountain as easily as his skeleton, was his response.

Jon froze, and looked up.

At first he only saw a gigantic shadow perfectly aligned above the young prince and his even younger dragon. It was then that a beating of massive wings triggered a hurricane that swept away their cloud like dust, revealing the monstrosity that had been chasing them.

It was a gigantic dragon, almost as big as Vhagar, black as coal, scales as rigid as stone and green eyes as hungry as they were terrifying.

Ghost immediately dove under another cloud while his rider identified the thing chasing them; the Cannibal, the oldest and most dangerous dragon of Dragonmont. The beast that all the inhabitants of Dragonstone and Driftmark feared, whether they were dragon riders or fishermen.

"Oh no!" Jon realized as he clung to the Ghosts' spikes. "We must have flown in front of its cave! He saw us!"

A new roar was heard and titanic claws tore the clouds to seize the white dragon and its rider.

Ghost dove deeper to escape his predator, and in an instant, they found themselves in a real storm. The wind and rain whipped their faces and thunder cracked over their heads, forcing Ghost to descend even lower to avoid being struck by lightning.

The Cannibal pierced the clouds without fearing the wrath of the elements and flew at full speed behind its prey. It closed so quickly that Ghost barely had time to dive again before the monster's jaws closed just above Jon's skull.

Aware of their desperate situation, the dragon rider warged inside his dragon and flew at full speed towards Driftmark while the Cannibal resumed his pursuit.

Despite its monstrous size, the Cannibal was incredibly fast, it was only thanks to the combined strength of Dragon and Dragon Rider that Ghost and Jon managed to dodge its giant jaws and hooked claws.

No doubt enraged by his failed attempts to capture its prey, the Cannibal roared once more, and spat a jet of black flames which split the Sea in two and raised a cloud of steam in the middle of the storm.

But Ghost went back up to hide in the clouds, and the Cannibal only stopped spitting its flames when he realized that the white dragon had already risen out of its reach.

The creature roared louder and rushed after it.

Jon and Ghost hid in the clouds, but that made their orientation almost impossible. The dragon rider then took the risk of leaving their hiding place momentarily to locate the West, but in doing so, he realized with horror that the Cannibal had spotted them again, and he hastened to lead his mount back behind the shelter of the clouds.

The long minutes that followed seemed to last an agonizing eternity for the dragon rider. The Cannibal had been powerful enough to sweep away the clouds with a sweep of his wings. However, the Prince no longer saw him, no longer heard him, and if he was incapable of detecting his presence, he felt it down to the marrow of his bones. The beast was there, lurking in the storm and the clouds, biding its time.

Jon was soaked to the skin, his face was violently whipped by the wind, his breathing was heavy and his heart was beating hard in his chest.

He had gripped Ghost's spikes so tightly that he had split his palms, but he was so terrified that he didn't realize the pain wasn't having its effect, fear had swallowed him up.

He had also peed himself, but he hadn't realized that either.

He only moved by his survival instinct, that was what kept him on the saddle, that guided his movements and those of Ghost. He was unable to think, he only thought about finding Driftmark and hoping that his predator would give up the hunt.

Finally, and after nearly ten minutes of flying in the rain, Jon ventured out of the clouds to get his bearings. He then breathed a huge sigh of relief when he saw the port town of Spicetown and High-Tide Castle. Despite the storm, Jon had never found the Sea Snake's seat more beautiful than today.

It was then that a column of black flames tore the clouds and stood between the fugitives and their refuge. Ghost had to stop mid-flight for fear of being incinerated. The movement was so sudden that the white dragon lost the wind and whirled towards Blackwater Bay, screaming in panic. The Cannibal in turn pierced the clouds, and swooped towards its falling prey.

Jon warged inside Ghost, and succeeded with immense effort in stabilizing his dragon, which redeployed its wings just before hitting the sea and flew at the level of the water while its tail traced a small furrow in the waves. To Jon's greatest horror, the Cannibal performed the exact same maneuver and was now running at full speed behind them despite the waves hitting its snout.

Realizing that the monster was gaining ground on them, Jon made Ghost fly between the waves so that the Sea would slow down their pursuer, in doing so, they stored up enough speed to regain altitude and move away from the roaring creature.

Jon and Ghost flew over the island of Driftmark despite their pursuer, and the Prince felt a slight relief when he saw two good-sized dragons roaring from the mainland, despite the storm.

Jon screamed, he called for help to anyone who could or would listen without ever slowing down. But the wind carried his words away, and the Cannibal's roars swallowed them up.

When he realized he couldn't land without the monster catching up to them as soon as he set foot on land, Jon changed his strategy. If he couldn't defeat or lose the Cannibal, then he had to find a way to hide from him until the beast gave up its hunt.

He moved around Driftmark to prevent the immense black dragon from catching them with its powerful jaws, and guided Ghost into the sky once more. His dragon and friend throughout the ages was exhausted after the very long chase, but he was still driven by terror and the instinct for survival, as well as the trust he had in his rider.

Behind them, the Cannibal came even closer, Jon didn't dare turn around, afraid that the voracity in the beast's green gaze would sweep away what little courage and determination he had left.

That's when Jon realized his mistake, Ghost was far too tired, the Cannibal was overflowing with energy. The white dragon's wingbeats were becoming more frantic and less graceful and powerful than they had been when the hunt had begun. If they don't react very quickly, their predator will devour them before they reach the clouds. So Jon tried the only thing left to try, he warged inside Ghost's mind and dove before the Cannibal caught up with them. Ghost was exhausted but he could still glide effectively along the power of the wind. The White Dragon sped off at towards the mountains. Above them, thunder cracked and drowned out the roars of the Cannibal, Jon ignored the lightning as well as the dragon, nothing mattered more than the caves in the mountains that the lightning had illuminated, those holes were his only salvation.

And that's when a roar different from the others rang in the Prince's ears, it was so different that Jon risked a glance back.

The Cannibal was falling, squealing in pain and anger, his wing was smoking, a reddish hole shone through the rain.

Jon's eyes widened, stunned. It took him a few seconds to realize what had happened, his gaze had already shifted back to Driftmark when he whispered:

"Lightning...Lightning struck him."

Jon couldn't believe such a miracle, he couldn't believe that the most terrifying monster he had ever faced had been defeated by something as mundane as the weather. How?

As Ghost finally landed in front of a cave - which was too small for even the Cannibal's snout to fit - Jon didn't even bother to turn around to see if the monster had fallen into the Blackwater or if it was had managed to stabilize himself, he rushed into his stone refuge with his dragon following him.

He didn't have a torch on him, and even if he did, it would have ended up soaked from his prolonged flight in the storm anyway. He let Ghost spit a few white flames in front of him to locate a recess in a wall. Afterwards, he took off his soaked clothes, and while Ghost had already curled up against the wall, Jon joined him there, as naked as the day he was reborn into this world. He curled up against the chest of his dragon, which lowered its wing over his frail body to keep him warm. And as fatigue radiated through his muscles as well as his brain, the memory of the smoking, glowing hole in the Cannibal's wing imposed itself on his mind and tormented him.

"Lightning saved my life." He thought. "I should have died, I would have died without the lightning... Was it a miracle? Or maybe it was the work of the God who sent me here."

Jon chuckled bitterly as sleep overtook him, the floor was dusty but Ghost was warm and comfortable. He had slept in worse conditions, in another life.

"You could at least tell me what you want from me." He complained softly before falling into unconsciousness.

Jon dreamed, he dreamed of Winterfell, he dreamed of his father Eddard Stark and his mother Alicent Hightower, watching him proudly as he taught Bran and Aemond how to shoot a bow. He dreamed of Helaena, Sansa, and Arya, who took turns begging him to spend time with one rather than the other. He dreamed of Robb, who came to him for advice, calling him 'brother' in front of an endless audience, not half-brother or Snow. He dreamed that he had his father's hair and his mother's eyes, he dreamed that Ghost was a direwolf, but also a dragon. He dreamed that he was happy, that there were no more White Walkers or traitorous black brothers or vipers of the South. Just the comfort of home, and the undisputed love of family.

When Jon finally woke up, he realized that the cave was lit, yet he had not lit a fire.

He slipped out of Ghost's wing, rubbed his eyes, and frowned.

His uncle, Daemon Targaryen, stood before him with a torch in his hand, he had a crooked smile and a mocking look.

I supposed that he had returned while he was away on Dragonstone. Now that he thought about it, one of the dragons he saw must have been Caraxes.

"Still alive, I see." He said ironically, his voice laced with amusement.

Jon stood up despite his nudity and stretched, Ghost yawned his enormous jaw.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, uncle."

Daemon tilted his head to the side.

"I didn't know you had such a low opinion of me, nephew, the last time I saw you, you insisted on playing with my sword."

"I was a child."

"You are still a child." Daemon chuckled. "A child who was stupid enough to pester the Cannibal, and smart enough to survive it."

"I did not pester it!" Jon defended himself, angry that his uncle suspected he could have been so stupid. "I had only just left for Driftmark when it chased me. I'm not crazy enough to approach that monster."

Daemon shook his head and raised his hand to silence his nephew.

"All right." He conceded. "An unlucky and clever child... but still a child. So get dressed, nephew, Lord Corlys is furious with you."

Jon couldn't believe his ears.

"Furious?" He repeated, incredulous. "What have I done but save my own skin?"

"You brought the most dangerous dragon in the Seven Kingdoms into the Sea Snake's territory near his seat, the heart of his wealth and life. Luckily for you, the Cannibal didn't destroy anything, but Lord Corlys is furious nonetheless. He wants you to go see him to explain yourself."

Jon let out an exasperated sigh.

"I will go." He finally declared, his mother would have wanted him to go. "But if I fall asleep before he is done spouting his empty words... Can you tell him in my stead that as much of a Sea Snake as he is, his fury is a lullaby compared to that of the Cannibal?"

Daemon then stopped smiling, he looked at him with a curious look.

"Those aren't words a Hightower would say, what would your mother say?"

Jon frowned, so that was what he saw when he looked at him; a Hightower with Valyrian blood... Perhaps that was indeed an adequate description. He thought, what would his mother say?

"That any truth is only good to say when one is strong enough not to be refuted."

Daemon looked at him again, perplexed. Jonothor picked up his still soaked clothes and put them on.

"You really are a strange little boy."

"So I have been told."

"Viserys should learn to pull up his pants."

"As far as I know, he won't learn it from you."

Daemon chuckled, he admitted the irony of his words.

"On that much we agree, little nephew."