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POV: Aegon Targaryen
Location: Dragonstone, Dragonmount
My heart beat like a war drum in my chest as I moved toward the web of loose ropes that led to Balerion's saddle.
My hand never left his scales. I traced the ridges of black armor that shimmered faintly in the molten light scales stronger than castle walls, older than the Doom.
Beneath them, I felt the ripple of muscle, the slow tension of a sleeping storm. My touch made him twitch or perhaps relax. I couldn't tell. I wasn't sure I wanted to.
I walked the length of his spine, each step deliberate. The saddle loomed above me, nestled between two great ridges like a throne carved into a mountain. It was worn, ancient, reinforced with Valyrian steel and dragonbone. Ropes hung like vines, waiting to be climbed.
Saddling a dragon is not like saddling a horse.
It's similar in theory leather, buckles, straps but the scale is monstrous especially with the great ones.
Just reaching the saddle is a feat. Climbing a creature that could crush towers with a flick of its tail? That's not training. That's faith.
And Balerion was watching.
His eyes didn't blink. They followed me, slow and steady, like twin scarlet suns behind a veil of smoke.
I gripped the ropes and began to climb.
The leather was rough, sun-hardened, and slick with heat. My boots found purchase between the ridges of his spine. I moved carefully, deliberately, each motion rehearsed in my mind a hundred times. One slip, and I'd fall. One wrong move, and he might decide I wasn't ready.
But I reached the saddle.
I swung my leg over and settled into the seat, adjusting the straps and reins. The saddle was built for command—metal rings for anchoring gear, a reinforced harness for the rider, and a central grip carved with Valyrian runes.
I placed my hand on the grip.
It pulsed.
Not with magic. Not with heat.
With life.
I whispered the first word.
"Vēzot."
Rise.
Balerion shifted.
His wings twitched. His tail uncoiled. The cavern trembled.
I felt the bond tighten—like a rope pulled taut between two souls. My breath caught. My vision blurred. I saw fire. I saw sky.
These images i knew came from Balerion he wanted to fly to spread his wing.
I whispered again.
"Naejot."
Forward.
Balerion moved.
Slowly. Deliberately.
Each step was a quake. The ground groaned beneath him. Dust fell from the cavern ceiling. The other dragons stirred, but did not rise. They watched.
Balerion moved like a rock slide each motion caused more power to go into the next a d I quickly spot an opening up ahead.
The entrance loomed ahead—a jagged arch carved into the mountain, leading to the cliffs burried and carved deep around the Dragonmount. And I could see The night sky waited beyond, the glow of the moon and stars awaited me...awaited us.
I leaned forward, gripping the reins hard my i could feel my knuckles turn white with as I felt Balerion growl rumble the air the anticipation buit and grew between us and through our bond.
It was intoxicating. And as we passed through the entrance.
I called out.
"Sōvēs."
Fly.
He growled.
Not in anger.
In recognition.
The bond was no longer a thread. It was a chain of fire.
Balerions dark black wings opend and caught the air like a fisherman cast a rope into the sea catch fish.
We moved toward the night.
Toward the sky.
With a only three beats of his massive wings Balerion was soaring above Dragonstone in the distance I saw driftmark and on the horizon I saw claw isle.
The wind hit me like a wave of fire and ice.
It roared past my ears, tugging at my cloak, slicing through the straps of the saddle. But I didn't flinch. I leaned into it, letting the sky wrap around me like a second skin.
Balerion surged upward, wings beating with the rhythm of thunder. Each stroke lifted us higher, faster, farther. I felt the power in his muscles, the tension in his spine, the pulse of his heart—like a drum echoing through my bones.
We were no longer two.
We were one.
The bond between us wasn't just a tether—it was a current. I felt his joy, his hunger for the wind, the thrill of open sky. And he felt mine. My awe. My wonder. My need.
I reached out.
My hand skimmed the clouds.
They were soft, cold, and wet—like silk soaked in snow. I laughed, the sound torn away by the wind, but Balerion heard it. He tilted his wings, banking hard, and we spiraled through the mist like a falling star.
Below us, Dragonstone glowed in the moonlight.
The towers looked like toys. The cliffs like broken teeth. The sea shimmered like molten silver, and the fires in the castle windows flickered like candles in a temple.
I had lived there all my life.
But I had never seen it not like this.
Balerion roared not in challenge, but in celebration. The sound cracked the sky. I felt it in my chest, in my soul. It was a song. A promise.
We flew higher.
The stars opened above us, scattered like jewels across a velvet sky. I reached for them not to grasp, but to greet. And for a moment, I swore I could feel their warmth.
Balerion twisted, wings folding slightly, and we dove.
The air screamed around us. My stomach dropped. My heart soared. The world blurred into streaks of shadow and light. And just before we hit the clouds again, he pulled up smooth, effortless, divine.
I howled.
He roared.
And together, we flew.
The wind screamed past my ears, but it wasn't the cold or the rush that held my focus it was the thread.
That strange, invisible cord between me and Balerion. It was no longer as fragile as gossamer. It twisted now, pulsing faintly, a thing alive, binding us.
Every beat of his colossal wings sent a shiver through me, not from fear, but from the raw, exhilarating certainty that we were one. Flashes came to me his hunger, his pride, the slow, simmering joy of cutting through the sky.
They weren't words, not truly, but emotions painted in images that filled my head.
I tried, cautiously at first, to answer. Not with speech, but with will. Higher, I urged, shaping the thought as firmly as I could.
His roar tore through the heavens, and I felt his assent ripple along our link like the tightening of a rope. Then, with a mighty thrust, Balerion surged upward, breaking through the last wisps of cloud until the world below vanished in a rolling white sea of clouds.
The clouds moved beneath us like a great, endless ocean of silver, stretching in every direction until it seemed we were adrift between worlds. Above, the night was clear moonlight painted my cloths in pale steel, and the stars glowed softly in the black sky.
The air here was thin, biting, but I did not shiver. My body was not like normal humans even the thinness of the air didn't bother me.
Balerion's wings beat slow and steady, each stroke a soundless quake I felt through the saddle and as his muscles moved with each motion.
The world below was hidden, muffled. Up here, there was no roar of wind, no clamor of men, no smell of earth or sea only the quiet, vast and absolute.
It was just him and me: a Primarch, one of the Emperor's sons, and the last, of the dragons in the world.
I glanced over to Balerions mighty head. His great red eyes caught the moonlight, twin spheres of ancient scarlet, older than some kingdoms, older than the Doom that had ended a empire. He had seen the Valyrian Empire at the height of its dominion.
And I knew that a greater empire an Imperium was on its way i didn't know when but eventually it would come.
But here, above the clouds, I could almost believe we were not bound to the will of destiny at all.
Two shadows in the heavens, high enough that the stars themselves seemed within reach. But destiny waits below, and destiny does not wait forever.
I leaned forward, resting a gauntleted hand against the warm scales of his neck.
"Let's us return," I murmured.
Balerion's roar shattered the silence, a sound that seemed to shake the very sky. Then we dove.
POV: Aerion Targaryen
Location: Dragonstone
I woke to the faint glow of dawn bleeding through the lining of the balcony, the kind of weak, gray light that makes you want to bury yourself back under the covers.
My head was heavy, my body still wrapped in the warmth of sleep and the presence of Valaena next to me, when the sound of hurried footsteps broke the stillness.
The door burst open. Two servants stumbled in, pale-faced and breathless.
"My lord—" one began, breathless her hands white on the door.
"What is it?" I muttered, rubbing at my eyes. "It's not even—"
"It's Prince Aegon, my lord. He's not in his chambers. He cannot be found."
That tore the last remnants of sleep from me. I swung my legs out of bed. "Have you checked the—"
Before I could finish, another set of feet pounded into the room dragonkeepers, still half-dressed, smelling faintly of the smoke and ash that clung to the Dragonmount.
"My lord!" one cried. "Balerion's gone. No sign of him anywhere on the mountain. And no word or whisper from the coastal villages"
Lady Valaena sat up beside me, her silver hair a tousled halo in the dim light. She shot me a sharp look, but before either of us could speak, the world itself seemed to shudder.
A roar split the air, deep and rolling, rattling the very stone under our feet. My heart slammed against my ribs. I rushed to the balcony with Valaena close behind.
A roar split the air, deep and rolling, rattling the very stone under our feet. My heart slammed against my ribs. I rushed to the balcony with Valaena close behind.
The shadow came first—vast and black, swallowing the morning light. Then Balerion broke through the clouds, wings outstretched like the sails of a warship. And there, astride his neck, was a rider.
My son.
I turned to Valaena. "Gather the men," I said. My voice was calm, but my blood was pounding. "Now."
I had called for my men my guards, the dragonkeepers, my council, but Balerion's roar and the shadow he cast over the keep made my summons unnecessary.
Everyone had heard Balerions roar.
Everyone had seen his shadow pass and the shape on his back.
By the time I reached the shore, the entire keep walked behind me ane gathered on the sandy beach, eyes fixed on the sight before them.
Aegon. Fourteen years old. Standing before the black dragon.
He had landed Balerion and now his hand rested on that massive, scale-plated snout. The dragon the largest and fiercest among the remaining dragons, lowered his head, letting the boy's fingers stroke the ridges above his nostrils.
It was such a sight to behold that no one spoke no one needed to as a low rumble rolled from Balerion's chest.
Not quite a growl. Not quite a purr. Something between, deep enough to make the sand vibrate beneath my boots.
Those burning red eyes never left Aegon.