Grey Shadow lowered its head, looking miserable and defeated.
Daeron felt a wave of helplessness.
Dragons fought each other all the time. The family histories were full of stories where dragons killed or maimed one another.
During the reign of Maegor the Cruel, Dragonstone had over a dozen young dragons and eggs for him to claim, yet he rejected every single one.
Over a dozen young dragons.
When Jaehaerys the Conciliator took the throne, the only dragons still recorded were Balerion, Vhagar, Dreamfyre, Vermithor, and Silverwing.
Even the Red Queen Meleys and Caraxes had hatched later from Dreamfyre's eggs. They belonged to the next generation.
All those earlier young dragons had simply vanished.
"Young dragons die easily. Maybe the Cannibal had a hand in it too."
Daeron glanced at the pitch-black Toothless and thought of the missing wild dragon.
"But who hurt you, Grey Shadow?"
He looked at the badly wounded wild dragon. Without quick treatment, it might not survive.
Valar and Alex had already been claimed. Only the black dragon Drogon and the golden dragon Sunfyre remained unbonded on Dragonstone.
"It wasn't Sunfyre, was it?"
Daeron's expression turned strange.
If Sunfyre had done this, that would be one hell of a twisted story.
Grey Shadow let out a pained roar and lifted its badly torn left wing toward the silver-haired man, clearly asking for help.
Daeron pushed the stray thoughts aside. He drew Dark Sister, knelt in the surf, and began carefully cutting away the dead, rotting flesh from the wounds.
Grey Shadow screamed louder. Its thin body shook violently as fresh hot blood poured from the gashes.
Daeron worked faster. Dark Sister moved in his hands with unnatural precision, slicing away ruined tissue and salt crystals.
In less than fifteen minutes every wound was clean.
He pulled out a bottle of life potion, popped the cork, and poured it evenly across the raw injuries.
Grey Shadow squeezed its eyes shut. Its chest heaved as it fought the instinct to lash out at the man helping it.
"Almost done."
Daeron stayed calm. He cleaned every wound, then took out a bone needle he had carved from dragonbone and threaded it with strong silk.
Grey Shadow cracked one eye open to watch.
Daeron waded through the warm seawater, lifted the dragon's limp left wing, and began stitching the torn gray membrane with careful, even stitches.
Flesh could heal. Scales could regrow.
But a torn wing membrane was different. Dragons struggled to repair it on their own. If it wasn't fixed properly, the holes would stay and ruin its balance in flight.
He had prepared the needle and thread exactly for moments like this.
Once the membrane was closed, he poured more life potion over the stitches. He also pulled out broken scales that had been driven into the bite wounds on the wing and neck, then flushed everything again.
The life potion carried strong vitality. It would close the wounds cleanly and keep the wing from healing twisted or scarred.
Grey Shadow finally collapsed in the surf, head resting on a rock, eyes half-lidded as it drifted toward unconsciousness.
"Tough little thing."
Daeron stroked the smooth scales along its neck, then pulled a gold-star giant sea cucumber from his pack. He fed it to the dragon along with two more bottles of life potion.
He hadn't been wrong about Grey Shadow.
A dragon's scales were hard as iron and only grew tougher with age. Eventually even scorpion bolts struggled to pierce them.
But beneath those scales lay a dense network of nerves. Without the armor of scales, those nerves turned every injury into agony.
Grey Shadow had stayed still while Daeron cut away rotting flesh. That took real strength.
"Don't even think about it. Understand?"
Daeron warned Toothless, who had landed on the rocks nearby. He didn't want the black dragon getting any ideas while Grey Shadow was weak.
He stood and walked back to the small settlement, gathered some soldiers, and had them help drag the half-conscious dragon onto the sand.
He built a fire beside it and tossed several volcanic crystals into the flames to raise the heat. A warm, dry environment would help the dragon recover far better than the damp sea wind.
"Brother, how did it get hurt like this?"
Jaehaerys arrived and stared in shock.
Viserys looked pale too, circling the injured dragon and asking over and over if it would die.
Dragons mattered deeply to this generation of Targaryens.
"It'll be fine. It's healing fast."
Daeron scooped up a handful of sand and scrubbed the dried dragon blood from his fingers.
As for who had attacked Grey Shadow, there was no way to know yet. They would have to investigate once they returned to Dragonstone.
"Grey Shadow showed up all the way out here on Bloodstone. Did it fly here to hide, or was it chased?"
Daeron frowned. Dragonstone's unclaimed dragons usually stayed close or flew to the Dragonpit in King's Landing. None had ever come this far before.
He made a mental note to keep a closer eye on the wild dragons back home.
The last thing they needed was a rogue dragon causing trouble.
To care for Grey Shadow, Daeron stayed several extra days.
With high-quality fish and repeated doses of life potion, the wild dragon's wounds closed at a visible pace. Its spirit improved quickly. Soon it could fly again.
"Hold still. I'm taking the stitches out."
Daeron pressed a hand to Grey Shadow's back and carefully removed the silk thread from its left wing. Fresh pink flesh had already grown beneath.
The thread had done its job and was falling apart anyway.
Grey Shadow let out a soft rumble. It slowly turned its head and nuzzled against Daeron's chest.
Daeron staggered from the sudden weight.
He pushed the big head away and checked the rest of the wounds. Only the wing and a few spots on its belly still needed more time. Everything else had healed cleanly.
Dragons recovered fast. With his care, Grey Shadow was nearly whole again.
"Time to go."
Daeron brushed sand from his clothes and considered his options. Leave Grey Shadow here on Bloodstone, or let it fly free?
Dragons were fiercely territorial.
Once fully healed, Grey Shadow would probably try to return to Dragonstone.
But what if it lost another fight and got hurt again? Or simply refused to go back?
Grey Shadow stepped forward and butted its head against Daeron's chest again, knocking him off balance.
Daeron caught himself. Another headbutt followed.
"Stop."
After several more, he raised his voice. Grey Shadow finally paused and stared at him with those sapphire eyes.
A moment later a red reflection covered Daeron's image in the dragon's eyes. Grey Shadow's head drooped.
"You want to stay with me, don't you?"
Daeron rubbed the smooth scales under its jaw and tossed a gold-star halibut onto the sand.
Grey Shadow's eyes lit up. It opened its jaws wide. A small, bright orange fireball formed in its throat.
The next second dragonfire washed over the fish, cooking it black.
Grey Shadow pounced, snatched the charred fish, and swallowed it whole with one dramatic toss of its head.
"Greedy."
Daeron smiled.
Grey Shadow immediately came back and started nuzzling him again, shameless and insistent.
It knew the difference between one good meal and steady meals.
"I'll take you with me. Better than letting you go back and get bullied again."
Daeron accepted the wild dragon.
He took a proper look at it now. Pale gray-white scales covered its body. The wing membranes were a lighter gray. Its horns, claws, and underbelly scales were almost white.
It was slender, roughly fourteen to sixteen meters long, and looked noticeably smaller than Alex because of its lean build.
No wonder other dragons had pushed it around.
Grey Shadow didn't understand the words, but it felt the blood connection. It knew it had found protection. It let out a bright, happy roar.
Myr Bay.
Roughly one hundred and eighty ships had limped back and now sat anchored in the calm water. What had been an attacking fleet had turned into a defensive one.
Kradara stayed hidden aboard one of the ships. When he finally stepped onto the deck, the exhausted sailors immediately lowered their heads and stepped back.
They wanted nothing to do with their admiral.
"My lord, the governors request your presence at the meeting."
A sellsword swallowed hard and approached nervously.
No one needed to explain. Hundreds of ships had failed to take Tyrosh, suffered a crushing defeat, and lost most of the fleet. The council was probably in an uproar.
They wanted someone to blame.
Kradara's eyes were cold and unreadable.
"My lord—"
The sellsword tried again.
Kradara suddenly pressed a dagger to the man's throat. His burned, savage face came close.
"Tell those idiots on the council to either shut their mouths and do as they're told, or go fight the Iron Throne's dragons themselves."
"Y-yes, my lord!"
The sellsword looked ready to piss himself.
Kradara pulled the blade back without expression. He swept his icy gaze across the deck.
"Blockade the bay. Prepare for battle."
The sailors scattered to spread the order.
10:30 that morning.
Myr Bay had barely been sealed when scouts reported a large fleet approaching fast, cutting through the waves.
Kradara climbed the mast with a telescope. When he saw the banners of the Seven Kingdoms flying, his face twisted with pure hatred.
"Prepare for battle!"
The Myr fleet had only just returned. They were in no shape to fight again.
"Damn it. Tyrosh was like chewing on a rock. It broke half our teeth."
Prendahl na Ghezn, one of the captains of the Brave Companions, spat over the rail as he watched the Redwyne fleet bearing down on them. He wanted to run, but the contract and his reputation kept him in place.
During the last battle their other captain, the bald one named Salo, had gone missing.
"Daario, take a hundred men and look for an opening on the flank."
Prendahl gave the order to the youngest captain without warmth.
Daario Naharis smiled like always and nodded. "Leave it to me."
Similar orders spread through the rest of the Myr fleet.
Dozens of warships moved out to form a line across the entrance to the bay, the first line of defense.
They had heard that Lys had betrayed them and that the Tyroshi pirates had been wiped out. They still believed they had allies and planned to fight hard.
Hiss-graa—!
A red dragon burst from the clouds like lightning, racing ahead of the Redwyne fleet straight toward the tense waters of Myr Bay.
Two more dragons followed — one black, one pale gray-white — forming a triangle behind the red leader.
Daeron's eyes were sharp.
"Dragonfire."