90 AC. Driftmark
The bright midday sun generously bathed the sparkling azure waters in light as a gigantic shadow swept over High Tide castle. The whistle of the wind sliced by mighty wings made the guardsmen on the walls involuntarily duck their heads, even though they had all been warned beforehand of what was to come. The great dragon Dreamfyre, whose dawn-sky-colored scales shimmered with silver in the dazzling rays of the afternoon sun, wheeled in a wide circle over the harbor of Spicetown and glided smoothly down to land.
Viserra Targaryen tightened her grip on the dragon saddle's pommel, feeling the dragon's powerful muscles rippling beneath her thighs. The tension of the last few hours, the fear of the unknown, and the ecstasy of free flight mingled in her chest into a single, intoxicating feeling. She had done it. She, whom her father - before Corlys appeared - had intended to marry off to the aged Lord Manderly, was now soaring through the heavens, sharing her mind with one of the greatest dragons in Westeros.
The dragon landed dead center in the spacious courtyard of High Tide, sheltered by high stone walls. The earth shuddered slightly under the weight of her immense body. Dreamfyre let out a low, rumbling sound, jets of white steam bursting from her nostrils, but she behaved remarkably calmly for a creature that had spent seventeen years in the subterranean pit of King's Landing.
At the foot of the landing platform, Corlys Velaryon was already waiting for her. He stood with his hands behind his back, a calm, confident smile playing on his face - the smile of a man whose plan had succeeded down to the last detail.
Viserra deftly unbuckled her safety straps and began descending the leather ladder attached to the saddle. Her legs, unaccustomed to such a long and strained position, trembled slightly when she touched the firm ground. Corlys instantly stepped forward, taking his wife by the elbow to help her keep her balance. His touch was warm and steady.
"Congratulations, Viserra," Corlys said softly, genuine pride echoing in his deep voice. "From this day forth and forevermore, you are a true dragonrider. The skies of Driftmark belong to you just as the sea belongs to me."
Viserra took a deep breath, trying to still the trembling in her hands, and looked at her husband. The fire of excitement from her recent flight still burned in her purple eyes.
"It was incredible, Corlys," she whispered, turning back toward Dreamfyre, who was slowly folding her vast webbed wings. "She... she feels me. Every thought, every fear. But now she is terribly tired and seems very hungry. The flight from the capital took much of her strength."
Corlys nodded understandingly and turned to Ser Adam, the captain of his household guard standing nearby, who was watching the scene with obvious amazement, yet without panic.
"Ser Adam," Lord Velaryon called out, his voice firm as he issued clear, measured orders. "Order the servants at once to bring three of the fattest sheep from the pens. Bring the beasts straight here into the yard. Our guest has traveled a long way and needs to replenish her strength."
"It shall be done, my lord," the knight replied, pressing a hand to his breastplate and bowing crisp, ready to carry out the order without delay.
"And one more thing, Adam," Corlys stayed him with a raised hand. "Post a triple ring of guards around the dragon. None of the guests or common folk of the castle are to approach within fifty paces of her. What is more, instruct the guards themselves: their sole duty is to hold the perimeter. No sudden movements, no noise, and May the Seven preserve them if they attempt to draw near or, gods forbid, touch her. A dragon is no hound. Dreamfyre acknowledges only Viserra, to all others, she remains a deadly predator. Do you understand me?"
"Crystal clear, Lord Corlys. I shall personally handpick the men and see to it that the instructions are carried out," Ser Adam answered, striding swiftly toward the castle gates to assemble the guard and dispatch servants to the livestock pens.
Before long, the heavy oak doors leading from High Tide's living quarters into the courtyard creaked softly open. A small group of people descended onto the flagstones, their appearance causing Viserra to tense internally. It was Corlys's family.
At their head walked Lady Alice Velaryon, Corlys's mother. Her silver hair was styled in a high coiffure, and her smooth face, unmarred by any sign of age, wore an expression of profound wisdom and restraint. Behind her came Corlys's younger brothers - Daeron and Veylor.
They halted at a safe distance, studying the magnificent dragon closely. An understandable wariness showed in their eyes, yet there was none of the blind, wild terror that usually seized common mortals at the sight of such formidable beasts. The Velaryons had seen dragons up close before - they remembered royalty visiting - and the hidden secrets of their own House allowed them to view the winged reptiles with due reverence, but without panic.
Alice Velaryon slowly shifted her gaze from Dreamfyre to her eldest son. A spark of understanding flickered in her eyes. She knew Corlys all too well - his ambition, his uncanny abilities, and the terrifying ease with which he achieved his goals. Once they stepped slightly apart from the guards and Viserra, finding relative privacy beneath an overhang, Alice asked softly, meant for her son's ears alone:
"What have you done, Corlys? I know Viserra dreamed of a dragon, but this beast belonged to the Crown. Tell me, what game are you playing this time?"
Corlys merely curled the corners of his lips, utterly unabashed by his mother's blunt question. His voice remained smooth and quiet, meant solely for her ears.
"I did what will serve our House and bolster our standing, Mother," he answered. "The Velaryons have lingered in the shadow of the dragonlords for too long, serving merely as their faithful mariners. The time has come to change that. And that my actions brought genuine joy to my wife and made her happy is merely a pleasant and most valuable addition to our shared success."
Alice merely shook her head, realizing that arguing with her son once the deed was done was entirely futile, though her look betrayed not condemnation, but rather a quiet anxiety over the possible fallout.
At that moment, four servants entered the yard, breathing heavily as they led three large, fat sheep on ropes. No sooner had the beasts reached the open air and caught the distinct scent of sulfur and predator wafting through the wind than they began thrashing about in panic, striving to break free from the men's hands. Fear gripped their small hearts.
Moving swiftly and seamlessly, the servants wrestled the sheep to the ground with practiced skill. Sharp blades flashed in the air, and life left the poor beasts quickly, without fuss or needless bloodshed. Their carcasses were left upon the flagstones right before the dragon's massive snout, whereupon the servants hastily retreated, unwilling to draw the monster's eye.
Viserra approached Dreamfyre slowly, fondly touching the warm scales along her neck, and gestured toward the offered feast. The dragon lazily turned her head, her slitted pupils narrowing to lock onto the prey. Viserra stepped back several paces, returning to her husband and his family.
Satisfied that her new rider was safely out of harm's way, Dreamfyre edged closer to the carcasses. She opened her jaws slightly, and a small, neat cloud of pale, blisteringly hot blue-white flame burst from her gullet. The fire instantly seared the wool, crusting the meat in a savory char and filling the yard with the aroma of roasted meat. Then, with a low rumble, the dragon set to her meal, effortlessly crunching through bone with dagger-sharp teeth.
Corlys turned to the approaching castle steward, who stood waiting with parchment in hand for his lord's commands.
"From this day forth, Dreamfyre is to be fed twice a day," Corlys instructed, his tone unyielding. "Ensure a steady supply of fresh meat for her. Send word to our farms: let them breed sheep and swine rigorously, solely for the dragon's needs. If our own stock proves insufficient, purchase livestock from merchants in Spicetown or factors from the mainland. The dragon shall want for nothing."
The steward hastily noted down his lord's instructions, bowed, and hurried away to organize the supplies without delay.
Satisfied that the first phase of their plan was accomplished and the dragon occupied with her meal under heavy guard, Corlys motioned for his family to enter the castle. Ser Adam remained in the yard, quietly yet authoritatively briefing the line of guardsmen on their duties and the proper protocol in the presence of a resting dragon.
They entered Corlys's spacious solar. The room was steeped in the scent of rich timber, aged parchment, and the salt sea air drifting through high, half-open windows. In the center stood a massive oak desk, cluttered with sea charts and ledgers of trading voyages.
As soon as the heavy door of the solar shut, barring all sound from without, Lady Alice turned to her son. Her gaze was direct and demanding, full of maternal sternness and sharp composure.
"Now then, Corlys, now that we are behind closed doors and unheard, I want the truth," she said, seating herself in a high-backed armchair. "How did you manage such a feat? To infiltrate the most heavily guarded place in King's Landing, sunder the chains of one of the Targaryens' greatest dragons, and bind her to Viserra without raising suspicion? It is not merely daring - it borders on madness, were I not aware of what you are capable of."
Corlys crossed to his desk, but did not sit, instead, he leaned his hands against its edge, looking keenly at the gathered family. Viserra settled onto a small settee near the wall, ready to listen.
"It went far simpler than one might expect, Mother," Corlys began calmly, his voice devoid of any tremor of anxiety. "I slipped inside unseen, employing those hidden powers you all know full well. Not a single dragonkeeper, nor any guard upon the walls, perceived my presence. I simply walked up to Dreamfyre, unfastened her irons, and aided her escape. She had been locked in darkness for seventeen years, her mind starved for freedom and the open sky. I did not need to compel her. I merely offered what she craved above all else - freedom in exchange for a bond with Viserra. And she agreed."
Viserra, listening intently to her husband, offered a faint smile and turned her gaze to Lady Alice. She had expected to find astonishment, shock, or at least a shadow of disbelief upon her good-mother's face at the mention of such blatant sorcery - for common folk would deem such claims madness or dangerous heresy. Yet the faces of Alice, Daeron, and Veylor remained perfectly serene. Corlys's brothers knew of magic, having undergone the ritual themselves, but Lady Alice was evidently informed as well. Their expressions bore only understanding and a subtle satisfaction at how deftly Corlys had wielded his hidden gifts.
"I see this comes as no news to you," Viserra said softly, addressing Corlys's mother. "You are not in the least surprised that your son possesses powers beyond the comprehension of ordinary men, and can speak to dragons."
Alice Velaryon looked at her daughter-in-law with a sad yet tender gaze before shifting her eyes back to her eldest son.
"Of course we knew, my child," Alice replied softly, her voice wavering for a moment under the rush of memories. "It would have been strange to conceal such a truth within our family, especially after what transpired many years ago. It was Corlys's hidden magic that saved us all in the seventieth year after Aegon's Conquest. You may recall from the chronicles that a terrible outbreak of the Summer Fever raged across Driftmark and all of Westeros back then. Men died by the hundreds, and the sickness did not spare our castle. All of us - myself, Daeron, Veylor, and my husband Corwyn - contracted it and stood on the very brink of death."
Alice paused, her fingers tightening on the armrests of her chair. Daeron and Veylor lowered their heads.
"In those days, Corlys was still quite young," Lady Velaryon continued, gazing out the window as though looking at specters of the past. "His powers were only just awakening, he was not as strong or seasoned as he is today. He strove desperately to save us, pouring out every ounce of his strength. My late husband, Corwyn, saw how heavy a toll it took on his son. When the fever struck him as well, he performed an act worthy of a true lord and father. Corwyn steadfastly refused Corlys's aid. He effectively compelled him to heal me and the younger boys first, commanding him not to squander precious time and strength on him until we were safe. Corlys obeyed his father's will... He saved us. But he had no strength left to snatch Corwyn from the jaws of death. My husband died that day, sacrificing himself so that his wife and children might live."
Viserra felt a lump rise in her throat. She looked at Corlys with newfound respect, compassion, and a fresh wave of affection. Now she understood the heavy burden resting upon his shoulders, and the personal tragedy that had forged his character, making him so unyielding and driven toward absolute mastery over his own fate.
"Your father was a truly great and worthy man, Corlys," Viserra said softly and sincerely, stepping up to her husband and gently taking his hand. "I am grieved beyond measure that he did not live to see these days, to witness what his family has achieved, how strong and accomplished his sons have grown, and the greatness you have brought to House Velaryon."
Daeron and Veylor raised their eyes to the princess, a flash of genuine gratitude warming their gazes at her words.
"Thank you, Viserra," said Daeron softly, the elder of the two younger brothers. "Our father's memory is the light that guides us in all our endeavors."
Corlys gave his wife's fingers a gentle squeeze, accepting her comfort, as his face reclaimed its accustomed stern composure. Memories of the past held weight, yet present troubles demanded immediate resolve.
"The past shaped our present, but now we must turn our minds to the future," Corlys said, steering the conversation back to practical matters. "Mother, brothers, you will ask how we mean to explain Dreamfyre's appearance on Driftmark to King Jaehaerys himself. I have already mapped out that move. This very day, I shall dispatch an official missive to King's Landing, framing the affair entirely to our House's advantage."
Daeron frowned, leaning against the edge of the desk.
"And what will you write to the King, brother?" he asked. "The disappearance of so colossal a dragon from the Dragonpit will rouse the entire capital. The King and his Hand will order an investigation, and suspicion will fall first upon those nearest at hand with the power to attempt it."
"My reply shall be unimpeachable under the laws and traditions of the Targaryens themselves," Corlys replied smoothly. "No one in the capital saw me or my men. Not a single trace of intruders remains in the Dragonpit. The chains will appear as though Dreamfyre broke them herself. To the rest of the world, it will seem the escape of a dragon weary of her long confinement in the Dragonpit."
Corlys swept his eyes across the room, his gaze gleaming with conviction.
"Once the bond between Viserra and Dreamfyre was sealed - and you witnessed it with your own eyes - my royal good-father became entirely powerless. The bond between a dragon and its rider is sacred and inviolable. It will bear all the marks of the divine will of the gods, which Jaehaerys must accept, no matter how deeply it wounds his pride."
Lady Alice listened carefully, yet a deeper, underlying motive in this ploy troubled her. She rose from her armchair, gesturing to her younger sons and Viserra that it was time to leave them alone.
"Daeron, Veylor, Viserra, my child, go and rest," Alice said softly. "Corlys and I have matters to discuss."
Viserra nodded in understanding, cast one more look at her husband, and departed the solar alongside his brothers. The heavy door closed once more, leaving mother and eldest son alone.
Alice approached Corlys's desk and looked him dead in the eye. All her gentle maternal demeanor vanished, replaced by the keen sharpness of a woman who had helped govern House Velaryon for long years since her lord husband's passing.
"Now answer me truly, Corlys," she demanded softly, yet firmly. "Do you truly love Viserra? Or was this marriage, like all else you do, merely part of a cold, calculated design to claim dragon blood for our House? Surely you realize the King may forbid your future children from claiming dragons of their own, even if their mother is a princess."
Corlys did not answer right away. He walked to the window, gazing out at the sea where his countless ships rode the waves.
"The King is no master of mine, Mother," he spoke softly, but with absolute, chilling conviction. "If I desire something for my family and my House, I shall take it. Whether through courteous words and treaties, or by force - and no one in this world, neither Jaehaerys Targaryen nor his entire council, will stay my hand. You know full well how ruthlessly I resolve complications when the opposing side refuses to compromise. If I accord respect to the royal family, it is solely because it suits my purposes for now. Open conflict ever means squandered opportunities, resources, and time."
He turned back to his mother, his features softening.
"Yes, I shall not deny it: seeking Viserra's hand was initially a calculated, strategic endeavor for the future of House Velaryon. I saw how the Targaryens deliberately eschewed alliances with us for over two decades. My spymasters in King's Landing reported that the King harbored an aversion toward my grandfather Daemon. Yet Grandfather was Jaehaerys's own uncle! The King believed Daemon should have openly declared against Maegor the Cruel from the start, disregarding his own family's safety. In the King's eyes, Grandfather ought to have thrown himself against Balerion and perished alongside our entire lineage merely to prove his fealty. But Daemon Velaryon was wiser. He walked a fine line, preserving our House from total annihilation in the fires of tyranny, and then it was he who delivered this ungrateful Jaehaerys and his sister Alysanne from virtual captivity on Dragonstone, securing their rise to the throne."
Corlys gave a contemptuous shrug, recalling his bloodline's lingering grievances.
"The King cared nothing for us for long years. Yet the moment my grandfather passed, the royal family suddenly descended upon the funeral, overflowing with speeches about what a grand man their 'beloved uncle' was. Do I look like a fool to you, Mother? I grasped at once why they suddenly burned with familial affection. They saw the might of my fleets. They realized my voyages across the world brought High Tide riches that paled the treasuries of the Lannisters and Hightowers combined. They grew fearful of our power and resolved to chain us to the throne through marriage."
He paced across the solar, gesturing as he spoke.
"They had two options to bind us: Princess Rhaenys and Princess Viserra. But Rhaenys is the only child and heir of Prince Aemon. Much as the King wished to bridle me, he would never let the Velaryons draw so near to the Iron Throne through marriage to a prospective queen. So long as Aemon lives, the King would not dare deprive Rhaenys of her birthright without provoking a monstrous scandal. I studied Prince Aemon well during my time in the capital - he is a proud warrior who would never forgive his father were he to strip him or his daughter of their lawful inheritance in favor of his younger brother Baelon, next in line after them. Jaehaerys remembers the horrors of Maegor's reign all too well and will not gamble the kingdom's stability on such treacherous alterations. Thus, they chose the second course: give me Viserra to placate my ambitions, tether me to the throne, and keep me under thumb. And that suited me well enough."
Corlys stopped directly before his mother and gently placed his hands on her shoulders.
"Yet what began as a cold design, Mother, has changed. As we spent time together, seeing her pride, her kindness, and how fiercely she fought for her freedom, I came to truly love Viserra. She is my wife, and now that she has a dragon, the future of our children is secured."
Lady Alice searched her son's face intently, seeking any trace of falsehood, but found only genuine sentiment.
"Yet why Dreamfyre, Corlys?" she asked in a lower tone. "There are other dragons in the Pit or on Dragonstone. There were other choices."
"The choice was obvious," Corlys explained, returning to his desk. "A young princess suddenly appearing with a tiny, unknown hatchling from a chance-found egg would instantly raise a storm of questions at court. Viserra required a full-grown, powerful, and unclaimed dragon."
He shuffled through several scrolls on his desk.
"There were only two viable candidates. The first was Sheepstealer - a wild, fierce beast nesting upon the slopes of Dragonstone. He is large, hardy, nearly rivaling Vermithor in size, but he is male. Therein lay the core problem. Had Viserra claimed Sheepstealer, then in time, when children were born to us, I could in no way account for dragon eggs appearing in their cradles. The second option was Dreamfyre. She is a massive, formidable she-dragon, and most importantly, capable of laying clutches. She provides the perfect cover to bestow dragons upon all our children in days to come, without begging leave of the Crown."
Alice Velaryon exhaled a breath of relief, a warm, contented smile gracing her lips. She stood and gently touched her son's cheek.
"You are your father's true son, Corlys, and a great leader for our House. Your mind sees far beyond what any of us can perceive. I am glad you are happy with Viserra and that your designs serve the good of our family. I leave you now - write your letter to the King while time remains on our side."
His mother quietly departed the solar, leaving Corlys alone with his thoughts and a blank sheet of parchment.
Corlys sat at his desk, drew the inkwell closer, and took up a sharply trimmed quill. For a moment he pondered, choosing words meant to convey both profound deference to royal authority and the steadfast, unyielding stance of the Lord of Driftmark. Every word in this missive had to serve as a stone in the wall protecting his family from Jaehaerys's wrath.
The quill scratched across the costly, thick parchment. Corlys wrote swiftly, his hand steady, precise, and free of flaws. Finishing after a short while, he waited for the ink to dry, then neatly rolled the parchment into a tight, small scroll. He lit a small candle, melted a bit of dark red wax, and dropped it onto the seam. Drawing forth the heavy signet ring bearing his House's seal - the seahorse - he pressed it firmly into the hot wax. The seal set perfectly, securing the letter.
Corlys called out softly to the guard standing watch in the corridor.
"Summon Maester Maleon to me at once," Lord Velaryon commanded.
It was not long before later, Maester Maleon entered the solar.
"You sent for me, Lord Corlys?" Maleon bowed respectfully, his chain clinking softly.
"Yes, Maleon," Corlys held out the sealed scroll. "This letter is of paramount importance to my House. Send it with the fastest raven straight to King's Landing. See to it personally that the bird takes flight at once. Time is of the essence."
The maester peered closely at the seal, understanding without words what was at stake, given the recent arrival of the colossal dragon in the castle yard.
"It shall be taken care of immediately, my lord. The raven shall take wing within minutes," Maleon replied pedantically. He accepted the scroll, offered a brief bow, and hurried out of the solar.
Corlys was left alone. He walked over to a mirror, adjusted the collar of his doublet, and took a deep breath. The first layer of political shield was set in motion. Now came the time for the most critical, personal part of his design: initiating his wife into the greatest secret he kept hidden from the rest of the world.
Corlys descended into High Tide's courtyard. The sun illuminated the stone walls brightly, and evening dusk was still hours away. Ser Adam's guardsmen held the perimeter vigilantly, never closing an eye.
In the center of the yard, coiled in a vast ring, rested Dreamfyre. Her pale blue scales gleamed mysteriously in the sunlight. Beside her, right against her wing, stood Viserra. Corlys noticed at once that she had already changed into a light yet sturdy riding suit of dark, fine leather that fitted her form perfectly. Her silver braids were bound tightly about her head, prepared for another trial of wind.
Corlys approached her with a smile, careful to make no sudden movements that might unsettle the dragon.
"I see my princess has no intention of spending this afternoon within the castle walls," he said softly. "Attired for flight once more."
Viserra turned to him, her eyes bright with excitement.
"I cannot sit still, Corlys," she confessed, placing her palm against Dreamfyre's warm snout, in response, the dragon merely exhaled a quiet puff of warm air. "The thrill of flight... it still burns within me. I want to take to the skies again, to feel that intoxicating freedom while the heavens are clear and the sun shines so bright."
"In that case," Corlys drew nearer, his gaze turning earnest, "I hope you will not mind if your husband joins you in this flight? I should very much like to soar into the sky together."
Viserra raised her brows in surprise, a shadow of doubt and concern for her husband's safety flickering in her eyes.
"Are you certain, Corlys?" she asked softly. "The bond between Dreamfyre and me was forged only today. It is still new and fragile. I am not certain she will allow anyone else - even you - to sit in her saddle. Dragons usually guard their riders fiercely and suffer no strangers upon their backs. It could prove far too perilous for you."
Corlys merely offered an enigmatic smile, his bright eyes reflecting the glints of daylight.
"Fear not for that, my love," he answered with conviction. "I believe I can come to an understanding with Dreamfyre. After all, I managed somehow to persuade her to depart the Dragonpit and fly to your side. She and I share something of a mutual understanding."
He paused, glancing about to ensure the guardsmen were far enough away to be out of earshot.
"I have just dispatched a letter to your father," Corlys continued, dropping his voice. "A raven will carry it to the capital in a day, two at most. We have roughly two days before your father recovers from the shock and, in all likelihood, dispatches your brothers - Aemon and Baelon - here to unravel what has occurred. And I mean to use this time to show you a very special place. A place known to no living soul in this world save myself and my family. It is my most closely guarded secret, Viserra. Once you have seen it, there will be no secrets left between us."
Viserra looked at him with intrigue, feeling curiosity mounting within her.
"What place is this, Corlys?" she asked.
"You shall see soon enough," he replied. "But before we set out, I ask one thing of you: take my hand."
Viserra extended her right hand without hesitation. Corlys gently caught her fingers, then with his left hand carefully pulled up the leather sleeve of her riding jacket, baring the tender skin of her wrist. His palm rested over her joint, covering it completely with the warmth of his body.
"You may feel a slight discomfort now," Corlys warned gently, gazing straight into her eyes. "Do not be alarmed and do not pull away. It is necessary."
The princess nodded dutifully, placing her trust in her husband. In the next breath, she felt a strange, singular sensation beneath his palm. It felt as though hundreds of tiny, unseen ants were crawling beneath her skin at once, producing a prickling and a slight itch. It was alien and rather unpleasant, yet caused no true pain. Viserra merely wrinkled her nose slightly, enduring the process stoically.
When Corlys slowly withdrew his hand, Viserra gasped, looking down at her wrist. Directly upon her skin, etched in crisp, perfectly straight black lines, appeared a strange sigil that had never been there before. It was an equilateral triangle enclosing a flawless round sphere, with a straight vertical line passing through the very center from the top apex of the triangle down to its base, bisecting the mark into two symmetrical halves.
Only a few moments later, the mark began to fade rapidly, as though dissolving into her flesh, and soon vanished completely without leaving the faintest trace behind, as if it had never existed at all. Viserra ran her fingers over her smooth wrist in wonder.
"What was that, Corlys? What is this mark?" Her voice trembled with astonishment.
"It is a key, my love," Corlys answered quietly, offering a reassuring smile.
"A key? But to what?" the princess pressed.
"A key to the place where we are bound. Soon you shall understand everything. And now - it is time we set forth."
They turned back to Dreamfyre. Acting with greater confidence now, Viserra deftly climbed the leather straps, taking her seat in the forward portion of the massive double saddle. Corlys waited until she was secure, then stepped forward, intending to climb up behind his wife.
At that very instant, Dreamfyre snapped her massive head toward him. Her eyes narrowed dangerously, her slitted pupils reducing to fine lines, and from deep within her powerful chest rumbled a low, menacing roar that sent shivers down the spines of the guardsmen upon the walls.
The dragon made her displeasure unmistakably clear, casting a stark, unambiguous warning that Corlys read with ease: Stand back. You are no rider of mine. This saddle belongs to my rider alone. I shall carry no other.
Viserra looked back in alarm, ready to command the dragon to settle, but Corlys merely stayed her with a motion, asking her not to intervene. He took another step forward, coming face-to-snout with the massive beast. His eyes flared briefly with a strange, deep luminescence, and he spoke.
Due to the distance, the surrounding guardsmen - and even Viserra herself - could not discern a single word. From Lord Velaryon's lips burst a sequence of strange, hissing, clicking, and whistling sounds that resembled nothing so much as the hiss of a giant serpent.
"Peace, Dreamfyre," Corlys hissed softly and commandingly, gazing straight into the she-dragon's blue eyes. "I have no intention of encroaching upon your freedom or challenging the bond with your rider. I am the one who broke your chains in the gloom of the Dragonpit and restored the sky to you. Today, I wish to show you and Viserra a place that shall become a true home for you. I shall lead you to where my own dragons dwell, where vast expanses and great magic shall restore your former strength. Allow me to mount this once. I promise that in days to come, I shall never sit upon your back without your true consent."
Dreamfyre froze, listening to the strange sounds that found a direct echo in her primal mind. A moment later, the menacing rumble in her chest subsided. The dragon slowly lowered her massive right wing, creating a convenient sloped platform to climb, and let out a quiet snort, signaling her reluctant yet firm consent.
Corlys did not make her wait. Swiftly and deftly, he climbed up the wing, moved into the saddle, and settled behind Viserra, securing himself firmly with additional leather safety straps around her waist. His strong arms encircled her body, imparting a sense of absolute protection.
"All is well, Viserra. Give the command," he murmured softly into her ear.
The princess drew a deep breath, feeling exhilaration flood her anew, and shouted the sacred word in High Valyrian she had known since childhood:
"Sōves, Dreamfyre!"
Dreamfyre snapped open her gigantic webbed wings. A powerful thrust of her hind legs made the flagstones of the yard groan, and the vast dragon shot vertically into the sky, leaving High Tide far below.
They had been flying for several hours, holding a course southeast toward the archipelago of the Stepstones. The afternoon air at high altitude was biting and cool, yet the thick leather riding suits shielded the riders well, while the warmth emanating from Dreamfyre's massive body warmed them from beneath. Below them stretched the boundless blue tapestry of the Narrow Sea, sparkling beneath the sun. The towns and castles of Westeros had long been left behind, dissolved in the haze.
Viserra guided the flight with confidence, feeling at one with her dragon, yet questions still swarmed in her heart. Why fly toward the Stepstones - a place renowned only for pirates, gales, and barren rocks? What could Corlys possibly conceal in these perilous, god-forsaken waters?
Suddenly, the nature of their flight changed. The sky ahead began to rapidly shroud itself in a strange, unnaturally dense and thick white mist. This wall of fog rose from the very surface of the water and soared high into the sky, shutting out all vision. It seemed as though, in the middle of a clear day, an insurmountable, dazzling white barrier had arisen before them, behind which nothing could be seen.
Dreamfyre turned her head uneasily, her flight slackening. Dragons despise flying blind, losing their bearings and risking collision with hidden crags or opposing air currents.
Viserra had opened her mouth to turn to her husband and ask what to do next and whether they ought to turn back, when suddenly the familiar prickling shot through her wrist once more. The sensation returned with fresh vigor. The princess cast a glance at her right hand - even through the thick fabric of her riding glove and the leather sleeve of her jacket, a soft, mysterious bluish glow bled through. The sigil had reappeared, responding to their approach to the veil of mist.
At that very instant, as if obeying this invisible signal, the thick fog right before Dreamfyre's snout began to part rapidly, forming a perfect, clear aerial corridor a few hundred paces wide. Beyond this passage, the mist remained as dense as a wall, yet the path forward lay open and entirely safe.
Corlys pulled his wife closer, leaning to her ear, his voice cutting through the fierce whistling of the wind and the thumping of the dragon's mighty wings:
"You asked me, Viserra, what this mark was a key to? Here is your answer! It is the key to this hidden passage. Without that sigil upon your skin, the mist would never have granted you entry. It would merely disorient the dragon, forcing her to circle in place until her strength failed, or cast you back into the open sea. Before us lies Antillia, Viserra! So have I named this isle. Look closely through the rifts below: continuous rows of jagged, chaotically scattered reefs and submerged rocks encircle the land for leagues around. No ship of men, be it a light skiff or a massive warship, could ever approach these shores without being instantly dashed to splinters! And this spellforged fog guards the island from the air against any unbidden guests and foreign dragons, rendering Antillia utterly invisible and unreachable to the rest of the world!"
Holding her breath, Viserra guided Dreamfyre forward into the depth of the revealed corridor. They flew through this grand arch of mist for leagues. The magic that forged this barrier was so dense it could be felt physically.
And at last, the veil of mist closed behind them, while before them unfolded a sight that stole the breath of the princess of House Targaryen, her heart hammering wildly. Before them lay a vast, beautiful, and magnificent island, whose very existence she had only just discovered.
From a bird's-eye view, one could see waves crashing furiously against those very reefs Corlys had spoken of. Yet the island itself seemed a true paradise lost amidst the storms. Viserra gazed in wonder at the landscapes sprawling below, bathed in a soft, ethereal inner glow that seemed to emanate from the very earth and vegetation. Here lay endless green vales, dense primeval forests with colossal trees, silver threads of pristine rivers, and majestic, jagged volcanic peaks thrusting their summits into the clear sky.
Neat, even terraces were cut into the mountain slopes, where rows of wondrous, hitherto unseen magical plants grew. In the vales stood small, well-kept dwellings, while below, along the riverbanks, busied small, curious creatures with large ears and huge eyes - house-elves, who tended this hidden realm with genuine joy and meticulous care, aiding their master in fashioning his secret sanctuary.
The magical weave of this place was so potent and dense that the air felt sweet and intoxicating. Corlys had performed a great ritual here, binding the island directly to the ley lines of this world, transforming Antillia into a mighty nexus of primal power. And this power bore rich fruit. Drawing nearer to the mountain ranges, Viserra spotted vast eyries and caverns upon the rocky ledges, their proportions far dwarfing anything she had seen in the Dragonpit. This hidden realm afforded its dwellers absolute freedom and immense nourishment, allowing them to grow at incredible speed.
When Dreamfyre began her descent, intending to touch down upon a broad plateau amidst the mountain range, her demeanor shifted abruptly. All her former ease vanished in an instant. The dragon's muscles beneath the saddle knotted like stone, and her eyes feverishly scanned the surrounding cliffs.
The dragon sensed the presence of other predators - beasts whose aura of power and might was so colossal that even she, a great dragon of the Targaryens, felt threatened. Dreamfyre craned her neck sharply and unleashed a deafening, furious, and warning roar that echoed through every gorge on the island, declaring her readiness.
Viserra gripped the reins in alarm, striving to soothe her dragon, but in the next heartbeat, the earth and air around them trembled with an answering roar.
From deep, dark fissures of the volcanic mountains directly ahead of their flight path, three mighty, rolling roars burst forth in succession, deafening to the ear. The sound was deeper, stronger, and more ferocious than the bellow of any dragon Viserra had ever heard in King's Landing. Into the air, beating giant wings with heavy, powerful strokes, rose three colossal beasts.
Viserra froze, her purple eyes widening in absolute, indescribable shock. She stared at the dragons soaring toward them and refused to believe her own eyes. Like the ordinary dragons of Westeros, including Dreamfyre, their forelimbs were fused with webbed wings. Yet their body proportions, incredible density, and the very structure of their scales seemed the embodiment of a far more crushing, primal power. They appeared as titanic, flawlessly forged killing machines, possessing colossal superiority in size and terrifying agility.
Approaching them first was a true giant - a vast black dragon whose proportions already far outstripped those of Caraxes and brought to mind descriptions of fearsome Vermithor. Across his coal-black hide, intricate, glowing purple patterns shimmered like veins, and his immense eyes burned with that same deep, sorcerous purple flame. His scales, hardened by dozens of alchemical draughts and rituals of flesh magic, seemed thicker and stouter than the castle walls of High Tide.
To his right flew a strikingly beautiful dragon whose scales shimmered with pure, dazzling silver, gleaming in the sun like precious metal. Her piercing, bright-blue eyes regarded the visitors with cold, deliberate intelligence.
Third, bringing up the rear, flew a dragon with scales of a noble grey hue that seemed matte and light-absorbing. His defining feature was a pair of extraordinary, keen emerald-green eyes, glowing with a sharp, almost human intellect.
All three of Corlys's hidden dragons formed a flawless battle wedge, escorting Dreamfyre from three sides, asserting their unquestioned dominance yet committing no overt act of aggression - they recognized the authority of their rider seated in the saddle behind the princess. The princess had no notion of these dragons' names, but the mere sight of them commanded awe.
Viserra sat in the saddle, breathing heavily, her hands falling limp. She slowly turned around, her face pale, her lips trembling slightly with the rush of emotion. She looked at Corlys, who sat behind her with an utterly calm, triumphant, and confident expression upon his face, as though merely observing his ordinary merchant ships.
"Who are they, Corlys?..." Her voice cracked into a soft whisper, a blend of terror, wonder, and amazement. "Where did they come from? These... these are not my father's dragons... Where did they come from?"
Corlys looked at his wife, his strong arms tightening around her waist to offer support. He shifted his gaze to the three majestic dragons wheeling smoothly around them in the afternoon sky, and a victorious, proud smile lit his face - the smile of a man who had rewritten the rules of this world to suit his own will.
"This is my greatest secret of all, Viserra," he answered softly, yet with absolute pride, his voice carrying over the expanses of Antillia. "These are my dragons. And from this day forth, this world belongs to you as well."
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A/N
Read ahead on P@treon!
• Navigator Tier: 4 advance chapters & images.
• Master of Ships Tier: 6 advance chapters & images.
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