At first light the following morning, beneath the watchful eyes of the Dragonkeepers and a full escort of armed guards, Princess Helaena Targaryen and Prince Aemond Targaryen set out to seek dragon hatchlings.
Because of their tender years, their choices were few. Only dragons born within the last handful of years could be considered.
Great beasts such as Vermithor or Silverwing lay far beyond anything children might hope to claim.
Dragonriders like Lady Laena Velaryon, who had bonded with Vhagar at twelve, were legends for a reason.
For most Targaryens who had not hatched alongside a dragon egg, their first bond was almost always forged with a young dragon.
"ROAR!"
Tyraxes answered the dawn with a thunderous cry.
The dragon was growing larger with every passing day, and with that growth came pride. The bearing of a dragon king had begun to take shape in the arch of his neck and the dominance in his roar.
With a powerful beat of his wings, tyraxes rose into the sky. Baelon sat steady in the saddle, following the escort assigned to Princess Helaena's party.
On the opposite route, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen flew above Prince Aemond's guards, Syrax's golden wings cutting clean arcs through the morning air.
Their charge was simple. They were to prevent any wild or adult dragon of Dragonstone from approaching the children.
As for hatchlings, the soldiers below were more than sufficient.
Baelon reclined easily against the saddle's high back, one hand resting against the warm scales beneath him as he surveyed the island below.
He had been born within the castle of Dragonstone. By any honest measure, this was a return to his homeland.
Dragonstone's great mountain, the Dragonmont, loomed above all else. A living volcano, its heat and smoke drew dragonkind to it as surely as flame drew moths.
The castle itself clung to the mountain's side.
Forged entirely from black stone through ancient Valyrian craft, it was the only fortress in Westeros of its kind.
Legends claimed it could withstand even dragonfire without falling.
Baelon watched as Helaena and her escort vanished into the Dragonmont's smoking tunnels. His brow creased slightly.
Something was wrong.
Why begin dragon claiming so early? Even a young dragon was death made flesh to a child of four.
Is this Otto's hand at work? he wondered, eyes narrowing faintly as the guards disappeared into the mountain's mouth.
On the far side of the Dragonmont, Rhaenyra shifted in her saddle and stifled a yawn.
If truth be told, she already regretted agreeing to come.
She had imagined flying alongside Baelon. Instead, Queen Alicent had insisted the parties be divided. Helaena was sent north into the mountain, while Aemond searched the southern slopes.
Which left her separated from Baelon.
"…Whatever," Rhaenyra muttered, slumping back against Syrax's neck. She did not spare Aemond so much as a glance.
Time passed.
Helaena's party, having entered the Dragonmont first, soon found a cave. It was narrow and shallow, far too cramped to belong to Vermithor or Silverwing.
At Helaena's raised hand, the Dragonkeepers signaled the guards forward. Torches were lit, their flames flickering against the stone as the group advanced with measured steps.
Dragons were fiercely territorial creatures. To one, an intrusion was no different from an attack.
Had they encountered a dragon of foul temper, a single breath of flame would have ended them all.
"Your Grace," an elderly Dragonkeeper said after a long examination, his voice low and steady, "this passage leads to the roost of Grey Ghost. She nests high along the eastern face of the Dragonmont."
He inclined his head respectfully.
"Grey Ghost is a young she-dragon. Shy by nature. Though she hatched some years ago, she still meets the requirements."
The man had lived his entire life on Dragonstone. There was no dragon here he did not know.
"Then it will be her," Helaena said softly. Her fingers brushed along the cave wall as if feeling something unseen.
The Dragonkeeper bowed. "As you command, Your Grace."
With effort and care, the guards helped her climb. At last, they reached the rim of the volcanic crater.
"Seven save us…"
The first soldier to peer over the edge froze, his breath leaving him in a whisper.
Before them lay a dragon of pale ash-white, her scales the color of morning mist.
Her body was long and slender. Horned ridges circled her neck, and a line of spines traced her back, radiating quiet menace even in sleep.
Grey Ghost lay curled within the crater, unaware of the intruders.
"It is her," the old Dragonkeeper confirmed, awe softening his voice. "Princess… will you attempt the bond?"
Helaena lifted her head.
The instant her eyes settled upon the sleeping dragon, her gaze drifted, unfocused.
In her sight, Grey Ghost was no longer alone.
She saw the pale dragon following behind a colossal blood-red wyrm, obedient among many others, lying low before a crimson Dragon King.
"She is part of the host," Helaena murmured, her voice distant. "She will never be mine."
The Dragonkeeper frowned slightly. "Your Grace?"
Helaena shook her head, the movement small but firm. "No. Grey Ghost is not my dragon. We are wasting time."
She turned away.
Then it happened.
The soldier who had climbed first, still shaken by what he had seen, took a step back. His heel caught against the stone.
He lurched forward.
And vanished over the edge.
The fall was brief.
The scream was not.
It echoed through the mountain, sharp and dying, and tore Grey Ghost from her sleep.
"SKREE!"
Her eyes flew open.
The sight of dozens of small creatures standing within her lair sent panic flooding through her. She surged upright, wings snapping wide as dust and stones blasted outward. A warning hiss thundered from her throat.
High above, tyraxes stirred.
Baelon straightened in his saddle as the roar reached him. His expression hardened.
He urged tyraxes forward at once.
They landed atop the mountain in a storm of claws and stone. With brutal force, tyraxes tore open the cavern roof, sunlight flooding the lair.
Baelon leaned forward, eyes sharp.
"Grey Ghost…"
The dragon within was barely a dozen meters long. Too old to be a hatchling, yet not one of the dragons newly born on Dragonstone.
Most grown dragons were sent to the Dragonpit in King's Landing.
This one had not been.
That marked her as wild.
And of Dragonstone's three wild dragons, Grey Ghost was the smallest. Her pale coloring left no doubt.
Baelon did not order an attack.
Helaena was still inside. Any clash risked killing her.
Instead, he placed a hand against tyraxes's neck.
The dragon obeyed.
Tyraxes loosed a roar of pure dominance.
Grey Ghost recoiled at once.
She snapped her head upward, and when she saw tyraxes looming above her, vast and regal, terror rippled through her body.
Against that presence, she knew herself small.
And she knew fear.
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