Chapter 59: Words of Fire

The wind swept over the cliffs of Dragonstone, where mist clung to the black rock and waves thundered far below. The Shadow loomed above it all, unmoving, a winged silhouette of massive scale perched on high. His golden-amber eyes, intelligent, watched the keep like a silent warden.

No one knew where he had come from. No one knew his name.

They called him The Shadow.

He was large, Perhaps even larger than Vermithor. That alone made him dangerous. That alone made him desirable.

Both factions the Greens and the Blacks knew what that meant.

And both coveted him.

Inside the Great Hall of Dragonstone, the tension was thick as sea fog.

The Blacks stood together, Princess Rhaenyra, proud and composed, with Jacaerys and Lucerys Velaryon beside her. The boys, though young, bore the weight of whispers and accusations. Black-haired, pale-skinned, they stood as heirs in blood if not in face.

Across the room stood the Greens, Queen Alicent Hightower, her expression cool, her eyes sharp. Otto Hightower, her father, remained at her side like a shadow of ambition. And with them, Prince Aegon, bored and indifferent, and Prince Aemond, watchful and quiet. At his age, Aemond had not yet claimed a dragon and his frustration simmered just beneath the surface.

They had arrived under the guise of diplomacy. But everyone knew the true reason.

The Shadow.

"I saw him from the tower," Aemond said at last, voice quiet but clear. "His wings span half the cliff. He could destroy any castle in Westeros."

"He is unclaimed," Otto added, glancing meaningfully at Alicent. "That is a dangerous thing to have a dragon of that size free and wild."

Rhaenyra's lip curled. "He is not free. He is simply… uninterested."

"You've tried to claim him?" Alicent asked.

"No," Rhaenyra said. "But others have. He let them approach. And then he burned them."

Aemond's voice hardened. "He burned dragonseeds. Fools. Bastards."

Lucerys bristled. "Careful with your tongue."

"Why?" Aegon sneered. "Is it sore from licking boots?"

Jacaerys stepped forward. "Speak again, and I'll teach you what dragons do to snakes."

Otto raised a hand, silencing the insult volley. "Enough. You're all children fighting over a sword too heavy to wield. The question is should it be left lying in the mud? Or wielded by someone worthy?"

The room fell to silence.

Then Alicent looked to her son. "You would try to claim him, Aemond?"

Aemond didn't hesitate. "Yes."

Rhaenyra's gaze sharpened. "Not if my son's do it first."

That afternoon, they all gathered on the cliffs.

The Shadow sat where he always had still as stone, as if carved from black obsidian. Wind tugged at his wings, and salt clung to his hide. His eyes were open.

He watched them.

He always watched.

The first to step forward was Aemond. He walked with calm purpose, though inside, his thoughts burned. He had no dragon. Every day, his brother Aegon reminded him. Every look from his mother was filled with expectation.

If he could claim this dragon…

"Zaldrīzes," "dragon" he spoke softly in High Valyrian.

The Shadow blinked.

Behind Aemond, Lucerys stepped forward as well. "Ñuhon." "Mine"

Aemond glanced back. "You don't even speak the tongue properly."

Lucerys scowled. "Maybe not. But I'm not afraid."

Rhaenyra and Alicent stood apart, watching. Jacaerys hovered close to his brother, hands twitching at his belt. Ser Harwin Strong stood nearby, ready to intervene.

Aemond took another step forward.

The Shadow's head turned.

A low sound began to rumble deep within his chest. A sound like the grinding of ancient stone.

Then a growl.

Louder. Deeper. Like thunder beneath the world.

The children froze. Even Aemond, bold as he was, hesitated.

A thin stream of flame curled from the beast's maw not loosed, but tasted. A warning.

The dragon rose slowly, wings spreading like stormclouds.

Jacaerys grabbed Lucerys' arm. "Back. Now."

Aemond remained where he was, jaw tight, until Alicent's sharp command broke the spell. "Aemond. Enough."

The boy turned, fury and frustration burning in his eyes. But he stepped away.

The Shadow said nothing more.

Only watched.

And when the group had retreated far enough, he gave a single shriek a piercing scream of fury and fire and launched himself skyward. The wind from his wings knocked several dragonkeepers to the ground.

He vanished into the clouds.

"Did you see how he looked at us?" Jacaerys whispered that night to Lucerys. "He knew. He saw everything."

Lucerys nodded. "He didn't want anyone. Not them. Not us."

Far across the keep, Aemond sat alone in a tower window, fists clenched.

He would find a dragon.

He swore it.

But not that one.

That one did not bow.

That one ruled himself.

That one… was Shadow.

———-

Hope you enjoyed,

Sorry I thought I released this 2 days ago