Chapter 146: Where the Dragon Belong

"Where did you get this information?" Draezell was shocked. He had just returned from Dragonstone and knew nothing about this. Logically, something as significant as the hatching of a traitor's son's dragon should have been reported to him by Daemon. But during his time at Dragonstone, Daemon had said nothing about it. This meant Daemon didn't know either. So how did Tigarro find out? Moreover, Draezell's flight back from Dragonstone had been swift, leaving no time for such news to travel. Could Tigarro have used "that" thing? But the hatching of Maelor's dragon egg wasn't such a monumental event that it would warrant the use of a life-draining magical artifact for communication.

"This news just came in," Tigarro said, equally puzzled. He couldn't understand why Daemon hadn't informed Draezell. According to his spies in the Dragonpit, this had happened three days ago. Unless Daemon had been at Dragonstone all this time, he should have known.

But he didn't.

Or rather, Daemon only learned of it when Caraxes successfully asserted dominance in the Dragonpit. The reason was simple: the room where Maelor's dragon egg was stored was too remote, and most of the eggs there had turned to stone. The dragonkeepers on duty hadn't bothered to check it during those days. It wasn't until Daemon returned that the keepers, hearing strange noises from the upper levels of the Dragonpit, went to investigate—only to find nothing.

That was until Caraxes emerged from the Dragonpit with a proud expression, lifting his head and letting out a low growl at Daemon.

Daemon could roughly understand what Caraxes was conveying. This ability to interpret a dragon's thoughts came from the deep bond formed between dragon and rider after taming. It was unique to the pair and couldn't be understood by others. In short, Daemon could grasp Caraxes' meaning, while others only heard the dragon's sharp roars.

Caraxes: Here... dominate... upper level... hatchling scent.

Daemon stared at Caraxes in confusion. He could comprehend the message, but the mention of a hatchling left him stunned. Gaelithox was still at Dragonstone, and Robert Quince would continue feeding the young dragon until it could fly independently before bringing it back to the Dragonpit in King's Landing. So where could this new hatchling have come from? The upper levels? Could another egg have hatched?

Caraxes growled a few more times. Translated, it meant:

Caraxes: Upper level... hatchling... hungry... trapped.

"I understand, old friend. Rest now," Daemon said, pressing his forehead against Caraxes' massive head for a moment before watching the dragon retreat back into the Dragonpit. The dragonkeepers, holding their long staffs, approached the old prince with concern. "Your Grace, is it really safe to leave the dragons unbound?"

"We'll try it," Daemon said, taking a deep breath and patting one of the keepers on the shoulder. "You've worked hard. Lock the front gates but leave the rear open. I've instructed Caraxes to inform the other dragons that they are not to harm the people. Based on House Vaelarys' experience, this should work. By the way, has any dragon egg hatched recently?"

The dragonkeeper shook his head. At least, among the eggs collected from Syrax and Dreamfyre, none had hatched. Daemon was baffled. No hatchlings? Then why had Caraxes told him about a new dragon? "Aside from the eggs you've collected, are there any others in the Dragonpit that haven't turned to stone?"

"There's also the egg of Maelor Sunfyre, the son of the usurper," the dragonkeeper said after a moment of thought, recalling an egg stored in the upper levels. "But that egg showed no signs of hatching."

Daemon waved his hand, cutting off the dragonkeeper's explanation. "Take me to see that egg." The old prince quickly ascended the steps of the Dragonpit's side entrance. Unlike the deep, cavernous chambers where dragons entered through the main gates, the upper levels housed storage rooms filled with collected dragon eggs. Guided by the dragonkeeper, Daemon arrived at the locked door of the storage room.

"Your Grace, there have been strange noises here," one of the dragonkeepers guarding the room reported. "But when we checked, we found nothing."

Daemon's guard went up immediately. This suggested that the newly hatched dragon was exceptionally cunning—if Caraxes' message was accurate, of course. Dragons weren't known for their intelligence, and their messages weren't always precise. "Go, prepare a bucket of cooked meat," Daemon ordered. The dragonkeeper hurried off to fetch the food.

The old prince gestured for the guards to open the storage room door and cautiously stepped inside. The dimly lit room was illuminated by a few scattered torches, and the floor was littered with petrified dragon eggs that had been knocked over, as if something had been rummaging through them.

"Come out, little one," Daemon called in High Valyrian, sensing that his companion was searching for the hatchling. From the depths of the Dragonpit came a sharp, echoing roar.

Caraxes: *Hatchling... come out... friendly... strong one... food.*

Several petrified eggs rolled aside, revealing a small green dragon crouched over an empty eggshell, licking the remnants of its yolk. The moment the hatchling saw Daemon, it bared its teeth and let out a defiant screech. However, a deeper roar from the Dragonpit sent the little dragon scurrying back behind the eggshell.

Daemon finally had a chance to observe the newborn dragon. The emerald-green hatchling had its wings folded tightly against its body, glaring fiercely at the old prince as he bent down to enter. But it was too weak to even produce a puff of black smoke. The dragon had a crown of spines that started above its eyes and extended down most of its body. Unlike the high, majestic dorsal fins of House Vaelarys' Aurorae, this dragon's spines were shorter and gave off an eerie, sinister vibe. Its head was lizard-like, with a curved jaw and small horns protruding above its eyes, extending to the back of its skull. The green dragon had a long neck, but unlike Caraxes, its body and tail were shorter, and its neck was less flexible, covered in large, diamond-shaped bony plates. When the hatchling hissed, its long, forked tongue flicked out.

The dragonkeeper rushed in with a bucket of meat. Daemon grabbed a piece and tossed it toward the hatchling. The green dragon pounced on the meat in an instant, tearing into it ravenously.

After confirming that the hatchling had indeed emerged, Daemon sighed deeply and stepped out of the storage room. "Seven hells," the Regent muttered, his mind racing with implications. Strictly speaking, this dragon was Maelor's bonded hatchling. According to Targaryen tradition, its future rider would be Maelor. But Maelor was Aegon's son, and after the Dance of the Dragons, he had been stripped of the Targaryen name. How could he possibly have the right to tame and ride a dragon? Yet Daemon didn't know whether a bonded dragon could only be tamed by its destined rider or if others could attempt it without consequences.

The situation was fraught with complications. Daemon's thoughts turned to the future, wondering what this unexpected development might mean for House Targaryen—and for the realm.

House Targaryen needed more dragons and more riders. Although House Vaelarys was now closely aligned with the Targaryens, no one could predict the future. The Dance of the Dragons had left House Targaryen severely weakened. As those Valyrian dragon thieves from Volantis had rightly said, for dragonlord families, dragons were everything. The more dragons they had, the stronger their voice. The larger the dragons, the greater their influence.

Unfortunately, House Targaryen currently had neither. Daemon had to think about the future. This green dragon had to be raised, but the question of its rider was a thorny issue.

After the Dance of the Dragons, Maelor Sunfyre and Garmund Hightower had been granted lands on Ghaston Grey by Draezell. This isolated island in the Sea of Dorne, surrounded on three sides by the territories of House Vaelarys, had once served as a prison for House Martell. Its stone castle had held many highborn nobles of great renown. Now, however, the island was divided into three parts.

House Cober, a landed knightly house from Dorne that had distinguished itself in the Dornish Wars, was granted Greyghast Castle—the former prison—and the majority of the island's land. The tower castle on the eastern side of the island, known as Farwatch Keep, was awarded to Garmund Hightower as a reward for his role in restoring order. The boy, who had killed his own kin, now secluded himself in the keep's lone tower, refusing to leave. This forced Harvard Cober, the castellan tasked with overseeing him, to deliver food daily to ensure Garmund didn't starve himself to death.

The tower on the western side of the island, God's Hidden Tower, became the seat of House Sunfyre. Under the care of Hurd Cobb, Maelor grew up slowly, sustained by the fish, goat's milk, and eggs provided by the two small fishing villages nearby. However, most of the supplies still had to be shipped from the mainland.

Without a ship or a dragon, Maelor Sunfyre would never leave this island.

Even if he had a dragon, he couldn't afford to feed it.

Therefore, this green dragon would have to be raised by the royal family. After all, Maelor had never bonded with it, and the dragon had not acknowledged him as its partner.

There was still a chance for a Targaryen to tame it.

Daemon convinced himself of this and turned to the dragonkeeper. "What should we call this green dragon? Never mind, we'll name it later. For now, take good care of it. Once it can feed itself, move it to the Dragonpit. But first, bring it to Caraxes' lair."

"As you command, Your Grace."