Chapter 17: Chapter 15: DragonloreChapter Text
"A dragon is no slave. While mayhaps not an equal, certainly not a subordinate."
-Lady Laena Velaryon, the Skydancer, to the Dragonseeds
104 AC, Skies above Blackwater Bay
The two of us flew home in silence, both pondering what we had just found. Laena was gripping onto Vhagar with both hands, not daring to let go lest the titanic dragon accidentally drop her. We really needed to get her a saddle. Safety issues aside, the way she was hunched up and bent over holding onto Vhagar's spine was bound to give her horrible cramps in the shoulders and lower back.
In contrast to Laena's torture, I was practically flying in the lap of luxury. Queen Alysanne loved to fly and travel, and when her back and hips began giving her issues in her later years, she'd added additional padding and primitive shock absorbers to her saddle, and had cushions sewed onto the seat. I was literally chained to the saddle, with the one end of the solid steel chain anchored solidly into the padded wood my saddle was made from, the other hooked onto my belt by a carabiner-esque clip. Hence I didn't need to grip on for dear life lest I accidentally fall when Silverwing did a sharp turn. I didn't even need to hold onto the reins, my hands busy thumbing through the book I had extracted from the vault, Silverwing obediently following Vhagar and flying gently in the older dragon's wake.
The Book of Dragons was embossed on the cover of the book in High Valyrian glyphs. A comprehensive guide on our mounts, from their taming, their breeding, behaviour and riding. What I held in my hand was likely more dragonlore outside of the library in Dragonstone or behind the Black Walls of Volantis.
It was fascinating.
Dragons had apparently gone extinct thrice before, and each time my ancestors hatched their eggs and brought them back to life.
When people said that dragons were magic made flesh, they weren't correct, but they weren't entirely wrong either. Every living being had what the book called 'the Flame'. Humans had more than most beasts. Valyrians had more than most humans. Dragonlords had more than most Valyrians. And dragons had more than most Dragonlords.
In short, while dragons were not magic made flesh, they were the creatures with the most magic in them.
This was important. Magic began dying out after the last dragon died because dragons continuously released magical energy. Mostly in their general area, but the power could diffuse around the world far quicker than anything else. Without that energy to tap into, most mages were forced to power their sorceries using inferior power sources like blood sacrifices or life force.
Dragon eggs could only hatch in the presence of sufficient magical power. So much that not even all the lives lost in the Tragedy of Summerholm was enough to awaken even one.
When dragons were alive and plentiful it was a trivial matter. The older beasts provided the energy through their presence alone and once enough had been absorbed by the eggs for their own production to begin, they'd crack open. Kind of like how to start a bonfire, one first needed a small flame to ignite the fuel.
When dragons were too few or extinct, Valyrians would tap celestial bodies for power. Comets, stars, asteroids, anything that they could. Or natural power sources, like volcanoes, the sea or the sun. Wise Valyrian mages even stockpiled magical power when it was plentiful and threw it into the skies for safekeeping. An emergency power supply for a rainy day. That was the Red Comet Dany used.
Dany hatched her dragons by tapping into the Red Comet above for the power, with maegi Whats Her Name as the initial energy required to connect to the emergency energy stockpile of our ancestors. That comet held centuries of stockpiled power from the heyday of Valyria. What was up there was enough to awaken dozens of dragons. Providing the juice to awaken three was trivial.
Then there was the details on how to ride a dragon. Their taming and control.
The Dragonlords of Valyria used sorcery, dragon horns and whips to control their mounts, but not as much as people believed.
Sorcery was used by the very first dragonriders to leash the beasts and break them to the saddle, as well as shape the dragons for war. In later generations, during the heyday of Valyria, it was considered a capital offence on par with religious sacrilege and heresy if used on a dragon for anything other than healthcare. And even then, dragons were practically immune to all but the most invasive spells, which meant that even performing them was expensive. And on the few rare occasions the Dragonlords performed sorcery on dragons required the unanimous assent of the Triarchs of Valyria and the backing of at least a third of the Forty Families. Magic was a shackle, and dragons were not slaves.
Dragon horns were a middle ground of sorts, having more in common with hypnotism than shackles. A properly enchanted dragon horn could undo the bonds between rider and mount, cause atrocious pain to the dragons or lull them to sleep. The Generals of Valyria's Legions often had several such horns on hand to send messages to the dragon riders, calling on airstrikes, retreats and other such messages.
Then there were the greater horns, one of which Euron got his filthy paws on, which could do all of the above, as well as do the forbidden and enslave dragons. There were only three in existence, one for each of the Triarchs, and used solely for calling rebellious Dragonlords to heel. There was a reason why Valyrian civil wars were few and short.
The book mentioned that every one of the Forty Families had at least half a dozen lesser horns in their possession. Nothing that could call a dragon to heel, but it was mentioned that any Dragonlord with half a brain would have a horn to strip someone of their mount. To keep unruly cousins and relatives in line. I wasn't sure if we had any horns in the vault, but the knowledge that I could strip dragonriders of their mounts was worth more than every single piece of gold in the treasury. Already, new and devious plans were blossoming in my head. The things I could do with a horn like that.
And the last and most frequently used, was the humble whip. The sheer amount of armour and protective scales surrounding a dragon meant that horsewhips were ineffective on any dragon older than a decade. The strike was comparable to a gnat's bite, I read.
So the Dragonlords had to create whips that did work. The whips Daemon and Rhaenys used trailed ten feet of solid steel chain as thin as my pinky, with a barb on the end. I could just about carry it, but swinging it was nearly impossible. Maybe if I was still a fit twenty-eight-year-old man, I could do it, but I was currently a seven-year-old girl with a pampered princess' constitution.
But not every dragonrider required those to fly. Dragons instinctively understood what their riders wanted, and would obey that even if it thought better. Commands in High Valyrian worked better than any other language, as the language was programmed into the first dragons of the Freehold using sorcery, and their descendants were still conditioned to obey it. Older dragons could override inexperienced riders whom did not use any other tool to gain compliance, such as Balerion and Aerea. The poor girl had been dragged unwillingly to Valyria and back by the Black Dread, unable to control her mount. Even Laena had to fight for the right to mount and claim Vhagar.
Daenaerys couldn't control her dragons as well. Granted, a large part of that was due to her botching the training of her hatchlings, so they tugged at the leash and were unruly. But the main reason was that she was in a horrible mental state. She was fundamentally a conquerer, not a ruler, and the stresses of ruling Meereen had chafed and wore her down. Made her doubt herself and fostered paranoia.
Once she came back to Meereen at the head of the largest Khalasar in history, full of confidence and with a great weight off her shoulders, her children fell back in line. Proof that confidence in oneself was the single greatest virtue for a dragonrider. With sufficient strength of will, any descendant of the Forty Families with sufficient blood purity could claim any dragon.
Then there was the way to properly raise a dragon. Which The Mother of Dragons clearly did not know. Which was understandable, admittedly. I don't think any ruler from Aegon Dragonbane onwards bothered to learn. For obvious reasons, of course.
Living in the Golden Age of House Targaryen, I had firsthand experience with just how much proper training and upbringing could do.
In comparison to Drogon, Viserion and Rhaegal, Silverwing was docile and friendly. She had spent a lifetime in captivity, being hatched and trained by a woman whom knew how to properly raise a dragon, and grew up around fellow... domesticated, for lack of a better term, dragons. Dragons with riders.
Specially Balerion and Vhagar, in her case. Dragons big enough to kill her with contemptuous ease if she was unruly. So Silverwing obeyed and learnt her place, being the perfect mount for her rider. It was very much like a family. Where parents would discipline unruly children, teaching them how to behave and grow up in society, and when the children grew up and had children of their own, they repeated the process in a perpetual cycle.
The Cannibal was perfect proof of how parental supervision was necessary for dragons. Even House Targaryen's private records were unsure if it was from our dragon stock or an outsider. The running theory was that the egg it hatched from was stolen from Dragonstone's hatcheries, but the thieves were unable to make it off the island. So they hid Cannibal's egg somewhere, but never returned for it.
But what we did know, was that it was hatched in isolation, and grew up with no checks on its strength and without companionship. And as such grew up mentally stunted and sociopathic.
Jaehaerys and his children had tried to hunt it down a few times, but by the time it came to their notice, it was large enough that only Balerion and Vhagar could call it to heel, but fast enough to evade the supermassive dragons. I was thinking of trying to hunt it down again, now that Vermithor, Silverwing and maybe Meleys were big enough to contend with it.
This brought me to another point in the book. Dragons needed to exercise and hunt. The reason why Dragonpit dragons were smaller than the wild ones was due to insufficient exercise. Dragon biology was strange to me, but basically the more active a dragon, the larger it grew. Take Dreamfyre for example. Dreamfyre's age was second only to Vhagar, yet she was the eighth largest dragon alive. After Rhaena the Tragic's death, she had done nothing but sleep in the Dragonpit, fed thrice a day and never exercising. Hence her growth slowed to a snail's crawl.
On the other hand, the Cannibal was half Dreamfyre's age and yet the fourth largest dragon alive, smaller than only the big three. A life of hunting and fighting against other dragons had caused it to grow quickly, leading the Smallfolk on Dragonstone to think that it, and not Sheepstealer, was the eldest wild dragon. Proof that exercise was necessary for dragonic growth.
That was not to say that the Dragonpit was a bad idea. Far from it. Say what you will about Maegor and Visenya, but those two knew how to ride and raise dragons. While wild dragons were larger and more ferocious, the Dragonpit allowed hatchlings and adolescents to grow up beside humans, acclimatising them and making them easier to claim and bond with, and sufficient exercise and hunting in their teenaged years could make up for a childhood in captivity.
Basically, wild dragons were like the super prototypes. They had better performance, but were difficult to handle. Compare and contrast the pit dragons, which while slightly smaller and less ferocious, were far easier to claim and handle. The mass production model, so to speak. And when it came to raising an airforce of dragonriders, the choice of dragon was obvious.
I'd have to change the way things were done in the Dragonpit, with the dragons being sent out to fly and hunt for their own food regularly, but the situation was still salvageable.
———
104 AC, King's Landing
Vhagar let out a powerful roar once the capital of the Seven Kingdoms came into sight, the sonorous sound causing every bird in earshot to take flight. Tremble in awe, I'm back! She seemed to shout, and tremble in awe the people of King's Landing did. Mostly fear and terror to be honest, but there was trembling and there was awe. A choir of terrified screams serenaded us, interspersed with the occasional gasp of awe and cry of excitement, as we flew into the city.
Atop the walls, guardsmen clutched their spears in terror. On the streets, horses bucked their riders and tried to flee. Smallfolk poured out of the buildings and onto rooftops and lining the streets, all pointing up at the titanic dragon. The faithful fell to their knees, praying that Queen Visenya had not returned from beyond the grave to finish what she started against the Faith of the Seven.
Scarred and grizzled, a hardened veteran of a hundred battles, with a titanic size that caused entire districts to be plunged into shadow when she flew over them, the last survivor of Aegon's Conquest lived up to her namesake; that of the Valyrian God of War, Vhagar Hostbreaker.
The massive bronze gates of the Dragonpit were opened fully, yet Vhagar still had to fold up her wings to fit into the door. The entire building shaking and dust falling from the when she landed in the central arena.
The Dragonkeepers were recruited from the Goldcloaks. Handpicked by Daemon himself for their bravery and fearlessness, for nothing less was required from the men whom would interact daily with the most dangerous predators in the Known World. And after a while, nothing could faze them. What were lords and knights, when you dealt with dragons?
Vhagar reminded these fearless men what fear felt like.
She roared sonorously and bared jet-black fangs the size of Queen Visenya's signature blade, emerald flames roiling in the back of her throat, causing Dragonkeepers to scramble for cover, fleeing like rodents before a predator in utter terror. For that was what men were to this elder dragon; little more than rodents. Even the younger dragons in the pit recoiled, trembling in fear as Vhagar's gaze swept over them.
Satisfied that the masses had been sufficiently cowed, Vhagar lowered her neck, allowing Laena to descend.
To their credit, even as they trembled and soiled themselves, the Dragonkeepers opened up Vhagar's old paddock, and Laena guided the ancient beast into it, where she slumped down in a heap. Men rushed up with carts of cooked meat and troughs of water, the dragon gladly partaking.
To my amusement, it took everyone a while to notice Silverwing and I. Normally we were the center of attention, but today, Vhagar was the Queen Bitch. Still, Silverwing was quickly stabled and her saddle removed, before being fed and watered.
And before long, Laena and I rode out into the city.
———
104 AC, Red Keep Main Gate
"Vhagar!" My father exclaimed, hugging me tight the instant I dismounted. "When you said that you were going to help Laena claim a dragon, I expected something like Seasmoke, mayhaps Caraxes, not Vhagar!"
Right beside us, Laena was also getting a talking-to by her parent.
"You reckless fool!" Rhaenys reprimanded, clouting her daughter on the head. "What were you thinking? Claiming Vhagar? Vhagar! You could have been killed! Queen Visenya's mount is both ornery and ferocious."
"It was Rhae's idea! She made me do it!" My best friend protested, throwing me under the chariot to save her own skin. Rhaenys rounded on me with a savage snarl, greatly resembling a saber-toothed tiger. But before she could rain verbal or physical blows onto me, I pulled out my secret weapon.
"Aunt Rhaenys, before you scold me, would you please take a look at the book I found?" I asked, offering her The Book of Dragons. The Queen Who Never Was frowned, puzzled, but did as I said, her frown turning into a look of wonder as she realised what it was.
"Where did you get this?" She asked, awestruck.
"Oh, nowhere important. Just Aenar the Exile's hidden vault." I said in High Valyrian, deliberately lacing my sentence with nonchalance and casualness. I leaned back and held hands with Laena, the two of us smirking triumphantly at the way both Viserys and Rhaenys had frozen like statues, mouth wide open in a most undignified manner.
"Let's take this inside shall we?" Laena lazily asked, after watching our parents gape like goldfishes for nearly a minute. "Get the whole family and have a private conversation."
———
104 AC, Maegor's Holdfast
This was shockingly nostalgic to that time Jaehaerys confronted me about my reincarnation.
The entire castle-within-a-castle had been emptied of everyone that wasn't family. The Kingsguard stood on the other side of the drawbridge, forbidding entry to the rest of the castle. We were even in the same room as before; the King's Solar.
The eight of us were gathered around the table, staring at The Book of Dragons and the glass candle beside it.
Corlys, Aemma and Laenor looked clueless, while Viserys, Rhaenys and Vaegon were practically frothing at the mouth in curiosity. And Laena and I cuddled in an armchair, smugness wafting off us like perfume.
After everyone had been settled and we were sure that the castle had been emptied, Laena spoke up.
"So, we may have found that vault of Aenar's." She casually said.
"Yes, we can see that, daughter, but how did you do it? How?!" Rhaenys demanded furiously.
"And can someone please enlighten us on what this vault is?" Her husband Corlys politely asked, placing a hand on his wife's arm and getting her to sit back down.
"Well, the vault is..." Uncle Vaegon began, launching into an explanation of the vault, Visenya and Maegor, as well as elaborating on their many failed attempts to find it over the fifty-six years of King Jaehaerys' reign.
"Which brings us to an important question." My father said, looking straight at us. "How did you do it?"
"Simple." I smirked. "I asked Vhagar to take us there, and she did that."
"Dragons are smarter than men, according to some." Laena added, an identical triumphant smirk on her face.
There was a chorus of groans and facepalms from our parents and uncle.
"Why didn't we think of that?" Viserys moaned.
"Fuck. I can't believe it was that fucking easy. All this damn time we could have just asked Vhagar or Balerion." Rhaenys groaned.
"I should have seen this. They're right. Dragons are clever. We knew that. We all knew that." Vaegon sighed.
"So what did you find in there?" Laenor excitedly asked, leaning forwards. "Gold? Jewels?"
"A shelf of books, including spellbooks and encyclopaedias." Laena answered her younger brother. "I think I saw Aegon the Conqueror's journal in there."
"Glass candles and other treasures of Valyria. You'll have to see it to believe it." I added, flicking a finger against the one we brought home. "And a whole bunch of weapons."
"Indeed. Dragonbone bows, spears and daggers. Magic staffs and wands." Laena concurred. "And a whole wall of chests that we couldn't open."
"Yup. With Valyrian steel bands and locks, even." I remembered. "Made of the strangest red wood. Lannister red, and I don't think it was paint."
"That must have been Fyrewood." Uncle Vaegon calmly noted. "A tree that only grew on the Valyrian peninsula. Sorcerers have shaped it to be nearly as strong and supple as dragonbone.
"It was rarely traded out, and with the Doom, the last Fyrewood trees are behind the Black Walls of Volantis, with trade to outsiders forbidden." He continued. "It's worth as much as Valyrian steel. Possibly more."
Gasps of shock rang through the room. I gulped at the notion. To think that we had such wealth tucked away. If the Fyrewood was worth even half as much as Vaegon claimed, selling our new stockpile of it would be enough to bankroll my projects for years.
With that, debate soon raged as to what to do with the contents of the vault. Everyone seemed to have a different opinion on the subject. Corlys wanted to sell the contents. Rhaenys wanted to bring them all back to Dragonstone. Aemma thought that it was best to leave old secrets buried. Viserys was of the opinion that we ought to keep them in the vault for safekeeping. Vaegon wanted to bring everything to the Citadel for study.
Laena, Laenor and I argued in favour of bringing them back to Dragonstone for study in secret. The Faith would take it poorly if we dabbled in sorcery, but the fact that the secrets of dragonstone and Valyrian steel was in that library made such concerns trivial to me. Still, a certain amount of discretion was expected. And unlike most, I didn't want to hoard the secrets of magic. If I had my way, I'd have as many mages as possible, wielding magic in the service of the crown.
We debated furiously until the sun had set before breaking for supper. Nobody had gotten their way, but we'd mostly all managed to agree to going to the vault in person to take a full inventory of what was present before deciding what to do with it.