Evening.
The Cannibal hovered over Dragonstone Island, circling in wide arcs. Rhaegar, perched on the dragon's back, looked down and saw several warships anchored along the shore.
"Is this the royal fleet Rhaenyra spoke of?" he mused, remembering her plans to assemble a small fleet.
"Cannibal, land!" he ordered.
The island of Dragonstone was strategically located on the Gullet and collected substantial taxes from passing ships. The island's city also contributed significant tax revenue, allowing Rhaenyra to finance a fleet to bolster King's Landing's defenses.
The Cannibal descended slowly and landed in front of Dragonstone's black stone gates. As it touched down, the gates swung open and dozens of guards emerged, led by a man with black hair and a cold, stern face.
Rhaegar noticed the stag crest on the man's breastplate. "You are a Baratheon?" he asked from his saddle.
"Jon Baratheon of House Baratheon of Dragonstone," the man replied, dropping to one knee. "Greetings, Your Grace."
Great houses can have many branches.
For example, the Arryns in Gulltown and the branches of House Royce in the Gates of the Moon, branches are common for such great houses.
"Is Rhaenyra still on the island?" Rhaegar asked, not pressing further on Jon's parentage.
"The princess is here. I've already sent word of your arrival," Jon replied.
"No need for that. I'll go straight to her," Rhaegar said, climbing down the soft ladder and heading for the gates.
"Wait, Prince," Jon interjected, stepping in front of him. "The princess has not yet given you permission to enter. Please wait."
Rhaegar froze, his eyes narrowing. "Do you see who I am? Do I need permission to enter Dragonstone?" he said, pointing at himself in disbelief.
Jon's face remained stern. "Anyone entering Dragonstone Island must have the Princess's permission."
Rhaegar's smile faded. "I didn't hear you. Say it again," he demanded, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw.
Jon noticed Rhaegar's hand on his sword and took a deep breath. "Prince, anyone who wants to..."
"Jon, shut up!" Rhaenyra's voice rang out sharply, cutting him off.
Jon turned to see Rhaenyra hurrying down the winding stairs behind the black stone gates, followed by a group of guards.
"Princess!" Jon bowed respectfully.
Rhaenyra motioned for him to step aside and approached Rhaegar. "He is my newly appointed Navy Commander. He's still learning," she excused herself.
"Navy Commander, huh? Quite a title," Rhaegar said with exaggerated dissatisfaction. "Since when do I need permission to set foot on Dragonstone?"
"Don't be angry, he doesn't know any better," Rhaenyra soothed, placing her hand over Rhaegar's still gripping the hilt of his sword. Dragon Claw had almost spilled blood.
She had rushed out of the castle upon hearing the Cannibal's roar, just in time to witness the standoff.
"If anyone in King's Landing dares to treat you like this, I'll would feed them to the dragons," Rhaegar said, looking Rhaenyra straight in the eye and gently pushed her hand holding his sword.
Rhaenyra was speechless and waved for everyone to leave.
Once they were alone, she suggested, "There's a new hatchling in Dragonmont. Want to see it?"
"Alright, but we have to leave for Driftmark soon," Rhaegar replied, his tone resigned.
"It's fine. The baby dragon is in the castle. It's beautiful," Rhaenyra said with a smile, pulling him inside.
...
In the main hall of the castle, three dragon eggs of different colors sat in containers on the table.
"These are the eggs that Syrax laid. I'm choosing them for Laena's children," Rhaenyra said, her eyes sparkling as she caressed each of the eggs.
"Any two will do," Rhaegar replied absently, his attention focused on the small creature in his hands - a young dragon the size of a house cat. He examined the hatchling carefully, noting its golden pupils, bright silver scales, and slender body. For now, it had no horns or crown.
"Roar..." The young dragon stretched its neck and let out a soft roar, flapping its wings and wriggling in his hands, unafraid of strangers.
Rhaenyra laughed at the sight. "You like this baby dragon?"
"Of course, every young dragon is a Targaryen treasure," Rhaegar said. "Judging by the color of its scales, it should resemble Meraxes when it grows up."
"When it gets a little bigger, you can take it back to the Dragonpit," Rhaenyra suggested, reaching out to nudge the dragon cub's head. The hatchling roared in protest.
"Careful, the little one has a temper," Rhaegar cautioned.
Rhaenyra pouted. "Do you want to name it?"
Rhaegar nodded, though he was known to struggle with names. The name "Cannibal" had been given by the residents of Dragonstone Island. Seeing his hesitation, Rhaenyra suggested, "Why don't we just call it Meraxes?"
The Targaryens often named their dragons after gods of the old Valyrian religion—Balerion, Meraxes, Vhagar, and so on. This included Caraxes and Syrax.
"I don't like repeating names," Rhaegar said decisively. "Its scales are bright silver. Let's call it Stormcloud."
"A plain name," Rhaenyra said, sounding unimpressed.
"Well, let me take a look at your dragon eggs," Rhaegar said, holding the young dragon, Stormcloud, in his arms as he examined the three dragon eggs. From left to right, they were green, bronze, and red with black markings.
"I plan to give those two away," Rhaenyra said, pointing to the green and red-and-black eggs.
"You chose them?" Rhaegar asked.
"Yes," Rhaenyra replied, handling the bronze egg carefully. "They are Syrax's children, and I'm keeping this one for my children's cradle."
Rhaegar looked at her, seeing the maternal glow emanating from her. "Good choice. I think it can hatch a new Bronze Fury."
Rhaegar laughed and placed the young dragon, Stormcloud, on the bronze egg. The bronze was more golden, similar to Vermithor, who had begun with light golden scales that had darkened over the years to a powerful dark gold.
After selecting the eggs, a Dragonkeeper took the young Stormcloud and the bronze-colored egg with him. As the day waned, Rhaegar and Rhaenyra left the castle and headed for Driftmark.
At dusk, clouds drifted across the sky, resembling maple leaves against the setting sun. Walking on the Stepstones, the sea breeze blew against their faces, mixing with the salty, fishy smell of the ocean.
"Roar..." A low roar came from above, and a dragon shadow appeared briefly in the clouds and mist. Rhaegar looked up, but could not see the dragon.
Not paying much attention, he continued up the stairs until a strong wind blew from behind him, causing his hair to flutter. He turned to see a light gray dragon standing behind him, its wings outstretched.
"Gray Ghost!"
(Word count: 1,112)