Shortly after.
Hulltown, outside the port.
A massive dragon with bronze scales and a mighty, imposing frame swept across Blackwater Bay like a thunderstorm, stirring up fierce winds.
"Faster, Vermithor!"
Aemon clung to the dragon's back, his face alight with the thrill of flight.
In just a single day and night, the bond between dragon and rider had solidified.
Now, Aemon sat astride an ancient saddle, gradually mastering the art of dragonriding.
"With a saddle, it's so much easier," he murmured with a gleam in his eye, a grin spreading across his face.
Today was his Aunt Rhaenys's nameday celebration, and he was already running late.
But he had a good excuse—he had been securing the saddle.
Aemon smoothed back his wind-tossed silver hair and admired the ancient saddle beneath him.
A dragon saddle typically consisted of two parts: the saddle itself and the rope ladder.
This particular saddle was once fitted for Balerion the Black Dread during the Conquest Era. Forged from Valyrian steel, its front was adorned with a detailed engraving of the three-headed red dragon sigil.
The lower part of the saddle was connected to a network of reinforced rope ladders that extended down Vermithor's neck and shoulders, crafted to withstand fire and wear.
The saddle's craftsmanship was unmatched—an ancient relic from Valyria, rare even among the noble Forty Dragonlord Families.
However, during the reign of Maegor the Cruel, the saddle was retired as Balerion continued to grow. Maegor, notorious for his fickleness, commissioned a new saddle and left this one to gather dust in the crypts of Dragonstone's Stone Drum Tower.
When Aemon learned from the dragonkeepers that Vermithor's original saddle had burned away, he was quick to reclaim this treasure.
"Lucky me," Aemon thought, gripping the intricately crafted handles with satisfaction.
He now had his great-grandfather's dragon and the Conqueror's saddle.
Who could rival him?
"Screeeee!"
A piercing dragon roar echoed over Hulltown, accompanied by the deep tolling of the bell tower.
Aemon's ears perked up. He turned toward the horizon, his gaze sharp.
Boom!
The clouds above roiled and parted, revealing a pale silver dragon soaring gracefully through the sky.
The dragon's well-proportioned, muscular frame moved with effortless grace, weaving through the clouds like mist over the sea.
At a glance, the dragon appeared to be around twenty meters long.
"Seasmoke," Aemon whispered, his violet eyes narrowing.
"Grrr!"
Vermithor growled low, scattering the clouds with a powerful sweep of his wings.
The Bronze Fury's temperament was more domineering than even Vhagar's.
He tolerated no dragon flying above him and often drove other dragons away.
At the sight of Seasmoke, Vermithor immediately exuded dragonfire aura, asserting dominance.
"Screeeee!"
From a distance, Seasmoke spotted the bronze giant and responded with a defiant roar.
Atop Seasmoke's back, Laenor Velaryon tensed for a moment before his expression softened.
He recognized the dragon.
That was Vermithor, the dragon once ridden by King Jaehaerys I, now bonded to someone new.
And the silver-haired boy riding the beast...
"Is that Daemon's son?" Laenor muttered, his expression conflicted.
Despite his reservations, he patted Seasmoke's neck.
"Seasmoke, let's meet them!"
Laenor had a task to fulfill—circling Hulltown to showcase his family's strength to visiting lords and merchants, sending a message to the royal family.
But seeing Aemon complicated matters. Technically, they were allies.
And Vermithor's massive size commanded respect.
Laenor decided to approach cautiously, just close enough for everyone to witness the encounter between the dragons of two powerful families.
"Screeeee!"
Seasmoke let out an excited cry and surged forward, wings cutting through the air as he charged.
Down in the harbor, crowds of lords, merchants, and commoners tilted their heads to the sky.
Seeing two dragons in flight was a rare spectacle.
In many places, it was a once-in-a-lifetime event.
Aemon watched Seasmoke draw near and smiled mischievously.
"Attack!"
The command, spoken in High Valyrian, was clear and unwavering despite his young voice.
He was going to cause trouble.
This trip to Driftmark wasn't just a social call.
He was here to crush House Velaryon's arrogance.
If Seasmoke dared to challenge him, he would take the opportunity to strike it down.
Losing a dragon would severely weaken Lord Corlys's influence.
Would the Sea Snake remain so bold after suffering such a loss?
"Screeeeeee!"
Vermithor's coppery eyes gleamed with malice.
With a sudden burst of speed, the Bronze Fury hurtled toward Seasmoke, scattering the clouds in his wake.
The battle-hardened dragon, despite his bulk, moved with practiced precision.
"Dragonfire!" Laenor shouted, sensing danger.
Seasmoke obediently unleashed a stream of orange and silver flame, aiming to create distance.
Boom!
But Vermithor didn't flinch.
Instead, he charged straight through the fire, his massive frame glowing in the heat.
Aemon leaned forward on the saddle, grinning wildly.
The sight of his fearless approach sent a shiver down Laenor's spine.
"This isn't good!"
Before Laenor could react, Vermithor rose from Seasmoke's blind spot and lunged.
With terrifying speed, Vermithor bit down on Seasmoke's right wing.
Crunch!
The sound of bone snapping echoed across the skies, followed by Seasmoke's pained screech.
"No!" Laenor cried out as he struggled to stay on Seasmoke's back.
The impact nearly sent him flying from his saddle.
"Screeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
Seasmoke's confidence shattered. His broken wing bled profusely, and his fear of death overtook him.
Vermithor, sensing his advantage, tightened his grip and began to shake Seasmoke like a ragdoll.
The Bronze Fury had no mercy for challengers.
"Hahaha! Well done!"
Aemon's laughter rang out as he clung to the saddle, swaying with Vermithor's movements.
This was his first dragon duel, and he showed no fear.
It was as if he had been born to ride dragons.
Below, the townsfolk gasped in terror.
Dragon blood and flame stained the once-blue sky a crimson hue.
Boom!
Vermithor descended rapidly, dragging Seasmoke down with him.
"Drop him, Vermithor!"
Aemon's command, spoken in High Valyrian, rang out.
Just before hitting the ground, Vermithor released Seasmoke, sending the injured dragon plummeting to the earth.
With a thunderous crash, Seasmoke hit the ground, raising a cloud of dust and sparks.
The crowd watched in stunned silence.
A dragon had fallen.
"Screeeeeeeeeee..."
Seasmoke lay in a broken heap, his silver scales scorched and his wing hanging uselessly.
Aemon glanced back at the defeated dragon, smirking.
"Let's land," he said, satisfied with his victory.
Suddenly, a fierce roar echoed across Driftmark.
Aemon looked up to see a red dragon soaring into the sky.
"Meleys," he murmured.
Was that his Aunt Rhaenys?
His hand tightened around the saddle's handle, ready for whatever came next.