At the height of the Old Valyrian Empire, eight of the great Free Cities of Essos were part of its territory.Its lands were even larger than the entire continent of Westeros.
Power in the empire was held by the forty most powerful dragonlord families.They were unimaginably wealthy, proud of their bloodlines, masters of sorcery, riders of dragons, conquerors of nations.Among these dragonlord houses, the Targaryens ranked relatively low.
After five thousand years of expansion, many Valyrian families existed, some nobles without dragons,some sorcerers,some craftsmen,and some whose ancestors had been stripped of status and reduced to commoners.
More than two hundred years ago, the lesser noble houses Celtigar and Velaryon followed House Targaryen to settle on Dragonstone.Because of that migration, they survived the volcanic cataclysm that destroyed Valyria.
"Did you remember what I just said?"Rhaena suddenly grabbed Rhaegar by the head.
"Celtigar and Velaryon are our closest allies. Don't ever pick a fight with them."
Her earlier display of killing the mercenaries had worked perfectly.
Travelers passing Harrenhal now praised her decisiveness and wisdom.No one dared speak ill of her anymore.
Rhaegar, however, remained anything but quiet.
Whenever guests staying at Harrenhal carried weapons, he would challenge them to spar.
He beat others sometimes, but got beaten far more often.
He frequently returned bruised and battered, earning another scolding from Rhaena.
This had become the favorite topic of traveling merchants.
Rhaegar pushed her hand away.
"I know already. I'm not crazy, why would I pick fights with them?"
"That's just sparring, it's for fun!"
At that moment the two of them were riding on Dreamfyre's saddle, flying toward Dragonstone.
Rhaena already knew Rhaegar's secret—he could ride dragons.
She handed the reins to him and wrapped her arms around his waist.
"Let me see how you command Dreamfyre."
"Hold on tight," Rhaegar said as he took the reins and patted the dragon's scales.
Riding a dragon was nothing like riding a horse.
A horse could be steered by pulling reins.
But dragons were far too large.
The reins on the saddle only secured the rider.
A dragon was controlled through mental connection and High Valyrian commands.
Rhaegar seemed to have some faint connection with Dreamfyre—but he had no idea how to use it.
So he simply shouted:
"Dreamfyre! Hepās vēzot!"(Climb quickly!)
Dreamfyre immediately responded.
Her wings spread wide.
Her head lifted slightly.
Muscles swelled across her back.
With powerful wingbeats she surged upward, piercing straight into the clouds.
*
Dragonstone
Dragonstone was a volcanic island constantly shrouded in sulfurous smoke.
Its tallest peak was an active volcano.
The land was barren and jagged.
For centuries dragons had nested near the hot volcanic craters.
Any living creature that climbed the mountain, unless it carried Targaryen dragonlord blood, would be eaten by the dragons.
Because dragons destroyed the surrounding forests, the island was mostly black volcanic rock and sparse grass.
The native people survived by shepherding and fishing.
They worshipped the dragonriding Targaryens like gods.
Although the Seven Kingdoms had outlawed the first night tradition decades ago, the islanders still invited Targaryen men to perform it at weddings.
The bride was believed to be blessed by the gods.
Children born afterward were called dragonseeds.
Despite its name, Dragonstone was very large.
Riding along the coastline from south to north took an entire day.
Halfway up the mountain stood the massive dragon-shaped castle built from black obsidian.
Ships and islanders gathered in the fishing village below.
The maester on Dragonstone had predicted strong sea winds.
For sailors visiting the island, this was ideal.
Strong winds scattered the thick mist and prevented ships from running aground.
As Dreamfyre descended from the clouds above the castle, Rhaegar saw two dragons resting on the slope:
Vermithor and Silverwing.
It seemed Aemon and Baelon had not yet claimed their dragons.
When Rhaena and Rhaegar climbed down the rope ladder from Dreamfyre's back, Rhaegar glanced behind him.
Both dragons were watching him.
His heart skipped a beat.
Perhaps Rhaena was right.
Maybe he really could ride any dragon.
But nothing had happened so far.
That meant King Jaehaerys trusted Rhaena completely.
Still, it was best to take precautions.
Don't approach dragons openly.
Don't touch open flames.
Rhaegar straightened his collar and followed Rhaena toward the castle.
The guests on Dragonstone had been invited by the king and queen.
But the true focus of the gathering was Prince Aemon Targaryen and Jocelyn Baratheon.
Today was their betrothal ceremony.
The sun was high overhead.
The evening banquet was still hours away.
Guests were drinking wine and enjoying the sunlight in Aegon's Garden.
After tasting the ceremonial salt and bread, they passed through tall black pine trees and entered a small maze formed from wild roses and thorn bushes.
The maze smelled pleasantly of pine.
At every corner grew cranberry vines heavy with golden fruit.
To reach Aegon's Garden, one had to find the exit near the castle's rear gate.
Rhaegar and Rhaena greeted the king and queen.
The siblings began discussing matters he couldn't contribute to.
So Rhaegar excused himself and went to find Aemon and the others.
"Hard Rod Rhaegar! Wait for me!"
Someone shouted from behind.
Rhaegar turned around.
It was Baelon.
"Rhaegar! I heard you personally killed six bandits recently. Is that true?" Baelon asked excitedly, throwing an arm around Rhaegar's shoulders.
The once-snot-nosed boy had grown tall.
He now stood about the same height as Rhaegar.
His short blond hair framed his face, and he wore a black noble tunic embroidered with the three-headed red dragon.
"That's impossible," Rhaegar replied casually.
"I had soldiers and cooks with me."
He intended to downplay the story.
A ten-year-old killing ten mercenaries would attract too much attention—and possibly reveal the dragon incident.
"But you were the one leading them!" Baelon insisted.
"In Westeros, when nobles lead a group, the credit goes to the noble."
"Come on- tell me everything! Did you use a spear or a sword?"
Baelon loved martial training.
He dragged Rhaegar toward the training yard, eager to reenact the battle.
Rhaegar sighed.
Baelon wouldn't let him escape.
So he went along.
"You have no idea how fierce that dog was!" Rhaegar said dramatically, waving a blunt training sword.
"When it stood up, its shoulders were as tall as a shadowcat!"
"And its teeth were as long as daggers!"
"When it leaped at me, jaws wide open- just as it was about to bite…"
"Guess what happened?"
"BAM!"
"I used a sliding tackle!"
Baelon had been listening intently.
But the story quickly began sounding… strange.
The training sword in his hand creaked as he tightened his grip.
"Hard Rod Rhaegar! I finally found you!"
A booming voice roared.
"Prepare to receive your punishment!"
A towering man nearly two meters tall strode out from a side door of the castle.
He held a warhammer in each hand.
His rugged face, slightly curled black hair, and bulging muscles stretched his leather armor tight.
With a roar he charged straight at Rhaegar, swinging both hammers.
"Damn it," Rhaegar muttered.
"Why do the men of House Baratheon grow so fast?"
He shoved Baelon aside and raised his training sword into a defensive stance.
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