Chapter Text
Daemon wanted to see the Blood Wyrm. After a scolding from his father for teasing Viserys with spiders in his cup he sought to escape from those of his family who would never understand and never speak to him as an equal.
He crept like a wolf through the stone-carved caverns of the dragonpit. Ominous orange torchlight cut sharp shadows along the crevasses in the rock. Curiosity drove him further even as a terrifying roar rumbled from within the darkness. It was the first time in his memory a dragon rider had died, the last tragedy being his own mother’s death which he had little memory of. What happened to a dragon after their bonded rider died? Did they mourn as the family did? Or was it simply another flame passing through in a life that spanned centuries? But Caraxes had followed Uncle Aemon’s body all the way home to King’s Landing. He’d even circled the hills outside the castle as Meleys burned his rider’s funeral pyre earlier that week. No, Viserys was wrong. Dragons did care for their riders they weren’t entirely wild beasts without conscious thought.
The beast he sought was a wild creature, even under his rider who was arguably a steady, stern man. Caraxes did not sit still. His long forked tail constantly coiled behind him like a whip and his elongated neck followed the motions with a broken call. Others called him deformed, Daemon was of a mind with his uncle, he was special. The blood wyrm looked like no other dragon alive with his knife-like leg fins, he twisted through the air like a snake. He was beautiful.
Daemon found his quarry within the dark tunnels several levels beneath the dragonpit.
But he wasn’t alone.
Daemon’s cousin filled the entrance to the Blood Wyrm’s chosen cavern with her own dragon, the Red Queen. Daemon crouched behind a column watching carefully before making his move. Rhaenys sat in the dust, legs splayed, reclined against her dragon’s side murmuring gently to the blood wyrm. Caraxes hissed and growled shifting restlessly at the edge of the torch Rhaenys had laid to rest against the stone beside her. But he didn’t retreat or destroy her with a breath of angry fire.
Curious, he remained hidden watching the interaction from the shadows only then glimpsing the white tracks lining his cousin’s face as she cried silently. Daemon mourned his uncle too. Uncle Aemon had always been kind-hearted and indulgent of all the children. Aemon and his father were always laughing together, racing through the skies as close as any pair of brothers before them. Since Aemon’s death, Daemon’s father became subdued and didn’t even celebrate the king naming him heir just days ago. Daemon was pleased; he and Viserys were sons to a future king, the new Prince of the Realm. Once destined to become a minor branch in the Targaryen family line, he was now a prince with an inheritance to envy.
But he also knew what this meant. While one day soon, his father would become king of the seven kingdoms and Viserys after that, Rhaenys would inherit nothing. Grandmother always said that one day Rhaenys would rule the kingdom, now she would only rule with her husband on Driftmark.
His older cousin hummed softly. Slowly the notes glided together carried across the cavern by whispers of air pulled through the labyrinth of tunnels, they formed a melody Daemon recognised. It was an old valyrian lullaby.
Blinking slowly Daemon leaned into the tune, savouring the mesmerising sound just as Caraxes quietened and lowered his head to listen. The notes transported him back to the high windows of the red keep sitting on his mother’s lap. Her face was blurry in his mind, but he felt her calloused dragon rider hands combing back his hair while she sang. He’d lived most of his life missing his mother. Rhaenys would face that now without her father.
He crept forward approaching his older cousin tentatively from the shadows but scuffed his foot clumsily alarming the dragons to his presence. Meleys jumped up to defend her rider and Caraxes snarled launching fire in the air and slunk into the shadows, disappearing completely. His cousin startled to her feet. She scowled at him raising a hand to placate her startled dragon.
“Daemon, you scared me!” Rhaenys gasped, taking in his dusty tunic she sniffed and glared at him saying, “Besides you shouldn’t be here.”
Hating any time someone spoke down to him, he bristled at the admonishment searching to bite back with his words.
“You should have seen me coming… ‘always watch your back’,” he said quoting the master at arms smugly.
Rhaenys smirked laying a hand against her snarling dragon’s cheek. She bent forwards to fix him with her burning gaze.
“Why would I watch my back when I have a dragon to do it for me?” she hissed.
To that Daemon had no response and no dragon either. Neither his nor Viserys’ dragons had hatched from the cradle and the brothers were yet to claim a dragon for their own. It was still early for Daemon, he had years before it would be expected of him, but grandfather was already pressing Viserys to choose as he was almost sixteen. Of course, Rhaenys had claimed his mother’s dragon many years ago when she was only thirteen.
Only then did Daemon remember his cousin had been crying. Her eyelashes were heavy with tears that fell onto her flushed cheeks.
“You’re crying,” he said quietly. Oddly, Rhaenys laughed wiping at her face with her sleeve. Her shoulders shuddered as she sighed.
“Yes Daemon,” she told him, “people will do that when they are sad.”
Overcome by her sorrow, Daemon jumped forward wrapping his arms around her. Meleys rumbled soothingly blowing warm smoky air over them.
“I’m sorry about your father,” he told her earnestly. To his dismay, she started crying again and squeezed him closer.
They sat together quietly within the safety of Meleys’ shadow. Rhaenys promised her dragon would protect them from Caraxes should he anger. He wasn’t scared though, he could sense Caraxes was merely afraid and lonely. Rhaenys hummed the lullaby to draw Caraxes closer again, calming him enough to lie down almost close enough to touch.
She told him, Caraxes would live the rest of his days there in the dragonpit unless another rider claimed him. But he was an outcast, always angry with the other dragons, living alone in the deepest caverns. Only the oldest dragon keepers could herd him aside when others needed to pass. Rhaenys could only get so close because of the bond with her father and even that was slowly weakening. Each week, she told him, an angrier wilder dragon met her rather than the creature her father rode.
He dared not admit it aloud to his grieving cousin but he felt a connection to the beast. One day… he promised himself… one day the Blood Wyrm will be mine and we will be outcasts together.