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Morghul was a young dragon, small and feeble, yet in his youth he still was knowledgeable about many things.
He knew the softlings called him Morghul, the ones with the sticks and the ones with the white fur. It was a good name, he thought, for it belonged to him. They liked naming things, the softlings, for they had given each dragon in the pit one.
He knew her bonded, by her smell and her high pitched voice just as shrill as his cries, he knew her by her white fur and soft flesh, by her eagerness and her love. He was born in her nest and claimed her with his first song, even before he knew how to properly intone it, even before he knew her true name. She was his and he was hers until the end of times.
He knew he was Dreamfyre's as well, just as his clutchmate Shrykos was. Both of them were in turn bonded to the pair of clutchmates Dreamfyre's rider had conceived. It was fated Dreamfyre sung, for they were bonded in spirit and flesh. The she dragon taught them plenty, for she had seen many seasons and flown many places. Only at dawn would she share her wisdom singing of riders past, of lands and adventures.
He knew of Sunfyre. He was old but not as old as their sire, he slept in the depths and sung at dusk. Like them he had hatched in his rider's nest, like them he had sung to him and claimed him as soon as his voice allowed. He was riden by a white furred one that smelt slightly of his bonded and who she called Kepa. It was on his back where his Jaehaera had taken to the skies for the first time, wind tossing her white fur and making the salty water spring from her eyes. Sunfyre had been proud, for she held tight and made his rider laugh. Morghul on his part had not been pleased, she was his bonded and at first, he thought Sunfyre planned to steal her for himself, but thankfully it had not been the case. The golden one had explained, his rider only wished to teach her, she was of his blood, just as Dreamfyre sung to them his Aegon sung to her. The softlings must be taught how to direct them just as they had to learn to soar the winds and use the currents to their advantage.
Vhagar he knew as well, she was old, wise and mean. She sung at night sorrowful and wanton, many riders she had lost for Dragons lived long and softlings did not, a cruelty of fate beyond measure. He did not wish to imagine what it would feel like to loose his Jaehaera, their souls ripping apart never to meet again. How Vhagar had withstood it thrice over, he did not know, a fourth, Morghul thought, might be too much even for her. Vhagar's rider was white furred as well, bigger than Jaehaera's sire and Kepa but smelling similar to them. Vhagar sung to him the most, for they were wedded with a stolen sacrifice. He was thankful she nestled outside as he feared she might grow tired of cows and old horses and crave dragonling flesh one of these days. The caves were long and treacherous so he might not make it to Dreamfyre in time. It was only her who could snap at the Old one without her taking it as an attack.
He knew there were more of them, their smells entrenched in the old stones, their nests hidden on nooks and crannies within the earth, like the one Shrykos had laid her first egg in, small and hard, cursed to never hatch.
Morghul knew his words, the ones Jaehaera and the men with the sticks repeated to him. Lykiri, Mazis, Dohaeras. He knew others too, as he listened in to Dreamfyre's and Sunfyre's riders talk to them Soves, Dracarys and Ñuha jorrāelagon qeldlie mēre. He learned fast but not as fast as he grew. Dreamfyre sung to them about eating well and growing strong or as strong as the pit would allow, their bodies adapted to the small space and developed slower she said. Vhagar had never known a pit and she was the biggest of them all, although Dreamfyre sung of one even greater than her, dark as the dragonglass, fierce as flame, like him you will grow she would sing to Morghul, for both of you have the night in your scales.
He knew of the thrum in his blood and the pull of his fire to fly across the black sea, further than his little wings permitted, to their ancient home where ash covered the sun and molten rock flowed through the land. Vhagar sung never to listen for Balerion had given in, just the once, and his rider had paid the price in blood and fire, pain beyond measure a death that would not come through the torture. It had been the black one's fault and his should and body had withered with the guilt. Morghul was black as well, but he swore never to take his bonded to such a place. It was a song of death Valyria sung, of a hungry maw waiting for its next sacrifice.
Yet with all his knowledge Dreamfyre still knew best, so he listened when she announced change and he was prepared when the other dragons came into their territory. He and Shrykos abandoned their shared nest to go hide under Dreamfyre's wing, her lair big enough for all of them. Vhagar's cries were heard even though the thick rock walls of the pit, rage and sorrow beautifully intertwined, a stolen sacrifice, a debt to be paid in blood and fire, she sung. Foreign cries answered her, shrill and irritating, the debt would remain unpaid as long as the little one was under his protection. Sunfyre blocked the entrance to their lair, curling in on himself there and clouding their smell with his as the Dragons were herded inside. Caraxes, Meleys, Syrax, Vermax, Arrax and Moondancer. Too many new smells, too many new songs, it was frightening and overwhelming for the two little ones. There will be chains around our necks soon, Sunfyre sung, there are too many of us for the men with the sticks to handle without, it's because of them we must be bound.
It was afterwards when the softlings with the sticks herded Sunfyre away and he felt the iron around his neck for the first time. It was then when he wished for Jaehaera, for the comfort of her nest and the warmth of her skin, for the softness of her words and the love in her heart. Their soul was intertwined yet it didn't seem like enough. It was want, as primal as it was beautiful, with the moon high in the sky he sung his first song for her.
Far away, a distant melody with words unknown blew through cold night air and glided through red leaves lulling a little girl to sleep.