Chapter 145: Where Does the Dragon Return?
"Where did you get that information?"
Dragonzel was greatly surprised. He had just returned from Dragonstone and knew nothing about this news. Logically, Daemon would have informed him about such a significant event as Prince Maelor's dragon egg hatching, but Daemon had not mentioned it when he was on Dragonstone.
This meant Daemon did not know about it either.
So how did Tigaro know?
And he had flown back from Dragonstone quite quickly; there had been no time for news to be transmitted. Tigaro could not have used that thing, could he?
However, Maelor's dragon egg hatching was not such a major matter that it warranted using a life-draining magical artifact for communication.
"This news only arrived recently as well."
Tigaro was equally puzzled, unable to understand why Daemon had not informed Dragonzel. According to the report from his spy within the Dragonpit, this had happened three days ago. Unless Daemon had remained on Dragonstone throughout that entire period, there was no way he could have been unaware of it.
He truly did not know.
Or rather, Daemon only learned that Maelor's dragon egg had actually hatched when Caraxes successfully established dominance within the Dragonpit.
The reason was simple.
The room where Maelor's dragon egg had been stored was too remote, and most of the dragon eggs stored there had already turned to stone. Therefore, the Dragonkeepers on duty had not bothered to inspect it during those days.
It was only after Daemon returned that the Dragonkeepers heard strange sounds coming from the upper levels of the Dragonpit and went to investigate, only to find nothing.
Then Caraxes, carrying a hint of pride, lifted his head and crawled out of the Dragonpit, releasing a low growl toward Daemon.
Daemon could roughly understand what Caraxes was trying to convey.
This ability to sense a dragon's thoughts stemmed from the bond forged between a dragonrider and their dragon. It only functioned between the dragon and rider who shared that bond.
Put simply, Daemon could understand Caraxes's meaning, but everyone else only heard sharp dragon roars.
Caraxes:
There. Upper level. New hatchling scent.
Daemon stared blankly at Caraxes.
He could grasp Caraxes's meaning, but the mention of a hatchling genuinely startled him.
Gelesios was still on Dragonstone, and Lord Robert Cynthe would continue feeding that young dragon until it could fly independently before bringing it back to the Dragonpit at King's Landing.
Where could there possibly be a hatchling in the King's Landing Dragonpit?
The upper level?
Could another dragon egg have hatched?
Caraxes continued growling several more times.
Translated, it meant:
Caraxes:
Upper level. Hatchling hungry. Locked away.
"I understand, old friend. Get some rest first."
Daemon pressed his forehead against Caraxes's head for a moment before watching the Blood Wyrm crawl back into the Dragonpit.
A Dragonkeeper responsible for feeding the dragons approached with a puzzled expression, carrying a long staff.
"Your Majesty, is it truly safe not to keep the dragons chained?"
"Let's try it first."
Daemon took a deep breath and patted the Dragonkeeper on the shoulder.
"You've worked hard. Keep the front gate locked, but the rear gate can remain open. I've already instructed Caraxes to inform the dragons inside the Dragonpit not to attack the smallfolk. According to the Varezes Family's experience, it should work."
Then he paused.
"Oh, by the way, have any dragon eggs hatched recently?"
The Dragonkeeper shook his head.
At least among the eggs laid by Syrax and Dreamfyre that they had been monitoring, none had hatched.
Daemon froze briefly.
No eggs had hatched?
Then why would Caraxes insist there was a hatchling?
"Besides the eggs you've been monitoring, are there any other eggs in the Dragonpit that haven't petrified?"
"There is one more."
The Dragonkeeper thought for a moment.
"The dragon egg belonging to Prince Maelor Targaryen, the son of King Aegon II. It's stored on the upper level. But that egg has shown no signs of hatching."
Daemon raised a hand, interrupting him.
"Take me to see it."
The Old Prince quickly climbed the staircase leading to the side entrance of the Dragonpit.
Unlike the immense cavern entered directly through the main gates by dragons, the stairway led Daemon into a storage chamber located on the upper levels of the structure.
The room housed the dragon eggs collected and preserved by the Dragonkeepers.
Led by the Dragonkeeper, Daemon arrived before the tightly locked storage room.
"Your Majesty, strange sounds have indeed been coming from inside," said one of the Dragon Guards stationed there.
"However, we searched the room and found nothing."
Daemon immediately became alert.
Assuming Caraxes was not mistaken—and dragons were not always precise when conveying information—it meant the hatchling must be extraordinarily cunning.
"Go. Bring a bucket of cooked meat."
The Dragonkeeper hurried away.
Daemon signaled for the Dragon Guards to unlock the door and carefully stepped inside.
The storage room was dimly lit, illuminated only by a handful of flickering lamps.
Petrified dragon eggs filled the chamber.
It was obvious that something had been rummaging through the room, because stone eggs were scattered across the floor.
"Come out, little one."
Daemon spoke in High Valyrian.
Sensing that his rider was searching for the hatchling, Caraxes released another sharp roar from deep within the Dragonpit.
Caraxes:
Hatchling. Come out. Friendly. Powerful human. Food.
Several petrified dragon eggs rolled aside.
A small green dragon emerged from behind them.
It lay beside a shattered eggshell, licking the remaining fluids.
The moment it saw Daemon, it bared its teeth and hissed fiercely.
But then the roar from deep within the Dragonpit frightened it, causing it to retreat behind the eggshell once more.
Only now did Daemon have the opportunity to properly examine the newborn dragon.
The emerald-green hatchling folded its wings tightly against its body while glaring ferociously at the Old Prince.
Yet it was so hungry that it could not even produce a puff of black smoke.
A spiny crest began above its eyes and extended down most of its body.
Unlike Dawn's sail-like dorsal fin, this hatchling's lake-green crest was much lower and carried an eerie appearance.
Its head resembled that of a lion-lizard, complete with a curved lower jaw.
Small horns extended backward from above its eyes toward the rear of its skull.
The young dragon possessed a long neck, though unlike Caraxes, its body and tail were relatively short. Its neck was not nearly as flexible as the Blood Wyrm's but instead bore large rhomboid scales resembling overlapping bone plates.
As the hatchling hissed, its long forked tongue flickered into view.
The Dragonkeeper soon returned carrying a bucket of meat.
Daemon casually picked up a chunk and tossed it forward.
The little green dragon immediately pounced upon it and began tearing into the meat ravenously.
After confirming that the hatchling had indeed emerged from the egg, Daemon sighed and stepped back outside.
"Seven Hells."
The Prince Regent rubbed his forehead.
This young dragon was, strictly speaking, Maelor's cradle dragon.
According to Targaryen tradition, its future rider should be Maelor.
But Maelor was Aegon II's son.
After the Dance of the Dragons, he had even been stripped of the Targaryen name.
How could he still possess the right to claim and ride a dragon?
Yet Daemon did not know whether cradle dragons could only bond with the children they hatched beside, nor whether allowing someone else to tame one might cause problems.
The Targaryen Family needed more dragons.
More riders.
Although House Varezes currently stood close to House Targaryen, no one could guarantee what the future would bring.
The Dance of the Dragons had crippled the Targaryens.
Those dragon thieves from Volantis had been correct about one thing:
For dragonlord bloodlines such as theirs, dragons were everything.
The more dragons they possessed, the stronger their influence.
The larger those dragons became, the stronger their influence became.
Unfortunately, House Targaryen currently lacked both.
Daemon had to think about the future.
This green dragon needed to be raised.
Who would eventually ride it, however, remained a difficult question.
After the Dance of the Dragons ended, Prince Maelor Targaryen and Ser Garmund Hightower had both been granted lands upon Grey Gallows Island by Dragonzel.
This isolated island in the Sea of Dorne, surrounded on three sides by Varezes territory, had originally served as a Martell prison island.
The stone fortress there had once confined many nobles of distinguished birth.
Now, however, the island had been divided into three territories.
House Codd, a landed knightly house from Dorne that had distinguished itself during the Dornish War, received Grey Gallows Keep—the former prison fortress—and the majority of the island's lands.
The tower-fortress of Farwatch on the eastern coast was granted to Garmund Hightower as a reward for helping restore order.
The young man who had personally slain his own kin now confined himself within the lonely tower and rarely emerged.
As a result, Hafford Codd, the acting castellan assigned to oversee him, personally delivered meals every day to ensure Garmund did not starve himself.
Meanwhile, the tower known as God's Hidden Tower on the western side of the island became the domain of House Targaryen.
Maelor slowly grew up there under the care of Lord Codd.
The two small fishing villages nearby provided the tower with fish, goat's milk, and eggs, while most other necessities still had to be shipped from the mainland.
Without a ship—and without a dragon—Maelor Targaryen would never leave this island for the rest of his life.
Even if he possessed a dragon, he could not afford to raise one.
Therefore, this green dragon could only be raised by the royal family.
Maelor had not bonded with it.
Nor had the hatchling recognized Maelor as its rider.
Members of House Targaryen still had a chance to claim it.
Daemon repeated this reasoning to himself before turning toward the Dragonkeeper.
"What should we call this green dragon?"
He paused.
"Never mind. We'll decide on a name later."
He glanced back toward the storage room.
"Raise it well. Once it can hunt and feed itself, move it into the Dragonpit. And remember—take it to Caraxes's lair first."
"As you command, Your Majesty."
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