The midday sun shone brightly over Dragonstone.
Upon a raised platform in the courtyard beneath the towering slopes of Dragonmont, Gendry Baratheon and Daenerys Targaryen stood side by side. Above them, golden quartered banners fluttered proudly in the sea breeze, their colors vibrant against the dark volcanic stone of the ancient castle.
Gendry, known throughout the realm as the Storm King, cut an imposing figure. His tall frame radiated strength and confidence, while the crimson gemstone embedded in the hilt of his Valyrian steel sword, Orphan-Maker, gleamed beneath the sunlight.
Beside him stood Daenerys Targaryen.
Her silver-gold hair shimmered like molten moonlight, flowing gently in the wind. Above them, three young dragons circled lazily through the sky, their scales reflecting flashes of black, green, and white.
Dragonstone was perhaps the perfect place for dragons to grow.
The island's volcanic heat and lingering traces of ancient magic created an ideal environment. Even without nesting within the caverns of Dragonmont itself, dragons raised on Dragonstone matured faster than they would anywhere else in Westeros.
The three hatchlings had already grown considerably.
They were now roughly the size of medium hunting dogs, though their wings made them appear much larger. When fully extended, a dragon's wingspan was often three times the length of its body.
Among them, Balerion remained the largest.
The black dragon was followed closely by Vhagar, while Viserion was the smallest of the three.
Gendry observed them carefully.
At their current growth rate, the dragons were developing far faster than historical records suggested.
The magical tide sweeping across the world appeared to be accelerating their development.
Combined with Dragonstone's unique environment and Gendry's training methods, their growth bordered on unbelievable.
In the original historical accounts, a dragon required nearly two years to reach a wingspan of twenty feet. Yet Gendry suspected his dragons would surpass that benchmark well ahead of schedule.
A dangerous atmosphere filled the courtyard below.
Rows of heavily armed soldiers stood ready.
Lothor Brune commanded one group, while the red-haired archer Anguy led another.
The men wore black scale armor trimmed with gold and were arranged in disciplined formations across the training grounds.
One unit carried spears.
The other wielded crossbows.
Every weapon was aimed directly at the dragons.
Daenerys frowned slightly.
"Are you certain this is the right way to train them?"
She watched nervously as dozens of weapons were pointed toward her beloved dragons.
Gendry remained calm.
"Ancient records don't lie, Daenerys."
He folded his arms.
"War is a bloody exercise."
"Training is a bloodless war."
"The purpose of training is to prepare for danger before danger arrives."
He looked toward the circling dragons.
"There are no limits in dragon training."
"There are only increasingly difficult challenges."
Maester Qyburn nodded in agreement.
"The dragons of House Targaryen were bred for war."
"From the moment they hatched, they were conditioned to endure arrows, spears, and battlefields."
"Their scales grow harder through experience. An adult dragon's scales can rival steel in durability."
"Even when pierced, most wounds are rarely fatal."
Qyburn paused before adding,
"Of course, that does not mean dragons are invincible."
Gendry continued.
"Exactly."
"Powerful creatures can still die."
"The first phase of their training involves arrows and spears."
"The second phase will be much harsher."
Daenerys glanced at him.
"What comes after this?"
Gendry smiled.
"Ballistas."
The princess inhaled sharply.
Those massive siege weapons had slain dragons before.
She knew the stories well.
"I understand."
Her gaze drifted toward the sky.
"Meraxes."
"The Silver Dragon."
The memory lingered.
During the conquest of Dorne, Queen Rhaenys Targaryen's dragon had been brought down by a single lucky ballista shot through the eye.
Many more dragons had perished during the bloody civil war remembered as the Dance of the Dragons.
The thought made her uneasy.
Gendry shared her concerns.
A dragon's greatest enemy was often another dragon.
Yet human ingenuity could be just as deadly.
"Know yourself and know your enemy," he thought.
"Then victory becomes inevitable."
Both magical threats and physical weapons needed to be considered.
There were also darker concerns.
Dragonbinder horns.
Ancient sorceries.
Forgotten secrets.
Every possibility had to be anticipated.
Daenerys suddenly turned toward Qyburn.
"Are there any books that describe dragons during the Dance of the Dragons?"
Qyburn rubbed his beard thoughtfully.
"There were many once."
"Unfortunately, most have been lost."
"Others were intentionally destroyed."
"The Citadel possesses more knowledge than it shares."
His tone carried a hint of criticism.
"The maesters have studied dragons for centuries."
"But they reveal very little."
Gendry nodded.
"One example is Brother Bass's famous work."
"Dragons, Dragon-Worms, and Wyverns: An Unnatural History of the Dragonkin."
Qyburn sighed.
"A priceless text."
"King Baelor the Blessed ordered nearly every copy destroyed."
Daenerys looked disappointed.
"That's a tragedy."
"Brother Bass lived during the reign of King Jaehaerys."
"He observed dragons personally."
"His writings must have been invaluable."
"They were," Qyburn agreed.
"Many texts dealing with dragons, magic, and Valyrian lore have either vanished or been locked away."
Gendry remembered another title.
Blood and Fire.
A detailed history of House Targaryen.
According to rumor, surviving copies remained hidden somewhere within the deepest vaults of the Citadel.
One day, he intended to obtain them.
But for now, training came first.
Qyburn raised a hand.
"Shall we begin?"
Gendry nodded.
"Begin."
A war horn sounded across the courtyard.
Bwooooooom!
The sharp blast echoed against Dragonmont's cliffs.
Immediately, banners were raised.
"Loose!"
Spears and crossbow bolts filled the sky.
Whoosh!
Whoosh!
Whoosh!
The projectiles were specially designed for training.
Their tips had been blunted.
Weighted sandbags stained with bright pigments replaced lethal points.
Even so, they remained intimidating.
The dragons reacted instantly.
Balerion roared.
Vhagar hissed.
Viserion beat his wings furiously.
All three dragons darted through the air.
Like ships navigating a violent storm, they twisted and rolled between incoming projectiles.
Arrow after arrow missed.
Some bolts passed harmlessly beneath their wings.
Others were deflected by powerful gusts created by their flight.
Several projectiles flew directly into streams of dragonfire and vanished in bursts of smoke and sparks.
Yet a handful came dangerously close.
Those were the attacks Gendry paid attention to.
The attacks that might one day save a dragon's life.
Balerion performed best.
The black dragon rolled sharply to avoid one of Anguy's arrows before accelerating upward with astonishing speed.
Higher.
Higher still.
Soon, he soared above the range of every weapon in the courtyard.
Vhagar and Viserion quickly followed.
Daenerys smiled proudly.
"Look at Balerion."
"He flies faster and higher than the others."
Gendry nodded.
"He's learning."
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)