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The Cannibal burst from the Dragonmont cave with Logar on its back, vast black wings spreading wide beneath the open sky.
Wind whipped his silver hair. The dragon's deep, steady breaths thrummed beneath him like living thunder.
It was Logar's first solo ride. At first he clung tight to the dragon's neck, but the fear quickly melted into pure exhilaration as the endless blue stretched out before him.
"Cannibal—Geptot!"
Once he found the rhythm, he shifted his weight and spoke in crisp High Valyrian, guiding the dragon into smooth turns, climbs, and dives.
The savage black beast obeyed with perfect harmony, as if they had flown together for years.
It skimmed low over the waves, claws slicing white spray, then rocketed straight up until the entire island shrank to a toy beneath them.
Joy surged through Logar's chest like dragonfire.
This was power.
This was why the Targaryens ruled the skies.
"Good, Cannibal! Faster!"
The dragon answered with a pleased rumble and surged forward, black lightning across the heavens.
Logar threw his head back and laughed, the sound carried away on the wind. All the tension and worry of the past days burned away in that single moment of pure freedom.
After half an hour he guided the Cannibal toward the shallow eastern sea.
Below, crystal-clear water teemed with silver fish. The Cannibal's nostrils flared; it smelled fresh prey.
"Cannibal—hunt."
Logar grinned, curiosity getting the better of him.
The dragon folded its wings and dove like a falling star. One casual swipe of its claws scooped up half a dozen fat fish. But it had no interest in them. It simply dropped the wriggling catch onto the nearby beach.
Logar landed on the shore and waved at the stunned fishermen out on their boats.
"Hey! My friend doesn't like fish. These are yours!"
The sailors had already dropped to their knees at the sight of the Cannibal. When they realized the young dragonlord was offering them the bounty, their terror turned to awe.
"That's… Lord Logar the Sea Burner?"
"He tamed the Cannibal? The fiercest dragon on the island?"
"And he's giving us the fish?"
They stared, mouths open, as Logar simply smiled, remounted, and launched back into the sky.
That small act of kindness quietly planted itself in the hearts of Dragonstone's smallfolk.
A cheerful dragon call rang from the west.
Moondancer's pale-green form cut through the clouds. Baela sat tall on her back, her smile brighter than the sun.
She brought the little dragon down beside them, eyes shining with pride and joy as she looked at Logar and the Cannibal.
"Logar… you really did it. Of course the man I fell for would tame the king of wild dragons."
She slid from Moondancer and hurried to him, eyes curved into happy crescents. "I've never heard of anyone claiming such a savage beast. You're incredible!"
Logar's heart warmed. He took her hand gently.
"If you hadn't stepped out and sung that dragon song, I'd be ashes right now."
He brushed a wind-tossed strand of silver hair from her cheek, voice soft. "Without you, I could never have used Grey Ghost to win the Cannibal. All of this… you brought me this luck."
Baela's cheeks flushed pink, her heart full of sweet warmth.
Just moments ago they had stood at death's door inside the cave. Now they stood together beneath open sky and sea, two dragons watching quietly behind them.
The Cannibal lowered its great head. Moondancer tucked her wings, the pair acknowledging each other's riders.
Sea breeze caressed them. Sunlight felt warm.
The world narrowed to the sound of waves and dragon breath.
Logar reached up and tucked the stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"Baela," he murmured, "thank you for standing with me. From now on, the Cannibal and I will protect you. No one will ever hurt you again."
She didn't pull away. She simply looked up at him, eyes shining with happiness.
"I believe you. With you here, I'm not afraid of anything."
In that moment, after facing death together, no more words were needed.
Beneath two watchful dragons, beneath the vast sky and endless sea, they drew close and held each other tight.
Everything they had risked had been worth it.
A long while later Logar finally eased back, gazing toward the heart of Dragonstone.
"We should head back," he said quietly. "Word of Grey Ghost will reach the queen soon."
Baela nodded but kept hold of his hand.
"No matter what happens, I'm on your side."
Logar smiled, swung onto the Cannibal's back.
"Let's go home."
The Cannibal answered with a long, proud cry and launched into the sky.
Moondancer followed close behind—one green, one black—flying side by side over Dragonstone.
...
Deep inside the shadowy dragon pit, the screams of the bastards rose and fell.
"Help!"
"No—I don't want to die!"
They scattered like panicked insects while a massive bronze dragon roared and spat flame behind them.
Those too slow were burned to charred husks, bodies frozen in their final desperate poses.
The few who survived huddled in corners, shaking, already regretting ever answering the queen's call.
"Damn queen—lured us in here to feed her dragons while she watches safely from above!" one survivor spat.
"It's a trap!" others snarled, voices thick with hatred.
Hugh Hammer was among them. He had been at the back of the group when Vermithor appeared, lucky enough to avoid the first blasts.
Beside him lay Nettles, the sweet-house girl from King's Landing. She had dodged the flames only to be crushed by falling rock. She lay dying, breath shallow.
Hugh glanced at her mangled form with zero pity.
He had his own skin to save. Why care about a dying whore?
He was about to turn away when her weak whisper reached him:
"My head hurts… guess I'm finished.
What a shame… I'll never see my prince again… the Sea Burner…"
At the name "Sea Burner," Hugh's face twisted with rage.
He snatched up a sharp rock, walked over, and smashed it down on Nettles' skull.
"Fuck you for liking that flashy bastard!"
Thud. Thud.
Nettles' eyes widened, then went blank. Her head caved in.
"Stupid bitch. All you whores swoon over that pretty Sea Burner and look down on real men like us!"
Hugh panted, still swinging the rock. "Where's your precious Sea Burner now, huh? He left you here to die!"
Distant screams from Silverwing's flames drowned out his curses.
The rage Nettles had sparked gave him a sudden, reckless courage.
He clenched his fists, marched straight toward the bronze fury Vermithor, and bellowed at the top of his lungs:
"Come on then! Burn me, you overgrown lizard! If you're so mighty, burn me!"
He was ready to die.
But Vermithor—the dragon that had just roasted dozens—suddenly stopped.
Its bronze scales gleamed coldly in the gloom. The great head lowered until its amber eyes locked onto the stocky blacksmith's bastard standing before it.