𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐒 ¥ 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐃

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃

𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐎 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃. There was a good chance that she might die, she could turn back, but to turn back would be subjecting herself to her mother's fury, quite frankly she would rather face a dragon.

...which she was doing at the moment.

It was easy to slip through Dragonstone with Jace covering for her, it was an old castle and old castles held secrets, she left the Stone Drum crossing the gallery and passing through the middle and the inner walls with swift feet, moving unseen, she reaches the sea dragon that gazed serenely out to sea.

When she reached the beach she began to run towards the east. She had already checked the west side of the island, the dragon she was looking for had not made a home there.

She climbs up the rocky terrain, stopping only to swing her sack over her shoulder, pulling the long torch from it she retrieved flint and steel, it takes a few tries but she is able to light the torch and she moves again, avoiding volcanic ash and pits she keeps a careful eye out for caves large enough. She scales the Dragonmont huffing and puffing. "Where are you?"

She looks up at the sky, dawn is quickly approaching but she refuses to go back without a dragon. She would not.

Jace had a dragon, and so did Luke. Unlike her, Jace and Luke's dragons had hatched in their cradles, she could remember holding her own with a small pout. Wondering why it never hatched.

"It just means there's another dragon out there for you, sweet girl," her mother would whisper pressing a kiss to her head.

She was was right and Jaehaera was going to claim her mount or die trying—okay, she was lying, she didn't want to die.

She had spent her time eavesdropping on the dragon keepers who kept frack of the Wild Dragons roaming the shores. Sheepstealer and Cannibal were the ones spotted the most, but she was not interested in them at all. No, she's set her eyes on the one that belonged to her namesake. The third largest dragon currently living.

Vermithor the Bronze Fury, the mount of the Old King Jaehaerys Targaryen, her great, great grandfather.

It was only fair after all, she was him reborn—or so her grandfather says. He says a lot of things. Not all there. She doesn't mind though.

Vermithor kept to himself, rarely changing his nest or leaving it unless it is to hunt. She was basing her risk on the hope he had not gone hunting.

She was nearly breathless as she came upon her third cave, it was larger, larger than the entrance to the dragon pit, big enough to house a dragon of his size, she was sure of it.

It smelt of dragon: grilled meat and smoke.

She stops before the entrance's gaping mouth and waits. She looks up at the sky, seeing the sunrise blessing across the horizon.