𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓭 𝓢𝓸𝓷

Chapter 35

Rhaenyra, who had been closely watching Aegon during his interactions with the noblewomen vying for his attention, saw an opportunity to strengthen her bond with him. She had seen the way Aegon doted on his daughter, and she knew that today was significant for them both. If she could show her support and courage during Vaerla's claiming, perhaps she could draw closer to Aegon and rekindle the closeness they once shared.

As the three of them made their way to the dragon pit, Rhaenyra took the chance to share her own experience. "I remember the day I claimed Syrax," she began, her voice carrying a mix of nostalgia and pride. "I was really young, Vaerla. My heart was racing, but I knew that the dragon would sense my fear if I let it control me. I had to show Syrax that I was worthy."

Vaerla, her violet eyes wide with determination, listened intently but remained focused on the task ahead. She knew this was her moment, and she was determined not to let her father or herself down.

Aegon glanced at Rhaenyra as she spoke, appreciating her attempt to support Vaerla but also aware of the subtle undertone in her words—an attempt to impress him, perhaps, with her bravery and knowledge. He nodded in acknowledgment but kept his focus on Vaerla, who walked steadily beside him.

As they reached the entrance to the dragon pit, the air grew thick with the smell of sulfur, and the low rumblings of the dragons echoed from within. The massive stone doors groaned open, revealing the cavernous interior where several dragons were resting. The atmosphere was charged with energy, the ancient bond between the Targaryens and their dragons hanging in the air like a tangible force.

Vaerla's gaze swept across the pit, searching for the dragon she would claim as her own. Her heart pounded as she took in the sight of the majestic creatures before her. Each dragon was unique, but one, in particular, caught her eye—a massive beast with bronze scales and wings like molten gold, Vermithor, the Bronze Fury, one of the oldest and largest dragons in the world.

"Vermithor," Aegon whispered, recognizing the formidable dragon. "He was once ridden by my grandfather, King Jaehaerys. He is powerful and proud, Vaerla. Approach with respect and confidence."

Rhaenyra stepped closer to Aegon, her shoulder brushing against his as she leaned in to speak. "Vermithor is not easily impressed. He will test her, just as Syrax tested me. But I believe in her."

Aegon gave Rhaenyra a brief nod, his attention immediately shifting back to his daughter. Vaerla squared her shoulders and took a deep breath before stepping forward. The dragon's enormous head turned toward her, and its piercing eyes locked onto hers.

With slow, deliberate steps, Vaerla approached Vermithor. She could feel the heat radiating from the dragon's massive body, and the air vibrated with the low growls that rumbled from its chest. Remembering her father's advice, she extended her hand toward the dragon, her voice steady as she began to whisper in High Valyrian, the ancient tongue of their ancestors.

Vermithor's growls grew louder, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air around Vaerla. For a moment, it seemed as though the dragon would accept her touch, but then, with a sudden, violent motion, Vermithor lunged forward, snapping his massive jaws.

Vaerla barely had time to react before the dragon's massive head was bearing down on her. Aegon's heart seized in his chest as he saw the danger his daughter was in. Without a second thought, he rushed forward, his instincts as a father overriding everything else.

"Vaerla!" Aegon shouted, his voice echoing through the cavern. He reached for his daughter, ready to pull her out of harm's way, but Vermithor was too fast.

Rhaenyra screamed as the dragon's head lunged toward them. She tried to intervene, but the sheer size and power of Vermithor made it impossible. Just as it seemed that all was lost, Aegon threw himself between Vaerla and the dragon, his arms outstretched as if to shield her with his own body.

But before Vermithor could strike, a powerful voice rang out through the pit. "Stop!"

It was Vaerla, her voice strong and commanding despite the fear that gripped her. She stood her ground, staring down the massive dragon with a fierce determination that belied her young age. Her hands were clenched into fists, and her eyes blazed with the fire of her Targaryen heritage.

"Vermithor, I am your rider! You will obey me!" Vaerla shouted in High Valyrian, her words resonating with the authority of her bloodline.

Vermithor paused, his massive jaws closing with a snap as he regarded the girl before him. For a long, tense moment, the dragon seemed to be deciding whether to accept or reject the young Targaryen. The cavern was silent, save for the sound of Vermithor's heavy breathing and the distant crackle of flames.

Aegon held his breath, ready to spring into action if needed. Rhaenyra, her face pale with fear, clutched at Aegon's arm, her eyes wide as she watched the confrontation unfold.

Then, slowly, Vermithor lowered his head, his eyes never leaving Vaerla's. The dragon's posture shifted from one of aggression to one of submission, and with a low, rumbling growl, Vermithor allowed Vaerla to place her hand on his massive snout.

The bond was formed.

Aegon released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, a wave of relief washing over him as he watched his daughter claim the dragon. Vermithor, the Bronze Fury, had accepted Vaerla as his rider, recognizing the strength and courage within her.

Rhaenyra let out a shaky breath, her grip on Aegon's arm loosening as she realized that the danger had passed. She turned to Aegon, her expression a mixture of awe and admiration. "She did it," Rhaenyra whispered, her voice filled with disbelief and pride.

Aegon nodded, his eyes never leaving his daughter as she stood beside her new dragon, her hand resting on Vermithor's snout. "Yes," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "She did."

Vaerla turned to face her father, her eyes shining with triumph. "Father, I did it!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with joy.

Aegon smiled, his heart swelling with pride. "You did, Vaerla. You are truly a Targaryen."

As they left the dragon pit, Vaerla walked beside her dragon, her head held high with the confidence of someone who had faced a great challenge and emerged victorious. Aegon and Rhaenyra followed closely behind, their minds filled with the events of the day.

Rhaenyra, who had hoped to impress Aegon with her own stories of bravery, found herself in awe of Vaerla's strength. As she walked beside Aegon, she couldn't help but feel a sense of respect for the man who had raised such a remarkable daughter.

But as she glanced at Aegon, she saw something more in his eyes—a deep, abiding love for his daughter that went beyond the bond of blood. It was a love that Rhaenyra realized she still longed to share with him, a love that she hoped, one day, might extend to her once more.

For now, though, she was content to walk beside him, sharing in the pride of Vaerla's achievement and the knowledge that the blood of the dragon ran strong in their family.