Most would describe Dragonstone as bleak. The castle was an imposing fortress as black as obsidian rising up above the waves where the Blackwater clashes with the Narrow Sea.
Shrouded in smoke and clouds the sorcery of Old Valyria was still palpable in the air inspiring fear and awe in the common folk of Westeros.
It had been the ancestral seat of my House long before even the Conquest. Many Targaryens had passed through its halls and it granted me a sense of belonging.
For years I would call Dragonstone home. As Rhaenyra's appointed castellan I oversaw the day to day responsibilities of a Lord or Lady. Hearing the petitions of the small folk took precedence. Making sure they were well provisioned and looked after.
When my attention wasn't occupied by those placed under my protection I found joy in reinforcing the battlements and defenses which had fallen into disrepair since the death of the warrior queen Visenya. If not there I could be found in the Dragonmont along with the wild and unclaimed Dragons.
Four Dragons apart from Urrax resided on the island in my time there. Vermithor and Silverwing who had belonged to my Great-Grandsire and the Good Queen Alysanne, my Great Grandmother. There were also the three wild dragons Sheepstealer, Cannibal, and the ever elusive Grey Ghost which made his home on the east side of the mountain.
Much to the dismay of the Dragonkeepers they grew accustomed to my company. Some would even say they accepted me as one of their own.
Silverwing and Vermithor were the first to allow me in. I suppose they recognized the blood of their previous rider's coursing in my veins. Although sometimes I wondered if Vermithor was just amused by my boldness and aversion to fear.
The next was Sheepstealer although skittish at first he came to accept my offerings of live sheep. After all he did earn his name from decimating the flocks of unlucky shepherds nearby. Needless to say the local herders were happier for our new friendship which kept the Dragon with a full belly. There were fewer mishaps to be sure.
Cannibal was a bit more difficult. Earning his name from preying on smaller dragons and hatchlings he was a fearsome beast. He was all pitch black scales and piercing green eyes. Some say he resided on the island even before my ancestors came to inhabit it. One day after he tried to help himself to one of Silverwing's egg clusters I found myself challenging the formidable dragon. It didn't end well seeing as Urrax chose to put himself between us. As the two Dragons clashed I was dragged from the mont by dragon keepers, covered in soot and minor burns. Rhaenys scolded me for what seemed like days when she flew in to care for me. But the reward was worth it for even the Cannibal himself came to tolerate my company afterwards.
Grey Ghost was the only one I could never quite pin down. He would disappear just as fast as he appeared. Sometimes I questioned whether or not he truly was a ghost leftover from the Doom of Valyria.
My days were full, however my nights were spent alongside my Princess. More often than not Rhaenys could be found on Dragonstone. To keep appearances she tried her best to split her time between there and Driftmark but it grew more difficult to part. When she took her leave a chill grew in the air and a darkness loomed over me.
One day after a long line of petitions and rulings the Princess strode in as the last courtier left.
"Ruling suits you, my love," Rhaenys said with a fond look as she ascended the steps to the throne. She came to stop before me, tracing my jaw affectionately.
"Perhaps I would have made a good Queen consort in another life," I suggested, smiling impishly and pressing a kiss to her palm.
Fire ignited behind those amber eyes as she looked down at me. "Consort? You mean to tell me you've never pictured yourself on the Iron Throne?" She husked.
