Chapter 70: The Prince and the Dragon Knight
One quiet night, under a sky studded with a million stars, a colossal shadow detached itself from the distant battlements of Pyrefall Castle. Maegor, mounted upon Balerion, now a monstrous beast of terrifying proportions, soared through the darkness. The dragon's length, easily fifty meters, its wingspan a hundred and ten, swallowed the night, its rhythmic wingbeats a thunderous whisper against the silent vastness. Maegor flew with a grim satisfaction, the wind whipping his silver hair, the sheer, undeniable power of his mount a constant thrill. He was bound for Myrosh Castle, driven by a need to assess the progress of his younger kin.
Balerion landed just outside Myrosh Castle, his immense form casting a shadow that swallowed the entire outer bailey. The ground trembled with his impact. He settled with a low, rumbling growl, his obsidian eyes, the size of carriage wheels, scanning his surroundings before half-closing in a state of watchful rest. Nearby, a smaller, dull-grey dragon, now the size of two adult cows and clearly capable of being ridden, stirred. This was Umbra, Viserys's dragon. Umbra opened his violet eyes, looking at the monstrous Balerion, then at Maegor. He chuffed, a surprisingly deep sound for his size, nudged a discarded piece of rock with his snout, and settled back down, seemingly unperturbed by the sheer scale of his kinsman.
Maegor dismounted, a faint smile on his face. Umbra's growing size and his calm demeanor were unexpected. He made his way into Myrosh Castle, his thoughts consumed by Viserys. He had deliberately left his volatile kinsman to govern, a test of his much-vaunted Targaryen potential.
He found Viserys in his solar, a candle burning low. What Maegor saw was not the sniveling, mad prince he had first encountered. Viserys was leaner, his face etched with the lines of responsibility rather than pure terror. Reports on his governance of Ergos County had been increasingly positive, particularly from Hand Aegon Duskryn, whose judgment Maegor trusted implicitly. Aegon had written of Viserys's surprising acumen in administrative tasks, his meticulous attention to detail (when properly motivated), and his newfound care for his subjects. Furthermore, Deana Brightflame, Viserys's wife, was now a few months pregnant, and Maegor saw the change it wrought in the young man: a protective gentleness, a responsibility he had never before embraced. His madness, while perhaps not entirely gone, seemed to be truly under his control, a beast held firmly on a leash. He was growing. In a good way.
Maegor felt a profound, almost amused satisfaction. He had broken Viserys, and in doing so, had finally forged him. He decided to give Viserys a final test.
Maegor activated his Shadowmeld ability (from Aerion Lightstep's expertise), allowing himself to appear in Viserys's solar like a phantom. He simply materialized in the corner, a silver-haired ghost.
Viserys, hunched over ledgers, suddenly felt a chill that had nothing to do with the night air. He looked up, his eyes widening in primal terror. He yelped, leaping back from his desk, knocking over his chair. He almost literally pissed his pants, his face draining of all color.
Maegor merely stood there, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. He fought the urge to laugh, a deep, rumbling amusement that would have terrified Viserys even more.
"My King!" Viserys stammered, clutching his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "You… you startled me! I… I mean, a pleasant surprise, my King!"
Maegor stepped forward, allowing his true form to solidify, the illusion of the ghost fading. "Indeed, Viserys. A pleasant surprise. I came to check on you. To see if my appointed Governor of Ergos County was performing his duties." He spent the next thirty minutes talking to Viserys. He listened to the Governor's detailed reports on Myrosh, its trade, its Dothraki settlement. He probed, he questioned, he subtly tested the boundaries of Viserys's temper, his understanding, his resolve. Viserys answered with a newfound clarity, a surprising competence. Maegor offered compliments, sparse and well-earned, on his governance and his care for Deana.
Finally, Maegor looked at Viserys, his gaze piercing. "Viserys," he commanded, his voice ringing with a power that left no room for defiance, "you have grown. You have endured. You have taken a responsibility and, in your own way, proven worthy of it. Your madness is bridled. You have embraced your duty to House Targaryen, not merely as a claim, but as a burden."
He raised his hand, not to strike, but to command. "Kneel, Prince Viserys Targaryen."
Viserys, though still trembling slightly from the shock of Maegor's appearance, sank to his knees, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and fervent hope.
Maegor drew Blackfyre from his hip. The legendary blade hummed in the quiet room, its dark presence dominating. "Viserys Targaryen," Maegor proclaimed, his voice echoing with the weight of generations, "Son of King Aerys II Targaryen, Heir to the Targaryen Dynasty – not the Iron Throne, which is mine, but the very blood of our House – I acknowledge your growth. I acknowledge your spirit. I now knight you, not as an ordinary knight, but as a Dragon Knight of the House Targaryen."
He laid the flat of Blackfyre's blade on Viserys's right shoulder. "By the might of the Dragon, by the blood that flows in your veins, and by the ancient laws of Valyria, I forge you anew." He shifted the blade to Viserys's left shoulder. "You are the Second Dragon Knight, after myself. You will serve the Crown, you will ride Umbra, and you will uphold the honor of House Targaryen. Rise, Dragon Knight Viserys. And know that my trust, though hard-won, is now placed in you."
Viserys rose, tears streaming down his face, not from fear, but from an overwhelming surge of gratitude and purpose. He was a knight. A Dragon Knight. And the King, his terrifying kinsman, finally acknowledged him. He felt a newfound weight, not of burden, but of worth. He had finally found his place.