King's Landing
The day had finally arrived for the hunting tournament King Jaehaerys had organized to celebrate Prince Valerion's name day. A sense of excitement buzzed through the city, though the nobles were still reeling from the indulgences of the recent banquet at the Red Castle. For many, the aftereffects of alcohol lingered, making the day a slow and drowsy one. Yet, after a brief day of rest and recovery, the nobles who intended to participate in the hunting competition were ready to set off.
The Royal Forest, the designated location for the hunt, lay some distance from King's Landing. Due to the poor road conditions within the city, the organizers had chosen an open space just outside the walls as the gathering point, avoiding potential congestion. Most nobles, eager not to miss the departure, arrived early, and over time, hundreds had assembled.
The scene was a dazzling display of wealth and power. Knights clad in gleaming plate armor lined the edges of the crowd, noble lords and ladies dressed in rich silks mingled, and every rider atop a strong, well-trained horse projected authority. Behind them, dozens of ornately decorated carriages waited, attended by servants in meticulously tailored uniforms. Each carriage spoke of the owner's status, from modestly luxurious to extravagantly opulent.
Suddenly, a thunder of hooves sounded from the city walls. A formation of armored knights burst forth, their polished armor catching the sunlight. Black cloaks adorned with crimson dragons fluttered behind them, and the black banners with red dragon sigils were raised high. The royal procession was unmistakable, moving with a force and precision that turned heads and drew whispers from the assembled crowd.
Trailing the knights were two magnificent white carriages—the mark of royalty. As the royal entourage passed, the nobles' procession began to follow, setting off toward the Royal Forest in a slow but steady march.
Just as the procession gained momentum, two ear-shattering dragon roars echoed from the direction of Junlin. The first roar was deep, resonant, and commanding, while the second, though less thunderous, carried a sharp and piercing quality. All eyes turned skyward, and two colossal dragon shadows soon appeared, gliding with effortless grace above the city's walls.
The lead dragon's scales shimmered like polished platinum under the sunlight. Despite a relatively compact body, its movements were agile and fluid. Behind it, a massive dark green dragon followed. Its bulk was immense, almost mountain-like, and every beat of its wings cast shadows over the crowd below.
The dragons were none other than Bahamut, ridden by Gaimon, and Vhagar, ridden by Baelon. To maintain safety for the traveling royals and to avoid alarming the assembled nobles, King Jaehaerys had not allowed all family dragon riders to take to the skies—Baelon's Vhagar was a rare exception, and Gaimon chose to ride Bahamut, preferring the freedom and stability a dragon offered over the jolting discomfort of a carriage.
The roads were treacherous and uneven, even for the royal carriages, and the lack of any suspension system made long journeys painfully jarring. No matter the luxury of the carriage, Gaimon found them intolerable. Flying offered an unmatched combination of speed, thrill, and comfort—a freedom he was unwilling to relinquish.
As the procession continued, Gaimon and Bahamut circled above, keeping pace with the teams on the ground. It took about a day to reach the Royal Forest from King's Landing, and by evening, the hunting party had arrived at the designated location. The Royal Forest was strictly reserved for the king's hunting parties; anyone caught hunting there illegally faced gruesome consequences, including the loss of hands and confiscation of their prey. Yet, despite these strict laws, rumors of poachers and lawless criminals eking out a living within the forest were widespread.
The party established camp near a water source in an open clearing. Gaimon and Baelon landed their dragons carefully nearby, and knights promptly escorted them back to camp, sparing them the walk across rough terrain. Servants had already prepared tents for the royal visitors, and naturally, the king's tent occupied the center, the largest and most imposing of all.
Inside, activity buzzed as various teams of nobles and staff discussed logistics and strategies for the hunt. The tent, spanning nearly a hundred square meters, was a hive of organized chaos: messengers dashed between groups, maps were unrolled and pored over, and heralds relayed instructions with urgency.
Baelon was swiftly summoned away by Aemon, leaving Gaimon to join Queen Alysanne. He seated himself beside her, still catching his breath from the dragon ride.
"You little rascal," Alysanne said with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. "You've just learned to ride a dragon, and now you're obsessed with it. Complaining about carriages already, are you? I fear I've spoiled you."
Gaimon smiled sheepishly. The truth was, he had no patience for the cramped, jarring rides that awaited most travelers in carriages. Riding a dragon, by contrast, was liberating—a dance in the sky, a thrill unlike anything else. Even so, he respected his mother's mild rebuke. She was right: indulgence came with consequences. Yet, the allure of flight was too strong to resist.
Outside the tent, the camp settled into the evening rhythm. Horses were fed, servants scurried to prepare meals, and guards maintained vigilant watches along the perimeter. The Royal Forest itself was a maze of towering trees and dense undergrowth, a haven for wildlife and danger alike. Experienced hunters spoke of foxes and deer, of boars and wolves, and sometimes even of the rare, majestic stag that would become the highlight of the hunt.
Despite the splendor and grandeur surrounding him, Gaimon's focus remained sharp. Every moment atop Bahamut had taught him the subtle skills of dragon riding: reading the wind currents, gauging distance, and responding to the creature's instincts. This hunt was more than a celebration—it was a test of skill, strategy, and courage.
As darkness fell, lanterns were lit across the camp. Their soft glow reflected in the eyes of horses, glinting off armor, and illuminating the edges of the tents. Around a central fire, nobles gathered, recounting tales of past hunts, boasting of skills, and making quiet wagers on who might claim the most impressive prey in the days to come.
Gaimon, though young, observed it all with keen interest. He noted the hierarchy, the subtle tensions between noble families, and the alliances formed in whispers around flickering flames. Dragons aside, it was the knowledge of human nature that would guide him as much as any sword or bow.
When the night fully settled, a sense of anticipation hung in the air. Tomorrow, the hunt would begin in earnest, and the Royal Forest would transform from a serene wilderness into a stage for prowess and spectacle. Gaimon felt a thrill run through him—not from fear, but from the possibilities that awaited, both in the hunt and in the skies above.
Queen Alysanne, noticing his alertness, smiled faintly. "You'll need all that energy, my son," she said softly. "The Royal Forest is no place for the unprepared. Remember, skill matters, but so does caution. The smallest mistake can turn a hunt into a disaster."
Gaimon nodded, absorbing her words. Though young, he understood the balance of risk and reward. He had already felt it in the flight above the city; tomorrow, he would face it on the ground, where the stakes were different, yet no less real.
With that, the camp slowly quieted. Fires burned low, dragons rested, and the nobles withdrew to their tents. Yet Gaimon remained awake a little longer, gazing at the stars through the opening of the king's tent. The night sky was vast, stretching endlessly above him, and in it, he imagined the paths Bahamut and he would trace in the coming days. The thrill of the hunt awaited, but so too did the uncharted skies—and for a boy who had tasted flight, both promised adventure beyond measure.
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