The dragons descended in a thunder of wings, their shadows sweeping across the tiled roofs of the South District. Dust and loose straw leapt into the air as Sunfyre's golden bulk touched down, followed by the other great beasts, their heat and presence driving men back several paces despite themselves.
Aegon dismounted first.
Babu was already hurrying forward, flanked by a half-dozen thick-necked workmen with scarred hands and leather aprons. He wiped his palms on his tunic before bowing low, his head dipping with practiced respect.
"Your Highness," he said, careful to keep his eyes lowered, though his gaze flicked despite himself toward the dragons behind Aegon. "What brings you to this quarter today?"
Aegon clasped his hands behind his back and surveyed the open yard, measuring distances out of habit. "I have come to inspect the Dragonhold," he replied. "I want to test it myself. If all goes well, I intend to have it ready by the day after tomorrow."
Babu straightened, surprise flashing briefly across his face before he masked it. He turned his head and studied the three massive forms looming behind the prince, his eyes lingering on Sunfyre's gleaming scales.
"Which dragon will bear it?" he asked at last.
"Sunfyre." Aegon's tone was even. "Is there some difficulty?"
Babu shook his head at once. "No, Your Highness. None at all." He gestured with one hand, fingers spread as if outlining the creature's frame. "The Dragonhold is only twenty meters in length. Of the three, Sunfyre is the most suitable. His proportions are ideal."
At Aegon's quiet command, Sunfyre lowered himself into the cleared space. The dragon's wings folded with a faint rustle of membrane, his long neck curving as he regarded the workers with a molten, unblinking eye. Men swallowed and moved carefully, approaching as if they were walking into a sept rather than a work yard.
They worked in silence, fastening curved hooks along the dragon's flanks and securing the reinforced frame piece by piece. The Dragonhold, in truth, was little more than a harness of wood and iron, fitted with anchoring points and thick braided lines. From it, men could descend from the air, sliding down ropes like spiders dropping from a web.
Sunfyre disliked it.
A low, rumbling growl vibrated through his chest as the last fittings were tightened. His tail lashed once against the ground, and he shifted his weight, scales scraping faintly as he tried to ease the pressure.
Endure, Aegon told him, Stand fast.
Sunfyre stilled, though his irritation pulsed like heat against Aegon's senses.
When the final brace was set, the Dragonhold sat flush against Sunfyre's sides, giving the dragon a broader, heavier silhouette. He looked less like a creature of pure flame and grace now, more like a living engine of war.
Aegon stepped closer, craning his head to inspect the work. "How many men can it carry?"
Babu's chest swelled as he answered. "Sixty, Your Highness. A Dragonhold of this length can bear sixty grown men. For every additional ten meters, the number increases by thirty."
He spoke with pride, his voice firm, his hands unconsciously miming measurements in the air.
Aegon nodded slowly. "Then if Vhagar were fitted with one, she could carry more than a hundred."
Babu frowned, shaking his head. "Not so simply. Size alone does not decide it. Weight matters. So does the strength of the timber. Push the wood too far, and it will fail, dragon or no."
"Wood can be found," Aegon replied. "The Summer Isles produce timbers fit for the keels of ships longer than sixty meters."
Babu inclined his head. "That is true. Still, some woods cannot be replaced once broken."
"I understand." Aegon considered the dragon before him, golden scales rising and falling with each breath. "We will not rush larger designs. This is a tool for specific moments, not something to be scattered across the realm."
Babu bowed again. "As you command, Your Highness."
Another low growl rolled from Sunfyre's throat, sharper this time. The discomfort echoed along the bond, an insistent pressure that made Aegon's jaw tighten.
He laid a hand against the dragon's warm scales. "Just this once," he murmured. "It is only a trial."
Sunfyre huffed, a breath of heat washing over the yard, but he did not move.
Aegon leaned close to Sunfyre's neck, his voice dropping into a coaxing murmur, half teasing, half indulgent. His gloved hand slid along the warm, gilded scales, slow and reassuring.
Sunfyre's agitation ebbed almost at once.
He had always been vulnerable to Aegon's presence. The low growls in his chest softened into a rumbling purr, and the tension in his great limbs eased. Aegon felt it through the bond as clearly as if it were his own breath settling.
Satisfied, he swung up into the saddle.
"Go on," he murmured, settling his weight. "Let us see how you fare."
Sunfyre rose, wings spreading wide. With the Dragonhold affixed to his flanks, however, he could no longer launch straight upward. He broke into a heavy run instead, claws tearing shallow furrows into the packed earth as he gathered speed. Only then did his wings beat hard enough to lift his bulk from the ground.
The Dragon Spirit state tightened, the connection between man and dragon sharpening until every strain was shared.
At once, Aegon felt it.
Sunfyre's ascent was labored. Each wingbeat carried a resistance that had never been there before, a dragging weight that pressed against muscle and bone. Heat flared along the bond, edged with irritation and effort.
Aegon's brow creased.
This was not what he had envisioned.
The Dragonhold was too heavy.
Sunfyre was stronger than most dragons of comparable size. His endurance and raw power surpassed many older beasts. Yet even he felt the burden, a constant pressure that dulled the easy grace of his flight.
If this were another dragon, one no stronger than the norm, it would never endure this strain for long.
Aegon guided Sunfyre into a wide circle above the district, then brought him down again, slow and controlled. When Sunfyre's claws touched earth, the dragon exhaled sharply, wings folding with visible relief.
Aegon dismounted, his expression dark.
By his estimation, a twenty-meter Dragonhold demanded a dragon closer to a hundred meters in length to function without hindrance. Anything smaller would be compromised.
Even Vhagar, immense as she was, would likely bear no more than thirty meters without sacrifice.
He turned back toward the yard, irritation seeping into his voice. "This thing is far too much of a burden," he said quietly. "Can it be made lighter?"
Babu stiffened. The pride he had worn earlier drained from his face, replaced by hesitation and unease. He clasped his hands together, fingers tightening.
"I beg your pardon, Your Highness," he said after a moment. "This is already the lightest design I can achieve. Unless we use rarer and far more costly timber, there is little more to be done."
Aegon studied him for a heartbeat, then exhaled.
"I see." His tone softened. "Then leave it be. There is no need to reproach yourself. The Dragonhold ends here. Do not pursue further designs, but secure the plans. They may yet have value."
Babu's shoulders sagged. Shame flooded his expression, his eyes lowering to the ground. "Your Highness… I have failed you."
Aegon shook his head. "New ideas are always built on failures. This is no disgrace."
The South District sprawled around them, alive with the clang of hammers and the hiss of forges. It was the industrial heart of Dragonstone, where every craftsman on the island labored.
Here, Aegon had already introduced water-driven hammers for steel forging, lighter plows for the fields, and half a dozen other concepts still unproven. Many would fail. Some already had.
If progress halted at the first disappointment, the South District would be nothing more than an empty shell.
He turned away from the Dragonhold and addressed his brother. "Aemond. You and Hugh will return. I will take Skaði and the Gold Dragon Group."
The decapitation plan would proceed, but not with Vhagar and Sheepstealer.
Aemond hesitated, his gaze drifting to Skaði. Concern flickered across his sharp features. "Brother," he said cautiously, "should Skaði remain behind? She is… clumsy."
Aegon's expression hardened at once.
"With me watching her?" he snapped. "What are you afraid of? And with her strength as it is now, who could truly threaten her?"
It was true. Skaði lacked finesse. Her movements were rough, her instincts unrefined.
Yet under Hugh's relentless instruction, she had learned more than brute force. Even her clumsiness carried weight. When paired with her terrifying physical power, her destruction eclipsed Hugh's own.
Aegon looked back toward Sunfyre, resting now beneath the afternoon sun, and set his jaw.
Some weapons were imperfect.
That did not make them useless.