Baelon King of all Dragons

7th Moon, 97 A.C.

As Baelon paced before his great-grandsires desk, queen Alysanne sat in a chair in the far-right corner of the solar right next to a big bookshelf dedicated to the ainciant texts that came from Valyria to Dragonstone and later to King's Landing.

As the queen pondered the arguments of her husband and son to determine if she should take a side or if she should just go to her grandson and his highly pregnant wife, something fell from the shelf right next to her. As the room stilled to search for the cause of the disruption, all eyes fell on a book called "The Rites of Hatching or Claiming a Dragon.".

"Well, I guess we found our solution. If the ritual you dreamed of is in the book, you can do it; if not, it's of the table, and you are going to wait for it to hatch by itself or claim a dragon later in life, do you understand?"

"Yes, grandsire, of course."

The answer from Baelon the younger to the older confused Jaehaerys because Baelon had told him, that the ritual is not in any book written that is kept in King's Landing. Because of that, he had waited 3 days to tell Baelon the elder and Alysanne about the existence of the ritual so he and Baelon the younger could check again if they missed it in any of the books here.

Just as he was going to voice his thoughts, he saw the mischief in his great-grandson's eyes and knew what he had to do instead of voice his mind.

"Well, if there are any more of those books, get them; we have a bit of time before Aemma gives birth.

And Baelon, go to your father; he will need you as a distraction for himself and his wife if this birth is as tiresome for Aemma as yours was."

As Baelon left the room, he saw the twinkle in Jaehaeryses eyes and knew that he was definitely not going to see his father and mother and be a welcome distraction in the birth of his little sibling. And so he went to his room, retrieved the egg from the cradle, and placed it on his desk. There, he grabbed his knife, which was hidden in a secret compartment made for the last user of the desk, one Daemon Targaryen, his uncle. Afterwards, he sliced a small cut right through the middle of both of his palms with his hands. Bloodied, he smered the red substance all over the egg and went to the fireplace on the left side of the room, right across from his bed. There, he couldn't fit himself in the fireplace completely, so he just brought the egg and his hands and forearms into the flames and spoke.

"Kostagon se perzyssy bless bisa drōmon se rual issa naejot letagon bisa holy crature naejot nykēla se tolī issa issa familie hae bōsa hae nyke glaesagon ziry shall dōrī zūgagon nykeā qilōny nykeā se belma se ziry shall va moriot sagon dāez naejot rome se realms hen meraxes se caraxes ēva balerion jāhor ilagon claim va ziry raqagon ziry does va tolvie creature gō gaelithoxes care"

As he spoke those words, he felt a power coming from him like never before, but what surprised him the most was that the heat of the fireplace didn't bother him at all; it was like he was holding his hands in water, ready to bathe, nothing more.

And then he felt his hands healing themselves—or not the healing but the sealing of the cuts on his palms; they felt like the fire was slowly closing them up.

as if they had been sewn back together by the Maester but had already healed again, as if it were fresh skin that lay over the old one and took over the task of protecting the Valyrian blood.

After that, he took his hands out of the fire, but there was no egg in it; there was a small, pitch-black dragon with red over his spine and parts of his head. It lay in his hands as if it were bound to do so. In that fascinating time, the dragon lifted his head, opened his eyes, and stared at the humen before him.

The eyes Baelon had before him felt important; something in those beautiful orange eyes seemed so important and intelligent, but not only that, but as he first looked into the eyes of his future companion, a bond snapped into place like no other bond between men and dragons before, and just like that, he remembered a conversation he had with Arrax yesterday night about his dragon.

Flashback

"If the egg hatches after the ritual, do you mind if I name him after you? I mean, you are the ruler of the Valyrian gods, and I know I probably don't deserve a dragon with such a name, but you are also my first ever companion, and if we sometimes cannot talk to each other because Tessarion doesn't give me prophetic dreams anymore, it would be nice to remember you by something."

"You know I wouldn't mind you naming the dragon after me; after all, it will, with time, be the strongest one this world has ever seen and rule over the other dragons just like you rule over the other humans on this continent, or that's the goal we set ourselves as we bonded with you. But I think you cannot name a ruler of dragons without somehow incorporating my brother Gaelithox into the name."

"So, what about Arrlithox? It is a combination of both, and it sounds good."

"That it does, and yes, I think my brother would be happy with it as well. You can ask him yourself when your egg hatches; after it, you will need a lot of knowledge to fulfill all the needs a dragon has, and who better to tell you about it than the creator of the species itself? Anyway, Arrlithox is a fine name for a future ruler of dragons."

Flashback ends

"So you will be named Arrlithox after two of the greatest gods to ever exist."

At Baelons exclamation, the young dragon in his hands tried to roar proudly, but it would only end in little squeaks for now.