129 AC – Narrow Sea
Point of View: Aenar Targaryen
Aenar Targaryen — only son of Rhaena Targaryen, the Black Bride, and Maegor the Cruel.
No one ever wanted him. Not even his own mother. They called him Aenar the Unwanted.
Now, at eighty-three, the old man felt the sea pulling at his bones, whispering of home. He had outlived them all — his family, his friends, his enemies. In the end, there was only one thing he had ever truly wanted: to not be feared like his father....
He stood before the massive beast, its black scales dulled with age, its breath slow and labored.
"Balerion… why must I resemble him so?" Aenar asked, voice hoarse with time. "Even you bow your head to me, like you did to him."
He was never meant to have a dragon. King Jaehaerys had forbidden it. But when he was young, foolish, and left alone, he tried to run away — and lost his way instead, stumbling into the Dragonpit.
That was when he found The Black Dread. Or perhaps, Balerion found him. The moment their eyes met, something passed between them — a bond, deep and ancient. Sometimes Aenar wondered if it had been fate… or a curse.
Now, everyone he had ever known was gone. He was the last of a dying era. And he could feel it — his strength was leaving him.
Worse, he could feel Balerion fading too.
The dread beast, who once bathed cities in fire, now struggled just to rise . Aenar would be his last rider.
Fitting, he thought. The last of Maegor's children.
He had no heirs. His line would vanish with him.
And perhaps that was for the best.
He never hated his family. Not truly. He understood the shadow his father cast — understood what fear could do to love. But understanding did little to ease the ache of being unloved.
All he wanted, now at the edge of his life, was to see his family once more.
Just once Before the end
As he seen dragon stone he pushed the old beast to speed up just this once he hopped it would be his last.