Dragonmont

Gwenara rode up to the volcano with two men-at-arms as her only escort. That, her sprightly bay mare, a full purse, and a letter of introduction were all that Lord Arryn had sent her with when she departed the Eyrie. She had rather hoped that Lord Arryn would send a Targaryen bastard to Dragonstone with more knightly escort, but Gwenara had been the Vale's Daughter since she was born, and her uncle had long since given up using her to curry favor with the King. She was sure he didn't believe she was a real Targaryen bastard and that she'd meet her end on the Dragonmont. Gwenara would have believed the same thing herself, if it had not been for the dreams.

A dragon was circling the volcano, and a few others were roosting. They were surprisingly difficult to spot, Gwenara mused, gazing up with keen grey eyes. She saw a sleek cobalt blue dragon, orange horns gleaming under the sun as it circled the volcano in its hunt. The black dragon Dohaeragon was roosting, she could see, but none of them caught her interest. Where is the green beast? she wondered.

"My lady, we will wait in the town," one of her escorts said, eyeing the dragons nervously. They were sure Gwenara would be dead by noon, and they anticipated having a hearty luncheon before respectfully burying her and starting back for the Vale.

Gwenara nodded, barely glancing at them, and dismounted from her bay mare. She was holding a long, thin black whip, which she had fashioned after reading a tome on how dragons were tamed.

"Await me in the town," she told them tersely. "And take my mare, lest the dragons decide to eat her."

"Then how will you return?" one of the men asked.

"I'll either return on a dragon, or not at all," Gwenara replied, though in truth she was nervous. She turned back to face the volcano before her nerve failed her, and began to climb, searching for Vhagar.

Gwenara's face was flushed from the exertion and the heat emanating from the volcano. She peered into the cave cautiously, her whip steady in her hand.

Show no fear, Gwenara told herself, though in truth she had never been more afraid. She remember the molten eyes and black fangs of her dreams, and for a moment her hands went cold. But she forced herself to step forward. If she was too afraid to face Vhagar, she did not deserve to be here.

She realized that if indeed this was Vhagar's cave, or any dragon's cave, then cornering the giant beast in here would be a dreadful idea.

She reached into the pocket of her breeches and drew out a low whistle, which she blew gently to stir the dragon and draw it out.

Gwenara looked at it admiringly as it shot out, and respectfully stepped away from the dragon, making it clear that she was not a threat. It was not Vhagar, to her disappointment, though it was beautiful. She pocketed her whistle again, and searched for another cave as she climbed higher up the volcano.

Gwenara began to realize that she should have gone to the castle first to ask specifically where Vhagar's cave was. She sat on a rock and drank from a skin of water, as both the climb and the heat of the volcano had given her a thirst, and looked around to see if there was anyone else mad enough to be a would-be dragon-tamer, who could direct her.

"When does she usually come back?" Gwenara asked, taking stock of her surroundings. "I'll wait by the mouth of the cave. Perhaps she'll be in a good mood with a full belly."

Gwenara did as he advised, and waited. She looked meditative and calm.

Gwenara's heart leapt into her throat as the dragon passed over them, but she forced herself to hold her ground when the great green dragon turned and roared in her face, blowing Gwenara's hair back and warming her skin with the dragon's heated breath. There it was, the molten eyes and black teeth of her childhood dreams, come to life. For a moment, Gwenara could only stare in awe and wonder. If this is to be my death, she thought, then it is a death many would envy.

But the dragon 's roar aroused another feeling in her. She knew she had made the right choice. There was no other dragon in the Seven Kingdoms that she wished to claim. Uncoiling her whip, she looked Vhagar straight in her golden eyes., and stood as still as a tree, spearing neither frightened nor threatening.

Gwenara wanted to avoid that giant maw, and she knew it would be harder for the massive dragon to blast her with fire if Gwenara was close to her body. She approached slowly and steadily, the whip at ready but reluctant to use it, poised to dodge the second she saw a glow in Vhagar's mouth. "Stay right there," she said in a clear, but gentle, voice.

Gwenara approached so close that she was right beside the dragon's mouth. Her palms were sweating and she only gripped the whip more tightly, knowing that the moment was drawing close. "Easy, Vhagar," she said in the same voice, daring to rest a hand on the hard, cold green scale.

At Gwenara's touch, Vhagar gave a dismissive hiss, a restrained yet brilliant burst of gold and green flames escaping from between her teeth into the daring woman's face. The smell of burnt hair stank in the air as her eyebrows were singed from her face. She immediately felt as a Northerner would after falling asleep in the Dornish son, the skin on her cheeks and nose turning bring red, before peeling and blistering.

(Gwenara takes a Light Wound)

Vhagar's mild annoyance at the woman blocking the entrance to her cave turned to baleful indignation at the sound of the whip's crack. Lifting its colossal winged claw, the dragon swatted the bastard aside. To the beast, it likely took as much effort as a human would to swat a fly, but to Gwenara a trebuchet might as well have struck her in the chest. She flew backwards, further into the cave, crashing against one of its scorched walls. From the blinding pain, she could tell that at least three ribs were broken. Her ears were ringing as well and she saw spots. When she touched the back of her head, her fingers came back bloody.

(Gwenara takes a Heavy Wound)