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The Cannibal, black and looming and altogether terrible, had sunken his talons into the rocks of Driftmark, causing even the largest ones to crack under the weight and a cloud of dust to scream out. His presence was felt among other dragons that had already arrived as the sky erupted in a mass of roars and cries that caused many knights and Lords around Driftmark to fear. From all over Driftmark, some dragons began to unfurl their wing, batting them, as others, mainly the smaller ones, took to the sky entirely.
The Cannibal did not return the cries, for Cannibal never spoke. Instead, his wildlife green eyes turned towards an easterly direction where, unknown to most in the vicinity, Vhagar was lying down in mourning. She was the only dragon that did not frighten when the Cannibals beating wings announced his arrival, whether that was due to her mourning or lack of fear was unknown. The Cannibal would observe all the dragons eventually, but his silent presence was fixed on the Queen of dragons in the meantime. Despite being much larger now, both dragons remembered a time when Vhagar was but a little hatchling hiding from the great wings in the sky. Cannibal hadn't feasted on her then, but there was still time.
Naenya Targaryen dismounted her steed before turning to help Maegor down also.
It was no simple thing that Cannibal had been brought to Laena Velaryon's funeral. It was a purposeful show of strength on Naenya's part; she was showing her arsenal to all who were to be in attendance. Bringing a dragon hunter to an event with so many dragon riders is not a decision of peace. It is a not-so-silent demand.
"Sōvēs,"
The Cannibal launched into the air, disappearing high into the dark clouds. Despite his leaving, every non-dragon rider at Driftmark still felt his presence. The Cannibal was surely still lurking, hunting. It was not tamed, not like the other dragons that rode with the Targaryens. It could never be trusted.
"Mother, why do they stare at you like that?" Maegor asks, watching as an outpouring of ten guards appears from the gates of Driftmark.
"It's fear, Maegor," Naenya replied, taking her hand in his, "Fear that melds to hatred, for no man wishes to fear,"
"Why do you want them to be fearful?" Maegor asked, following his mother up the cold cobblestone steps of Driftmark, "You said respect made good leadership,"
"For someone like you, respect is sufficient," Naenya replied, her eyes darting around the halls of Driftmark for one particular man, "But sometimes, the best way to get respect is to instil some fear. People can respect and fear you at the same time. It can be powerful to wield both,"
Maegor nodded, though his furrowed brow showed that the words did not make complete sense to him. Naenya didn't care to explain it. The boy would understand after a few years.
"Will Uncle Daemon be too upset to talk to me?" Maegor asked.
Naenya pursed her lips.
"You do not speak to Daemon until I speak to him, do you understand?" Naenya spoke softly as they passed mourners and servants, "If you see him, get me immediately,"
