The morning sun lit up the castle courtyard, and Joffrey's little dragon flapped its wings with restless energy, leaving a trail of heat across the stone floor. It was still young, about the size of a small horse, but it already exuded a smell of fire and power that made anyone recoil. Joffrey, with the stubborn determination that only a spoiled Targ could have, tried to climb onto its back, holding onto its tiny horns, trying to look braver than he really was.

You came running across the courtyard, concern written all over your face. "Joffrey! Don't do that, it's dangerous!" Your older sister's firm, authoritative voice left no room for discussion. Every movement of the dragon was unpredictable, and even though it was small, a fall could be disastrous.

He looked at you with those stubborn green eyes, frowning. "I can do it!" he said, his voice laden with tantrum and childish determination. "I know what I'm doing!"

You reached out, trying to pull him away from the restless creature. "No, Joffrey! You're still too small to control a dragon. It might get scared, and you could get hurt!"

The dragon snorted and flapped its wings, almost unbalancing the young Velaryon, who clung on tightly but was beginning to realize that perhaps you were right. Still, he didn't want to give in. "I don't need your help!" he muttered, crossing his arms and snorting, his nose slightly upturned.