Visenya covered her mouth as soon as another large wave had passed them.
The Princess had never been much fond of the sea. She was fire and blood, after all. Unlike her half-sisters, Baela and Rhaena, there was little to no Velaryon blood coursing through her veins.
Travel by ship was hardly the Targaryen way.
Feeling her queasiness die down, Visenya wrapped her cloak tighter around her, and looked up into the dark sky, wishing to know how it would feel to be part of it…the way her mother and father had been. What a marvellous thought…to follow in their footsteps, and be close to the Gods.
What a tragedy, for the Targaryens to lose their connection to these wonderous beings…all because of another family's greed. 'Tis was to be the last time they interfered with their Valyrian heritage.
They had lost much…but now, with Silverwing having been spotted, there was a chance to bring her home. And a chance for Visenya to have her dream realized.
But there was still something standing in her way…or rather someone.
Looking to the other side of the ship, Visenya observed Viserys strutting about, speaking to the sailors. The Hand pin which had once belonged to Queen Alysanne, displayed on his chest.
He had made certain to bring it along on this voyage. And Visenya knew why.
That Hand pin was the one object which defined who he was. His image…the one he had constructed so well, of a calculating, shrewd but fair Hand of the King. The pin also connected him to Queen Alysanne…which in turn, he hoped, would connect him to her silvery, gentle she-dragon.
He was trying desperately not to be left out once more…not to be the last of everything. Visenya knew that he would not bear it if both she and Aegon had dragons of their own, and he did not.
But what was he planning on doing to achieve his ambitions? Betray his betrothed? Attempt to claim that dragon himself, despite knowing how much Visenya wanted her?
Visenya gripped the side of the ship, as she felt another feeling of queasiness overcome her. While she knew that her body did not respond well to ship rides…this feeling of sickness proved to be much too troubling.
"My sweet…" Viserys' soft voice was heard, and Visenya had the chance to look up for a moment and see his concerned look, before she leaned over the deck and spilled some unpleasant content from her stomach.
Viserys immediately grabbed her shoulders, keeping her firmly against him, all the while pulling her hair back, and ensuring that she had enough space to spill everything she needed to, into the sea.
Having finished, the Princess leaned back into her betrothed, and closed her eyes, trying to catch her breath.
When she finally did, she found herself saying, "She does not suit you."
"She is a calculating, firm dragon, belonging to a Queen who greatly influenced the Realm at the time of her husband's reign. Some say she was greater than Jaehaerys. And I wear her pin." Viserys reasoned, looking on ahead towards the sea, the wind blowing his hair away from his face.
"And you deem yourself greater than Aegon?"
Viserys remained silent…for affirming such truths would result in treason, even if the words came from the King's own brother.
"You believe yourself to be the exact image of what you portray?", the Princess murmured, as she kept his arms around her.
She felt him stiffen, as though her words proved to be colder than any of the sea water making its way on deck, as they moved with the tide.
"Are you looking to hurt me, sister?", he asked, his hands gripping her tighter.
"No…but, I have seen your darkness, Viserys. It's sheathed inside you. But when Baelor died, you used it to exact the Crown's vengeance. Silverwing is a most gentle, and docile dragon. She is not attracted to darkness." Visenya found herself explaining.
Queen Alysanne might have been firm in her beliefs, a force to be reckoned with, but certainly no darkness occupied her heart.
Viserys…well, Visenya was certain that he had not been born this way. Certain similarities to their father had always existed, of course, but the true Rogue Prince had been reborn when Viserys had been left on that ship many years before.
Abandonment.
A most terrible feeling, he had kept with him for many years. And the fury he had unsheathed in those black cells, was the one grown for his family's enemies…the ones who attacked the ship, as well as the ones who murdered his mother.
The darkness defined Viserys, even if he chose not to believe it. And Visenya did not think it wise to burden the most gracious Silverwing with it, especially after all she had been through.
"And yet, she chose Ulf White to be her rider." Viserys finally replied to her remark, reminding her of the Two Betrayers.
Visenya scoffed, saying, "That man could hardly be called dark. A traitorous fool, mayhaps. He loved to drink, and the drink killed him. He did Silverwing more harm than good. Turned her against her own House. I cannot understand why she ever accepted him."
Almost as if he was intent on ignoring her good sense, Viserys mumbled, "Silverwing is free for the taking."
The son of the Rogue Prince could feel his pulse quickening, heartbeat into his ear, as he realized that soon enough, one of them would be given the honour of riding a dragon, as in the days of old.
After all he had sacrificed…all he lost…his servitude to the Crown. None deserved it more than him.
The ship was nearing the Shield Islands. It had taken much, but Visenya and Viserys had both made the decision to circle the entire Reach, despite Lord Tyrell's guarantee that they would have safe passage.
Even if the whispers of a supposed rebellion had died down, neither Visenya nor Viserys were convinced that the Reach was to be trusted. And they certainly wished to avoid Oldtown as much as possible.
"We will move past the islands, go through Old Oak, and reach the Red Lake in no time, my prince.", one of the sailors explained.
Ser Dennis Whitfield and Ser Joffrey Staunton of the Kingsguard had been instructed to accompany them on this voyage, for further protection.
In any case, Viserys had made his own arrangements…means to escape, if need be.
Looking towards Visenya, he noticed her rather pale complexion. She was unwell…clearly. The sea was not doing her much good. Mayhaps, as soon as they descended the ship, she would regain her strength.
And yet, Viserys hoped this newfound strength of hers would not be enough for her to claim Silverwing.
It was to be a race, then so be it.
The Targaryens were not ones to avoid unpleasantness when the claiming of a dragon was at stake. There was only one…and no guarantee that the remainder of Syrax's eggs would hatch.
Upon reaching the Red Lake, the far west border was their destination…for according to Prudence's letter, Silverwing was residing on one of the cliffs, near the water, and making certain that none could approach her.
They could only hope that their enemies had not managed to reach her yet.
The party decided to split, and cover more ground.
Viserys could feel his enthusiasm break through, as he had started breathing deeper and deeper.
"Over there!" Ser Dennis suddenly exclaimed, pointing to one of the larger cliffs, and Viserys' face snapped up just in time to see something he had never believed he would ever have the chance to.
A magnificent creature…much larger than Morning. All silver, scales shimmering, her eyes dark and wide, as she regarded with interest the strangers who had interrupted her rest.
All men froze in place, almost afraid to move, for what would happen if they did? The dragon had certainly gotten used to the solitude. Would she attack? Would she fly away, frightened?
Viserys' eyes softened, as he regarded her more closely. She appeared to be much weakened…lacking the regular nourishment Morning had been used to. Of course, Silverwing had been without a home for many years, with no one to tend to her. And her unkept wings attested to that.
The colour was still silver, of course…but somewhat faded. Barely half of the she-dragon she had once been.
Taking a deep breath, Viserys ignored Ser Dennis' yell, "My prince!", and headed straight towards the cliff.
As he neared, he slowed, and regarded the dragon straight in the eyes.
Silverwing let out a shriek and backed away on instinct...but refused to attack nonetheless. Mayhaps because with her senses, she could recognize a Targaryen from miles away.
This only encouraged Viserys to approach.
Silverwing had backed to the end of the cliff. Looking towards the water, the she-dragon realized that there was only one way to escape…and that was by flying away. And yet…she would not.
Companionship.
This is what the poor dragon was craving. After so many years…finally someone of Valyrian blood with the nerve to approach her.
Viserys' blood rushed wildly inside him. He began inhaling and exhaling through his mouth, as his steps had finally reached the gigantic creature.
The scales were absolutely beautiful. Viserys could only imagine how majestic Silverwing would begin to look if she came into their care. The Dragonkeepers would feed her properly, she would be sheltered by the home she had always known…and she would be loved.
Unable to help himself any longer, Viserys reached for her…for his dream.
This would be his moment.
His lilac-coloured eyes gleamed with hope for the first time in years.
Silverwing lowered her snout, with the intent to sense him better.
Though as soon as his cold fingers pressed against her scales, Silverwing pulled her head back, letting out a shriek to the sky, flapping her wings wildly.
The party of men yelled from afar for Viserys to back away.
It was at that moment that the prince heard his betrothed's screams.
"VISERYS, NO!"
Turning his head, he could see Visenya having come much closer than the other men. She was standing on the cliff, her cloak and silver-gold hair flowing behind her. Tears were dripping down her rosy cheeks.
Viserys furrowed his eyebrows, as Silverwing continued flapping her wings violently…but still not attacking.
He could not understand his love's tears. Was she afraid for him…or was the fire inside her roaring for the chance to claim the dragon herself?
Turning back around, Viserys watched as Silverwing continued flapping her wings, almost as though warning him to step away…but not attempting to harm him.
From a single touch…the she-dragon sensed all she needed to.
Closing his eyes, Viserys took a few steps back, understanding defeat, just as Visenya passed him and headed straight for the magnificent creature.
Not an entire coincidence, the Princess had decided to wear silver on this voyage. And as she gazed up into the dragon's eyes, she could feel her having calmed.
Mayhaps because she was seeing someone she recognized.
In this young girl before her…her intentions most kind, but much spirited, Silverwing was seeing the memory of her very first rider. And how she longed to have that girl back into her life again. For Alysanne had made her the happiest.
Her silvery wings were no longer flapping, and the she-dragon stepped closer, her snout now on the same level as the girl before her.
Silverwing's nostrils were flaring, as she was attempting to sense the truth of the girl.
Visenya bravely held out her hand, in an attempt to touch the scales of the mighty war dragon.
"Sagon gīda. Ry iksos sȳrī. Nyke kesīr sir." Be calm. All is well. I am here now.
Visenya's soft voice, seemed to soothe the she-dragon, as she had started to purr softly…basking into her light. It was only fitting that a Targaryen princess would attempt to claim her dragon through the use of High Valyrian.
Visenya moved her hand gently, letting out a giggle of excitement, as more tears streamed down her face. This was her moment. She could sense it.
And so, the contact was made…as Viserys watched from afar.
After so many years of hunger, heartache, and fear, Queen Alysanne's dragon, Silverwing, had finally found a way to regain her strength and become once more the dragon that she used to be.
The damage left behind by Ulf White was long forgotten, as Silverwing looked to a new future, in servitude to her House. Never to be forced to betray it ever again.
Viserys remained back, watching with cold eyes the display of affection between the she-dragon and her new rider.
It appeared Visenya had been right after all.
Silverwing had been intrigued when she had sensed someone of Valyrian descent. Her intentions had been clear. She wanted a new rider. She had felt the loneliness and the cold for far too long. She had been willing to give him a chance.
And yet, a single touch from his fingers, had sent Silverwing in a panic, trying to keep away from him.
Ser Dennis, sensing his distress, came forth, murmuring, "My prince.", in an almost attempt at comfort.
"Stand back. We must allow the Princess her first flight.", the Hand ordered the rest of the men present.
It was to be a moment of triumph for Visenya…and despite knowing that he should feel pride for his betrothed, Viserys could only feel shame and disappointment.
Visenya felt as though she was dreaming. She had never smiled as much as in this moment. Her first flight. How long she had waited for this. She wished her mother and father were watching her from high above, in the Seven Heavens.
The dragons had returned. House Targaryen was slowly rising from the ashes. Aegon's hands and song had provided the magic of Old Valyria required to hatch a dragon egg. And now, Visenya had managed to find and claim a dragon once belonging to their great House.
Her silver lady.
Silverwing lowered her neck as much as possible, giving Visenya the possibility to climb. The Princess' small hands grasped at the dragon's spine, and struggled to get herself in a good position.
She could not believe it. She was to fly her very own dragon. Without a saddle, even, which proved to be more and more of a challenge.
Positioning herself accordingly, Visenya cried out, "Sōvegon!" Fly!
Silverwing wasted no time in flapping her wings, raising herself rapidly into the sky, as Visenya let out a small scream, followed by a giggle, indicating her excitement.
Viserys and the rest of the men who accompanied them were getting smaller and smaller.
Once she reached the desired distance, Silverwing let out a shriek at the feeling of someone on her back after so many years. And away she went, flying in circles around the Red Lake at incredible speed.
Turning his back on the sight, even as the others admired it, Viserys commanded, "Prepare the ship."
However, before Ser Joffrey could respond, Visenya's scream was heard from high above. Although, this time, the scream was not one of excitement. It was absolute fear.
"VISERYS!" Visenya cried out, holding on even tighter to Silverwing.
Viserys turned around in time to see a dark shadow…much larger than the silvery figure of Silverwing, closing in on his Princess.
"TAKE COVER!", he yelled towards all his men, as he started running towards the cliff.
He felt powerless…desperate…as he looked up, and yelled at Silverwing, "ILAGON!" DOWN!
Of course, Silverwing would not respond to his commands. It was Visenya herself who found the courage to direct Silverwing back down towards the cliff.
The silver she-dragon did her best to protect her new rider from the creature descending upon them.
A creature of magnificent size, greater than Silverwing…full coal black scales, and captivating but menacing emerald-green eyes.
The men all gasped in astonishment, yelling at one another incomprehensibly.
The creature had a well-known reputation…and despite having disappeared for many years, they all knew his name. Even Viserys, when he had been but a child of eight, had heard his mother speak of this dragon.
The Cannibal, was his moniker…for being the most fearsome of them all…and because of his habit for feasting on other dragons.
Visenya practically jumped from Silverwing as soon as they reached the cliff, scraping her knee on the rock in the process.
Silverwing turned the moment she felt the bigger dragon descend, and Visenya gasped, even with Viserys holding onto her, fearing that the beast would attack her silver lady.
Alas…no such thing happened.
The Cannibal settled on the cliff…and the roars which followed from both dragons seemed less menacing. There was no battle. It was more of a dispute.
"They know one another." Visenya whispered in realization, her eyes widening.
That they did.
They all stood aside, and watched as the Cannibal expressed his displeasure at Silverwing for now having a rider.
As the dragons roared at one another, Viserys looked to see everyone around him trembling with fright. And that only seemed to spur the Cannibal on, as he finally faced the group of people menacingly…regardless of anything Silverwing did.
Visenya looked to her betrothed for support…only to see that look of determination on his face. The one he used when he wanted to accomplish something.
"Viserys, what are you…?", she started asking, but Viserys only stepped forward, whispering, "Stay behind me."
The prince then hurried to pick up one of the rocks, slashing his hand, and allowing the blood to pour onto the stones.
"VISERYS!" Visenya screamed once more, as she watched him get closer to the big black beast.
Silverwing would not allow the Cannibal to hurt her rider, of course, but she would not interfere when it came to whatever was happening between him and Viserys.
The Cannibal advanced menacingly towards Viserys, who held out his bloodied palm, yelling, "LYKA!" QUIET!
But the great black beast would not oblige. Defiantly, he continued to roar, and advance towards Viserys, making the prince grin slightly.
"Viserys, what are you doing?!" Visenya exclaimed from behind, tears having begun once more to stream down her face.
"I came here for a dragon. And I am not leaving without one." Viserys replied, his own lilac eyes fixed on the emerald ones.
"You'll be killed!" Visenya argued.
But Viserys would not hear her reason. As the blood of the dragon dripped from his slashed hand, the son of the Rogue Prince advanced along with the Cannibal…until the two would come face to face.
The black dragon roared once more, in another attempt at imitation.
Viserys showed no fear, and instead called out, "Ānogar ānograro!" Blood of my blood!
They would dance…surrounding one another, inspecting…testing each other's limits.
Despite his obvious anger at the idea of humans taking away the dragons' independence, the Cannibal seemed to admire Viserys' courage…and sensed his darkness.
Having his hand drip with blood, Viserys finally reached the Cannibal's terrifying snout.
The dragon's large and rather sharp teeth were bared, but Viserys still reached with his hand, smearing the black scales with the blood of his wound.
Viserys let out a sigh of relief, even as the Cannibal continued growling.
The party behind Viserys had grown quiet, as they watched the unbelievable moment.
"Gīda!" Steady!
Viserys gave his order, despite knowing that the dragon would not listen.
Immediately afterwards, Viserys grabbed a hold of his spikes, and the Cannibal growled with disapproval.
Gaining more confidence, Viserys finally mounted his dragon…only for the Cannibal to roar, flap his wings, and attempt to get him off.
"Keligon!" Stop!
But the wild dragon would not hear of it. Despite feeling the connection, he was determined not have a rider.
"Viserys!" Visenya called out again, as Silverwing came close to her.
Never had there been a dragon of such resistance…though it was to be expected, as the Cannibal had never been ridden.
The Princess, the knights of the Kingsguard, and the sailors, could do naught but watch as Viserys struggled to keep himself on his chosen mount.
Never had there been such a tussle. For a dragon would oft bow to his chosen rider.
And yet, the Cannibal made it clear that he would not bow.
Viserys could only grit his teeth in determination, his heart having started to pump the blood in his veins at a much quicker pace…his hands gripping tightly not only the dragon's spikes, but also onto the desire for their obvious connection to flourish.
…
"Where are you going?" Sarra Stark questioned her companion that morrow.
"Isembard has asked me to break fast with him." Little Jeyne replied, as though there was a normality attached to the request.
"Isembard?! Not Lord Isembard?" Sarra exclaimed.
"When you get accustomed to a person, you address them in a friendlier manner, Sarra. Of course, I will not persist with the formalities."
Little Jeyne picked one of her usual Arryn blue dresses. It was the only colour she could wear around Isembard. Was she trying to allure him using her station?
"But he still calls you 'lady'."
It was not a question. Sarra knew it well. Little Jeyne had oft spoken of how much this seemed to please her. While everyone else at Court resorted to calling her "Little Jeyne" so as to differentiate her from her namesake, Isembard was the only one with the good sense to address her respectfully, as would one day befit her station. And that was precisely what Sarra was afraid of. The northern girl may have been younger, but her mind was sharp enough to understand that Isembard was not choosing a term of endearment. It was more of a reminder, of who their Little Jeyne would become one day. The Lady of the Eyrie.
Turning away from the mirror, Little Jeyne asked her companion, "Why do you keep questioning me?"
"I question his intentions."
And yours. But of course, Sarra did not voice it.
"You are still quite young. You would not understand.", the five-and ten-year-old Arryn lady responded.
Sarra may have been the youngest of the ladies-in-waiting, but she was definitely the sharpest out of them. She did not need to throw a fit and give her companion the satisfaction of having angered her with her thoughts.
"I will be late." Little Jeyne whispered after seeing that she would not be getting a reaction. Rearranging her dress, she walked out of the room in an instant.
The young Stark girl shook her head, as she watched Little Jeyne leave.
The future Lady of the Eyrie used to be as shy as Elinor when they had first arrived at Court, to join the Princess Visenya's household. As the moons of the year had gone by, it seemed that much had changed in the girl of House Arryn.
She was becoming more decisive…strong-willed and much eager to get what she wanted.
And what she wanted was clear. A man fit to be the husband of the ruling Lady of the Vale.
But Sarra wondered whether Little Jeyne was prepared to pay the price for it?
Little Jeyne bit her lip and tried to keep herself more composed, as she hurriedly knocked on the doors. It appeared that Isembard had once again requested for no knights to be posted at the doors, and Little Jeyne could easily enter without being seen. After all, a young maiden such as herself, unaccompanied, and alone with a man, was highly improper if found.
The meal arranged by the Lord of Gulltown proved to be much too grand.
Foods of all sort. And Isembard was most distinguished looking. The Master of Coin was wearing Arryn blue, matching hers, with gold falcon patterns and various threads.
As usual, he pointed to a seat next to his, inviting her to join him.
"Lady Jeyne.", Isembard murmured, just as she approached.
"You are much too considerate." Little Jeyne herself whispered, as she took her seat.
There was definitely something on his mind. Having arranged such a meal for the two of them…and no special occasion? Little Jeyne did not believe it so.
"I wish to be blunt." Isembard suddenly stated, and Little Jeyne immediately sat down her plate.
"Oh?"
"We have seen much of each other these past few moons, Lady Jeyne. And I cannot persist with the idea that we are seeing one another as naught more but companions. We have become much too close."
"And yet, you insist on calling me by my title. Can I never just be Jeyne to you?", the young maiden asked him softly, tilting her head to the side and attempting to hide the redness in her cheeks.
"I call you as such for you are held in high regard by me. And I do not want you to forget that one day, you are to be more than just Jeyne."
"You do not wish for me to forget, or is this something you yourself wish to remember, Isembard?"
She enjoyed seeing the small smirk on his face, as he evaded her question.
Then, leaning forward, and crossing his fingers on the table, the Master of Coin put forth his intentions. "I wish to wed you."
With a small inhale, Little Jeyne let loose her words, "You are most bold."
"I do not see the point of prolonging an expected ending.", he replied, almost as if the meals, and the time he spent with her had been with this exact purpose…to reach this moment.
"Do you see the point of a proper courtship?" Little Jeyne asked, as she tried to keep her mind freed of Sarra Stark's warnings.
Nodding, Isembard leaned back in his chair, and looked as though deep in thought. "I might…if the outcome is agreeable enough."
"The seat of House Arryn would do, then?", she tested him.
"Not if it means I cannot have you to go with it.", he replied swiftly.
He was much too honest. And Little Jeyne was uncertain that she cared to continue. Standing on her feet, she thanked him for the meal which she had not gotten the chance to enjoy thoroughly, and headed for the door.
"Jeyne…"
Her own small name. No title. He knew how well to use his words.
He had taken her hand, stopping her from leaving.
Spinning around, Little Jeyne made herself clear. "I mislike being used."
"That was never my intention.", he stated, stepping even closer.
"You expect me to believe you? I may be young, my lord, but I have learned plenty from being around Court."
"I should hope so." Isembard mumbled with a seemingly genuine smile. "You have indeed learned much, being in the Princess Visenya's company. You have gained confidence. 'Tis something you shall greatly require, if you are to rule the Vale."
"And you would much like to take back what you believe my father took from you."
"Joffrey and I are at peace."
"Not if he finds out about your intentions to wed me."
"How is he to find out?"
"Well, I will be writing to him…and ask him for permission that you may court me."
Isembard furrowed his eyebrows, and said uncertainly, "I do not understand…"
"You were truthful with me, Isembard. You have not once denied that the idea of influencing the whole Vale through my seat in the Eyrie never entered your mind."
Little Jeyne's eyes gleamed with hope that she may have the correct meaning behind his intentions.
Seeing him break eye contact…his gaze focussing on something behind her, Little Jeyne became certain that she was right.
"The Vale would have done well under my rule. I cannot help but cling to such truth. But you must know…that I care for you.", he murmured, pensively.
Having him right where she wanted, Little Jeyne pressed her hand to his heart, and told him, "I believe you. And you should know I harbour similar feelings for you. You would aid me greatly, should you become my husband. You know what needs to be done. You can teach me."
"I can certainly provide instruction…in all aspects of your life."
Grasping on the meaning once more, Little Jeyne reverted her gaze and bit her lip.
Taking her smaller hand in his, Isembard laid a kiss…a kiss resembling that of a sworn oath, and as such, the future Lady of the Eyrie had made her decision. She would be writing to her father.
…
Casterly Rock proved to be more secluded, than Elinor had expected. But she did not mind it one bit…taking some time, being shut off from the world. Mayhaps everyone had forgotten about her…forgotten to question her impurity.
Or mayhaps the Princess Visenya's objective has been achieved. Elinor was a married woman now, and the Lady of Casterly Rock. All that happened before, mattered not.
And she was heavy with child now.
Lord Loreon had proven to be a fine husband. Considerate, gentle…but much left to be desired. His affections were oft…an obligation, Elinor sensed.
Mayhaps because, despite their good marriage, the Lord of Casterly Rock could not forget that he only agreed to marry her in an attempt to keep the Crown from taking vengeance on House Lannister for the murder of Prince Baelor Targaryen.
Loreon's mother, Johanna, had managed to put House Lannister in a tough situation. Many could no longer be considered the family's friends, because of that mad woman's treasonous actions…even if the Lord of Casterly Rock remained the richest in the Realm. The young Lannister lord would do anything to pay his debts not only to the Crown, but also to the Realm…even if it meant taking to wife a lady five years his senior, whose reputation had been put into question for many years.
Even so, this mattered not to her. She was certain that with more time having passed them, Loreon would begin looking at her differently. He would no longer see her as duty or payment for his mother's treason. Especially not after she would birth him his child.
At four and twenty, Elinor still considered herself a young woman. And though most girls birthed their first babes at a much younger age, Elinor believed that she was at an advantage. She could be certain that her body was well prepared to do so.
But the maesters could not be certain. They had examined her plenty, and did oft remind her that her hips were quite small, and her fragility could prove costly.
Costly…
Elinor understood what this meant.
Plenty of women died in childbirth. All of them knew the risks, and all of them were prepared to take them. Elinor included.
She would make certain to gaze at her husband, whenever she was given the maester's opinion.
Loreon would stand firm, not gazing at her, but rather at the floor, deep in thought. In those moments, Elinor did hope that he would raise his head, even for just a little while, and understand the pain she felt in her heart, at the distance he was trying to maintain.
She had grown to love him. Truly. When they had been wed, she did not believe that she could…but she did. Arranged or not, babe or not, Elinor knew that she would choose him now, if anyone were to ask her.
He was more than she had hoped for…even if he did not think the same of her.
With her hand on her swollen belly, Elinor moved about with difficulty around the castle. The maids were all most gentle with her, and aided her whenever she could not muster the strength. But on this day, Elinor felt that she could. And what she desired more than anything was a walk in the outdoors.
As secluded as Casterly Rock was known to be, Elinor knew that it would be a challenge, especially in her condition. But she had the utmost faith in her husband that he would find a way to please her.
Rounding the corner to the hall where she knew Loreon was currently handling important matters on gold mining, Elinor stopped in her tracks. One of the maesters was practically running towards the hall, with a sealed letter in his hand.
Although the maester had passed her rapidly, Elinor had managed to make out the seal. The Hightower of Oldtown.
The plot attempted by that family in the past few moons had become common knowledge. But what would they be writing to her husband for, now?
The doors to the hall were slightly open, but Elinor did not dare enter. For she knew that as soon as she did, any hope of her discovering the truth of this matter, would vanish.
"My lord! A raven from Oldtown! Lord Hightower has addressed this to you with his personal seal.", the maester informed Loreon.
The young lion looked up from his scrolls, with a small frown. Regarding the parchment in the maester's hands with great interest, he dismissed the rest of his advisors.
Elinor instantly hid in a corner, as the men made their way out the doors.
"Whatever would he be writing to me for?" Elinor heard her husband mutter, as he took the letter in his hands, breaking the seal.
As the silence persisted, Elinor knew that her husband was reading that letter. But would he reveal its contents or keep the information to himself?
"My lord…is there something we should worry of?", the maester found himself asking.
Elinor closed her eyes and prayed her husband would answer.
And that, he did.
"Lord Hightower wishes to gain my support…for their endeavour."
"Endeavour?"
"He does not say much."
"Ravens do tend to get lost at times, my lord.", the maester whispered, understandingly.
Elinor stifled a gasp. Whatever Lord Hightower had in mind when writing vague words on that parchment…it was treasonous. Hence, he would not risk it, in case the letter ended up in the wrong hands. And Elinor had an idea on what the Hightowers' endeavour was.
News of the pretender having presented himself before the King, had reached Lannisport. As did the shock of the common folk who could not understand why the King had not imprisoned the man who claimed to be Daeron the Daring, the son of King Viserys Targaryen and Queen Alicent Hightower.
Some believed it gracious of the King, to be so forgiving. Many others, however, claimed that the man was telling the truth.
"Are you to offer him your support, my lord?", the maester suddenly asked the young Lord of Casterly Rock.
Elinor held in her breath, as she pressed her ear even more to the door, both her hands now grasping her belly in agitation.
Loreon Lannister would not answer.
…
Scores of Northerners marched through the snow which had begun to set on the grounds of the Neck.
Winter was coming.
And just as it had been during the war, Lord Cregan Stark could only spare a few good thousand men.
The swamp was to be the one division between the North and the Riverlands, where Lord Kermit Tully was expecting them. Alas, with the growing winter storm, the party of men had been forced to move more cautiously…and even slower at that.
"Parchment and quill!" Lord Cregan demanded of his vassal lords.
There were many people he needed to write to. There was his dear wife, Alysanne, who had been left as regent in Winterfell during his absence.
Initially, Cregan had wanted for his son to remain. He had a wife now, and a child on the way. He not only needed to be by their side, but also be given the chance to further improve his skills at governing…for he would one day be the Lord of Winterfell.
The young wolf also had three younger sisters there, which he needed to protect. Alys, Raya and Mariah.
And then, there was Cregan's eldest daughter, Sarra, who was still residing in King's Landing, as one of Princess Visenya's ladies. She had much written to him for the past few moons. News of how dire things had become for the Crown, now that a pretender was searching to destroy the peace they had fought so hard for.
Whether or not the man's claims were true, it mattered not. The Greens had done enough damage to the Realm, as far as Cregan was concerned. And they had cost him the dearest friend he ever had. The Blacks' forces had defeated the Greens' remaining armies in the end of the war. Marching victoriously to King's Landing, the Lads, Lady Jeyne Arryn and Lord Cregan Stark himself, had ensured to place the crown upon the brow of Queen Rhaenyra's son.
Lord Kermit was surely awaiting to hear news from the party in the North as well. And Cregan would be damned if he allowed this winter to delay him from reaching the South once more, as had happened during the war.
"The ink has frozen, my lord!" Lord Feron Mormont's voice could barely be heard.
The wind had started picking up, and most men could no longer move. The cold, they were accustomed to just fine. But this wintery wind…they could not withstand.
"We must take shelter!" Lord Robard Cerwyn exclaimed, pointing to what appeared to be a row of caves in the distance.
The barrowlands were slowing their march. But by the grace of the Gods, they also provided what the men needed.
"Aye…the winds have shifted! Take cover!" Lord Cregan exclaimed, just as his son, Rickon, had taken off his own fur cloak to place upon his father.
Lord Cregan had tried, stubbornly, to take it off, but his son refused him.
With great difficulty, the men had made their way to the nearby caves, hoping the storm would pass and allow them safe passage into the Riverlands, where surely, neither the snow nor the wind had reached.
Lord Bennard Dustin, had his men light the flames which would keep them warm throughout the night.
"Your knife, son." Cregan murmured as soon as they had entered the caves.
Rickon unsheathed the small knife he kept with him at all times.
The young wolf's eyes widened when he saw his father begin to cut his palm, drops of blood covering the ground in an instant.
"Quill.", the Lord of Winterfell instructed, and Rickon obliged, finally understanding what his father was planning on doing.
A most peculiar move, or rather, a desperate one. They needed word to spread of their whereabouts. And alas, the only available liquid on their body was the blood of the First Men.
"Are you writing to Mother?", the boy asked.
Even if Alysanne Blackwood was not Rickon's birth mother, he had grown very fond of her throughout the years following the end of the war, and as such, could not think of her as anything but a mother. It did help that Black Aly also had a way of attracting affection her way.
"No. Your sister." Cregan muttered, pressing the tip of the quill to his palm. The Northerner did not even flinch at the contact made.
"Sarra?" Rickon asked, as he watched his father move the quill slowly on the parchment.
The words were slowly coming into apparition…in blood red.
"Aye." Cregan whispered, and focused on his writing.
It was to be expected that it would be more difficult to forge such a letter, under the circumstances.
Nevertheless, the Wolf of the North was not one to surrender.
Lord Gorne Umber approached with one of the torches in hand.
"My lord…I fear we may not reach the Riverlands in time."
"'Tis not what I wish to hear from you, Umber." Lord Cregan mumbled, as he struggled to write.
"We have no way of knowing when this storm will end. We may need to stay here longer than a single night.", the lord of the Last Hearth continued.
Lord Cregan, on the other hand, began mumbling incomprehensibly to himself, as he pressed the quill with as much force as possible to the ripped skin, drawing more blood for himself.
"Make certain that the horses are well fed and rested. We march at first light.", the Lord of Winterfell ordered, and some of the other men looked to the younger wolf, hoping he might be able to talk some sense into their overlord.
"Father…mayhaps, we should see reason…" Rickon attempted, but he was immediately interrupted.
"We have survived far worse than this. The snow is a friend, not a fiend. And I will not allow myself be called a fool for having arrived at the end of a hard-fought war again!" Cregan snapped, his eyes stone cold as he looked at his son.
The Wolf of the North had arrived in time to enact the King's justice in the capital. He had freed young Aegon from the cells, and saw him crowned, as his mother's successor.
But a lot more than been expected from the Warden of the North. He had made a promise to his good friend, Jacaerys, to aid the Blacks' cause.
The Winter Wolves had played their part well. However, had Cregan done more…mayhaps the Dragon Queen would have still lived by the time her liege lords arrived to defend her, and her remaining children.
The Starks and the Targaryens had been bonded for a higher purpose…something no other Houses could possibly understand. Even now, over a hundredth year after the Conquest, Westerosi nobles perceived the Targaryens as invaders, having come to take away their lands. For most…the lands in question were not even theirs to begin with…as the Andals themselves had history of taking what did not belong to them.
But Cregan knew the truth of it, as did his father…and his father before him…all the way back to Torrhen Stark, who had bent the knee to Aegon the Conqueror.
He had done so willingly, for it was said that Aegon may have spoken certain truths to him…truths regarding the future of the Realm…as well as its destruction.
And from that moment on, House Stark had secretly sworn to defend the true Targaryens' right to not only rule the Seven Kingdoms, but protect them as well.
Many before him had kept their honour and done so, and Cregan Stark would do no different.
The pact of ice and fire was now renewed. And naught would break it.
…
Dragonstone.
The Targaryens' ancestral seat. The place where both Viserys and Visenya were born…and the happiest moments of Viserys' life, alongside his entire family.
A most joyous place…ideal for the dragons to stretch their wings and breathe in the fresh air.
Though as safe as this island proved to be, it did not come unaccompanied by tragedy. For this was the place where their mother had perished on the orders of the usurper.
Even so, this was the island Visenya wanted to see. This was the place she insisted on staying for the good of Silverwing. For a dragon bond needed a good place to strengthen. And after so many years of solitude, Visenya was certain that her silver lady would not take kindly to all of a sudden being surrounded by so many people back in King's Landing, and remain cooped up in the Dragonpit.
Viserys had agreed to this course direction…for the Cannibal remained a stubborn great beast, who refused to let him ride him.
And yet…when Visenya had mounted Silverwing once more, and Viserys boarded the ship with the other men…the Cannibal had followed, all the way to Dragonstone. And whenever Viserys made a move on the shores of the island, the coal black dragon would mimic such movement, even if he did so with a growl, and kept a good distance.
"He has chosen you." Visenya insisted, rubbing at her betrothed's neck in a comforting manner.
Indeed, he did. The black dragon kept close to the one man he found intriguing for his wit, bravery but most importantly, his darkness.
But it was a most strange thing, for a bond to be forged between a Targaryen and a dragon…without the dragon granting permission for his rider to mount him.
And so, Viserys had taken advantage of the many days having passed them at Dragonstone. It was time for him to attempt to get close to the great black blast.
Much still needed to be discussed…for the Cannibal had not been given such a moniker without good reason. The beast was known for feasting on other dragons. How could Viserys ever attempt to bring him back to the Red Keep? What would Aegon say?
Despite Visenya's insistence, Viserys had refused to send a raven to their brother, informing him of their whereabouts…or their achievements. For Viserys was not yet prepared to reveal that he had managed to claim the most dangerous dragon that had ever existed…but somehow, he was unable to ride him.
And how would he explain that this dragon…the one everyone seemed to despise for his ways…would be accompanying them back to King's Landing whether they wanted it or not? For aside from his connection to Viserys, the great black beast had grown much accustomed to having Silverwing in his presence. And as such, his possessive streak would be enough to make him follow the she-dragon wherever she went.
How would the Cannibal fare in King's Landing…knowing his reputation? They would be putting everyone in danger. Morning would never feel safe in his presence, the Dragonkeepers would rather be hanged than be forced to feed him, and of course, there were also the unhatched dragon eggs.
For now, Dragonstone seemed to be the best place for settling many matters…and for Visenya to get well.
Viserys had hoped that as soon as they were off the ship, Visenya's sickness would pass. It had not.
The maester of Dragonstone had taken her in at once for inspection. Neither Viserys, nor Visenya had been prepared for the revelation.
"You are with child, Princess.", Maester Karden had stated with a small smile.
Morning sickness was all this was, and Princess Visenya was at least two moons along, according to the maester.
"Gods." Visenya whispered, covering her mouth with shock. Indeed, she had taken the moon tea only once, over five moons prior...and she had hoped it would be enough. For the taste had been most terrible. As her and Viserys had started engaging in intimate relations once more during their betrothal, she never actually believed…
Visenya could hardly sleep that night. Dressed in her nightshift, she remained at the windowsill, deep in her thoughts, with one hand on her belly.
Viserys had refused to leave her side, and chose to share her bed…his eyes on her underside constantly, as though hoping for a sign for it to be true.
"Marry me. Right here.", he whispered passionately that night, as he held her hand.
Visenya's lilac-coloured eyes seemed to gleam with joy at the thought. Getting married at Dragonstone, the place where their own mother and father had said their vows…what could be better?
But even so, she could not help but question Viserys' intentions.
"Because I am with child?", she asked, even though she knew she was being most unfair. They were already betrothed. And it was her who had desired to postpone their wedding, in order to find Silverwing.
Viserys did not seem hurt by her thoughts. He chose instead to explain, "We cannot wait now. I will not give anyone reason to doubt our child's legitimacy. I will not have you suffer as our mother did."
Leaning forward, Viserys placed a kiss on her lips.
"Very well. Let us wed. As soon as we can." Visenya whispered, and her betrothed could only offer a small grin, as he stated, "I have already made arrangements. A septon is on his way here."
"Oh, did you?" Visenya asked, matching his smile.
So, he had been certain that she would agree to it. How well he knew her. Although, of course, she hardly bothered to hide her affections for him.
Contemplating on her plans, Visenya told him, "But I do not intend to stay on Dragonstone much longer afterwards."
"Why not?"
Biting her bottom lip, Visenya looked into his eyes pleadingly, saying, "I want to go to Volantis."
Viserys regarded her seriously, and let out a sigh at her stubborn nature, knowing what would follow from her lips.
Cupping his cheek, Visenya murmured, "We need to find Saera Targaryen."
…
Ser Raynard watched as Her Grace, the Queen was making her way slowly, without any aid, to her husband's chambers, where the Lord Commander was now posted.
The man's eyes softened, as he immediately reached to hold her arm.
"Your Grace…I know 'tis not my place to say so, but you must not tire yourself so.", he told her as soon as the 'little queen' grasped his arm.
"'Tis quite alright, Ser Raynard." Daenaera replied with a small smile, her crystal blue eyes sparkling.
She knew that everyone was concerned for her condition…especially for the babe she carried. The whole Court hoped for another child from their King and Queen. And with the Gods' blessing, they shall soon have their wish.
But Daenaera refused to remain in confinement, especially after all that has happened. Their family was facing danger once more. And things were even more uncertain now with Viserys away from Court.
They had gotten so used to Viserys being the one with the ideas, the one who managed matters of the State, and the one who was always there to get Aegon back on his feet when needed.
Now, danger was lurking at every corner, and after that audience with the man who claimed to be Daeron the Daring, Aegon was finally coming to terms with the idea that the people were depending on him to protect them.
They were the King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. What good were these titles if they could not keep the Realm safe, as was expected of them? As cruel as it may have sounded, "Daeron" had been right in claiming that the King dictates the Hand, and not the other way around.
Viserys had been guiding Aegon since he became the youngest Hand in the history of Westeros. For many years, this has been understood and accepted by the lords and ladies of the Realm, given Aegon's most unhappy disposition.
Their King had been but a boy who had not come to terms with all he had endured in the war. A boy who would close his eyes in the late night, and see naught but the fire engulfing his mother, and hear naught but her screams.
But now, he was a grown man. A man on the path of healing with the help of the Gods of Old Valyria. And through his bond with the grey hatchling, Aegon was slowly being reminded of who he was. The son of Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon Targaryen. He was gaining the confidence and the wisdom required of him.
Moving her feet slowly inside the dark chambers, Daenaera was presented with a sight to behold.
Their son, Daeron, perched on his father's lap, near the fireplace, and Aegarax mewling softly at their feet. The King seemed to be in deep sleep, but his hands were still firmly wrapped around his son, making certain that he would not fall.
"Aegon.", she whispered to make her presence known, even though she did not like the idea of disturbing her little family.
Aegarax immediately raised his head, and screeched at the sight of an intruder. Daenaera did not mind how protective the little grey hatchling was of her husband. She liked him just the same.
"Mama!", the two-year-old Daeron exclaimed with joy, as he wiggled in his father's lap, waking him.
At that moment, Daenaera felt a pain in her belly, and her face showed her discomfort.
Scrunching her nose, she placed a hand on her bump and took in deep breaths, as Grand Maester Alford had instructed her.
Aegon immediately set his son to the side and rushed to his wife, inspecting her.
"You are to go back in confinement.", his voice trembled as he spoke.
He had already lost a son. He could not bear to lose another babe…especially not one which had not even been given the chance to see the daylight.
"I cannot. Please, Aegon. You need me by your side."
Cupping her cheek, he asked her softly, "And what of the babe?"
"The babe will be fine. I am resting enough." Daenaera replied and moved her head to the side in order to kiss his palm.
Daeron watched his mother and father's display of affection, before attempting to pet Aegarax.
The little hatchling, as was expected, did not accept his touch, and moved away, angrily.
"You should not be on your feet." Aegon eventually told his wife, and took her hand, directing her to the armchair he had been sitting in.
With a gentle smile, Daenaera took her seat, resting her hands on her swollen belly, as she finally asked him, "Has there been any word from Viserys and Visenya?"
"No." Aegon whispered, as he leaned over to caress his small hatchling.
Aegarax nearly purred, content with his affections.
"Visenya wants a dragon so badly…" Daenaera told him, closing her eyes and thinking of Visenya atop of the renowned silvery dragon.
"As does Viserys." Aegon informed her, with conviction.
The King certainly did know his brother well.
Their eyes met, and it seemed the same thought passed through their minds. They knew how Viserys and Visenya were. The blood of the dragon ran the hottest possible in them both. They could love one another, and yet still fight and compete with one another.
If they both wished to be dragonriders, and only one dragon was available to them…what would they do? How far would they go to ensure that the blood in their own veins would rush with excitement? How far would they go to ensure that they would be the ones known to the world as the pride of Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon Targaryen?
Would the love they bore one another be enough to sate their thirst for greatness?
"Oh…well, I do hope either one of them has managed to claim Silverwing. From what I have been told, she is a gentle thing. Beautiful, strong, but she has been through so much. Used to enact betrayal too." Daenaera voiced her thoughts.
She was referring to the poor dragon's last rider. One of the Two Betrayers, Ulf White. A drunken fool who thought to take power for himself, only to end up being poisoned by the one thing he desired above all: wine.
Three knocks on the doors, and Ser Raynard announced Lord Alyn and Ser Corwyn.
Aegon granted his permission for entrance, and his good-brothers made their way inside instantly…something clearly on their minds.
Noticing Daenaera seated in the armchair, and Daeron playing around the chambers, the two immediately realized that they have interrupted.
"Your Grace, forgive us. We did not mean to disturb you at such late hour." Corwyn excused himself in front of the King courteously.
Shaking his hand, Aegon replied, "'Tis alright. Has something happened?"
"We have reports from the Reach. It appears that this so-called Daeron's intentions for resolving matters peacefully would not be respected, after all." Corwyn stated.
"There was no reason for us to believe that they would be." Alyn added, shaking his head.
With a worried expression, Aegon demanded clarification. "What has been heard?"
"A great number of sellswords are reported to have departed from Essos. Thousands of them. Bought and paid for, to join the Hightowers, Peakes and Redwynes. We have yet to see who else might be joining their rebellion." Corwyn told him.
The gazes of the King and Queen expressed naught but concern.
Daenaera had covered her belly with her hands, protectively, once more. The poor 'little queen' was only days from labour. How could she be expected to give birth in the midst of war? Her poor babe…
"How could they possibly afford this? Viserys said that the Bank of Oldtown cannot be of any help. Is the Iron Bank behind this?" Aegon demanded.
Taking a deep breath, Corwyn prepared himself to reveal the gravest of news. "No. The Triarchs of Volantis are."
"What?"
"One of them has two sons…by Saera Targaryen." Alyn added, gritting his teeth, at the mention of that woman.
"Saera has been known to have given birth to many bastards in Volantis, but only two are held in high regard because of who their father is. Baxos and Maleq Belicos. They have the gold. And they have pledged their support to the pretender." Corwyn further explained.
"Saera…" Aegon mumbled, shaking his head in complete disappointment.
Viserys had been right, after all.
The woman had resurfaced after all these years to hurt the family that had put her through absolute hell…and she was using her sons to do it.
"Call the Council, please. I know the hour is late…but the news cannot wait.", the King instructed.
A/N: A new character is making an appearance next chapter, and I am guessing you all know who ;) Thanks for reading! The chapter has also been posted on Ao3.