Got dragon si Chapter 1: 1, a 17776 fanfic

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Fire Made Flesh - An Asoiaf dragon SI

Thread starter Beebos Start date Mar 28, 2023 Tags a song of ice and fire self insert dragon dragon si

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In the fifth year before Aegon's conquest, the most beautiful dragon in all the world till the coming of Sunfyre the Golden would be born.

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Chapter 1

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Mar 28, 2023

Chapter 2

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Mar 31, 2023

Chapter 14

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Jun 27, 2023

Chapter 15

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Jun 2, 2024

Chapter 16

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Jun 10, 2024

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Beebos

Bless King Maegor

Mar 28, 2023

Dragonstone, Mid 5 BC

When I closed my eyes I expected the sweet embrace of death, I then hoped to open my eyes and see the gates of Heaven with Saint Peter greeting me, at least that was what I hoped, I had lived a good life, at least in my opinion. I never shied from helping those in need, I donated a quarter of my income to several charities and often volunteered at food banks and other events. I lived my life by what I thought was morally right, though I tried my best to stay within my Christian faith, though I suppose I would have to answer to God about that one time I cracked that one dude over the head to save that one duck from the slaughterhouse. That duck lived a good life though, with a great big pond and plenty of friends, I would hope God would understand why I did it. Would God punish me for saving an animal at the cost of hurting another human? No matter, if nothing else, purgatory would be my destination.

Instead, there was nothing.

I always wondered what if there was no God. Ultimately, I had concluded that if there was no God and that nothingness was what there was after death, I would accept it. Floating in the void felt oddly peaceful, one would expect a panicked reaction to floating in nothingness with no sense of time, placement, or gravity. It simply felt like I simply had my eyes closed but that I could open them again, it was then that I realized that I did have my eyes open, but I could see nothing. I sighed and resigned myself to this existence then, I simply tried to have my mind drift off and enjoy the nothing void.

That was until my entire world became warm, wet, and cramped. Suddenly I was no longer floating but hunched over curled up like one would expect a baby in the womb.

Slowly my wits came to me. I feel two fingers, two legs, and a neck. But also, oddly, I felt another appendage that I could only think of to be a tail of some sort, not only that, but my arms felt as if they had some sort of length of skin that I felt ever so slightly stretched when I tried to stretch.

I must be dreaming, maybe I went insane and I'm dreaming. I never even died, I'm just in a dream and I will wake up from this eldritch Vore nightmare, but I didn't.

Instead, this state of being continued. Slowly, however, I noticed changes in my apparent body. I was growing somehow, whatever I was I was growing, it was then that dread began to creep into my heart, perhaps I was reincarnated as an animal. After some time, I began to try and think of what creature I would eventually hatch into, I say hatch because it has become apparent to me that I was inside an egg, not only due to the hardness of the cramped prison but also because ever so slightly I could feel movement from the outside. I shivered subconsciously at the thought of what could be waiting for me on the outside because I came to realize that something massive was my mother.

My imagination ran wild in the meantime.

I'm some sort of flight-worthy animal, I say that because of my arms which I soon realize are wings. I hesitate to call myself a bird of some kind due to my undeniable tail and lack of feathers, I entertained the idea that I was some sort of hybrid breed in a lab only to be disposed of immediately upon birth, maybe then may my suffering of having to relive fetal development and be in a state that is tantamount to a vegetable. After who knows how much time I am able to finally open my eyes to a point, though I suppose saying I can see is a stretch as all I can see is a blurry watery mess, eventually I am able to see the shell of the egg and very faintly see what I can only make out as the outside world, accompanied by the silhouette of a massive shape that I presume to be my mother.

The more I grow the more cramped I become, soon enough my face touches my crotch, and my tail has nearly wrapped itself around my body. My excitement grows as I feel the near completion of my fetal growth, I can so much more of my body, everything. From my toes to my little fingers, it is also at this point that I realize that I am in reality some sort of reptile due to the sensation of very sensitive scales and ever-so-small horns on my head and small but sharp claws.

One day, however, there is a change.

I feel a strength that I didn't have before come to me, something powerful was filling my very bones. If I could smile then this would be the time when I would be smiling, for it was time. I shook and budged against my confines; the shell was strong. More force then.

I used my legs to push against the shell as hard as I could while at the same time I pushed against the shell with my snout. After some struggle, there was a crack, and it was then that I knew my freedom had come at last.

When I pushed my nose out of the warmth of my egg I was not met by the cold-fresh air of the outside, instead, I breathed in the most putrid air that I've ever smelled.

I nearly had a mind to retreat into my egg. No matter.

I forced my way out and was finally able to open my eyes to the outside world that awaited me. I was born in a cave of some kind. A big one at that.

It is also then that I realize what I am. I'm not a bird, nor a bat, not even some kind of hybrid creature, instead, I am a dragon.

Well, I suppose of all the things I could have reborn as a dragon has to take the cake, rather be a fire-breathing monster than a little gecko... I'm a dragon... a dragon... I'm a fucking dragon!!!

If I could jump for joy I would.

I explored what little I could. The nest that was to be my home was large befitting the massive lair that was my home as well, littered around on the floor were loads of bones all varying in size; from the littlest being no bigger than a pinky to the biggest being larger than my entire body. I wondered then, where was my mother?

The cave led slightly upwards which meant I was likely in some mountain. Though I wondered what mountain would be so warm, I could feel it in the very floor and walls itself. No matter.

It's only when the slight pinch of hunger comes that I try and scour for any food my parents may have left me, tucked away a little from my birthplace I find a charred carcass nearly cleaned bare. I nearly forgot that we breathe fire.

I look for the one place where the most meat has been left and take a bite. Had it been raw meat I may have found it unpleasant but all I found unpleasant was how cold my first-ever meal was, whoever had left me this carcass half devoured would regret it for I took pleasure in picking it clean. If only I had the strength to break these bones and taste the delicious marrow inside.

My peace was then disturbed when there was movement.

I perked up and raised my head and studied the dark corners of my home, my heart was racing. I had neglected to think about other potential factors. Where there are lairs and nests there are predators. I spied it then; behind a corner, I noticed two blazing green eyes.

Another dragon. At first, I thought my time alive was over, another dragon had discovered my nest and had found their next meal, it was only a moment later that I realized that the dragon was small, not as small as me, likely only a few inches taller, but still small. It was like a switch had been turned on in my head and I finally thought of the eggshells that had been discarded all over the cave floor, this was my sibling.

I called over to them calling for them to come out and they did slowly. First their head and then the rest of their body.

They made their way over to me and the bones that I had just finished cleaning, they sniffed the bones and then leaned over to sniff me. I did the same and they snorted. I realized then that they were a female, I had a sister.

Though it would be a surprise to be sure considering how different we look to each other. I was perfect pure white while she was the color of coal, as black as one can be.

"Sorry for scaring you," she said. "I did not know what to do, I was scared, but you are good. I smell mother all over you, we are family."

I was shocked at the fact that I could understand her words, we are animals. I suppose some things are not supposed to be questioned, instead, it's better to just accept things that are at this point.

"It's no worry," I said. "You brought up our mother, so where is she?"

My sister turned her head towards the entrance of the lair.

"She went away. She said her master called for her, so she left. She said she would return when her master had her fill of her."

Master? What thing could be a master to a dragon? A giant?

"I see..."

I was tempted to leave the lair, but I decided against it again. It would be better to simply wait for our mother.

"Do you have a name?" I asked my sister, to which she simply tilts her head. "Name? I have no name; I am simply me... but you may call me your sister."

All right. "I suppose that's okay, call me Brother or whatever you like."

It was after several minutes my sister spoke again.

"Well, now that I think of it, our mother does have a name."

Oh really?

"What is it?" I asked leaning in a little.

"Meraxes."

Last edited: Mar 30, 2023

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Beebos

Bless King Maegor

Mar 31, 2023

#24

I could hear our mother arrive, though I suppose it would be better to say that I could feel her arrive.

A thud was all that was needed to assure me of her arrival, and so did my sister who proceeded to move toward the front end of the nest to wait for her. I also came to stand beside her, and so I anxiously waited for my mother to come.

What felt like forever ended when I saw her turn the bend and poke her head behind that corner. My eyes nearly shot from their sockets. She was massive, bigger than what I could have expected; easily if one were to try and measure her height, easily that of two giraffes, maybe three. And in terms of length, only when she fully turned that corner did I get a sense of truly how large this cave was for there was no way she was less than a blue whale in length.

For me, my question now was whether she was a rarity or a common denominator. Would I grow to that size if given time, if so, then how and for how long? As my mother approached these questions battled in my head, and this also brought up another. Since it's safe to say that dragons are reptiles how long can we truly live?

More importantly, is my mother fully grown or is she still growing? I remember learning how some reptiles have a condition called indeterminate growth, a condition where one grows large fast as a juvenile but slows as one reaches adulthood, but never truly stops.

She was now more or less in front of us when I shook my head expelling these thoughts. My sister was chirping and jumping in place, she was in a frenzy of energy now; her black wings unfurled and moving like crazy.

Our mother set her golden eyes on her and acknowledged her with a low-pitched growl sound, one that sounded similar to that of a croc. Even now, even though I have come to accept my situation it is still so odd to be so close to such creatures... my own species now.

My blood ran cold when she turned to acknowledge me.

I prayed to God that she did not forget that she had another youngling. It's at this moment that I suddenly remember what stork mothers tend to do with especially young hatchlings. I nervously stood there trying not to fidget as she evaluated me.

She lowered her snout more till her nose was right on me. Had she decided to exhale any stronger I have no doubt I would have been sent flying, luckily, she was able to determine that for herself and controlled her strong breathing.

With a light touch, she caressed my entire body before standing tall once more. It was then that I heard something, something guttural. Something that sounded like a stomach rumbling. I thought it was me or maybe my sister, but no, it was my mother.

She hunched over and heaved and opened her maw. Two cows, several goats, and three pigs. Our mother had brought us dinner and then some.

My sister made a sound that I could describe as a child receiving a happy meal, she wasted no time jumping up and beginning to feast on one of the meaty pigs. I, however, stood there and was tempted to gauge out my eyes.

This was my world now, and I had to accept that. One day, I would be doing this for my own children.

Following her great expulsion our mother moved towards the very back of the lair and promptly settled herself down. I finally saw what I had yet to fully notice, a saddle. No, it seems my assumption of dragons being some sort of beast of burden for giants was incorrect. Somehow, we were being ridden by some group of people.

I turned back towards the full-course meal our mother had brought us and decided to start with one of the goats. The thing was half digested but most of it remained, unfortunately for me, it was raw. I cursed myself for jinxing my luck. Nonetheless, I closed my eyes and opened my mouth wide.

Raw meat was something odd. I could honestly not describe its taste, but its texture, however, it was something else. It was firm and juicy, I had thought I would hate the flavor, but at the moment I was enjoying it. If only my old family could see me now. Ultimately, I found it unsavory and asked my sister to sear it for me.

After I had my fill, I walked over and lay next to my mother. My mother was warmth itself; she was the nexus of life for us. Simply being near her was enough to feel her great warmth, it made it especially easy to fall asleep. That sleep was the best sleep I've had in a long, long time.

…

Our mother spoke rarely, and when she did she would only speak in response to me as my sister saw no real need to speak properly to her. Our natural primal calls were enough for them.

We filled ourselves on our mother pickings growing fat and content.

All the while our bodies were slowly growing and our wings maturing, my sister could effectively fly in small bursts using them to skip across the floor. As for me, I was struggling. My mother would help me in some ways, those ways usually by blowing wind against me to create an artificial lift but sometimes she would give proper verbal advice.

"Clear your mind, dear babe," she would say as she watched me flap around like a chicken. "Clear your head, flying is not something you learn, you simply do."

I'm too young, that is the problem. Whatever flight muscles I have they are too young. I was content with being grounded for now, instead, I was interested in something else.

"What are you doing?"

I was glaring at a chunk of a pig when my sister asked me that question.

I'm trying to breathe fire.

"Trying to breathe fire," I replied. She looked at the meat and me. "If you wish I could warm it for you. Mother would be sad if you starved."

"No. I have to do it myself; you can breathe fire; I am old enough as well."

She said nothing as she left me, leaving me to my thoughts.

I breathed in deeply and hoped to feel something click. We breathe fire somehow and that somehow must be due to some gland that stores gas which is then expelled on command, the problem is that I'm having trouble with that on-command feature.

I tried and tried again to invoke something.

I gave in.

"Sister," I called. She raised her head and ran over as fast as she could, of course skipping using her wings. "Yes? Do I burn the meat now?"

"No, don't burn it. I have a question?"

She leaned in. "Yes?"

"How do you breathe fire?"

My sister considered the question before looking at the chunk of meat lying on the cave floor before turning to me again. "To breathe fire is something natural that comes just to us, simply do it," she said as if it were that simple. "Maybe if you do as I do when I breathe fire you will get it. Just stop breathing and focus on feeling something rise into your throat and then expelling that air quickly, that's what I do."

She made no goddamn sense... but I had no other option, except to ask my mother, but I wanted to do this myself. I sighed, the downside of being human at heart is I don't have those natural dragon instincts, so I prepared myself for my last shot of being a fire-breather.

I stopped breathing and waited for something, just as she said. Within seconds the pressure in my chest increased and the urge to breathe almost dominated my want to breathe fire, I almost exhaled; that was until I felt something tingle on the right and left sides of my chest, just under my ribs. Whatever it was I could feel it rush up through my chest and my throat, it was only when I could feel it in my throat that I at last relented and opened my mouth wide and what came out was magical.

At first, it sounded like a balloon when one would allow for the air to slowly escape, but in an instant, it lit up and fire was expelled from my gullet. The fact that being able to breathe fire is as simple as 'stop breathing' is hilarious, but at the same time anticlimactic, but I honestly don't care. The fire itself was not as strong as my sister's flame, but it was a start and would only grow stronger in time.

I celebrated my achievement by favoring the cooked piece of meat that tasted far better than any other meal, for I had made it myself. My sister looked on in confusion, but also amusement, her green eyes scanning me, she proceeded to return to where and lay down back in her spot.

I was proud of myself, slowly but surely, I was becoming a true dragon.

…

Several months later, late 5 BC

It was a bright and sunny day when I finally left the safety of the lair. The sun felt like honey on my skin, its touch reminded me how much I truly missed it. I could now finally confirm some of my theories, chief among them being where we were, and the answer to that was an island, and secondly that our lair was carved into the face of a literal volcano.

My sister stepped near the edge of the ledge that was extended many feet from our lair's entrance, below was a steep drop that only ended in more rock. Below that were trees that made up a small forest that extended several leagues before ending in green rolling hills, reportedly, mother says days like these are quite rare; the island is prone to being smothered in the volcano's ash. Today it seems the wind was strong enough to take the cloud of ash out to sea and the volcano was merciful enough to not spew as much ash into the air as usual.

Our mother came and lowered her mouth opening it wide enough for us to jump inside, the process makes me think of how crocodiles transport their own young. With a swift flap of her wings, we were off, flying off to a place where I was about to make my flying debut. My sister calls the place The Great Cliffs, high and rocky cliffs that drop off into the great sea; my sister had made her first flight a month ago, and now it was my turn to go, I wish Mother had left her behind because if I fail I don't want her to rub it in my face for who knows how long.

We flew for some time; I wish mother had her mouth cracked open just a little bit so I could see where we were, but at these speeds, it would likely result in us getting thrown back or thrown outside of her mouth. I take the time to lay back and think of my strategy for flight, my muscles should be developed enough for a flight it's now a matter of simply getting the technique and rhythm correct, if I stand close to the edge of the cliffs and simply allow for a gust of wind to get me that should help in some way. Or maybe I should just leap off the edge and trust.

As those thoughts swelled in my head, I could feel mother start to circle, it seems that we have arrived at the Great Cliffs. My sister chirped with excitement, and I less so, preparing myself for absolute disappointment.

With a thud, we landed.

When she opened her mouth, we stepped out and were greeted by fresh air, wind, and the sight of the ocean, very likely the same ocean that surrounds our home island, we couldn't have flown that far; if anything we flew for only a few hours. If I recall correctly, we had gone north too. Meaning that we likely live very close to the mainland of whatever this land is called.

I cautiously walked toward the edge of the cliff and looked down. The drop extended several hundred feet at the very most, though I could be wrong of course. My sister moved up beside me and chuckled. "Scared, brother? Tis alright if you are, so was I when I first flew. Fear is good, it gets the blood pumping."

"You know, I don't think that's how that works."

She laughs flashing her razor-sharp teeth, she flicks her tail at me and then proceeds to leap off the ledge. Her wings carry her on the wind, she flies away and I'm left feeling as if my stomach is ready to roll over.

"Fly when ready."

I turn towards Mother and feel the urge to question her. This quick? No warmup or anything?

I turn back around and look out to sea watching my sister happily fly around. I nervously swallow what spit hasn't dried up in my mouth and suppress a heave, walking nearer to the edge I open my fledgling wings wide exposing the beaten gold membrane to the incoming wind traveling up the cliff face. When the wind hits me it's not as hard as I expected, at the same time as the wind gets me, I jump a little to help the process along, I'm lifted several feet and fly backward, I flap my wings as strategically as I can but only result in landing back on my feet.

My heart was thundering, and I was breathing hard, I knew I was close now, I just had to push myself a little more. I was afraid I knew, but a dragon could never be afraid.

Back at the edge, I waited for the wind to pick me back up, unfurling my wings, the wind finally came and picked me high up, higher than last time. If I were to fail in controlling my fall, I would surely break my leg if not legs and then I would be a goner for mother had no reason to care for a maimed dragon.

Fortunately, that did not happen. Instead, my wings obeyed my commands, and I came down to earth gracefully, step one, master hovering – check! My sister flew overhead squawking, calling for me to join her in the air, and I how I so eagerly wanted to. Once more I went to the cliffside, but instead of waiting for the wind to come to me I would meet the wind head-on, so I jumped.

As I plummeted down the cliffside towards the sea that was smashing against the rocky shore, I could feel myself on the verge of passing out. My heart was in my throat and my lunch threatened to rush up and out of said throat. No. I must be brave, I must not fail! I will not fail!

I was nearing the cliffed coast and with-it certain death, but I stay the course; I was not close enough. Closer... closer... closer... closer... now!

I lifted my head and with that my unfurled wings did their job and carried me up with the wind. I did it, I was flying!

I laughed hysterically as I rose higher and higher, the feeling of being one with the wind was something that could never be explained and it was something that those who did not have wings could never understand. As I rose above the cliff face itself rising even higher my sister came to meet me in the air, she roared in celebration, and her roar prompted me to roar as well, and together we sang as one. Black and white soaring through the air together, a thunderous roar was sounded by Mother in conjunction with ours, I laughed. Truly my proudest moment.

Mother rose and met us in the air and as three we danced for hours.

All things must come to an end however and soon I grew tired. I called out to Mother signaling that I was landing, we had flown some miles from the coast inland, we flew over rolling rocky hills and forests, and eventually, we came upon a spot where we all settled down. When I landed, I nearly collapsed from exhaustion, the ache in my muscles burned with a sweet passion, but I loved it for it was the pain of accomplishment.

We rested here for half an hour before it was decided to find water and potentially a kill, at this point I was far too tired to try and fly out of fear of falling out of the air, so I relented and crawled into my mother's mouth.

We found a river and came upon some wild boar; from there it was decided at last to return home. I said goodbye to this land, land that was by far the furthest I have yet to travel and then we set off. The trip back home was as uneventful as the trip to the cliffs with my only wish being that I could fly alongside Mother, for now, I was content.

When we finally arrived back at the lair, I was happy. Even though I dislike this place there is a pleasant sense about it, the same sense that comes when you turn the corner to arrive home, it was a feeling that I loved as a kid and to relive that feeling was amazing.

The three of us walked and headed back to our usual favored spots, Mother in the far back, Sister off tucked in a corner, and I on my raised little platform. I, as usual, took longer to fall asleep than the others, I lay awake thinking. Chief amongst everything was the topic of these apparent dragonriders.

I wanted to sigh and roll my eyes at the idea of it, no matter what world or reality the hubris of people will never know any limits. Was it not enough to be at the top of the food chain and be content with what animals you have already domesticated? What compelled Man to try and rule over everything?

In the old-world people would try and leash lions, tigers, and apes to their whim, and every time that happened there would always be a price to pay. Sure, if given the time and opportunity one could convince a lion or tiger to go along with their training, but if ever given the opportunity to lash out against their overlords it would happen. One too many times did a chimp tear the face of a person for thinking they could force them into domesticity, too many times did a lion or tiger strike when a person dare turn their back on them, and yet they never learn.

How many dragons have butchered one another for humanity's sake?

Dragonriders... don't make me laugh, I dare someone ride me.

They? Was I using they? I laughed, must be the dragon in me.

At last, sleep was coming over me and my eyelids threatened to close when I saw something stand out against the darkness, something colored. A pink rock?

I walked over to investigate, moving aside the remnants of the nest I found what I had glimpsed, and it was no rock. It was a piece of an eggshell. No bigger than a dollar coin it was pinkish in color with some flakes of gold, had it not been for my keen eyes that can mostly see anything in the dark I would have missed this, in fact I did, for many months. I picked it up with my foot and sniffed it, it had no distinctive scent, likely the thing was old, before my time here that's for sure. But how did it get here?

It's in the area where the nest was, so either it was brought here from somewhere else or always here. No one in this lair has any coloring of pink, or gold say for me. I turned and looked at Mother and Sister, sleeping peacefully.

Now that I thought of it why were we two the only hatchlings to have been born? Reptiles do not lay an egg at a time, so where is the clutch of eggs that should have been here?

I looked at the piece of shell once more.

I could not shake the feeling that something sinister happened here. That night I dreamed of a pink hatchling full of life as joyful as one could be, when I woke up the next morning, I felt dried tears on my cheeks.

Last edited: Mar 31, 2023

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Beebos

Bless King Maegor

Apr 4, 2023

#34

Late 5 BC/early 4 BC

When faced with a dragon I imagine you could do one of two things, one, run away. Two, stand and fight.

The poor mountain goat Sister had locked her devilish green eyes on decided the first option.

It had been several months since my first flight and ever since then there had been scarcely a day where I did not dance through the sky, at first, I had been content with flying alone with perhaps Mother flying overhead with a watchful eye on me. However, as of late she has refused to take part in flights with me, it seems that she sees me as mature enough to fly by myself, though she did tell us strictly that we were to only fly on the east side of the volcano and under no circumstances where we to try and enter other lairs, abandoned or otherwise. Honestly, she didn't have to tell me that, I was in no rush to meet with an early death.

Though thinking of death I also thought of other things, I could not help but think of the only other adult dragons that inhabited the island. Balerion and Vhagar. Though apparently Balerion, the largest of the adults, is not on the island at the moment and hasn't been in about a month or so, the only other dragon on the island is Vhagar who does not take well to others, especially when it comes to hatchlings. I imagine that there exists some equilibrium between the three adults because according to Mother neither is openly aggressive when left to their own devices, but territory is territory, and that must be respected.

Three adult dragons are a terrifying concept, not only because of their size but because there are only three adults, in who knows how long, there has yet to be a fourth dragon that has survived to adulthood, but there were once more dragons, Mother herself was very young when the second to last of the Great Elders, those dragons that first arrived on the island, died, leaving only Balerion as the sole Great Elder. Being a dragon is truly not cut out for everyone.

"He's a decent size, yes?"

Sister was proud of her kill; she snatched the goat by the throat and lashed it around a couple of times.

"Poor things dead you know?"

"Poor?" she asked looking at me curiously, "What does that mean?"

I sigh, "Nothing, it's nothing."

She took pleasure in playing with her food, and no matter how many times I tell her to quit with that behavior she seems to only do it out of spite to me, laughing after the fact at my expense.

The day of a dragon would be spent doing a minimal number of things, as one could probably expect. The few things that we did do would become so routine it would become relatively wired into our brains, from finding fresh water to drink, finding prey, and then returning to rest, in fact, lounging about dominated our days.

This lifestyle was one that I would fantasize about when I was a kid when I was human of course, I wonder how many children fantasized about being a dog so they wouldn't have to go to school. I laugh at those old memorize, memories of someone who died long ago.

As the days became mundane to the point of them becoming repetitive, I spent my time thinking about the possible future, my possible future. With three adult dragons inhabiting this island where I would picture in this seemingly fragile order where do I fit in? Can dragons learn to share? As much as I would like to explain the meaning of sharing to a behemoth capable of searing me to a crisp I would very much like to live so will not be doing that ever, but the day will come when Mother will not be our mother in the sense of being our caretaker, she will lay a new clutch of eggs and the cycle of life will continue on. And on that day, I will have to find my own place, my own lair, and my own territory.

Or will I?

Maybe I won't have to be on my own after all, I thought of my sister. She was quite the character indeed. Ferocious, wild, and rowdy, maybe one day she would be the very image of Mother, size-wise at least, and hopefully conduct herself in a very similar way, maybe that was just the way of every juvenile dragon, after all, how would I know?

Nevertheless, a pair of dragons would fair far better than one. She was the better hunter and tracker, though I would consider myself a decent tracker myself, though, of course, she disagrees with my own assessment. The one long-term prospect that often rose to the forefront of my head was that of starting a family, the ultimate goal of any animal, to reproduce and have its genes passed on to the next generation.

As of now, that goal seems to be seemingly impossible, for a number of reasons. Firstly, the number of dragons. If I include myself and my sister then there are currently five living dragons, and from the sounds of it when I inquired about Balerion and Vhagar's sex it seems like the only other male besides me is Balerion, so as for my prospects of starting are concerned my only options for a mate of some kind are the reportedly reclusive Vhagar who steers clear of company when she can help it, my own mother, or my own sister... of those three, none at all seem appealing, for very plain reasons.

It's that prospect that makes me hesitant to tag along with Sister or let her tag along with me long-term, out of fear that one day when we both have reached a mature enough age where she decides that the only mating partner suitable is me. Now that is a thought that I do not like to dwell on.

"We should not be far now," Sister assured me. "I saw the meatiest of oinklings and ripest of horn heads."

I could not help but chuckle at Sister's colorful vocabulary, of course, dragons had no way of knowing the words that humans use for certain animals, in this case, what she is referring to "oinklings" and "horn heads" are pigs and goats, respectively. No matter how many times I have tried to get her to learn certain words she uses them for a little while but immediately reverts back to her original way of thinking, it's cute in a certain way, but also annoying. We have been flying for a good amount of time now, crossing beyond the forest that hugged the volcano, and were now flying over grassy hills, we were flying under cover of night for a reason something that we had never done in the past but was needed now. We were about to take from fleshlings.

Sister had come to me about the discovery of a fleshling lair three days ago, bringing with her tales of how the fleshlings housed and herded dozens of goats, nearly half a hundred sheep, and around a dozen cows. To her, the opportunity to take from the unsuspecting fleshlings was far too good, but she did not know fleshlings like I did, especially when it came to the loss of property like livestock, when one takes from a fleshling one should be prepared for the worst, especially if the one stealing is another animal. Entire populations of predators from wolves, coyotes, tigers, and lions were massacred for simply daring to eat.

I urged her not to do whatever she was planning to do, I warned her that if we were to intrude upon the fleshling's territory and take from them, they would seek vengeance. She of course brushed off such advice and argued that when one was a dragon one could do as one wished, especially when it came to taking from the fleshlings.

"I'm warning you, Sister, turn back now before it's too late, we have plenty already! The forest and mountain provide!" I truly did try, but when one was as stubborn as an animal that did not know the wrath of the fleshlings what could one do?

"Do you fear those fleshlings such that would pass on juicy meat?" she asked with a hint of amusement in her voice. "Truly, tell me, Brother, what do I have to fear from those things? You fear a creature that does scarce else but stand on two legs and screech and howl when one gets too close!"

"How do you know such things?" I asked. "When have you interacted with the fleshlings? Sister, please tell me that you have done something already to them, if you did then we must turn back!"

She responded in a far more irked than I had expected. "No, I did not! Quit your mulling and simply follow me, or better yet, leave me to bring back the creatures!"

I muttered a curse at her, though one that she could not hear. There was nothing I could do now to stop her, at this point however, the thought of her having already interacted with the fleshlings bothered me far more than her words. If she has messed with them and if we're flying to the same group of people that she is leading us right into a trap of some kind, I know those things, and when they believe that an animal might return, they take precautions that will never leave alive. I was not afraid of a fight, I had to be brave, for a dragon was never afraid.

"Get ready, we're here."

I saw what she meant now, it was a hamlet, possibly home to several dozen or so fleshlings and their spawn. I swallowed hard at the sight, at our size we could dominate and win any fight between several fleshlings, but even we had limits at our present size, all it would take would be a net and we were finished. Our fire would do heavy damage to the fleshlings and their meaty bodies, but our fire has limits as well as our scales, for unlike Mother's which are as hard as stone ours have yet to reach such durability, a pitchfork, axe, or even a sword would do the job, for that reason I hoped that these poor fleshlings did not have a sword.

One would think that from such a height we would have trouble seeing what was on the ground, but our eyes were sharp, and we could see all. I hoped that we would spot some fleshlings attempting to hide amongst the sides of their homes or in one of their structures giving me the perfect excuse to have Sister retreat, though even then I knew that she would be hard-pressed to retreat at the sight of a few fleshlings.

As we made our way down, I could see where the animals were being kept, I now saw that Sister had clearly exaggerated the true amount of potential food that this little hamlet possessed. Where she had described half a hundred sheep, I could only spy near twenty, and instead of a dozen cows, there were only two.

I sighed deeply, realizing that she had simply lied to me to string me along and help with her major theft, the fault was on me truly for listening to her in the first place, she was good at lying and had lied in the past, this time was the same as always. No matter, I have come this far with there was no point in turning back now, so long as we're able to snatch a goat or a piglet or two then this would be worth it.

As we circled the hamlet descending slowly the dogs first took notice of us and began to howl and bark like mad, I cursed the damn things and swore to skin for this. I now knew that we had to move quickly to avoid fleshling intervention, one wrong misstep and we would have the entire place up in arms. Sister made the first move; she rose high and then brought her black wings close to her body and shot toward one of the animals like an arrow, she was quick about it for in the span of only a few seconds she had a goat clenched tightly around her talons, I smiled and wished to congratulate her, but I would have to do that back home, I had my own part to play at the moment.

Mimicking my sister's actions, I ascended several feet and picked a target, my eyes landed on a good-sized pig, one big enough not to consider a piglet, but also not big enough to the point where I would not be able to carry it away. The dogs became more frantic, and their barks sounded even more rapid, we needed to leave as soon as this pig was in the air.

Drawing my wings close I aimed straight at the pig and began to fall. I ignored the pressure and tension in my body as I raced towards the ground and focused all on my timing, when I was close enough, I shot my wings out and extended my talons out. When the pig realized what was going on I was already on top of him and his life was over, the feeling of my claws digging into his soft flesh was satisfying and only proved to make me even hungrier than I already was, I would enjoy feasting on this one greatly.

When we returned home Sister laughed and celebrated our hunt, she finished off the goat with a simple breaking of the neck, and so did I. All the while I tried to ignore the unpleasant cries of the pig, I never did enjoy the process of dispatching my kills, but I was becoming used to it, normally I would have ended this fleshling's life on the spot but in this instance the sooner we left that area the better. Curse those dogs, had they not been so uppity we could have feasted on the fleshling's stock.

"See! I was not lying, see!" She gloated as she made a show by huffing her chest and flapping her wings.

"You exaggerated the number of creatures," I said somewhat irked. "You told me over a hundred animals were there, you lied just to get me to go."

She opened her mouth and blew a torrent of fire igniting her quarry, I grumbled at her lack of a response and then burned mine too. White flames were expelled from my mouth and enveloped the pig searing it to a perfect degree, when clamped down on its core tearing a chunk of it the flavor was heavenly.

It was not till later that she spoke again.

"We should take from the fleshlings again," I was half asleep when she said that. I slowly lifted my head and wished I could rub my eyes, I looked at her wondering if she was just begging for a fight.

"Take from the fleshlings?"

"Did you not enjoy the creatures that they raised? We must do it again, tomorrow if we can!"

"No!" I said almost too loudly. "They'll be waiting for us; they'll see that their creatures are missing, and they'll do something."

"Like What?"

I shook my head at her blatant disregard for possible consequences, especially in a situation like this. Then again, she has yet to realize that she is not untouchable, a well-placed arrow or a net throw would see her end. When I imagined such a scene It made me angry for some reason, the image of my sister tangled in a net with fleshlings surrounding her with their sticks and dogs made me angry, too angry honestly, what came over me?

"Just be careful, Sister. I would hate to lose you."

It didn't end with our hunt on that hamlet, for the next couple of months the hamlets, villages, farms, and homesteads that lay on the east side of the island were our victims. From each, we exacted our toll of two meat lings, and as we grew that toll only increased, we would grow bolder as well, as I now took the time to snatch a smaller meat ling into my mouth and another in my talons. Sister, bigger than me did the same, we feasted like royalty, and that feasting showed for we grew at a rate that exceeded the previous months.

Tonight, we would do the same again.

There were only so many fleshling settlements on this side of the island and we have hit them all these last months because of that we have resorted to returning to several locations, each time it had become more apparent that our presence was heavily noted as the fleshlings had left their dogs with their stock. So, it would be the same here. As we made our way down I could already see the dogs gaze up at us and once we made our way within more than one-hundred feet they began to go mad as they always do.

When we tried to fly down and grab our food they would try and jump up at us in a vain attempt to harm us or send us away.

"There are too many dogs," I told my sister. "If we try and deal with them we'll wake the whole colony!"

She ignored me and instead focused on one of the dogs that had been particularly annoying, it was a big mutt clearly breed to deal with wolves and other predators, but not a dragon. With fire in her eyes, my sister flew downwards and reached out for the beast, with great success she latched onto the mutt who proceeded to cry out in pain, rising high into the sky she let it go and so the dog's life ended with a splat. I turned to look towards the village and saw what I had feared, a single fleshling stepping out with a scythe in hand, I called towards Sister calling for her to retreat, but she had gone mad in rage and instead turned back towards the rest of the dogs.

I watched in horror as she landed and proceeded to mangle another dog in her jaws before discarding it, she slashed at another one, one with long ears and a big nose, she then proceeded to unleash fire on two others.

It was a massacre.

By this point, the entire village was awake and mobilized running toward where the animals and my sister were.

Nets, pitchforks, torches, and spears, everything I had feared would happen. Swooping low I made my presence known and sent several villagers scattering, not all though, and so when I tried to swoop down low again, they raised their weapons and threw their nets I retreated back into the sky.

Fire and blood, that was the scene my sister had caused, the fleshlings had made their way toward her and were now trying to surround her. She kept them at bay with fire but that was not enough, I once again tried to call her away, but she was either too stubborn to listen or was too wroth to even hear.

With tooth, claw, and fire she fought. Men and beasts alike burned, and their screams filled the night. While she was distracted however a man was able to get a clear shot with a net and was able to fling it well over her and keep her grounded. She retaliated with a blast of fire but aside from scorching the rope and burning one of the men who dared to get too close to her it failed to free her, the man fell back and held the hand that had likely been burned to a severe point, another man ran forward quickly and with his spear he raised it and aimed it well and true. With a great thrust, he sent it into the shoulder of Sister who let out a cry of pain so filled with pain that I recoiled, and it was that scream that awakened something in me. I saw my sister hurt and I knew I had to step in.

If the fleshlings had forgotten about me, they would remember that I was still here. I surged straight in with little concern except to eviscerate all there. I aimed at my first target and tackled him to the ground, he screamed and tried to cry for help as I stood over him, I then ended him by crushing that fragile head of his. I sent them scattering about with a great roar of fire, I turned my attention towards my sister and grabbed that net in my jaws, by flying I was able to remove it and send it back towards the creatures that had flung it. With the net no longer a problem she regained her sense and unleashed a roar of her own, with a great breath she expelled a great torrent of fire this time enveloping one of the younger men who held a scythe close to his body, the boys last moments would be spent screaming.

Sister rose back into the air finally seeming to realize that she had made a grave mistake landing. As a collective we proceeded to rain fire on all the fleshlings, it felt good, and I hated that. Before long fleshlings had retreated across the field and into the forest and with a feeling of gratification and fulfillment and complete euphoria, we departed ourselves and headed back to our lair far away up high away on the volcano.

When we returned to the lair I felt as if I had just relived my first flight all over again, my muscles ached and my heart raced, at the moment I could feel little else but a sense of numbness I felt as if I could live for a thousand years. I realized that it was only the adrenaline talking and that when it subsided, I would feel as If I had just plunged face-first into the ground at a thousand miles per hour, I got off light, my sister however, had suffered real pain, and damage.

She had been hit in far more places than just her shoulder. Her neck, neck, crest, and even tail all bore wounds from which blood as black as her scales poured out, she seemed to care little for them though for she paid little to no mind.

"Why?" She asked me.

I was confused, I frowned at what brow muscles I could muster. "What do you mean why? Why what?"

"Why did you not abandon me? I was rash and wroth, I have been the same with you before and you have left me then, but not this time?"

I was dumbfounded at what she was saying and implying.

"Yes, you have, but those situations were different. Did you seriously think I would leave you to die?"

"We are dragons," she stated. "It is not in our nature to be so kind. A kind dragon is a weak dragon."

"So, Mother says," I replied. "I don't know what her relationship with Balerion and Vhagar is like, but whatever it's like I want nothing like it. You are my sister and I..." I hesitated.

Is it in a dragon's nature to love? I loved my sister, that is true, but did she understand what love meant? Could she even comprehend the concept?

"I would never leave you..."

She stared at me, looking up and down, and said nothing. She turned to enter the lair, black blood beginning to pool at her feet. She then stopped and turned around, in a move that startled me she came close and embraced me, it was a strange gesture, one that I had never experienced as a dragon. She brushed herself up against me before caressing my face with hers, each time she did she exhaled deeply, and as quick as she came, she left and returned to walking into the lair.

I stood there simply staring at her retreat, with a smile I followed her as I always did.

When we laid down to sleep and for her to heal it had not escaped my notice that she was now nested far closer to me than usual, having finally given up her precious tucked-away corner. As we allowed sleep to take us, I heard her say one more thing, barely above a whisper.

"Never leave me. Stay with me always..."

I smiled.

"Always."

Last edited: Apr 4, 2023

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Beebos

Apr 4, 2023

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Beebos

Bless King Maegor

Apr 7, 2023

#70

"And where are you going?"

Quenton Qoherys turned his attention from his retinue, which was preparing their horses and his, to the voice that had called him.

Orys Baratheon was tall.

The tallest man on Dragonstone for sure, taller than even Aegon, and the Lord of Dragonstone was himself quite tall, standing above most himself. Quenton was a full ten years older than Aegon and far older than Orys who would count twenty namedays later in the year. To Quenton, Orys may be a man grown now, but he still remembered when this pensive youth was a rowdy child always quick on the heels of their lord.

"Aye," Quenton said. "I am needed, a rider at dusk came to the gates reporting of a dozen or so smallfolk turning up at Dragonsport demanding an audience with Aegon, they come with a disturbing story. I intend to go meet with them and determine whether our lord needs to be informed of the matter."

Orys hummed. "I have been hearing of trouble from the east side of the island, is it to do with that? I have heard several villages have reported lost livestock for a couple of months now."

"I'm afraid yes, it has something to do with that," Quenton replied. "However, there was an even more disturbing rumor going around, and one that several of the representatives have confirmed for us."

"What is it?" Orys asked, narrowing his eyes at Quenton.

"A week ago, a village was near annihilated, attacked they say."

Quenton said it so quickly that Orys almost missed the most important part of the sentence, when he realized what Quenton had said his eyes widened and he stood back agape.

"A village destroyed?" Orys said unbelievably. "How and by whom? Surely not the Volantene?! How did they make it this far north without anyone warning us?"

Quenton wondered as well if this was the work of some corsairs or pirates. Aegon's involvement in the so-called "Grand Alliance" against Volantis was a decision that Quenton disagreed with, Volantis could have proven to be a good ally, in trade but also militarily. Aegon disagreed, however, and instead believed that a balance of power was needed in the Free Cities, keeping them divided and weak individually would prove beneficial to him in the near future.

"No, I don't think it was Volantis, nor any type of pirate," Quenton replied earnestly. "Why raze some village inland when Dragonsport is ripe for the taking? The port has no walls and we don't have the men to turn back an attack."

"We do have Meraxes, Vhagar, and Balerion." Orys argued, "We could turn back a host ten times our number so long as we have dragons."

Quenton agreed with him there, dragons ruled the skies, and Valyria proved that for over four-thousand years so long as you rule the skies you rule the land.

"Yes, we do," Quenton simply said before turning back to what he was doing.

He equipped his sword to his belt and threw on a black cloak over his shoulders, it was a cold morning after all, he then mounted his brown courser.

"Do you wish for me to accompany you?" Orys asked. Quenton smiled, "I think I can handle a few peasants, Orys. Stay here and enjoy your morning, let me suffer the business of administering."

Quenton reared his horse and made for the gate, behind him his party of a dozen men-at-arms was forming up behind him, all armed befitting their station. As the great gates creaked open Quenton began his march down the castle towards the only port town where his duties awaited. Dragonstone was an enormous and intimidating castle, the Old Valyrians built it more than a century ago, and whoever designed it made sure that all would be reminded of the Freehold for it was naught but dragons. The entire castle was made to look like a quagmire of dragons melded together, made from solid stone melded together by the sorcerers of the Freehold who shaped it whichever way they wished.

To Quenton it was home, it was the place he was born in and the home of his forebearers, going back to his ancestor who followed Aenar Targaryen across the sea.

As they made their way down the beaten path, they could see Dragonsport. It was a small settlement and has always been one, Dragonstone has never truly been a center point of trade in the Blackwater and likely will never be, Driftmark takes that spot. Though Aegon has spoken of ideas to encourage trade and commerce through the patronage of guilds and through the development of the port itself, the idea has never been fully implemented. For many reasons.

The port had no walls and was guarded by a small city watch. While the town could not be called lively it was never empty, for the smallfolk from all over the island would come here to sell their produce and other things worth selling, for now though as they neared the city center where the manor house sat, the place where Quenton would come every week to hold hearings and decide issues between whoever decided to make a case, as was his duty as Chairman, a position Aegon appointed him as.

As he neared the center there were already crowds waiting for him, crowds full of people with anger and hate on their faces, as his men shouted for the crowd to make way, he could hear several people start to shout.

The shouts were muddled by other shouts, each mixing into one another which made it hard for Quenton to even tell what they were saying. Quenton was nervous, the villages who had come bringing with them tales of destruction had now scared the rest of the people, now he could hear what the people were yelling, they yelled for protection, but also answers.

Quenton ignored them as best he could, he strode right into the manor house, his men quick on his heels.

The manor house was not terribly big, and neither was its hall where the dais where Quenton and two other city burgesses would sit in judgment of those who would appeal their cases. Those two other men were already waiting for him, they were both peasants themselves, with no family name to go by, but they were trusted and had made a name for themselves in the town and were chosen by plebiscite to sit at the table. When they saw that he had arrived they greeted him and Quenton greeted them in return.

"It's good to see you, Ser Quenton," Aeron greeted him.

"Aye, likewise. I've seen the crowd and they are a rowdy bunch, if it pleases you two, I would like to get the function in order as soon as I can. For the sooner I hear of what these smallfolk have to say the sooner I can return to the castle and inform Lord Aegon on the issue."

They nodded and made their way to the dais where a flagon of wine was placed with three cups for each of them. As they sat, the final preparations were being made, primarily getting everyone who needed to be present, at last, when everything seemed to be set Quenton nodded to one of the doormen to begin letting people inside. As people began to funnel in it was clear that while there was indeed a simple dozen representatives who showed up, they were not alone.

Indeed, it seemed like a quarter of the town had also decided to be nosey and funnel along with them, Quenton cared little. The common people often did little throughout their day, letting them have some entertainment. As everyone began to settle in the hall, Quenton waited several minutes before he raised his hand and commanded everyone to be silent as he spoke.

"I welcome all you goodmen to Dragonsport and to this manor house to speak your grievances before the three of us assembled here, we speak with the voice of Aegon Targaryen, the Lord of Dragonstone. Speak now so we can deliver onto you justice."

The men looked at one another before one stepped forward to speak.

He was a burly man, with a large gut and a limp in his step, he possessed the Valyrian look about him, silver-gold hair and lilac eyes, he was also old and weathered as well, Quenton gaged that he was at the most in his fifties.

"What is your name, goodman?" Quenton asked.

"My name is Aethan, m'lord." he replied. "I am no lord, Aethan. Simply refer to me as Ser Quenton."

"As you wish, Ser." Aethan uttered, though the words seemed foreign to him.

"Now speak to me, Aethan. Speak to me of these claims that you have brought."

"They aren't claims, Ser," Aethan said assertively, he clenched his jaw as he spoke. "I bring with me the truth, Ser, the truth of what happened to me and my village."

"Then speak."

"A week ago, a calamity fell upon my village, a calamity from the great mountain itself. In the night as we slept two vicious beasts fell upon us and laid waste to our homes and livestock. They came for our animals, I have no doubt, for we had goats, sheep, and pigs vanishing for many months before."

He stopped to catch his breath and then continued speaking.

"These men here with me can also say that their villages had animals disappear for months before!" he exclaimed as he gestured to several other men in his party who all nodded and verbally agreed.

"From the mountain?" Aeron asked confused. "Beasts? What beasts could have caused the near complete destruction of your village?"

The old man Aethan looked at the three with near tears in his eyes as tried to speak. "Dragons, good Sers. Dragons!"

The hall burst into a flurry of whispers. Quenton, however, was quick to shut down the ruckus.

"What you say is impossible," Quenton said, the men already began to shake their heads and Aethan looked at Quenton with hard stern eyes.

"If only you were there, Ser, if only you were there. If only you could see the black monstrosity that laid waste to us on the ground, gutting and burning many of my kin and friends. And the pale one that flew overhead snapping out our heads!"

"You describe a black and white dragon, there are only three dragons in all the world, and they live on this island. You describe the dragons of our lord and his lady wife, your story makes no sense, goodman, for if the Black Dread had descended upon you, we would not have even found your bones!"

When Quenton finished speaking and he had said his word on the matter he had expected this man Aethan to argue against him even more, he had dealt with men, stubborn men, and expected a fight. Instead, Aethan stared at him, the stare down lasted half a minute before Aethan choked on his tears, his eyes became puffy, and his lips changed from loose to perked, instead of arguing more he turned, and a woman stepped forward, Quenton had not noticed her before, with her she carried a sack of some kind.

Aethan received the sack and returned to where he was, all the while he sniffed, and tears ran down his cheeks. He then addressed Quenton.

"Tis easy for you to call me a liar, Ser. Tell me this, do you have children, Ser Quenton?"

"I do."

"Do you love them?"

"Of course."

"Aye," Aethan said sadly. He knelt using much effort to do so, a pained moan escaped his lips. Others rushed to help him, but he slapped them away. He laid the sack down gently and undid the strand that held it closed.

"Aye, I loved my child too, Ser Quenton." With as much care as he could muster, Aethan began to empty the contents of the sack, everyone leaned in as much as they could to see what had been brought out and when they did all they could do was look away or gasp.

Quenton stared at what lay on the floor unnerved, while Aethan looked back toward him with fire in his eyes.

"I loved my child as well, Ser, tis why I came all this way to demand of you and our lord justice," he said with venom in his voice. "I demand vengeance for my little girl."

As the other two seated at the dais murmured amongst themselves and the others in the halls began to break out in slight whispers, Quenton never took his eyes off the little charred skeleton on the floor.

When Quenton finished telling the story that the villagers had told him, he eyed each of the siblings, his lord, and ladies, to judge their reactions. On the left hand of his lord stood the ever-menacing Visenya Targaryen, she stood with her arms crossed with a frown that Quenton believed to be permanent on her lips. Her brows were scrunched, and her eyes studied Quenton deeply. On the right, seated on a chair that a servant had made available, Rhaenys who looked saddened with eyes full of grief, and seated on the great throne was Aegon Targaryen, who was leaning on his right arm his hand covering his lips, deep in thought.

It was Visenya who spoke up first.

"They made demands," she said aggravated. "We are most displeased with you, Ser Quenton. To allow a peasant to overstep himself and believe that he could make demands of my brother."

Quenton bowed deeply, "My lady must forgive me."

"My sister is cruel, Ser Quenton," Rhaenys said drawing the ire of her sister. "There is nothing to forgive. The man was just overcome with emotion, that is all."

Aegon said not one word, he sat there quietly, even when his sister looked his way.

With their lord silent it was Rhaenys who spoke up again, taking control.

"It is our duty to not only defend, but have our people prosper," she said. Visenya said something but Quenton could not hear what she said. "We will provide resources in order to rebuild their village, as well as compensate all villagers for their lost animals. They will be given the proper amount of coin and with that they can buy back what they lost."

"My lady is most kind," Quenton praised bowing low to Rhaenys, but there was the other issue that he wanted to bring up and discuss now.

"And what of the dragons."

It was clear that the topic of the dragons disturbed them somewhat. Money was one thing and so was providing resources to rebuild their homes, but the villagers had also made it clear that they wanted blood as well. Dragon's blood.

"What of them?" Visenya asked.

"Well, my lady," Quenton stammered out. "The villagers would not be pleased if the issue of the dragons was left untouched."

Visenya's deep purple eyes only served to make Quenton uncomfortable.

"They want them dealt with."

All turned to look at the man who had finally spoken, Aegon was now looking at Quenton as well.

"Yes." Quenton stated.

"Once again they overstep," Visenya said, almost lecturing Quenton. "If they think that we will harm what is ours then they are wrong, so very wrong."

"My lady, your families' dragons are precious, the last of their kind, but they're actions cannot be ignored."

"We can and we will."

Quenton looked towards Rhaenys with a desperate look in his eye. Rhaenys looked uncomfortable in her seat, she looked at Aegon and Visenya before speaking up.

"I think something must be done, but I agree with Visenya, the dragons cannot be harmed. My sympathies are with the villagers who lost their homes and loved ones, but I will never allow for a dragon to be killed."

His last hope was Aegon, who sat there quietly, that was until he spoke.

"I concur with Rhaenys." Quenton mentally sighed and admitted defeat. "The villagers must be compensated with coin, and we will also provide for the rebuilding of their homes, but as my other dear wife said, I cannot bring myself to order the killing of our dragons. The first dragons born in nearly fifty years; my ancestors would curse me if I did."

"As you say my lord," Quenton said, trying as best he could to hide his dissatisfaction.

"However," Aegon started. "I will also not allow my dragons to molest my people without consequence. If I do not protect my people, I will have failed as a lord. No, something must be done."

Aegon stood from his throne.

"Orys!"

From the shadows of the hall Orys Baratheon emerged. Quenton, surprised, turned to look at where Orys Baratheon had been so cleverly hidden, the fool was being nosey as usual. Slowly, the man who Aegon considered his only true friend made his way beside Quenten, had this situation not been so serious Quenton would have laughed at the face Orys Baratheon was making, which could only be described as a face similar to when a child had been caught eavesdropping.

"I trust you two above all, save for my sisters. Orys, my dear friend, and my dear Master-at-Arms, because of that I task you two with a very important task, that being to capture these two dragons. Take with you two as many men as you wish, whether it be a hundred, two hundred, or three hundred, I care not. Capture and subdue them if you can, and once they have been subdued report back to me."

Surprisingly, it was Orys who spoke up. "Wait, why am I being dragged into this?"

Aegon laughed heartedly. "What? I saw you skulking about back there, you think I don't notice a man of your size trying to be nosey? I figured that since you were so interested in what was going on you could join Ser Quenton on this assignment!"

Both men looked at each other, but while Orys Baratheon scowled and had eyes that screamed of regret, Quenton Qoherys could not help but smile at the situation the fool had gotten himself into.

As the two men began to make their way out of the hall the voice of Visenya whipped at them one last time.

"The dragons must not be harmed, for if harm does befall them than you two will answer for it!"

When Quenton suppered with his wife and two boys that night he did not have the courage to tell them, not tonight at least. That night he had a dream, he dreamed of that man Aethan holding the burning bones of his daughter screaming, when he woke the next morning he was covered in sweat. He rose slothfully and dressed, with a great sigh he left to go find Orys, they would need to prepare.

Last edited: Apr 7, 2023

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Beebos

Apr 7, 2023

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Threadmarks Chapter 5

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Beebos

Bless King Maegor

Apr 10, 2023

#132

Quenton looked up and grew troubled by the sight of what he saw in the sky.

Meraxes had been trailing them ever since they rounded the island to its eastern side, the dragon never came close, she looked like a great white dot against the blue sky, but the fact that she was following them still brought him stress.

"What troubles you?" Orys asked beside him. Quenton turned his gaze away from the distant shape of Meraxes and to Orys seated on his destrier, a mighty black creature with a mane of white that almost looked platinum.

"It's Meraxes," he said causing Orys to look up trying to find Meraxes himself. "She's been following us for some time, remember when one of the men spotted her some time ago?"

Orys hummed. "That was nearly five hours ago..." he said. "She's always been the most sociable of the three, it's nothing."

"Sociable when the lady Rhaenys is around, would you dare approach her when she isn't there?'

Orys waved his hand dismissively. "Think nothing of it. She's likely curious as to why we're marching to the eastern side, she's been nesting on this side of the dragonmount for nearly a year. Dragons are still animals, Quenton, they're territorial like all other beasts."

Quenton was not convinced by Orys' words, there was something amiss, his gut told him that. When he tried to look for her again, she had disappeared, likely she returned to whichever crevice was her home.

"She's been acting strange for a while now. She used to nest much closer to the castle, just around the bend in fact, why do you think she instead now nests on the eastern side of the Dragonmount?"

"Who knows, Quenton. There could be a hundred reasons why, they have their own reasons why."

"You say 'they' as if they act out their own wants and not on their needs. That would make them far more conscious than the average animal." Quenton said.

"Aegon says dragons are far more intelligent than people realize," replied Orys. "He says that Balerion has a voice of his own, thoughts of his own, emotions, and desires. He jokes how Balerion knows more about him than he knows about Balerion."

"Truly? In what way?" Asked Quenton.

"The dragon has his own secrets, that's all he told me."

Quenton found it perplexing, to say the least. Dragons being so intelligent and sentient that they could keep secrets from their riders.

"If that's the case, if they're so sentient, why do we rule over dragons and not them over us?"

Orys shrugged. "Something to do with magic I suppose. Much was lost in The Doom and then over the course of the century following it, Aelyx and Baelon's infighting only worsened the issue, their rivalry saw the loss of knowledge on how exactly the dragon bond functions. Only a few scrolls exist, Aegon says, a few scrolls that tell of a song, and in that song there are mentions of Dragonlords using horns and spells to bind dragons."

"But Aegon and his sister did not use spells or horns to bond to their dragons," Quenton pointed out. "If what you're saying is true then that means that the bonding methods used by our current lords is incomplete, or preformed wrongly?"

"Aegon isn't sure, but at the same time it matters not. The three dragons are accustomed to people, Balerion and Meraxes at least, so the likelihood of them rejecting a rider is low for the most part."

"Could a dragon refuse a command?" Quenton's question brought pause to Orys, who only responded after a good two minutes. "I'm not sure... if the bond is truly not as strong as it could be, theoretically, a dragon could refuse to obey."

Quenton turned back his attention to their march, they were nearing the village now. Dragonstone was a modest island, not too small not too large, smaller than Driftmark, it could take just about a day or two to completely round the island, since the Dragonmount hugged the western side of the island the east was more open with some mountainous areas. With half a thousand men the march was smooth, though they lumbered with them two wagons filled with everything one could think of supplies, from food to camp supplies, the march had gone more or less undisturbed.

Five hundred was how many men it was decided would be needed to bring with them to deal with the two baby dragons. Quenton assumed the two to be young, if they were large, too large for men, then not a single villager would have made it out alive.

The plan overall was simple. Set traps throughout the forest, at the foot of the Dragonmount close to where two baby dragons logically would be, either flying or hunting for food. As for what type of trap, the classic baited trap with a snare should do the job for them.

Originally, Quenton had planned to send scouts up the volcano to scour and search through the many dozens of holes that dotted the Dragonmount and below, but Orys thought otherwise. It would take hours to set the traps up and only feasible once, but it was better than trying to climb a bloody volcano.

Unlike the many other villages that were spread throughout Dragonstone, Dragonseed village was one of the few villages to have a name.

Quenton tried to remember where the village got the name, it was only after pondering it seriously that he remembered how Aegon's grandfather, Lord Daemion often indulged in visiting newlyweds during their wedding and "blessing" the bride, in his twisted way of course. Then again, that tradition dates back far before Daemion, for when the Freehold first garrisoned this island with troops those very same troops warmed the beds of many native Andal women. There's a reason why most of the island's residents possess the typical traits of Valyrians.

When they arrived the village folk came out and greeted them, they wore smiles and hailed the soldiers, Quenton and Orys especially. Quenton ordered the men to stop and rest, he then dismounted and was met by a small group of elders who had made their way to greet him, and Orys followed after him.

"Welcome to our village," the oldest-looking man said. "We are most pleased to see you, surely now the dragon threat will come to an end!"

He could feel Orys turn to look at him, but Quenton ignored the feeling and smiled at the old man.

Well, not exactly, Quenton thought. "Lord Aegon has heard you and has dispatched us to protect you and your village."

This of course was not the village that had been razed, that place lay many miles further to the northwest, but this village was also within the shadow of the Dragonmount. Quenton now understood why so many smallfolk didn't understand what dragons were, from here even if Balerion were flying at this moment, from this far away, he would look small. Dragons were strangers to these people, even if the priests in their temples sang their sermons of how dragons are divine creatures begotten from the gods.

After greetings have been exchanged, Quenton and Orys were graciously invited by the local priest to freshen up and eat with him, something they both graciously accepted. Their stay turned out to be a little longer than planned as they rested and then spared and enjoyed the village market, early afternoon turned to late afternoon.

They would depart for the forest on the morrow to begin their hunt.

For now, they would rest, and he would allow the men to mingle with the others.

xxx

Orys looked over the trap and evaluated it closely, it had to work, if it didn't then that would be it, for there would be no way a dragon would fall for the same trick twice. It had been set up meticulously and Orys would hate to see it fail, fortunately, it was not the only trap that they had set up, they had gone through the effort to search for any spots where a dragon would likely go. The most likely spot would be the river that lay close to the mount, the dragons had been spotted a day ago resting there by some smallfolk.

He stepped back and admired it, seven large chunks of venison piled on top of one another, and the net itself was covered by a lot of leaves and other debris, they had different ideas on what to do but ultimately chose to go for different traps depending on the situation, for example, near the river a snare had been set up where if it were triggered would wrap around the dragon's neck.

Orys looked up and followed where the four pieces of rope met, they all combined after meeting at a small iron ring, and the four now combined ropes looped over a branch and along the branch near the trunk of the tree. Holding the rope was a man on a watchtower that had been built for this.

At the very end of the rope was a weight that the man would drop causing the net to hopefully capture their target.

The soldier looked back at Orys and nodded, he then threw up a thumbs up, not wanting to make a sound. Orys smiled and nodded, if all goes well, once the dragons were caught the watchman would blow a horn to which the next sentry would also blow a horn until it reached the base camp ten or so miles away.

Deciding to leave the man to it he went to his horse and rode off back to camp where Quenton and the rest of the men were setting up the final piece in the great puzzle. Quenton was always a very careful man, and due to this, he wanted to make sure that there was no chance of the dragons being spooked by their activity, after all, how could they know they were being hunted?

He was met by men sharpening spears, swords, and other pieces of armor. Spears would be a highlight of the plan dealing with the net, naturally, a dragon would try and escape by tearing out of the net; spears would be used to poke at it to keep it distracted and confused. On the way to the main pavilion that Quenton resided in Orys passed by several men training with whips, a vital tool usual when dealing with dragons, if Balerion would react to one, a babe would as well.

Orys found Quenton hunched over a map that roughly sketched the area and where the traps were set, an x for each one. When Orys coughed Quenton brought his head to look at him, his violet eyes were tired, and frankly so was Orys. After nearly another week they had to catch one, let alone see them.

Orys began to wonder whether the dragons had turned tail and run, he contemplated if they should just leave and go back to Dragonstone. He wondered what Aegon would make of it, even though they had been sent here by him he wondered whether Aegon truly wanted the dragons caught, no doubt Visenya would be pleased and so would Rhaenys. If they caught the two dragons, they would be brought back to Dragonstone and be brought below to the castle's massive underground chambers which were designed to hold smaller dragons.

"How did it go?" Quenton asked him. The Master-at-Arms had grabbed a flagon of wine and offered him a cup, Orys took it gratefully, he drank deep when his cup was filled, Orys felt his dry throat sigh in relief as the sweet wine ran down his throat like horses on a plane. He was thirsty so he extended his arm again and Quenton once again filled his cup once more.

"Don't get drunk on me now," Quenton chided. "It would not do me well to have my best fighter drunk."

Orys laughed. "When has that stopped me from being my best before?" He asked, "If I could go to the mainland and perform in tourneys, I could knock a hundred lousy knights on their arses."

"The arrogance of youth," Quenton remarked, "A young man like you looks at tourneys and only sees martial ability, but in truth tourneys are all about horsemanship. Yes, a good warrior will win nine times out of ten, but a good horseman could win out of that one possible time."

"I jest, in truth, I care little for tourneys. Hitting each other with blunt sticks doesn't sound so fun to me... maybe a melee, now that would be a worthwhile affair." Orys said.

"I've tried many times to convince Aegon about hosting a tourney at Dragonstone or even on Driftmark, but he's rejected that idea many times."

Orys wasn't surprised.

Aegon has never liked tourneys, his dislike of them stems back to when he first visited the mainland, Oldtown, the Arbor, and Lannisport. Though Orys could never understand why he disliked them in particular, he supposed that he just never found them enjoyable.

"I would be shocked if it were otherwise," remarked Orys setting down his cup, "But anyways, how goes the cage?"

Quenton drowned his cup down and remarked, "Come and see for yourself."

They stepped towards the back flaps of the pavilion to which Quenton moved one side so Orys could see. The cage of cold hard steel that they had made was impressive as it was massive, specially built just for this. If Orys remembered correctly, it stood at a good ten feet high and twenty feet long, all built on a wagon so they could drive it to wherever they needed it, even if the dragons proved smaller than expected or bigger it made no matter, if they small they'd be too weak to break it, if too big they'd have a tough time moving around.

He approached it and gripped the bars of the cage, thick as a castle wall. He smiled and walked around it, the damn thing was so heavy it needed four warhorses to lurch it forward, fortunately for the horses, it would not be that way forever, they will swap them out for aurochs after dragons have been captured.

"Honestly," Quenton said coming beside him, "It's the trip back to the castle that'll be harder than the capturing, right now we're waiting, that isn't hard. It's the travel that'll be hell."

Orys agreed.

"They should calm down once we have one of the adults around, dragons tend to submit to older dragons. In all honesty, we should have insisted on any one of them coming with us. Nothing like a dragon to find another dragon."

"There's a reason why some people are lords, Orys," Quenton said, "The lords preside over subjects, and we are the subjects. We were tasked with this ordeal, and we shall see it through."

He understood that and chose not to question it, he was not a lord after all. As they roamed the camp and inspected things like supplies, men, and weaponry they heard something. It sounded like a ship scrapping against a rock but realized that it was slowly getting closer, it wasn't until they heard the fourth one that it was right on them. It was the sentries, one of the traps had been tripped. They had their dragon.

"Everyone," Quenton screamed, "Get your weapons ready, remember! Whips, spears, and nets, we cannot let it escape! Get the cage and follow!"

Orys, Quenton, along with thirty other men mounted onto their horses as fast as they could mount and set off, Orys had never spurred his horse as hard as he did now. His great destrier huffed and huffed as he kicked it to go even faster, the horsewhipped its head smacking Orys in the face with his white man, but Orys ignored it, they were nearing the spot.

Finally, after coming past a tree he saw it.

The great black beast twisted and turned in the net that was now suspended ten feet off the ground, it coiled and roared as it tried to stabilize itself. Something about this black mass made him want to shiver, something made him want to crawl back and hide under his covers like he used to do when he was but a young boy, as he used to do when he first saw the Black Dread and his father... Aegon's father tried to take him for a ride on him, but unlike Balerion's great blazing red eyes, this dragon had green ones.

It spat out spears of fire whichever way it could, but it was all for not. The dragon tried to claw at the rope and try and slice it, but while some rope gave out to its razor-sharp claws most held, fortunately, it was thought that wire should be strung into the rope to prevent any such escape.

He dismounted and brought himself closer to it, before long Quenton and the other men were with him. Quenton let out a triumphant laugh when he saw the prize that they had hunted for so long, the elusive shadow had been caught, but now they would have to get the other wherever it was.

"How far away is the cart?" Orys asked.

"Not far, It should be here in about three minutes or so, we just have to hold her here.

The other men that had followed them surrounded the black dragon and leveled their spears at it, one after another, without any real order poked it every so often, not too deep of course, but it was not needed for even the slightest touch would drive it mad.

"She's terrifying isn't she," Quenton was in awe of it, and Orys had to agree. The dragon looked unnaturally black, Balerion was black, yes, but this dragon looked as if it was so naturally black it looked like a void, its eyes were the only thing that popped out as color, that and the gums of its mouth.

Orys turned to look back and saw that the massive wagon was still many feet away, he frowned. The sooner the dragon could be loaded the better, they would not have this chance again if they messed it up, everything was in their favor, that was until a lance of flame came down upon them.

He and Quenton were able to avoid It by only a few feet, but one of their men was not so fortunate. Orys stood back and drew his sword, he looked on in horror as one of the men screamed in complete pain as flame racked his body, the other tried to assist him but all they could do was watch as he died.

"Look," Quenton said, "There the other one!"

Orys looked up and saw it.

The white-gold dragon was a sight to see, it soared through the air as a star descended from heaven, its beaten gold wings carrying him through the sky. Orys had little time to admire the creature's beauty before it turned back around and came back for another strike, Orys wished he had archers, but Visenya would not allow him, what do they do?

Another torrent of flame struck them, while Quenton was shouting orders. All Orys could do was look at the dragon as it flew up and then back down, each time punishing them. Finally, one of the men who possessed a whip struck out when the dragon got close enough striking it on its crest causing it to react with a shriek which made Orys cringe at the sound of it, unfortunately, it was not enough for it to come back once more.

More men had arrived more spears and more whips. Each time the pale beasts swooped low he was met by spear tip and the sting of the whips, but each time the men on the ground were also met by flame. Orys felt powerless, as he could only stand there and watch.

Damn it, he thought.

What do I do?

After what seemed like forever the cage had rolled up, and everyone moved to try and give it the ability to move under the black dragon, it was then that they hit a snag. The dragon and cage were at about the same height, they needed to raise the dragon higher to drop into the cage.

"Men," Orys called, "With me, grab the rope and pull the dragon higher!"

Orys ran over to where the weighted part of the rope was, stuck his sword into the ground, and then grabbed the rope, he pulled it, but it was far too heavy. Soon he was joined by five others who grouped up behind him, slowly and with great effort, the rope was pulled and the black dragon much to its dismay, as it coiled and lashed out with fire, was pulled higher and higher.

"Higher!" ordered Quenton.

"Just a little higher, damnit!"

Orys dug his heels into the ground as he pulled, the six men collectively pulled with all their might ignoring the pain in their arms, legs, and backs, they had to succeed. Flame engulfed the tree on which the rope was draped, the pale beast had caught on it seemed, but unless it landed it could not break through the canopy and get a clear shot at them.

The black one rose slowly into the air, twisting all the while, spears and whips kept it distracted and others did the same to the white one, dragons they may have been, but only young dragons they were.

After a struggle that lasted an eternity in the mind of Orys, he could now see that just about several inches separated the dragon and the cage, with much hesitation the great warhorses were pulled forward, and the dragon was aligned with its soon-to-be prison. Orys smiled a devious smile as sweat began to grow on his brow, his arms felt numb now and he had long past given up hope for his legs, all that mattered was getting the dragon into the cage.

Orys a thud and turned to look what had caused it, to his horror he saw that the white dragon had managed to land far to their backside, all the men were focused on the black one and the sky above it, they had neglected their backs.

"Quenton!" he screamed, hoping that Quenton would hear him, instead of Quenton the dragon shrieked back in response and charged toward them. Orys froze and felt his body scream for him to react, when the dragon neared and opened its maw, he lunged away, and white-gold flame shot out and enveloped four of the five other men holding the rope, he rolled and grabbed his sword removing it from the ground and met the dragon head on.

Visenya could have her explanation, he would not die here.

Before the dragon could continue its attack, a whip struck out at it making it lash out with a shriek, two more whips met it and then a fourth and fifth, it rose back into the air. Orys smiled, he basked in his momentary victory, that was until he felt the sting of a dozen daggers sink into his shoulder, he screamed.

He had neglected the black dragon, who while still wrapped in the trapping of the net had managed to make a large enough hole for its head and legs, and so, the horse-sized dragon tore and gnawed through his armor into Orys Baratheon's right shoulder. Dropping his sword, he reached for his dagger with his left hand, and with all the force he could muster he tried plunging it deep into the dragon's snout but only managed to cut across its nose causing steaming black blood to come out, the dragon roared in pain upon letting go of Orys.

He fell to his knees in complete and utter pain and felt as if his shoulder was on fire, his entire right side was streaming with blood; he felt men bring him back to his feet calling his name.

The world was spinning.

The white dragon swopped low and then rose back high, this time Orys saw something that caught his eye, behind the white dragon an even bigger white shape emerged from the Dragonmount and began to head their way, it unleashed a roar that shook them to their bones. He knew that roar, it was Meraxes.

Orys prayed, he prayed that Rhaneys was coming to save them, he prayed that the shapes of Balerion and Vhagar would emerge too, but it was only Meraxes.

Whatever hope he did have was crushed when the great she-dragon instead landed and began her rampage, he was being pulled away now, he could no longer stand and was now being dragged. Where was Quenton, he wondered.

He relented to the sweet embrace of sleep; he closed his eyes and wallowed in the darkness, the last he heard before losing himself to unconsciousness was the screams of death and the roars of three dragons.

xxx

When they returned the following day to the battlefield, they found nothing but crows picking at the dead.

From above it looked as if a meteor had struck the earth, it was a complete slaughter. Brother remembered the night very clearly; it came to him like hot flashes, the faces of those he burned, maimed, and killed appeared to him, and they still do. He shook his head sending them away, he could not let such things weigh heavy on his head or heart, he did what he had to do, for his sister.

Sister roared beside him, clearly proud of what she saw, he was of a mind to scold her, but he ultimately allowed it. She could celebrate her victory if she wished.

He lowered his head and descended towards the ground, his sister not far behind. When they landed, he could fully take in the true carnage that had been invoked here. Bodies littered the floor, trees smoked with the lingering fire still quick on their masses, and entire sections of earth had been upended. He shivered; this was the true power of a dragon, not its fire, but also, its physical prowess.

He began to inspect what things had caught his interest, first, he went over to the massive cage that the men had built in preparation for their capture. He streaked his claw against the cold steel understanding its thickness, he moved then to several of the bodies laid out across here and there, and he looked at their faces. Some were young, others were old, looking upon the faces of these people so up close made him remember his face, a face he wore so long ago.

He felt uncomfortable now, these were people. They had lives, ambitions, desires, and maybe even families, but now they would never return to those families. He was broken from these thoughts when his sister nudged him.

If her purring could be described as anything it would sound like that of a lion only far more guttural, he reciprocated it. Their relationship had changed since that attack on the village many weeks ago, where their dynamic had been clearly in her favor acting as the domineering older sister, he had taken a spot as a near equal.

She desired his affection far more than ever it seemed, though much to his relief that affection remained platonic.

The sound of air being smacked against wings brought their attention towards their mother who had now descended from their lair as well, her golden eyes scanning them and the surrounding area, ever ready for a potential threat. After last night's events, he appreciated his mother far more than he had before, for the first time in his short new life, he saw her as a mother and as a provider, and that was generally the trend with him.

Every day seemed to see him bring himself closer to his draconic self, things that he would have thought to be strange and out of the ordinary became normal and mundane. Even flying was becoming a normal aspect of life, where once he would look down in awe of the land and the things roaming it, he now looked for new things and desired to see far more than what has already been shown to him by this island.

Perhaps his time here was drawing to a close.

He looked at his sister and knew that when that time came to leave the nest and leave his mother, he would take her. He no longer feared her or her possible intentions, he knew that when he was ready to travel this world, flying over its great oceans, mountains, rivers, streams, and lakes, he would want her by his side.

He went to her and nudged her how she did him, they wrestled and scrapped between each other, and from his mouth, he could almost believe that a laugh had escaped him. Dragons could speak between themselves, but true language escaped him, he had tried to recite words from his old life, what he knew as English, but nothing would come out; just simple sounds that sounded akin to a dog barking.

His mother had told him that there was a language they could understand naturally, that being what is known as Valyrian. His head would always run in laps when trying to understand language, in his previous life he was bilingual, if he could somehow regain the ability to speak human languages he could gain much and then some. English, Spanish, draconic, and Valyrian, imagine that; a multilingual dragon would be something.

The concept made him laugh.

He did think though. If he could regain his true speech what limits would be put on him? Would he become even more valuable? A dragon that could communicate and more importantly communicate his feelings and thoughts, would I still be treated the same as the others? The thought of being ridden was unnerving to him, the thought of being ridden for gain and used as a tool made him angry.

If he was to have a rider let it be someone selfless and just, someone kind and innocent, let they be someone smart and true. Did a wise robot not once say that freedom was the right of all sentient beings? A rider should take into account his opinions, not just for him but for all dragons.

He wondered whether Balerion was ever asked what he thought about something, whether he could fly here or there, and whether it was okay with him to burn who knows how many hundreds. He hoped he would have the opportunity to speak with him, he would love to speak with the oldest dragon alive.

For now, though, that could wait, he was too busy chasing his sister. From the ground Meraxes watched her children play, they zipped around and tagged each other midair.

All peace ended, however, when a roar was heard. I and my sister turned our attention to where it had roughly come from, that being the Dragonmount, we returned to the ground to which our mother began to growl, she repositioned herself to be in front of us, between us and the distant roar. Another roar was heard and then two, one after another, there were two dragons.

He waited anxiously for something and that something came.

From high above the Dragonmount, flying through the volcanic cloud spewing from its mouth emerged the largest dragon he had ever witnessed, he knew then that this was Balerion. The Black Dread roared so loud that he almost felt the need to cover his ears, his sister roared her little roar in response standing bravely as ever, it was foolish.

Following closely behind him was a smaller dragon, smaller than Mother, from where he was he could not fully see it, but it had the coloring of bronze, he guessed that to be Vhagar. The dragons crossed over the volcano before seemingly realizing where we were and when they did finally notice us they dashed our way, the approaching form of Balerion struck primordial fear into my heart, I called my sister and urged her into the air. We had to run.

We dashed into the air and headed in the opposite direction. Perhaps if we reach a good distance over the water they will abandon their chase, he thought. He felt his sister right over him, their little wings carrying them as fast they can, when he looked back, he saw his mother leap into the air heading straight for Balerion; for just a moment he thought his mother would fight the giant and in that thought, he imaged his mother torn to shreds, that did not happen.

Instead, Meraxes positioned herself in front of the Black Dread blocking his path. When Vhagar flew past her and towards them that's when he realized the dragons were not after a fight, they were after them.

Vhagar called out to them a call to draw them back, but there would be no stopping, they continued faster. That's when he realized something, they were being ridden, on Vhagar's back were two women both dressed in armor, one had her silver hair in a braid, the other has hers loose, the rider wore a crimson cape.

Though they tried to go faster it was no use as Vhagar was on them in an instant, the bronze beast veered left pushing them in that direction. We're being herded, he realized.

Due to Vhagar's efforts, they were now heading the opposite way, they were heading back towards the Dragonmount.

A shadow passed over. With the impact of a thousand tons, Meraxes crashed into the bronze dragon, they twisted and turned before regaining their senses, it was a vain attempt by Meraxes to free her children. Vain in that the moment Vhagar was removed Balerion's even greater presence came down on them.

"Be wise now, little ones," he said, speaking with a voice that would make any king green with envy. "Follow me."

There was no escaping now; he admitted defeat. His sister was unwilling to comply and called for him to break loose and run with her, he refused and stayed. After a moment of hesitation, she followed, all the while behind them Vhagar and Meraxes were locked in a struggle that had forced them to land, slowly Rhaenys began to calm her down.

As they turned the Dragonmount and saw the distant silhouette of a great castle shaped in the form of many dragons he wondered what was in store for them.

Last edited: Jun 5, 2023

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Beebos

Apr 10, 2023

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Threadmarks Chapter 6

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Beebos

Bless King Maegor

Apr 14, 2023

#197

He tugged at the chain wrapped around the base of his neck, he wondered whether it was necessary to have a chain clasped around him, he technically did not fight them, just run away. No, it's not because of that, it's because of the village incident, he thought. After the number of things that occurred in recent weeks, that event seems like it took place forever ago.

It was a mistake, he thought. To attack the village was one step too far, one can do many things as a dragon with impunity, but attacking people, that was one step too far. How could they ignore them? Especially when those in power have three other monstrous large dragons of their own.

Even though these walls and ceiling were as thick as castle walls, very likely many feet thick, he could occasionally hear his mother call to him and his sister. It made him wonder what these silver-haired humans' dragon-rearing techniques were, if they could... pacify a creature that could shake an elephant like a toy, he had to wonder how they could keep a dragon from just razing this castle and everyone inside it. He saw Balerion, the mere thought of something that massive obeying a command from something that should logically be an ant to him is head-scratching, he'll need to ask him when he gets out of here.

Stretching out his wings he took flight.

He thanked God I can see in the dark, he thought. The chamber was pitch black so flying under any other circumstances would have been incredibly infuriating to even attempt some exercise. He was also thankful the chain was incredibly long, he could easily fly for several minutes spanning the long chamber without running out, only when he maneuvered around the pillars and thus wrapped the chain around them did it eventually reach a limit.

He was tired.

He had begun to feel tired sometime after being confined to the chamber, though he could not think why he felt this way. It wasn't the tiredness that one got when lacking sleep or rest, but something else, it was like he was lacking sleep even though he slept well.

There was a sound of stone scraping against stone, he turned his attention to the door of his chamber. Calling it a door would be generous, it was a circular stone that would be pushed out of the way when the chamber needed to be open. He narrowed his eyes and saw a light slowly creep into the chamber as the stone was pushed away, he flew high, up to the ceiling, and clung to it like a giant bat.

When the boulder was finally moved, five people entered the chamber.

Four of the people were dressed in black armor, three of those men were holding a torch in each hand while the fourth had two leads of rope in hand; they both led to a pig and a goat. He could feel his mouth water at the sight, the taste of the animals was already quick on his tongue. The last person among the group and the one leading the small procession was a woman dressed in a tunic and pants, red and black were her colors, and her hair was the color of silver and gold, he recognized her as one of the two women who were riding atop Vhagar.

When they reached a certain distance from the door and were now standing in front of the gap between two pillars the woman looked back at the man leading the animals and ordered him to tie them together and let them go. Those four then backed away some feet and allowed the woman to stand alone as she looked around the chamber seemingly looking for him. When she spoke, she spoke in a language foreign to his ears, but at the same time he could also understand her with the exception of some words here and there, he concluded that this was the Valyrian language that his mother spoke of.

"Where are you, sweet one?" She asked in a loving voice. the woman then rubbed a hand on the animals as if enticing him with the food that she had brought. "Where are you?" She asked again.

He did not move from his hiding place and instead kept himself still in the darkness. One of the men urged her to leave and let the dragon do as it wished but she refused instead she called to him once more.

"Do you not trust me? I am your mother's rider, we are bonded for life, her feelings are mine and mine are hers!"

He did not move.

After ten hard minutes, the woman seemed to give in and left the room. Before she left, however, she left one of the torches on the ground near the animals, while she did not know it, I was thankful for it, but I did miss the light.

After the boulder was put back into place I flew down to where the animals were, the goat was spooked by the sudden rush of air and the creature emerging from the dark.

A simple lance of flame ended the creature's lives and luckily for him also the existence of the rope, he hated the feeling of something getting caught in his teeth. He devoured the two and felt filled with new vigor but before long that weariness that had stuck to him as a plague returned. He ignored it.

Feeling filled by the tributes brought to him, he laid down next to the torch and basked in the light it gave to him; he enjoyed it while it lasted but after some time the light would eventually be extinguished, and darkness overtook him again.

They came to him again the next day as usual and the same woman came day after day, coming with juicy treats, and each day she would leave disappointed that he did not come to meet her.

One day, however, she grew wise to his tactics and found the chain that led to him up on the ceiling. When she tugged on it gently, he responded with a squawk.

"Come down, sweetling," she called to him, but he did not look down at her. The woman huffed in frustration and left once again. It was when she came again after some time, but this time she came alone. Each hand was preoccupied with holding something. In her right she held a torch and in her left she held a lead that was tied to two meaty pigs.

When she came to a stop at the usual spot where they left the tributes, he expected her to do her usual routine and then leave his dinner, but instead, she sat down and waited. He knew what she was doing now. She would wait me out, he thought.

He sighed and knew that he could ignore her all he wished, but they would never leave him alone it seems. He would indulge her in this regard.

Letting go of the stone ceiling he flew slowly towards where she was, she looked in the direction that the sounds of his flapping were coming from, but she could not see him yet. He landed just out of the torch's light and stayed at the threshold and watched her.

Her purple eyes pierced the darkness, and her doe eyes beckoned him forth, slowly he approached, his chain scraping against the floor.

"I see you, sweeting," she said. She held the torch out towards him allowing his body to be illuminated. His white scales shined like jewels while his golden wings gleamed back at her, a sound left her lips, a sound of admiration. He would not lie, it pleased him.

"Come," she said, "Enjoy what I have brought you."

She stepped to the side and allowed him a path toward the snorting pigs that were bursting with fat. She watched in awe as the white-gold flame was expelled from him and burned the pigs to perfect conditions.

He turned his head and looked at her with golden eyes before she moved and began devouring the first pig, he chomped and tore, it was a sick rhythm as flesh was torn from the bone. However, unlike when he was young and could not break the bone now he could and as carefully as he could he sucked at and savored the taste of the marrow from within. It was heavenly, then there was a hand on his neck.

He felt the urge to snap and snarl at the source of the hand, the woman, but he took control of his urges and kept himself from removing the hand from the source. Instead, he looked back at the woman to which she smiled. He didn't realize that as he stared into her purple eyes, he began to lose himself in them, he was at peace for just a moment before he tore himself back from the brink of whatever he had found himself in and moved away from her.

What was that? He wondered.

It was such an odd feeling, like lying on a bed and slowly being devoured by its softness, he was wary now. He would not look into her eyes anymore.

He continued eating while the woman caressed him, this would have been a dream of his when he was young in his past life, but it did not escape him that this woman and her family looked at him and his kind as animals. What was going on now was the equivalent of petting a dog as it ate or a horse, or any animal for that matter.

For now, though, he allowed it. There was something oddly familiar about it, the feeling of being touched by a woman. In the back of his mind, he pictured a woman he felt he knew, but could not pinpoint a name to, he knew it was someone from his previous life, but could identify her, all he knew was that she was something to him, whether spouse or blood he could not tell.

He would not resign himself to being an animal, he would never allow that, he was his own, but he would tolerate this preferential treatment... for now.

xxx

Consciousness came to him slowly.

He groaned when he opened his eyes and slowly looked around the room he was currently in, from the looks of it he was in some peasant's house. Suddenly a sharp and burning pain was born in his shoulder and made its way through his upper torso. As he bit back what groan of pain, he was going to emit he saw someone seated in a chair sleeping.

Aegon Targaryen was slouched in a chair as he slept, he wore simple chainmail with Blackfyre leaning against the wall next to him. Orys smiled, of all the sights he could have woken up to, Aegon's big, beautiful face was possibly the most pleasant sight he could have seen.

"Aegon," Orys called trying as best as he could to lean up out of bed, pain clear as day on his face. It was awkward to move like this, his entire right side was bandaged with a great amount of coverage being on his shoulder.

"Aegon," he said a bit louder. His friend twitched in his chair and yawned. "Aegon!" He yelled this time at the cost of his pain flaring up and having him cringe due to that pain. Aegon yawned in his seat, but this time his eyes fluttered open revealing his purple eyes, he looked around before his gaze landed on Orys to which he smiled and stood up.

"Oh, thank the gods your awake, brother!"

Aegon stood and moved to Orys bedside and kneeled beside him.

"Aegon," Orys forced out, "What happened to the dragons? Gods... Meraxes... how could we be blind this whole time, they belonged to fucking Meraxes!"

Aegon raised a hand asking for him to calm himself and Orys did, though the memories of that night were far too much to remain calm over, it was a massacre.

"No, not we, but me," Aegon said, guilt was present not only in his voice but his face. "It is I who is to blame for what happened to you. I rested on my laurels and sent you and Quenton to face the dragons, I was blind and foolish, the signs were there. It was simply I who grew comfortable in my seat, I know now that when one grows far too comfortable in their seat, they become complacent. That was I."

Orys could hardly believe what he was saying.

"Calm yourself, Aegon, it was not your fault, who could have known all that? There were too many things that were out of our control."

Aegon shook his head and buried his face in his hands. "My idiocy nearly killed you and all your men."

Those memories returned to the forefront of his head, like a storm, one after another fought to take him over, all ending with Meraxes descending upon them all and destroying everything.

"How many of my men survived?"

"Seventy-six survived that night," Aegon answered.

Orys dropped his head back and looked at the ceiling.

"And Quenton, where is he?"

When Aegon hesitated to answer, Orys already knew the answer to the question.

"We could not find his body," Aegon said slowly, "I've sent men to scour the woods, if he's out there in the woods somewhere we'll find him…"

"And the dragons?"

"After what happened a rider came to Dragonstone the following day, I came as soon as I could. We brought the dragons back to Dragonstone and have them under the castle, they're they'll remain till we're sure that they won't go attacking people again."

"And Meraxes?" Orys asked in his dry voice.

"It took hours to calm her after the fact. She has relocated to the western side of the Dragonmount now and hasn't stopped letting out calls of distress."

Orys took in the information given to him, but could not stop thinking of Quenton, the last memory he has of him was him drawing his sword and facing the black dragon, it made him shiver.

"I weep for his wife and children, they're so young."

Aegon stood back up and moved the chair he was previously sitting in, to Orys' bedside and sat there, he rubbed his temple in frustration. "She's a good woman, Aela, she doesn't deserve this. How can I tell her that I sent her husband to his death, and how can I even begin to tell his sons?"

"The boys are young, they do not have to know the specifics now," said Orys, "When they're older they'll know."

"Lie to children then?"

"If that is how you wish to call it, simply do not tell them what happened. Their father fought valiantly and died. He died a warrior and is now resting in the halls of Vhagar."

Aegon reluctantly nodded, it was a painful situation, but a painful decision must be made.

"As for your shoulder, how is it?" Aegon asked.

Orys looked at his bandaged shoulder as best he could and wondered that himself, he moved it slightly and was met by pain and soreness. He could still recall that dragon bite and remember the pain of its dagger-like teeth sinking into him, thankfully, it seems like his armor may have saved him.

"You tell me," Orys remarked back. "Who bandaged me?"

"I brought Maester Colbert when I heard what condition you were in. He along with the local healers did what they could, should I go find him?"

"No. Just tell me what he told you."

"Well, you're lucky the dragon wanted your shoulder and not your arm or head," Aegon explained, "The armor saved you from death or at the best being crippled."

Orys smiled and breathed a great sigh and then immediately regretted it when hot pain shot through him.

"Also, your collar bone is broken."

The return to Dragonstone was a painfully slow affair.

It took nearly a fortnight before the Maester gave Orys leave to travel. Most of the survivors of that night's attack had been allowed to return home or to the castle, whichever they desired, but a handful stayed with Orys throughout his recovery.

Orys mourned his old mount, it was a good and mighty horse, and now he had but a palfrey that was generously given to him by one of the villagers. The journey back around the island was slow, while he was given permission to travel and was now for the most part healthy and able, he was still hurting and traveled as slowly as he could in order not to destroy what progress he had made.

What would have taken maybe a day or two now took three days, but when the hulking sight of Dragonstone came into sight it was well worth it. He had, at last, returned home.

They rode up the pathway and were met by the dragon's mouth where they were then given permission to enter. When they did those few that were in the courtyard stared at Orys and his men, an acknowledgment of what he had gone through for there was no doubt that all knew of what transpired.

When Orys returned to his room after so long it felt bittersweet and surreal, near a month ago he was near dead, now he was back home enjoying the bed he had long since left.

He wondered what it would be like if he had not intruded upon that meeting between his siblings and Quenton, how much would be different. A roar from outside broke his moment of contemplation, he walked over to the window and looked outside, he saw nothing, but he had a feeling that the culprit behind the roar was Meraxes.

He was above all grateful to be alive, he was grateful to be here. That first night he would sleep peacefully, but with the bitter cloud of sadness over him, for while he was here, Quenton was not.

He had never been used to having dinner with his half-siblings, Aegon was the only one who he shared the most in common with and had no problem acting naturally around, but Visenya and Rhaenys were strangers to him. Well, maybe not with Rhaenys, she was always quick on Aegon's trail when they were young, but Visenya was a true stranger, and Orys had near zero interaction with her. He wondered if she harbored some resentment in her heart, lord Aerion was a faithful man who had never bothered with mistresses and had no need of bastards, that was save for Orys.

They ate that night on a modest serving of pies, meats, and fish. Though they were far less preoccupied with eating than with talking.

"How are the dragons behaving?" Asked Aegon. Rhaenys swallowed what she was eating before replying.

"Depends on which one you desire to know about. The black one is as difficult as you can probably imagine," she said, "I fear that her aggressive behavior will never be truly tamed until she has a rider for herself."

Orys remembered the black dragon, and he would have to agree. It was a vicious creature, the mere thought of it brought a burning sensation to his shoulder, had it not been born a dragon, but instead a wolf it would have been killed by now.

"The white one, however, has shown that he is by far the more docile one," she said, "He was very stubborn in the early weeks, but he's grown comfortable around people and has even allowed me to touch him."

Aegon hummed, "They have been confined for some time now, Meraxes is still as loud as she has ever been since the day we captured them, when do we think we should release them?"

Orys almost choked on his food.

"Release them?" Orys thought aloud, "Truly? What if they go back to their old ways?"

Aegon shook his head.

"We must release them, the chambers are not made for permanent enclosure. Dragons need big wide lairs and open space to grow to their fullest."

"Then how will we prevent future attacks?" Orys asked. If there was one thing he never wanted to go through again it was the process of dealing with vicious dragons.

"I intend to have Rhaenys and Visenya here begin training and forming an order of men dedicated to keeping an eye on the dragons, I will never allow ourselves to be taken off guard by our own dragons. If a new dragon is born, we will be the first to know within the minute it steps out of its lair."

Orys found the idea intriguing. An order of dragon keepers would be a good idea, if nothing else, it would be best to have the order to keep an eye on the dragons.

"Sounds good," Orys said, taking a drink from his goblet.

"Mayhaps one day, a proper enclosure can be built for the dragons, and the days of wild dragons will be done."

"Mayhaps, one day," agreed Aegon, "But for now we will have other things to focus our attention on."

"Such as?" Asked Visenya.

"I have ordered for a feast to be held in one month's time," Aegon revealed much to everyone's surprise. He continued, "I have already sent notice to our uncle, as well as to Lord Celtigar inviting them to Dragonstone, I wish to discuss a certain matter with them."

Orys felt dread creep into his heart.

"The only thing that I can think that would need the presence of our two principal vassals would be the matter of war. Correct?" Visenya spoke, looking at her husband and brother with cold and hard eyes.

"You would be right in that regard," said Aegon confirming her suspicion.

"Who do we go to war with now? One of the Free Cities again?" Asked Orys digging into the remains of his meal.

Aegon shook his head and smiled as he peered into his own goblet before looking back at Orys.

"No," he started, "It's far past time we turn our gaze away from Essos, the Old World represents our past. It's time we turn our eyes west, to Westeros."

Orys nearly felt his eyes pop out of their sockets at what he just heard.

"War with Westeros? When were you going to tell us, the day of the event?!" Rhaenys questioned.

"Unprovoked war... are sure about this Aegon?" Visenya asked him. Aegon did not seem too bothered about that fact, "I will be the first honest man in history to wage war. I will not lie and fabricate a cause; I will take what I want because I can."

He looked at all his siblings.

"Because we can." Aegon said with such a tone that made Orys unsure if he was even hearing Aegon speak, he never knew Aegon to have such ambitions. "Westeros is ripe for the taking, seven kings all bickering between each other like children fighting over their servings."

Aegon stood and filled his goblet with spiced wine, he raised it and smiled. Orys raised his cup along with the two ladies of Dragonstone.

"I shall put an end to all the fighting. Westeros shall have to bear one last war, a war to end all wars. I offer a toast. A toast to peace..."

Orys drank deeply and thought about it, he will not lie, the idea was intriguing. That night as he rested his arm and shoulder, he imagined himself sitting in a great hall with a wife beside him and a court full of people. Lord Orys Baratheon... yes, that sounded quite pleasing.

xxx

A/N: I will be busy this coming week so expect at the most maybe one chapter. If things clear up then I will release two as usual. Sorry for the bad news, but rest assured that I remain fully invested in the story.

Last edited: Apr 14, 2023

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Beebos

Apr 14, 2023

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Beebos

Bless King Maegor

Apr 17, 2023

#243

Mid 4 BC/late 4 BC

He was roused from sleep due to the moving of the boulder, the great heaving and scraping of the massive stone brought out of a soothing dream and soothing sleep. He fluttered his eyes and his golden eyes peered out towards the entrance to see who was coming this time, from the entrance came several men holding torches and wielding swords, but this time there were four people who were dressed in how one would imagine servants would look like. These ones were holding chains and a collar.

And leading them was the woman with the kind smile, she had said her name was Rhaenys Targaryen. He sighed and wondered what they would do this time. The entourage stopped several feet away from the pearl dragon, wary of him, fear apparent on their faces and body language, he liked it, it made him feel good and powerful. Rhaenys, however, strode forward, though there was a hint of respect in her step.

"Come, Lyraxes," she said, "It's time for you and your sister to go home now, back to your mother."

Lyraxes... the name that she had chosen for me, he thought.

Lyraxes, Lyraxes, Lyraxes... how does one even begin to feel about being given a name, he had a name in his old life, and he had no real problem with that, after all, it was his name that his parents gave him, but here? His mother had never bestowed a name onto him and for all intents and purposes, she saw no need to do that ever.

However, this woman had seen the need to do so, he believed that there was no true malicious intent, just simple ignorance in that she could not comprehend that he was able to think for himself perfectly.

Unfortunately for her, he rejected that name. He appreciated her concern for him and her wanting to give him a name, but he already had a name.

He had chosen to give himself a name in an act of rebellion against her and the other dragon tamers. His name was Seath.

In his old life where dragons were nothing but fantasy, Seath the Scaleless was the name of a dragon in a video game, a favorite of his.

If only he could talk... well, maybe that isn't what he wants exactly... give it a couple of decades before he would be comfortable with telling people he could potentially talk.

Her movements were soft and gentle, she clasped the horse-sized collar around his neck and attached two chains to either side, this is why she had brought four servants with her. Two on each side of me, he thought.

"Let us go," she commanded in High Valyrian, a language that rolled off the tongue like hot butter and slid into my ears like clouds made of music. We walked the underground passageway, all the way passing other similar doorways, clearly, they had a greater number of chambers for a great number of dragons, but for some odd reason, there were so few dragons.

That fact was still somewhat strange to Seath.

What was causing so few dragons to hatch and survive? Was it competition for resources? Well, when one has to compete with something like Balerion, Vhagar, and Mother for resources he can understand why so many likely never make it out their first year going solo.

That still doesn't make sense, however, logically, wouldn't they just move to find less competitive territory?

Why did those four other dragons die?

There's only one being that knows that. Balerion. He would have to ask him.

They continued walking and Seath wondered about this woman and her family. Clearly, there was something very different about her and no doubt her family as a whole. He still remembered how when he looked into her eyes, he felt himself fall into a sublime state, in the face of his own precautions he dared to look into her eyes again, and again he felt riddled with a slumber-like feeling.

There was magic involved in this, there was no doubt, but he wondered how exactly it worked. Was it deliberate control or was it a passive mechanism that exuded from them and affected Dragonkin like how catnip affects cats?

Regardless of the true mechanics behind blood magic he really wondered if that was truly it. Was it a simple stare required to tame a dragon? It didn't feel right, surely there had to be a training method involved and some kind of mental link that had to be established, after all, how could they give out commands when they're flying at a couple of hundred miles an hour?

And most importantly, he wondered if he was the exception to all this. Yes, he had gotten caught by those eyes and still does, but once again, there had to be further cementation of that bond. Theoretically, if his soul was technically human could whatever magic at play truly work on him?

It was not a hypothesis he was eager to test, not by a long shot. Maybe I'll accept a rider when I'm on my deathbed, he thought.

As they neared the staircase that led back up to the world above, he could smell the world above, and how he missed the fresh air, his scales, and skin shivered, and he felt his skin react in a certain way that made him feel shaking with a quick chill.

The chains reining him in rattled and clinked as he began the climb up to the base of the staircases and was now in a great chamber that was big and wide, if anything it resembled a small amphitheater.

They then led him, at last, outside, and were greeted by the cold air that the bay brought, he loved it.

They walked and were now in the middle of the courtyard, he looked around and took in the sight of the many people who were gathered. He saw soldiers as usual; he saw servants who were on their way to carry out orders or on their breaks if they had any. Above all, he saw how they had a look of fear and terror in their eyes, and he could understand why; he was the "Pale Beast" that they oh so love to call him.

He and his sister killed so many men back when they tried to capture them, he wondered how many of those who knew those men were here watching him be dragged out of the cellar back into the sunlight. His captors held on to their chains as if they were afraid he was going to dash away at any moment.

He wondered why they were waiting here, that was until he heard a roar, a very familiar roar. His sister was coming.

He turned his neck around and peered towards the building they had just exited and waited to see the familiar form of his sister. Her great black mass came through the doorway, his sister was a head larger than him.

"Brother!" His sister exclaimed when she saw him, her call spooked several of the people around them thinking as if she was about to lung at him, she pulled her captors and all they could do was try and dig in their heels and have her carry them along. It was a miracle that she did not try and fly away but considering that the other silver-haired lady was leading her with a whip in hand had her calm for now. He honestly wondered how she took her captivity, could not have been easy for the people for sure.

She rattled her way to his side, and we stood there waiting for their captors to do what they were going to do.

Instead, Rhaenys came to Seaths and began to remove the chains and attacked his collar while his sister thrashed and hissed at all that came close, that was said for the other woman, one who Seath came to understand was called Visenya, she was able to remove the chains, his sister then thrashed everyone away as she stretched and spread her wings wide, above a presence was felt that sent shivers up our spines, it was Vhagar, she made no apparent call but her mere presence was enough it seemed.

There was a roar, however, but this roar was familiar and filled with joy, it was their mother who called from the Dragonmount looming behind the castle. Seath called back and hoped that she would hear us, and it seemed to have worked as her calls came closer, and before long a white dragon came into sight above the castle circling some distance from Vhagar. Sister was eager to take to the air and join our mother, and so was he as well, the time spent below was far too cramped and tiresome, already he could feel his vigor return to him.

"Wraith, Lyraxes," Visenya called. Seath was not surprised they also went through the effort of naming his sister.

Sister turned her head to stare at the woman, her posture was tense and clearly, she was aggravated.

"Do not stare her in the eye!" Seath tried to warn his sister, but she ignored him and continued to stare at the woman with piercing green eyes.

A hand came to touch his neck, and he without thinking backed away from the touch, which caused Rhaenys to smile at the white dragon.

"You may go now." They both said to the young dragons.

His sister looked at Seath and let out a joyful call. When she opened her wings big and wide everyone stood back and watched her as she leaped into the air and unleashed a great big roar towards Mother who responded in kind, Seath watched his sister and mother as they met in the air and mingled in a great beautiful dance. A smile came to his mind, and ever so slightly he could feel the muscles in his mouth and around his cheeks flex and ever so slightly he felt that a smile was coming to him.

"Go, Lyraxes! Go to your mother and sister!" Rhaenys urged him, he looked back towards the woman and her sister who had a stone-cold frown, one that he wondered was simply her face in neutral, and nodded.

Doing the same as his sister he opened his wings exposing his beautiful golden membranes to the people in attendance who were awed at the sight and flapped them in one single motion giving him enough lift to take flight.

The feeling of rising into the air for the first time in many months felt like heaven, his muscles flexed, and his body cried out in a heavenly ache. He rose slowly and came to meet his mother and sister; his mother happily cried out and he replied in kind, his sister was not too far behind him, and together they flew around the castle for some time, to be free was a gift and a godsend. Seath looked down and viewed the castle and the port city some distance from it. Together, the dragons roared as one.

xxx

The water was cold and harsh on his feet, legs, and tail, it was cool and yet refreshing, by this point water had become a near stranger to him. He missed the river that he and his sister would often find themselves by when they needed a drink of something and would in general spend time lying about, now he flew above the ocean that surrounded the island and had dominated his relatively recent youth.

A thought punched into his head.

Rising sharply, he looked down at the water without a specific motive in his mind, all he could think about was the thrill he was about to have feeling the water rush in around him. Hugging himself he nosedived towards the water and closed his eyes as he neared it, with a great splash he shot like an arrow through the surface of the bay.

Opening his eyes again he was now under the water and bore witness to an endless abyss of blue, for some reason it reminded him of the feeling he had when he stared into the eyes of Rhaenys. For a creature that was made to fly, he swam extremely well, his tail and wings were great tools to use here, and so he did, rising only when he needed to breathe.

Poking his head out of the water he floated there, like a seal or a pelican would when resting on the water. The sun was by this time setting and so the orange gleam of the sun gleamed against his wet scales like a canvas. He loved the sensation of the water and the motion of the waves, looking back toward the island he saw that he was quite a distance away, about three miles if he had to guess.

He enjoyed the freedom that he had, after being trapped and held below in those dark suffocating cells being outside again was a blessing. Though it was not one that was gifted, this was always his right, to be free, and no one can give that.

He dove back down and returned to his swim.

One thing that surprised him was the abundance of sea life. As he dived deeper to around forty feet, he started to see several schools of fish, all ranging from small to girthier. He rushed forward opened his jaws and snatched a particularly fat one into his mouth biting down hard, he proceeded to crush the fish several times to kill the fish properly, he then resurfaced and breathed deeply, air filling his lungs.

Feeling the size of the fish and the size of his mouth he wondered if he could swallow it whole. Even though it wasn't cooked he had no desire to through it up in the air and have it possibly fall back into the water, he was far too lazy for that. Instead, he threw his head back pointing his face upwards, and positioned the fish to slide down his gullet.

The feeling and sensation of feeling something the size of what has to be a pineapple slide down your throat is not something to be forgotten. Fortunately, it went off without a hitch and passed easily into his stomach, Seath licked his lips at the taste of blood and knew that he had to have another since he was out here already.

For the better half of an hour, he lounged in the sea snatching fishes from their own territory revealing in the occasional challenge of the chase. For just a moment, he wished that there were some dolphins or small sharks around, he would have loved to taste their flesh.

Before Seath knew it the sun had long since disappeared and the sky now had the stars as eyes all looking down upon him. As he floated there, he wondered whether it was possible to fall asleep at sea, but of course, he never dared, who knows what was lurking under the water and how far out to see he could be taken out.

He took to the air once more and began his return to the island.

As he casually flew without a care in the world, he felt a presence above him, a presence that only a dragon could give off. He snapped out of his stupor and looked up seeing a mass of black flying in the opposite direction, for a moment Seath had thought it was his sister, but he then realized that this dragon had a red-Ish coloring to them, add in that their wing membranes were also red nailed his assumption that it wasn't his sister. There was only one other dragon of that color and of that size.

It was Balerion.

This was the first time he had seen Balerion flying by his lonesome, any other time was when the lord of the castle, Aegon, took to flight with his wives. He knew Balerion had to be hunting some time, but he never spied on him leaving his lair, even when he stayed awake for quite a long time after all the others slept.

He was heading northwest, towards the mainland. Seath stared at the massive dragon as he continued on his journey before looking again at Dragonstone. He thought about it for several seconds before throwing it all to the wind and turning around and heading in the same direction, he had always thought about the largest dragon alive and now he had the golden opportunity to do what he had always thought about.

Seath chose not to try and antagonize the larger dragon and so decided to keep a very healthy distance away giving Balerion the space deserving of his station. He imagined that Balerion was aware of his presence, he had come to understand that dragon had some sort of "spidey sense" when it came to feeling other dragons close.

However, if Balerion was aware of his presence he didn't make a sign to show that he was, he simply continued to lazily fly to wherever he was going.

They rose steadily, it came to a point where when Seath looked down everything looked to be smooth and like a canvas of a painting, at this point, they had reached a height of easily well over twenty-thousand feet, and Balerion was even a little higher. It was amazing, all the while the moon shined upon them as they flew.

They continued to fly after at last passing over land, only adjusting their path slightly to go slightly more west, Seath wondered how inland Balerion would go. His question was answered when the coastline disappeared behind them, and the land continued to stretch out before them. Seath gazed down and thought about the continent below him, this was by far the furthest he had traveled, and wanted more than anything to fly down and explore every crook, bog, and valley, but kept himself in check and continued tailing Balerion.

After some time, something new caught Seath's eye.

It was a massive inland lake with a small island in the middle, to him, it appeared as if an eye upon the very surface, but what got his attention even more than the giant lake was what was seated on its banks. Seath could honestly barely believe his own eyes, what he saw defied reality in a sense, what he saw was a castle larger than any other, with five great towers shooting high into the sky and walls so high that they would be a better fit for Minas Tirith.

Within the walls was an open area of great size, if he had to guess, Seath would judge it was about ten acres. He could not be sure, he was far too high to get a good approximation, if anything it would likely be well over ten acres, maybe fifteen.

It was as he flew over the massive structure that a voice came to him, not from beside him or even physically, but from inside his own head.

"Look there, youngling," Startled, Seath looked around in a mixture of confusion and terror, but there was no one, instead he looked ahead and looked at the shape of Balerion more than a thousand feet ahead of him. "Gaze down at that monstrosity."

Was Balerion talking telephonically to me? He thought. As crazy as it may seem it seems to be true, but how does he talk back to him?

He throws him a question, but there was no answer or even a physical response from him, which confirms that he fails in that endeavor. He must find a way to do that, if he can't find a way to speak physically, he must find a way to speak telepathically.

Before long the massive castle was gone from their view, and they continued flying northwest.

It was at a certain point, however, when they reached a massive fork in the river that Balerion began a gradual descent down and one which Seath imitated.

As they descended Seath took in the sight of this new land, it was far different from the first area he had encountered when he first learned to fly. Unlike the bogs and pine forests, this land was made of hills, plains, and endless forests, far more pleasing than the place he had first come to on this continent, the rivers were also endless with them extending miles into the horizon, and from the look of it they also appeared to be deep; maybe even capable of holding ships within their waters.

Seath followed closely behind Balerion as they made several rounds around a section of land that was lightly forested and dotted with hills. That was until they came upon something that caught Seath's attention immediately. At first, they appeared to be some sort of conglomeration of black dots that was until he flew over them and realized that they were some sort of buffalo-like creature with massive horns, when they circled once more this time Balerion flew low enough to the point where the animals were spooked and started to run off in all directions.

At that point, it was a walk in the park for Balerion who with a simple gust of flame expelled from his mouth onto a group of four managed to sear them to perfection. With a great thud the Black Dread shook the immediate area around him as he landed, he then shook his entire body and went to survey his dinner.

Seath circled Balerion and his kills, hesitant to come down and intrude on the massive dragon. However, ever so hesitantly he began his climb down and came to a landing a good distance from where Balerion took one of the buffalos into his mouth.

Seath approached slowly making sure that the Black Dread was aware of his presence, he was nervous, he knew that all it could take was a simple bite or blast of flame to end his life. If dragons behaved like dogs, then a dragon would not like it when one approaches them during their feasting time. When Seath reached a certain distance Balerion stopped eating and snapped his blazing red eyes onto the small white dragon.

Seath stopped and stood as still as a statue simply staring at the black dragon who coldly reciprocated his stare. Seath felt something in his mind, he felt a presence seemingly brushing up against him, he knew this feeling, it was the one that came to him when he was in the air. It was Balerion that was currently in his head.

He was scared and frightened to say anything, what could he say?

He tried speaking in his head, but Balerion did not respond, he has yet to understand how to speak telepathically, still.

"Forgive me, Balerion," Seath stammered out.

"I do not mean to offend you, or disrespect you."

Balerion blinked and Seath felt the presence wrap around him like a warm blanket fresh out of the dryer, it was soothing and comforting. He wondered whether Balerion was doing this as a comfort to him or if it was just a byproduct of his telepathy, it was seemingly confirmed when Balerion went back to pulling yet another buffalo into his mouth.

"Why follow me, youngling?" Balerion asked in his head, not being able to reply in the same way Seath resorted to speaking the traditional way. "I don't know, to be quite honest," Seath admitted, "You are a great dragon and I've never seen you roam, you're an enigma to me, I wanted to see you."

Balerion shook his head.

"Your mother will be quite worried, no doubt she had noticed that her own spawn had not returned to her lair"

"Probably, but I mean to return eventually, before sun rise."

"With me of course..."

"I would hope," Seath said. "Would you leave me behind, father?"

Balerion turned his gaze back to the young dragon who looked more like a chick than a dragon in comparison to Balerion. The Black Dread laughed within Seath's mind and Seath in turn sat there silently.

"My spawn?" Balerion questioned, "Mayhaps you are, Meraxes is mine and I did give her my seed then."

Seath wanted to grimace at the detail of his mother in mating, but he ignored it best he could.

"I believe you are, who else?"

"There are different ways that dragonkin can spawn their young… a dragon of one livelihood can become another as easily as flame dances in the wind…"

Seath was intrigued by that concept, it sounded like Balerion meant dragon could change their sex.

"You mean that we can change our sex? Male can become female?"

Balerion nodded, but the presence in Seath's head gave him the feeling of a nod, it seems like any type of physical movement is optional at this point.

"And how do you that? Using telepathy, I mean?"

"Ah, is that what you call it?" Balerion remarked. "This is how all dragons are supposed to speak, true speech. Back home we would all communicate like this, now, Vhagar and Meraxes do not speak so much like this."

"Home? What is home, father? I would love to know."

Balerion looked towards the sky with a longing look in his eye, and when he spoke there was sorrow in his heart.

"Valyria. Valyria is our home, our true home, not that ashy island. Unlike the island where there is one flame, in Valyria there were fourteen, each far bigger and far more beautiful than you can imagine…"

"Why not return?" Seath asked.

Balerion lowered his gaze back to Seath and stared back at him once more. "I cannot go, I cannot leave my master..."

"Why not? Is this any different than simply going back home?"

Balerion gave a bellowing laugh to his question. "We are hunting, spawn of mine, is a trip to fill our stomachs the same as returning to our homes?"

"But you are the largest creature in the world, why obey a human?" Seath countered.

"I do not obey, spawn of mine, I understand. Just as he would not abandon me, I would not abandon him," Balerion said. "Once a bond has been formed between the two of you come to understand your master far more than you could ever understand or know. You understand their desires, their needs, and wants, you form an understanding stronger than the foundations of this very world."

"So, its mutual then?"

"When my old master passed from this realm, I felt our bond shatter and pain took me, our bonds with our masters are real and true, and I have often felt my master's emotions influence me."

"And does that sound good to you, to be subservient to a human master?"

"You misunderstand what I have said, and what the bond is, but I suppose it is only natural for someone of your youth, you have yet to have a master, but the day that you do you will understand that it is not subservience, but collaborative..."

Seath changed the topic of the conversation to something else; he did not wish to linger on the so-called bond anymore. "And do you think you'll ever return to Valyria?"

Balerion looked dolefully at his son with eyes filled with uncertainty, he mournfully said, "I hope to one day see my home before my fire is extinguished, spawn of mine, I yearn to see those high mountains and rolling hills. I yearn to lay my eyes on my beautiful again and bask in its warmth."

Seath said nothing as he allowed his father's words to wash over him like a warm bath, instead he allowed his father's presence to soak into his being, his very soul.

"Maybe one day we can go see it together," Seath said optimistically. "No one should be deprived of seeing their home, maybe one day we can go back there together, we can go with Mother, Sister, and even Vhagar, if she wishes to!"

Balerion laughed his head and smiled ever so slightly, through his mind he felt the equivalent of a warm embrace from his father, and it was during that moment that he truly felt at peace.

"Come, spawn of mine, eat with me..."

xxx

We are nearing the end of this first arc, the next three chapters will focus on some devious adventures in the Riverlands. All I can say is what is dead may never die.

Last edited: Apr 20, 2023

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Beebos

Apr 17, 2023

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Threadmarks Chapter 8

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Beebos

Bless King Maegor

May 1, 2023

#335

Riverlands, early 3 BC

Seath looked up to the sky as his sister's shadow passed over him.

He looked back down at the waters of a river he was currently in the middle of, hunting for any fish that could pass by. These rivers were thriving with fish of all sorts, the only ones that Seath could properly identify were trout and maybe salmon, though he wondered if these salmon had just gotten done spawning.

Raising his head back up he wondered whether he should go find a deeper river to go fish in.

That was until the leg of something smacked him right in the side of the face, he grimaced and glared daggers at his sister, who like a devious troll had her mouth wide open exposing her razor-sharp teeth like a demon.

"Look what I found," she said enthusiastically.

Seath looked down at the detached leg of what appeared to be some sort of cow or ox floating in the river, he examined it before taking it in his mouth and stepping out of the river onto its bank with her.

He dropped back down and looked back at her.

"Where did you get this?"

She made a noise that sounded like a laugh or maybe a giggle, it was a strange thing and honestly made Seath gain a questionable face. She bounced her head slightly and then looked east.

"Over there, back that way. I found a nest, the ones that the humans live in!"

Seath perked up and his eyes bulged.

"You took it from them?! What did I say about this?" He nearly yelled, his sister tilted her head and looked confused, she moved her eyebrows erratically. She also shook her head to indicate that he was wrong about what he was trying to accuse her of.

"What?" She asked. "No, I did not kill any humans, just as you said. No burning smelly humans that live in those nests," she said. "The nest was burned and destroyed already, I found the beasty roaming around, I saved them from suffering, they were walking around with pointy things sticking out of them!"

That didn't sound right.

"What do you mean... "pointy things?" Seath questioned. "What were they like? Were they sticks of solid wood, or...?"

"No!" Wraith exclaimed.

"They were like the ones that the old villagers shot at us, remember? Back on the island?"

Oh, he thought.

"You mean arrows?" He asked her.

She nodded. "Yes!" She exclaimed flapping her wings in a cheery tone, which made Seath sigh at her theatrics, but he also smiled slightly, when she acted like that it made him laugh at her demeanor and actions.

"Tell me where you found it," he said. "I'm having no luck here with the fish here, at the moment, some exploring could be interesting."

She shrugged her shoulders.

"If that is what you want, silly," she chided him. "Here, let me take you then. Come on!"

With a single flap she was up in the air rising higher and higher with each rotation she did, Seath was right behind her. Soon enough the two dragons were flying at around six thousand feet, it felt good, ever since that flight he had with his father he enjoyed flying as of late; especially at these heights.

With a roar his sister called him, and he followed hot on her tail. Looking down he took in the terrain of these lands, it was a mirage of rivers, forests, and hills, all unending and seamless. To Seath it looked like heaven on earth, especially in comparison to the home island, which while grassy, had forests, and rivers was bear of all other things, frankly, aside from the volcano he found it dreary and boring.

Such a perspective was enforced in his head, especially after his confinement, he thought it best not to reside on the island forever, or at least the majority of the time. Especially with someone like his sister who was always looking for something to destroy or cause trouble with, Seath vowed to make sure that she would never drag herself or him into a situation like the one they found themselves in.

It did not take long to find the place that his sister had found, and just as Seath suspected they found a burned-down settlement that looked to be a village. He did not like the sight of the burned village and grimaced at the sight of it, with a single call to his sister, they began their flight down towards it.

Wraith was the first to make a landing as she settled down at an open spot within the walls of the former village. When she landed; a gust of dirt that was mixed with soot and other debris made her sneeze and shake her entire body, Seath stayed in the air a little longer simply circling and scanning the ground for anything that may have escaped their view, for soldiers, for reavers, or maybe even smallfolk. Aside from things that played tricks on his eyes, there was nothing that he could see that proved to be human, it was only when he turned around and began to land that he realized that there were bodies scattered throughout.

"You didn't tell me that there were bodies..." Seath remarked to his sister who was already snooping around. She turned the corner of a ransacked house that she was behind and looked at him.

"Oh," she said, "I didn't notice them, look at them, they look so small and dainty!"

He looked at the decayed and rotten corpses around the ground, flies gathering around them, as well as maggots feasting on their flesh. Seath shook her head in slight disgust and felt sorry for the dead villagers. Slowly, he made his way through the village and inspected the few structures that are left standing, one of which Seath believed to be some sort of church.

Roaming about the area, Seath felt weary seeing such a sight, it was not his first time seeing dead people far from it, but still... The sight that he bears witness to fills him with sadness and sorrow, especially when he catches sight of a few children.

He returns to the church that was by some miracle still left standing, but not without much damage. Its dome was caved in, and its stone scorched by fire leaving only black streaks and a layer of soot in its aftermath.

He bowed his head and began a prayer, he found himself praying more again, especially following his expulsion from that prison. Prayer brought him peace and a sense of fulfillment, along with it he was able to properly take in what he was and what exactly had happened to him, that being his rebirth, there just hadn't been enough time awarded to him to get that much-needed time. He's always been on the run, it was always about finding his next meal and then water, and then when and where to fly.

He loathed that prison under the castle, he hated every minute of being in there and swore never to return to such a situation, that, of course, meant that he needed to be smarter and more assertive. Fortunately, ever since the prison incident his sister had taken to understanding his mindset and had relented somewhat to him in that regard, overall, they had agreed to spread out and seek out new things. While the island that they were born on would always be their home and one they do periodically return to, it had been time to spread their wings.

He finished his prayer and called his sister.

He found her ransacking something, whatever it was, there seemed to be nothing left anyways as all she was able to discover was more soot or dirt, she shook her upper body to try and clean herself, but that was not going to work. Seath laughed. Wraith raced towards him asking him what did he want, to which he flicked his tail at her in a playful manner something she responded with a playful nip at the neck.

His sister soon recomposed herself and spoke. "So what now? I didn't find anything, just dead humans, and their worthless belongings scattered about..."

Seath acknowledged her question and responded. "I suppose we can leave now," he then gave one final look around and gave one final evaluation of the place. "Yes, let's go, our business is done here."

Wraith remarked excitedly to that before leaping into the air and leaving him behind, he waved his wing slightly swiping in vain to get rid of what little debris jumped at his face before also spreading his wings and flying after her.

Seath reveled in the fact that he could use telepathy, it made communication with Wraith so much easier than making a whole bunch of noise, such a thing was invaluable when hunting. Wraith was, however, very bad at using it, she couldn't form her own link with him and when she did communicate telepathically it was the equivalent of when someone had a bad cell phone connection, it didn't bother Seath too much though.

There was, however, another unexpected issue that Seath did not expect when using telepathy, that problem had to do with language. He had assumed that when peeking into someone's mind he would be able to understand them and that language would not matter, he was wrong because their thoughts did not translate to some universal mind language, they stayed in the person's language.

To confirm this idea, he would try and read the minds of different people, one would be these Viking folks and the other would be one of the locals. Lo and behold, he was right, when he slipped into their minds their thoughts were in their native language, what surprised him when he tried this experiment was the realization that the people on this mainland spoke what sounded like English, both the Viking-looking people and the locals. Now it wasn't the English he had known, but it was close to it, he was then reminded of old, and Middle English, and realized that they were speaking something close to that, it shocked him and made him wonder how the hell they could be speaking something so close to English.

Nonetheless, realization filled him with glee. While he could not understand them now, in time he would learn their language and soon he would be able to put his telepathic skills to good use. He smiled at that idea.

...

He slapped the soldier's axe away causing him to lose grip on it having it fly away and land on the muddy road. With a slap of his tail, he then sent the Viking tumbling backward landing on his back with a grunt, when the man tried to lift himself back up to a sitting position Seath simply placed his foot on the man's chest anchoring him to the ground, all the Viking could do was scream and curse in his native tongue.

Behind him, he turned and saw that his sister was busy ripping several men to pieces. In her mouth was the ragged and destroyed torso of some poor soul who had foolishly thought he could defeat a dragon larger than a bus, and under her foot was pinned a struggling man who could do little else but gasp out his last words, she crushed him. Turning back to his opponent, he wished to dispatch this one more humanely, he did not need savagery.

With a simple stomp to his head, he ended his struggle.

He marched over to the large prisoner wagon that the Vikings had been transporting and viewed its contents. Six men screamed, three on each side. All clasped in chains they screamed and moved to the front of the wagon each holding their arms out in a vain way to defend themselves, Seath wouldn't blame them for being so afraid, for multiple reasons, they did just watch them slaughter a fifty-man convoy.

Seath paced around the wagon trying to get a good view of the men, but also somewhat playing with them, he chuckled as they moved like fish when one placed their hands inside the tank. They looked far different than simple smallfolk, there was something about them, how they looked, they looked far too well-fed to be peasants.

Wraith grew interested in the sight and came over, she made the man scream in horror as she gripped the bars with one talon and pulled the wagon using his massive strength to physically shift the wagon one way.

After having fun she looked over to Seath. "Help me now, let's feast upon them!" Seath growled and groaned at the idea, he hated how eager she was to eat humans, he for one never even desired to eat human flesh. "As I've said many times before, I do not eat humans!

Wraith mocked her brother and rolled her eyes. "You are the pickiest dragon in all the world!" She exclaimed widely. "If a big fat human was to drop into your mouth you would spit him out and say something stupid!"

She then looked back into the cell and spied a larger-than-average man. "Look! There's one now, if I drop him in your mouth will you spit him out and say something stupid?"

Seath hissed at her to which she hissed back, she then hovered off the ground still holding onto the wagon, and pulled it, the wagon then tumbled off its wheels and onto its side, all the while the men screamed. She then landed on top of it and began to bite and pry at it causing it to slowly give way.

"We should let them live," Seath suggested. "They were prisoners to these men and were likely being taken to be killed, why not let them live?" Wraith snarled at the idea.

"Let them go? That is by far the dumbest thing you have ever uttered! Why do I not let a beasty go when I have it between my jaws?" She then went back to trying to break her way through the bars.

"You have so many men lying about here." Seath argued. "Why not let them live, why try so hard for something when you already have so many?"

"Because I like it fresh and hot!"

He rolled his eyes. Seath stood there watching his sister tear her away through the cage content to let her have her way, defeat was his in this argument, that was until he thought of something. "If you kill them, you'll die."

Wraith stopped and turned her head to look dead at him so quickly that he almost jumped. Her eyes were focused and deadly, her entire body was still like a statue, and she simply stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that they will kill you." It took her a second to understand him, when she did her posture loosened, she then looked down at them. The smell of piss and shit had made its way into the air, even as it lightly rained, he could smell it. "Smell that? That's them, they release toxins when they're afraid."

"I know that smell, all humans and beasties do that, that's normal." Seath shook his head. "Not this type, there's many types of excretions that humans can do, if they're busy with something, like fighting and they do that it won't be toxic because it's still in their system, but these ones..." He gestured over to the men in the wagon. "These ones poured all their poisons into their excretions. Remember what Mother said, never eat something that smells foul."

Wraith continued to look down at the men in the wagon and tilted her head. "Are you sure? Very, very, very sure...?"

Seath shook his head. "Yes, trust me, I've what happens the toxins are eaten. It's bad. Would I ever lie to you?"

Wraith looked at Seath and then back at the men, she huffed and then flew off the cage and over to one of the many scattered bodies on the road.

"What will you do with them then?" She asked. She then tore off the arm of the corpse and began to tear chunks off of it.

"Let them go... they won the lottery today, we happened to come upon them, today is their lucky day."

Seath grabbed the cell door with a talon and then began to pull hard on it. It was tough and certainly wasn't willing to let go of its hinges, the cage began to drag against the mud floor, but after some leveraging the door was finally pulled off its hinges and came free. Seath heaved the door aside and looked at the men who were still cowering at the back corner of the cage, she stared at them and did nothing, they weren't going to leave unless the dragons left.

That was the case until one of the men began to hesitantly move towards the former doors opening, Seath watched him curiously. Wraith made a high-pitched sound that sounded like steam from an ironer which made the man flinch, aside from that though he continued testing the limits of his safety, when he got to the opening, he peaked his head and stared at both Seath and Wraith, as if examining them.

He was of middling height; likely five-foot-seven, or on average for these people. He had brown hair, and brown eyes, and looked strong, it had not escaped Seath that this one was more muscular than his compatriots. Overall, Seath wondered who these men were and why they warranted a cross-country transport, then it clicked, these guys must be nobility.

That was an interesting thought to think about, Seath wondered who they were and what their names were, how he would love to look into their minds, but alas he wouldn't be able to understand them.

Seath turned his attention to the sister. "Are you done?" Wraith looked at him with a body dangling from her mouth. "I guess we're done," she lingered and then spoke when an idea popped into her head. "Since you deprived me of those six you must help me carry some of these men away! Three, one in each of your talons and then one in your mouth!"

Seath looked around at the dead men and sighed, he supposed he had no choice in the matter. He opened his mouth and picked up the nearest man, holding him from his leg he dangled like some sort of ornament, he then looked around and choose the two others he would be taking with him, one that was bold and another that had a beard and looked old.

Once he was sure that he was good he uttered a small call that alerted his sister. She also had in her mouth a body along with her other talons and tipped her head in acknowledgment, she was the first to fly off into the air. Seath turned back to look at the cage and saw that the men were shaking and huddled close to each other near the exit of the wagon, the rain had started to come down stronger than before so now they were drenched and shaking, Seath wondered what they would do now and where they would go, alas he had no means of helping them further.

With that he stretched his wings and tested them before lifting off into the air swerving and twisting, his joints cracked, and he sighed in pleasure at the feeling of decompression. As he flew in the direction of their lair he turned around and looked to see if the men were still there. They had left the tidings of the caged wagon and began to inspect the dead men and their belongings. If they were smart, they would wear those men's clothes and sneak off to wherever they could run off and hide.

He prayed they'd make it to wherever they were going to...

...

The words felt like a salad in his mind.

Each one was so similar to English that it hurt when he tried to make sense of it, and when he tried to decipher them and put a true and final meaning to them, they looked wrong. Like saying gibberish and then putting a meaning to it. What he hated most was the fact that all of the words had those strange letters that melted together, like that strange-looking A that looked like an E.

He pronounced them in his head over and over again and then he tried his best to dig them into the ground using his thumb claw. Slowly he wrote out the words Riverlands, Iron Islands, Fairmarket, King Harren, Pyke, and Westeros.

They didn't look right at all when written, they looked like a blind man took to writing cursive, but it was the best he had. He repeated the names and tried to learn and memorize new words, they sounded so alien, and some of them felt so artificial and devoid of meaning, in particular, he centered his attention on what was called the Riverlands, which stumped him the most and made him somewhat scratch his head.

How could a region with centuries of history and culture have such a simple name? It would be like calling Florida the Swamp Lands, or Iowa the Cornfields, it felt ridiculous.

Slowly, however, the strange language, that posed as some sort of English, started to make sense and started to feel understandable. Only after knowing the words and language did it truly feel like a fantasy world, him being a dragon wasn't lost on him though. Through more interrogations he would learn new things, like the Westerlands, and the Reach; he would learn about several noble houses in the region he was in, names like Tully, Bracken, Blackwood, Piper, and Frey. All such interesting names, he also learned more about the culture of these Ironborn, those that ruled the Riverlands.

The more he learned about the Ironborn the more he found to dislike them.

Maybe it had to do with the fact that most of what he knew was because those who he read the minds of happened to be lowborn, and thus not the best sources of culture, but what he did see made him grimace. He saw how they made a game of throwing axes at each other and if you were to fail in catching it you would lose some of your fingers, their culture was high on being one of raiding and taking from others, the Iron price and the so-called "Old Way" which was a celebration of violence and savagery.

Such disgusting people and unworthy culture... I had thought them to be like the Vikings, people that occasionally went out and raided, but these brutes have molded everything around raiding and pillaging. This wasn't just a select group, but an entire people, from the lowest born to the highest king residing in their castle.

They're like vermin, what they can't grow or build on their own they take from others. No wonder why they place so much importance on this land, they have occupied the Riverlands for over half a century and have been sacking it ever since. Strongholds dot the land with garrisons numbering in the thousands, the Riverlands have been turned into a playground for the Ironborn, and its people into playthings.

It made Seath wonder why were wasn't a near complete state of rebellion, it seemed that the nobility and peasantry of this land were simply far more submissive than that of Europe. It seemed like a revolt occurred every couple of decades in medieval Europe, here though, nothing seemed to happen, at least from the minds that he's read so far. The more he thought of it the more he started to think that this place was some parody of medieval Europe, someone took the ridiculousness of the period and jammed it to a thousand.

For now, though, he swept such thoughts aside and sought out somewhere peaceful.

He was flying without a real direction or intent in mind, usually, Seath and his sister would stay near or at the lair and only depart from it when they felt like spreading their wings or finding food, but today Seath felt like exploring. Rarely did he feel like talking a "walk" but sometimes he forgot that he could, and he had the total freedom to do so, he wasn't on the island being lorded over by his mother, he was large enough to care for himself now. Not that he was now an adult or anything; far from it, he was still very young for a dragon and his mother still took pleasure from caring for her children.

He flew for what seemed to be half an hour or more simply flying in one direction before changing course and heading in another direction before doing it again and again. Scanning the ground he tried to find anything interesting, these past few weeks had been slow and boring for him, the roads seemed to be emptier and when they weren't the Ironborn marched in force. Seath doubted the idea that they were aware of their presence, they never allowed for survivors, but the patrol bands swelled in numbers, what was once an average of half a hundred or a little more became bands of two hundred or more.

The heightened risk only made it sweeter when they did catch the occasional group off guard. The fact that he was flying above them right now and that they were oblivious to his presence was hilarious, their greatest bane soaring nearly ten thousand feet above them. One day he finds an interesting area, one that he had not expected to find, and was stumped he missed it.

The lake looked to be over a hundred feet long and just as long he found somewhere worth landing. With a skip in his step, he landed and took note of the surroundings, everything about the area looked picturesque and beautiful, the light from the sun above gleamed in the lake and a light breeze sailed through giving not only Seath a refreshing bath of air, but also the trees of the forest that were not too far from its banks.

This is beautiful, truly. Maybe we should move the lair from that old swamp to here, the lake even looks like it could have some fish life. In the middle of the lake, there was an island covered in trees, with a smile he hovered over the water towards the island, there he settled and searched it. It was untouched, it looked like no human had stepped foot there at all.

That was his thought process until he noticed one tree, at the heart of the island, stood out against the rest. Unlike the dark oak trees that inhabited the island, this particular tree was bone white, almost ethereal looking; with leaves blood red, but it wasn't its appearance that surprised Seath as much as what was carved on it.

Is... is that a face...?

On the white tree was carved a mournful human-like face, with a frown so deep it threatened to descend the whole trunk. From its eyes-streaked dry blood-red sap, the sight unsettled Seath, he felt as if he had stumbled upon something arcane and ancient. At the same time, his heart fluttered, and he grew excited, he was a student of history in the past and his mind raced at the idea that he had stumbled upon something left untouched.

He came close to it and inspected it thoroughly; he then sniffed the sap; he dared not lick it though.

It's beautiful, he thought. He wondered what species of tree it was and what the significance of the face carving was, was it religious or cultural?

There was a puzzle piece missing, and he itched to figure out what he wanted to know.

For now, however, he would enjoy the lake and the scenery, as well as the presence of the strange white tree.

He came to find that his days were split. Some days he would spend with his sister and then other days he would be at the lake, he found himself at peace and ease at the lake unlike anywhere else, maybe even more so than Dragonstone and the warmth of the volcano.

Yawning, Seath woke up from a good dream, he dreamed of flying over an endless land with mountains, rivers, and an endless forest. Shaking his head, he looked around and was greeted by the sight of trees, looking up he saw the blood-red leaves of the albino tree that he had slept under. Unraveling himself he moved away and greeted the tree, laying a gentle touch upon its trunk he said a simple prayer to God and thanked him for allowing him to wake up to this new morning.

Once done he smiled and felt even better after it, truly, he had missed his prayers; if only he had a rosary.

Moving to the edge of the island he drank from the lake and savored the taste of the cold water that rushed down his throat. Welp, he thought. Wraith is going to have my ass today, no doubt she is going to ask where I've been. Oh well.

As he stretched his wings and prepared to fly off for the day something caught his attention. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something move just behind a couple of trees on the mainland, it moved slowly, and it was when he focused his attention did he realize it was a horse, but it was not just a horse, atop the horse rode a girl with deep black curls and draped in a brown cloak. The girl had failed to take notice of him until she had ridden beyond the tree line and was now riding along the bank, when she finally took note of him she looked visibly stunned.

The two looked at each other for several moments before Seath took the initiative and took the sky quickly leaving the ground and the girl behind. He circled back and around and saw that the girl was still there, atop her horse, watching him circle. Without a fuse or sound he rose high into the sky and headed back towards the lair, he smiled.

Seath hoped she enjoyed the sight.

Spoiler: Author Note

Last edited: May 1, 2023

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Beebos

May 1, 2023

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Threadmarks Chapter 9

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Beebos

Bless King Maegor

May 7, 2023

#384

Early 3 BC

Jeyne had always believed in the stories that her nanny had told her, those stories about the Children, The Last Hero, the Others, of Garth Greenhand, and the dragon Urrax who was slayed through the eye with a spear. She regarded them as truth even when Maester Alyn would methodically break down and poke gaping holes into those stories. Garth Greenhand was not a god or high king of the First Men, he would say. He was a simple king whose name and legacy morphed over time into something more.

What fascinated her above all, however, were dragons. Those incredible creatures that brought the entire known world to heel, the creatures that the Valyrians of old could mount and set anything aflame, the creatures that now resided on Dragonstone in the east in Blackwater Bay. When she learned that the dragons survived the Doom and now resided in Westeros, so close to her, she deluded herself into thinking that one day she would find passage to the island to see the creatures with her own eyes.

However, as she grew older such dreams became fantasies as she realized her place in the world, maybe if she were a man then such a dream would be possible, but she was a woman born into a noble house. Her purpose was never to adventure or see the world, or even fight for family and lands, but to marry and produce children to further their name. She could still remember how she cried when her father told her she would marry her cousin, not that she hated her husband then, he had always been respectful to her and showed nothing but kindness and still does as her husband, but to be a wife was not her destiny.

She supposed that the Old Gods saw things differently.

At least she was nine and ten when she married, many women have been married far younger and to far older men, and she counted herself lucky for that. Her husband was also a kind and chivalrous man, Jason Blackwood would have no doubt been a knight had he been of the Faith of the Seven, he was tall and handsome, and so was her son Lyon.

Even though her son now counted four namedays and her daughter two, she still regarded them as her babes, the same babes that would suckle at their wet nurse's breast, and hers, the same babes that would soil themselves and require changing. It is said that a child, no matter how old is always regarded as a babe by their mother, Jeyne understood that saying after having her son, and it was true without a doubt.

As the years passed her responsibilities also grew, she was to be Lady of Reventree Hall one day, and while it was the norm for the wives of lords to simply follow in their husbands' footsteps Jason would not have it. He would have Jeyne learn what it took to run a keep and manage their domains just as he did under his father and his councilor.

The world is cruel and who knows what could happen to me, he would say to her late at night. I need you to be ready to be regent for little Lyon if anything happens to me, I need you to be not only a mother but a Lady in my stead. I need you to be ready to guide him and teach him, gods forbid that something happens, but we live in dark times, and the Ironborn have always been keen to prune our numbers.

The Ironborn... the mere mention of those scoundrels made her blood boil, the Ironborn were a bane to Jeyne and her family at large, her own father was at the receiving end of their so-called justice when they accused him of treason against the king, and hung him like a common criminal. Such was the story of all other riverlords, all have suffered under the Ironborn yoke, and that suffering has only increased with the current king's reign, Harren Hoare was a tyrant if there ever was one. Fat, bald, short, and broad, it seemed like his own body reflected his personality.

She was glad that she had only laid eyes on that beast once in her life, nearly five years ago, she hoped that she never had to see that monster again. She hoped that the next time she saw him it would be because he would have his head removed and thrown into the Sunset Sea, to return to where he came from. Where his father came from, she corrected herself. Like the parasites that they were, Harren Hoare was not born in the Iron Islands, but instead born in the Riverlands; in Fairmarket where his grandfather and father had made their court. He was not the only Hoare to be born in the Riverlands either, all his sons were born here too, if only they adopted the love for this land that all Riverlanders shared.

Instead, all of Harens' sons seemed to share his cruelty and dark personality. She wondered how much longer they would have to tolerate the Ironborn, how much longer till a savior would rise for them to gather around? She thanked her husband in this regard, by pushing her into sitting on councils and being attentive to the affairs of state she knew so much more than a normal woman would know, she knew that there was a fire just waiting to be lit, all the riverlords were eager to rise in rebellion but what they lacked was a leader to rally around.

Such was the twisted sad story of the Riverlands. We had such potential to be great and have our own destiny, if only for the fact that everyone distrusted each other. Darry and Mooton, Piper and Vance, Frey and Mallister, Goodbrook, and Lychester, one decade these houses would hate each other for one reason or another, and then the next decade they would marry a daughter to a son, and all is forgiven only for a new rivalry to be created. Ah, and how could she forget about Blackwood and Bracken.

Round and round it went, all had conflicting interests, things that they would never give up even if it meant throwing off the Ironborn. That was the truth that everyone knew if they were to throw off the Ironborn yoke that meant that there would have to be a king, a new king, and a new dynasty, but who would take the throne, who would sit where the Mudds and Justmans of old sat? That was the thing, while everyone wanted to be free no one wanted to elevate another, they needed a leader free of their preexisting rivalries and games, someone who wasn't invested in their preexisting feuds, silently all often whispered of sending envoys to the neighboring kingdoms pledging their fealty.

However, no one was interested in such a thing. No one seemed to be willing to poke the hornets' nest that was the Riverlands, and not from a lack of trying.

King Loren had been approached some years ago by several riverlords asking him to invade, he was promised that all lords west of the Gods Eye would rise up and pledge their banners. Casterly Rock had shown interest in the proposal, the Riverlands were rich in agriculture as well as trade; Saltpans and Maidenpool could provide King Loren with an avenue to trade in the Narrow Sea, avoiding the tolls set in place by the Reach, but any such plans stalled when a border conflict with the Gardeners exploded into a full-blown crisis, after that, any such plans fizzled out. The Eyrie was an isolated hermit kingdom, no such attempts of outreach were ever tried.

Winterfell was distant and King Torrhen had never shown any interest in anything south of the Neck, however, according to reliable sources in White Harbor, from the court of Lord Manderly, the King of Winter would be interested in a potential incursion if only the riverlords themselves made the first move and proved themselves. That left Storms End and Argilac the Arrogant. The Storm King had been trying for years to win over support from the riverlords and middle lords, those lords that hugged the Blackwater, but none ever came to his side for good reason, most riverlords were not eager to invite another Storm King into the Riverlands, they had their chance and they had been kicked out.

Though if only Jeyne's forebearers knew what the Ironborn would truly be like maybe they would have preferred Arrec, nonetheless, none were too eager to return under the banner of Storms End, and thus all avenues of freedom were dry.

They would have to sit and wait for the time being, they would have to wait until someone, or something ignited the spark that would cause everyone to put aside their grievances and come together for the greater good.

Jeyne rode her horse, Cecil, through her family's lands, feeling a sense of familiarity and comfort. She had grown up here, exploring every inch of the land and learning its secrets. She knew every stream, river, hill, and forest as only a Blackwood could. Even now, as a grown woman with duties and responsibilities, she still remembered the joy of her childhood spent in these woods.

As she rode, Jeyne thought about her father and the times they had spent together riding in these woods. She remembered the thrill of tracking a deer or boar, and the satisfaction of a successful hunt. Her father had been an avid hunter and often took his children with him on his expeditions. Jeyne and her brother loved spending time with their father in the woods, learning from him, and sharing in his passion for the hunt.

Jeyne urged Cecil forward, feeling the wind on her face and the freedom of the open land. The morning fog clung to the ground, giving the landscape a mystical quality. Jeyne felt as if she was flying as Cecil's hooves pounded against the earth. Her black curls whipped behind her in the wind, adding to the exhilaration of the ride.

She rode for hours, lost in her thoughts and memories. As the sun began to rise higher in the sky, burning away the fog and revealing the beauty of the land, Jeyne felt a sense of peace and contentment. This was her home, and she knew it better than anyone. The rolling hills stretched out before her, dotted with wildflowers and tall grasses. In the distance, she could see her houses dear weirwood tree, though dead it still provided her house with a connection to the gods and one that they would never get rid of no matter how old or dead it remained.

Jeyne continued to ride through the woods, taking in the sights and sounds of her home. She rode past the stream where she had caught her first fish and the hill where she had rolled down with her brother. She smiled as she remembered the memories of her childhood.

As she rode deeper into the woods, Jeyne noticed something strange. The birds had stopped singing and the animals had gone quiet. She urged Cecil forward, feeling a sense of unease. As she rounded a bend in the path, she saw a group of deer grazing in a clearing.

Jeyne slowed Cecil down to a walk and watched as the deer lifted their heads and looked at her curiously. She felt a sense of peace wash over her as she watched the animals in their natural habitat.

As she continued on her ride, Jeyne came across a small pond nestled in a grove of trees. She dismounted from Cecil and walked over to the water's edge. The water was clear and still, reflecting the trees and sky above.

Jeyne sat down on a nearby rock and took off her boots, dipping her feet into the cool water. She closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of nature around her. For a moment, she forgot about her duties and responsibilities and allowed herself to be lost in the beauty of her home.

As Jeyne sat by the pond with her feet in the cool water, she felt a sense of calm wash over her. The tranquility of the pond and the beauty of the surrounding woods made her feel as if she was in Jonquil's sacred bath in Maidenpool. She remembered when she visited the seat of House Mooton and partook in Jonquil's baths, she was heavy with her son then, and the water made her feel as if she was lying in a bed made of clouds.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the tension in her body melt away. The sounds of nature surrounded her, and she felt at peace. She could hear the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze, the distant call of a bird, and the soft lapping of water against the shore.

After a while, Jeyne heard the sound of hoofbeats approaching. She opened her eyes to see her brother, Benjen, riding towards her on his horse. He dismounted and joined her by the water's edge.

"I knew I'd find you all the way out here." he said with a smile.

"You know me so well," Jeyne joked. "I jape, of course. I needed some time to myself, I've been feeling stressed as of late, the children and of course the Ironborn, you know how it goes."

Her brother nodded in understanding. "I know what you mean. Sometimes it's good to get away from everything and just be alone, and I would have to say that of all places this has to be the best place to do that. That and the godswood."

The two siblings sat by the pond for a while, talking and reminiscing about their childhood, and in general talking about a multitude of things. However, what seemed like an instant his laughs and expression turned serious.

"Jeyne, our lord uncle is calling for you," he said, having crouched down to be eye level with her.

Jeyne sighed and so desperately tried to freeze time, she wanted to stay here forever, she wished that something would swoop down and save her from her responsibilities. That feeling was only for a moment, she exhaled and opened her eyes to gaze out for a couple more seconds, she sighed and stood pulling her legs out from the water and slipping her boots back on.

"I suppose I must go then," she said, with a lace of sadness in her voice. "If our uncle calls, then I must go.

Her brother frowned. "Be proud, Jeyne, our uncle trusts you and admires you. You're trusted enough to sit on councils and even bear out judgment when needed, imagine how proud father would be if he saw you now."

She smiled though it was a sad smile, though she smiled more for his sake, though he was right in that regard. Their father had been their uncles' closest confidant and now she was filling that role for him, their uncle was just as devastated as they were when their father had been murdered, she supposed that her uncle was uplifting her to fulfill a role he once served.

Without delay the siblings mounted their horses and headed off back to Raventree Hall. As she saw the weirwood that dominated the horizon she wondered what her uncle was calling her for, she prayed that it was something good, gods know they needed enough of that in these times.

When she arrived at her uncle's solar, she found Jason already in attendance, seated with a goblet in hand, he looked like he had been waiting for some time as he looked tired and drained of life, but when he caught sight of his wife his mood seemed to change. He smiled and stood from his chair, setting his goblet aside, he came and kissed her on the lips, she smiled and chuckled.

"How gracious of you, Jason," she said.

Jason Blackwood complimented her appearance before leading her to where she could also sit beside him, they looked quite alike, they both shared the characteristic Blackwood black hair and nose. Their similar appearance often made for awkward situations where visiting guests would mistake them for siblings rather than cousins, though the two never found offense in such misunderstandings and simply laughed off such encounters.

The deep voice of her uncle brought her attention to him.

"Jeyne," he said. He was standing behind them gazing out an open window that faced out towards the rolling fields and forest beyond, a land that he had been lord of for nearly thirty years since he was a boy of six and ten. Her uncle was tall and broad with shoulders that would put any man half his age to shame, his once proud black hair had given way to grey and his skin had wrinkled and now looked more like hard leather, it broke her heart to see her uncle grow so old.

"Uncle," Jeyne addressed him. "You called for me, what is the matter?"

The old lord stepped away from the window and picked up his own cup, filled with wine, Jeyne thought. He stepped behind the old oak desk that had weathered so many years as his tenure as lord, he opened a drawer and reached inside, he then flopped it on the desk, and then proceeded to sit down in his chair. Jeyne looked at the missive and immediately noticed the seal was broken, they had already read it before she arrived.

She retrieved it and examined the broken globe of celeste wax, within the wax was the rippled pattern of their vassal, House Sharp.

"House Sharp?" Jeyne looked towards her husband and then her uncle, they both motioned toward the letter.

"Read it my dear," Old Hoster Blackwood said. "I feel like you should know as much as Jason what goes on, tis your right."

She gave a node and then slowly read the missive. What she read almost made her want to believe she was reading some nonsense that a mad drunkard had written, she almost wanted to ask her uncle what could possess Lord Winston to write such nonsense, when she was done reading it she read it again and then thrice over just to make sure she wasn't hallucinating the words that were written.

Hesitantly, Jeyne spoke, she raised her eyes towards her uncle and spoke confused. "Uncle... this... this is madness," she sat the letter back on the desk and leaned back in her chair wearing the most astonished face she could muster.

"Aye," her uncle agreed. "I had half the mind to write back to Lord Sharp demanding what madness had taken hold of him for him to write me such ludicrous claims, that was until I calmed myself and waited. He says that his brother relayed the story to him, correct?"

"Yes," Jeyne answered. "But-"

Her uncle answered her. "But his brother was in Ironborn custody," he said. "Was that what you were going to say?"

"Yes..." Jeyne said. Her uncle leaned forward.

"Indeed, that was the case, a fortnight ago, six men from various houses were imprisoned on charges of treason and sedition. That included Lord Sharps brother, I'm sure you've met him before, Brandon is his name. He along with a cousin of William Bracken, a nephew of our cousin, Lord Devin Piper, and three other men were sent to an Ironborn stronghold to be hung, that was until these supposed dragons swooped out of the sky and saved them. This letter from Lord Sharp arrived seven days ago, instead of writing back to him I instead wrote to our cousin to confirm what he claimed was true, I expected him to say no, and that Brandon had somehow escaped by himself, I was ready to ride out and punish Sharp for trying to make a fool of me, but when the same story was confirmed I was left dumbfounded."

Jeyne was also left dumbfounded, there were hardly any words she could say in response to the information she was just given. "Where is Brandon and our cousin now? Oh, and I suppose that Bracken, as well, where did they make off to?"

"What you read is all I know of Brandon Sharp, his brother did not believe it to be important to tell much of him, nor do I believe I have to know. As for our cousin, he is off to Oldtown. It's the best, the Ironborn will be in a fury, they'll search every holdfast that can be suspected."

"Including ours?" Jeyne asked worriedly.

Her uncle laughed. "I don't believe so. He would have to cross many leagues to reach us, he would also have to cross the Red Fork, even the Ironborn can't be so simple as to believe that he would make such a journey this far north when within a day he could already be in the West or Reach."

"I say it's a blessing from the gods," Jeyne nearly forgot Jason was in the room. "It must be a sign that the gods are with us. What are the odds of it, of dragons in the Riverlands? The journey from Dragonstone is long, for them to travel this far west is a sign of something greater at work, then there is the fact that a majority of Ironborn patrol bands have been attacked these recent weeks shows that something greater is at work!"

"I love the gods," her uncle said. "I pray to them and ask them to bless us, protect us, guide us, and House Blackwood in these dangerous times. I ask them to curse the Ironborn, to send them to hell where they might suffer for an eternity, mayhaps you are right, mayhaps the gods have heard us and have sent these creatures here to deal out punishment towards them..."

"Father?" Lord Hoster seemed to break from his stupor when his son spoke.

"Forgive me," he said. "Whether it be divine justice or otherwise, I cannot say. You two now know, and it should remain between you two, no one else should know has been said here, word spreads fast and the moment word reaches an Ironborn stronghold they will be at our doors."

"What of it?" Jason asked. "We did not do anything, nor did we free those six men or attack the Ironborn patrols, we are innocent."

Lord Hoster shut his son down. "It does not matter whether we are innocent or not, the Ironborn do not like to be made fools of, nor do they like to be mocked. If they hear that we are spreading word of their failures that will be all that they need to accus us of mocking the king himself, it's far too easy to lose one's life under this king, tis better to remain quiet, for now at least."

The two agreed with that.

...

Jeyne stepped out of her pavilion tent and into camp. The morning air was crisp and cool, and she could see her breath as she exhaled. She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders and made her way toward the central fire pit.

As she walked, she took in the sights and sounds of the camp. Hunters were busy preparing for the day's hunt, sharpening their weapons, and checking their gear. The horses were saddled and loaded with supplies while hunting dogs ran around excitedly.

The camp was well-organized and efficient, with everything in its place. Tents were pitched in a rough circle around the central fire pit, where a cook was busy preparing breakfast. The smell of roasting meat and fresh bread wafted through the air.

Jeyne could hear the sound of laughter and chatter as the hunters joked and shared stories. She smiled to herself as she approached the fire pit, she loved hunts and enjoyed when the men could be given a respite from their duties and could relax even if it were for a handful of days, even if they were small, they mattered.

Jeyne reached the fire pit and greeted the cook, who handed her a plate of roasted pheasant and bread. She thanked him and looked around for a place to sit. She spotted Jason, sitting on a log with some of his men. He was the leader of their hunting party, her uncle had given him the honor, this hunt was not just any other type of hunt, it was a hunt to honor the gods, it was Seers Day, a day to honor the dead and their ancestors; to honor them and ask for protection and guidance. It was also the day that the dead walked the earth during the hour of the wolf, a hunt would please their ancestors and the Old Gods.

She walked over to him and kissed him on the cheek. He smiled and wrapped an arm around her waist. He was a tall and handsome man, with dark hair and brown eyes. He wore a leather jerkin over a green tunic, and a sword hung from his belt. He looked every inch the lord that he would one day be.

"Good morning, my lady," he said. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did, thank you," she said. "And you?"

"I slept like a log," he said. "It seems that this time around the camp and the beds were properly prepared, remember last time we went on a hunt?"

Jeyne giggled. "Yes, my lord, I do."

Jeyne looked around. Their hunting camp was indeed cozy and well-organized. They had set up their tents in a clearing near a creek, surrounded by pine trees. The creek provided them with fresh water and fish, and the trees gave them shade and firewood. They had also brought along some hunting dogs, horses, and supplies.

The camp was divided into two sections: one for sleeping and one for cooking. The sleeping section consisted of several tents made of canvas and poles. Each tent had a bed of furs and blankets, a lantern, and some personal belongings. Jeyne and Jason shared the second largest tent, the largest pavilion was reserved for her lord uncle.

The cooking section was centered around a large fire pit, where the cook prepared their meals. He was a skilled man who could make anything from pheasant to venison to rabbit taste delicious. He also baked bread and pies in a makeshift oven made of stones and clay. Around the fire pit were some tables and benches, where the hunters ate and drank.

The camp was lively and cheerful, with laughter and conversation filling the air. Jeyne felt happy and proud to be part of this group. She loved hunting as much as Jason did, and she was an excellent archer. She had killed many animals with her bow, and she had even saved Jason's life once when an angry boar charged at him, even when he denied that the situation was that serious. She enjoyed being outdoors, feeling the wind on her face, smelling the pine needles, and hearing the birds sing.

She also loved spending time with Jason, away from the troubles and duties of their castle. They had been married for five years, and they were very much in love, though she wished she had brought their children. Alas, they had left them at the castle with their nursemaid, but they missed them terribly.

They hoped to return soon with some trophies from their hunt; antlers, pelts, feathers. They also hoped to have some fun along the way: exploring new places, and chasing new games, she had no doubt that her children would love the trophies.

They ate their breakfast and then got ready for the day's hunt. They put on their hunting clothes: leather boots, pants, jackets, gloves, and hats. They checked their weapons: bows, arrows, knives, axes. They packed some provisions: water skins, cheese, dried meat, and fruit.

They gathered around the fire pit with the rest of the hunters. Jason stood up and addressed them.

Jeyne felt his hand squeeze hers. She felt his warmth and his excitement radiate through her. She looked up at him with admiration and love. He was a natural leader, a brave warrior, and a passionate hunter. He had organized this hunt, he and his father, and he had prepared a speech to inspire them.

She then removed herself from his side giving him all the space needed to address the men, she was not one for speeches and would have him raise the morale of the camp, it didn't bother her one bit.

She listened to his words, feeling the same thrill and pride that he did. She felt herself fill with excitement and anticipation for the hunt, though she knew deep down that this would not be a simple hunt, from past experience she knew that this would be a day's long affair. She only hoped that it didn't take too long, while she loved the outdoors, she loved home as well and missed her children. She also loved honoring the gods and their ancestors and proving herself worthy of their legacy.

She glanced at her uncle, who was sitting on a log with some other old men. He had been a great hunter in his youth, and it once again made her sad to see him so old, while he still had the vigor to hunt with the rest of them if he wished to, he had chosen not. She considered it an honor; he had given the two of them the honor to hunt the stag.

She smiled at him, and he smiled back. He nodded at her, and she nodded back.

"Are you ready for the hunt, Jeyne?" her uncle asked.

"Yes, uncle," she said. "I can't wait to see the stag."

"I'm sure you'll do well," he said. "You're a fine archer, just like your mother was."

"Thank you, uncle," she said. "That means a lot to me."

She turned her attention back to Jason, who was finishing his speech.

"My friends," he said, raising his voice. "We have come here to hunt the most noble and majestic of beasts; the stag! The stag is a symbol of strength, courage, and grace. It is a gift from the gods and our ancestors and a challenge for us. To hunt a stag is to honor them, and to prove ourselves worthy of them, and their favor!"

He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in.

"But we are not here to hunt any stag," he continued. "We are here to hunt the largest stag that has been witnessed in these woods for a generation! A stag so big that its antlers are like branches of an oak tree! A stag so strong that it can outrun any horse. A stag so elusive that few have ever seen it before."

He looked around at the hunters, meeting their eyes.

"Whoever corrals this stag will be honored, I swear to you," he said. "Whoever finds me this stag will be honored with a feast, all that live on Blackwood lands will know your name and cheer to you in the taverns and in their homes! they will toast to you as the one who honored the gods with a magnificent beast!"

He lifted his horn of mead high in the air.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yes!" they shouted.

"Then let's go!" he said.

He led them out of the camp, followed by Jeyne and the others. They mounted their horses and rode into the woods.

The hunt was on.

As they rode, Jeyne leaned closer to Jason and whispered in his ear.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you too," he said.

They kissed briefly and then focused on the trail ahead.

Jeyne followed Jason as he led the hunters through the woods. She held her bow in one hand and a quiver of arrows on her back. Her dark curls waved and bobbed in the wind, she held her weirwood bow in hand and the reins in her other, her quiver was strapped to her back and her precious weirwood arrows clinked together.

She smelled the earth and the leaves, the sound of the birds and the wind, and the sight of the sun filtering through the branches. She felt alive and free here, more than anywhere else. She knew her father was looking at her with pride now, he had taught her how to track, shoot, and skin animals. She had also learned to respect them, to thank them for their meat and fur, and to honor their spirits.

She had hunted many kinds of animals before rabbits, squirrels, deer, boars, and even wolves. But she had never hunted a stag. She wondered about this stag that they had found, and that was reported by the gamekeepers. They had reported that the stage was large, massive even, with horns so thick they looked to be branches rather than normal horns, Jeyne wasn't afraid per se, but she was somewhat anxious at the idea that the animal they were hunting could potentially be as large as their own mounts.

At the same time, though, she wanted to see it and prove herself. She wanted to claim the beast for herself and mount its head on the walls of Raventree Hall for all to see, for her grandchildren and great-grandchildren to see, something to fill her with pride and joy.

She scanned the woods for any signs of the stag. Tracks, droppings, broken branches. She listened for any sounds of its movement: hooves, snorts, rustles. She felt for any changes in the air; warmth, coldness, vibrations.

She saw nothing. She heard nothing. She felt nothing.

The stag was elusive indeed.

She wondered if it even existed, to begin with. Maybe it was just a fluke, and even if it was here maybe it had already moved on to the next forest or next land over. The idea that they had come all this way to just hunt a fluke or a missed opportunity made her feel that it was for nothing, she shook her head and expelled such thoughts from her head.

No, she had to trust the gamekeeper's word, she had to believe that the stag was here, if she started to believe otherwise, they would lose it for sure. The stag was a gift from the gods, they would not have them all the way out here for a fluke, they delivered this stag into their hands all they needed to do now was find it and give it a proper send-off. The gods would surely feel honored than when the blood of the stag seeps into the earth and provides life to all the spirits that wonder at night.

She looked at Jason as he rode in front of her. He was tall and handsome as ever, with black hair slicked back and brown eyes gleaming. He looked confident and determined.

He looked like a king.

She admired him. She respected him. She loved him.

They rode on for another hour or so until they reached the edge of the woods. There they saw a small village nestled among green fields and hills. Smoke rose from chimneys and people moved about their daily tasks.

Jason signaled for them to slow down and approach cautiously.

"People," Jeyne said. "I wonder if they've happened to see the stag, wonder if they would help us." She joked.

"Mayhaps," Jason laughed. "I think we should come in and say hello, after all, how often do nobles pass by?"

"I wouldn't want to disturb them now. They have better things to do than indulge us."

"Ah, come on now," Jason said. "It will be quick, we'll pass by quick and then leave, in and out!"

Jeyne disagreed, but when Jason urged his horse forward, she followed, calling after him. They rode closer to the village and saw that it was decorated with colorful banners and flowers. They heard music and laughter coming from a large square where a crowd had gathered.

"How beautiful," Jeyne exclaimed, taking in all the sights and the surprising number of decorations hung around the village. "What a wonderful way to celebrate Seers Day, I've never really seen the smallfolk way of celebrating it!"

"Indeed," Jason said. "Come, let's get closer!"

They entered the village and were greeted by respectful nods and bows from the villagers. Though some of the younger villagers and kids gained serious faces and hid behind the skirts of their mothers and behind their fathers, the adults, however, laughed at their reactions, urging them to come out and greet them.

She saw them preparing for the holiday with joy and enthusiasm. They hung colorful banners and flowers on their houses. They baked breads and pies and cakes in their ovens. They brewed ale and cider and wine in their barrels. They roasted meats and vegetables and fruits over open fires. They played music and sang songs and danced in the square.

She saw them wearing masks of white and black. "What are those masks supposed to represent?" She asked Jason who was also busy taking in the sights and smiling.

"The masks?" He questioned. "Perhaps they're local spirits, our religion isn't exactly as strict as the Faith of the Seven, my love. Every village has their own beliefs mixed in with the larger established beliefs, they're likely representing some set of spirits."

She nodded at his hypothesis, she wasn't going to be the one to question the smallfolk and their beliefs.

She saw them making effigies of straw and cloth, resembling what she thought to be snakes or lizards, with scales and claws and tails. One was black, with greenish eyes and sharp teeth. The other was white, with yellow wings. When they questioned the village folk about what the effigies represented, they answered that they represented the two guardian spirits that watched over them. "They are harbingers of the gods," they would say to them. "Ever since their coming the Seamen have stayed away and stuck to their roads and have been far more cautious when venturing to our homes and demanding tribute."

Seaman was a name that the smallfolk, especially those far from the cities and towns, often used when referring to the Ironborn. Jeyne squeezed her hold on her mount's reins, knowing that those vile scum had the audacity to intrude on their lands and demand things from their smallfolk angered her greatly, especially considering how her uncle wined and dined the local stronghold leader into promising to respect her House and Blackwood authority, then again why was she surprised.

What good was an Ironborns word?

She saw them carrying the effigies to the square, where they placed them on opposite sides. They said that they would burn them when the hour of the wolf came, as a tribute to the spirits who lived in the forest. They said that they would watch the flames rise to the sky, as a sign of their gratitude and devotion. They said that they would pray to the spirits who lived in the forest, asking for their favor and protection.

She saw all this and more, and she felt a strange mixture of wonder and curiosity. She wanted to know more about these people and their beliefs. She wanted to understand their culture and their history. She wanted to share their joy and their faith.

As they rode through the village, they were approached by a group of old men and women. They wore simple colorful clothes. They had wrinkled faces and gray hair. They had wise eyes and gentle smiles.

They bowed their heads and greeted them.

"Welcome, m'lord," one of them said, he then bowed his head towards Jeyne. "M'lady."

"We are honored by your presence," another said. "It has been quite a long time since a Blackwood has graced us with their presence."

Jeyne returned the courtesy by bowing her head to them.

"Too long, my good people," Jason replied. "Too long indeed. You see, we were hunting when we came across your beautiful village, I pray that the gods have been kind to you this Seers Day?"

"They have been too kind, m'lord! I have lived a long life and seen many Seers Day, but I must say that this Seers Day is the greatest yet!"

"Truly?" Jeyne questioned. "How has your harvest been? Your livestock, I also pray that you have remained unmolested, one of the villagers have told me of how the Seamen have paid you a visit."

The old man smiled. "Yes, sometime ago they did come, they demanded some caskets of ale, cider, and food, but it has been quite a long time since those vermin have paid us a visit."

Jason grew furious. "I am sorry, truly. They had given us their word that they would not bother you people, I swear that we will do all we can to compensate you, if that is what you wish."

They thanked him for that. "You are too kind, m'lord, but we are fine. As you can see." He gestured to the village around, towards the people who all wore smiles on their faces and looked truly happy.

"I would say that your spirits have truly blessed you then," Jeyne remarked. "Please say a prayer for us, maybe they will bless us as well." The elders smiled and promised that they would.

Jeyne and Jason thanked the elders for their hospitality and their wisdom. They steered their horses and prepared to ride away. Jeyne still hoped to find the stag before nightfall.

But before they could leave, they were surrounded by a crowd of villagers. They came from all directions, carrying baskets and bags and boxes. They came with smiles on their faces and cheers in their voices. They came with gifts in their hands.

Jeyne looked at them with curiosity and interest. She saw the variety and abundance of their offerings, the skill, and creativity of their crafts. She saw the pride that they shared as they showed them.

She saw breads of different shapes and sizes, baked with nuts and seeds and fruits. She saw pies filled with meat and cheese and vegetables, topped with golden crusts, cakes decorated with cream and sugar and flowers, sprinkled with spices.

There was also ale that bubbled and foamed, brewed with barley and hops, and yeast. Cider that sparkled and glowed, made with apples and pears and honey. As well as wine that swirled and shimmered, fermented with grapes and berries and herbs.

Some brought meats that sizzled and smoked, roasted over a fire, or cured with salt. She saw cheeses that melted and stretched, aged in caves, or wrapped in leaves. Honey that dripped and flowed, collected from hives or wildflowers.

They offered them all to Jeyne and Jason. They urged them to take as much as they wanted.

The two laughed and thanked the villagers, they thanked them for their hospitality, but they sadly told them that they could not accept the gifts due to them not being able to carry them, Jeyne swore that they would return and accept whatever they offered them, once they had succeeded and captured their quarry.

As they rode back to the forest with their hunting party in tow Jeyne spoke to Jason. "Those effigies, they make me think of something, a certain two something..."

Jason looked confused. "What do you mean, my lady?"

"Come now, don't be like that, think," she said. "Those effigies bear a striking familiarity to a certain creature. A creature that can fly..." Jason thought for a moment until he looked back at the village and seemed to piece together the puzzle that lay before him with all the right pieces assembled neatly for him.

"Surely not..." he told her. "What are the odds of that?"

"I think that we should question them more thoroughly once we return, and once we tell your father."

He didn't respond, he seemed to be thinking, but his thoughts looked to be running wild as he looked off toward nothingness. "If these spirits are the dragons, then what do you think we should do about it?"

"Nothing," Jeyne said plainly. "They've shown no ill will towards us, let them fight and terrorize those vermin. They broke your father's pact, they swore to leave our lands alone and yet now we know that they have caused trouble here, now I wonder how many other villages have been visited by them."

Jason looked uncomfortable. "I suddenly don't like being in these woods, I don't feel right..."

Nonetheless, they continued on and rode forth to find their quarry, and find it they did. It was poetic, as the sun dipped below the horizon bathing the sky in a blood-red hue, the party had been able to corner the elusive stag that had evaded them for four days now. Jeyne smiled as she watched it from atop Cecil, she knew that they would find it today, it was too perfect, and it would be the greatest of shame if they weren't able to find it today.

It was a magnificent creature and strong. It pulled hard and was stubborn as a rock, two strands of rope caught around its antlers kept still though and it was going nowhere, the men scurried and formed a circle just in the wild chance that the beast managed to break free. Seeing the stag now, Jeyne was impressed by its size, but it was plain to see that the gamekeepers had exaggerated the size of the stag, its antlers were certainly large and thick, but nowhere near as thick as branches, its speed and elusive behavior were surprising though.

Dismounting, Jeyne and Jason approached the stag. She marveled at its powerful frame and noble antlers. It was still panting heavily, its eyes wide with terror and defiance. It tried to break free from the cords, but they held fast. Jeyne grinned cruelly. She felt a touch of pity in her heart, but she buried it as deep as she could.

Jason stepped forward with a spear in hand, a gift from his father, it was an old spear used on many hunts over the years; it had been forged many decades ago but kept in optimal condition and now it was used once again for another successful hunt. The stag was kept as still as it could be held, it seemed stuck in place, even as it roared and panted, Jason held the spear straight and raised his arms, he aimed towards the stag's heart and with a yell of his own he plunged the spear deep into the animal. The stag buckled and struggled against the spear that was now buried in its body, it convulsed and struggled, its eyes were wide and frantic, looking for an escape. The hounds were baying for blood.

It stumbled to the ground as blood seeped its way out and pooled on the dirt below, the creature tried to lift its head once more but found that its strength had gone out of him, and all the while its cries pierced through the forest. With a grunt Jason pulled the spear free and stood back, it let out a weak groan and closed its eyes. It was over.

The hunters cheered and clapped as Jason held up the spear with the stag's blood on it. Pride was plain on his face, a smile stretched across his face, Jeyne loved that smile. He waved to his companions, who praised his skill and courage. He looked at Jeyne, who was sitting on her horse with a pale face and a tight smile. Looking at her he wondered what had made her look so pale and uncomfortable, could it have been the kill itself? She was no stranger to death and had gone on many hunts before this, he worried for her.

He walked over to her and rubbed her thigh lovingly. "Are you all right, my love?" he asked softly.

She nodded and forced a smile. "Yes, of course. You did well, Jason. I'm proud of you."

He smiled sadly, it hurt to see her so uncomfortable, if he could; he would wrap her around his arms and kiss her a thousand times. "Thank you, Jeyne. This is your achievement as well, not just mine, the stag's antlers are yours as well."

He let go of her and mounted his horse. Those same antlers that while exaggerated were still large were tied together and mounted on a separate horse. "Come on, let's go back to camp. We have a feast to prepare!"

The hunters followed him, blowing their horns and singing songs. The hounds ran ahead, barking and wagging their tails. The mood had shifted from one of frustration and tiredness to one of joy and celebration, meanwhile, the sun had at last said its goodbye and dipped below the earth leaving a bath of red where it once was.

They reached the camp, where a large fire was burning and everyone was preparing for the party. Hoster Blackwood emerged from a pavilion, ale in hand, and met the approaching party just outside the camp's limits, everyone was cheering them as the corpse of the stag was dragged in on a sleigh; the old lord brought his son into a great bear hug. He then did the same to Jeyne who laughed as he hauled her up and swung her around.

He turned and held up his arms high. "My friends, we have witnessed a show of favor today! My son and his bride have hunted and killed a mighty stag, a noble beast and a sacred symbol of the Old Gods. This is no ordinary hunt, but a divine blessing. The Old Gods have shown us their favor and their power. They have given us this stag as a gift and a sign on this Seers Day! We thank the Old Gods for this stag, we honor the Old Gods with this feast, we praise the Old Gods with this song! Hail to the stag! Hail to the hunt! Hail to the gods!"

They unloaded the stag's carcass and skinned it. They cut off the meat and roasted it over the fire. They shared bread and cheese and wine. They ate and drank and laughed and told stories.

Jason sat next to Jeyne, who picked at her food and sipped her wine. He noticed that her mood had changed, she was happy and lively now, partaking in drink, food, and song, he was glad that she had lightened up, it would sadden him greatly if she was sad on such an important day; on the day that they honor the gods with a hunt.

The camp was filled with joy and laughter as the hunters celebrated their successful hunt and their holy day. They ate and drank and sang and danced around the fire. They wore garlands of flowers and leaves on their heads and necks. They painted their faces and bodies with the stag's blood and ash. They played games and told stories and gave gifts to each other.

They also performed rituals and prayers to honor the Old Gods and the stag. They carved runes and symbols on wooden sticks and threw them into the fire. Jeyne saw how they sprinkled herbs and spices over the stag's meat and bones, how they poured wine and honey over the stag's antlers and skin. They chanted hymns and praises to the Old Gods and the stag.

Jeyne felt warm on the inside, she felt a connection to the gods at this moment.

Hours later, during the hour of the wolf, when the night was at its darkest point Jeyne stood in front of the raging bonfire raged still, indeed it would endure for hours until all the wood that had been thrown into it had been consumed and turned to nothing. Jeyne pulled the wool blanket tight around her body desperate to keep her bodies warmth close, though the bonfire did a good job of keeping her warm as well, she was alone say for the hounds that were strewn about all tired and drowsy, they and the stars above. She thought about today and realized just how long a day it had been, the hunt was excruciating to get through, she blamed such feelings of fatigue and missing her children, she wished she could mount Cecil and return to Raventree, it was such a paradox, she loved the outdoors but loathed being away from her children.

Next time she must bring them along, Lyon was old enough. It was time to expose him to the world and to the men that he would one day rule over, she would not have her son reside within a bubble, especially with the breed of kings that rule over them. She looked up and smiled at the night sky and the stars above, they were bright and clear and countless. They twinkled and shimmered like jewels on a dark velvet cloth. They formed patterns and shapes that Jeyne recognized from her lessons as a girl. She saw the Galley and the Ghost, the Moonmaid and the Sow, the Stallion and the Sword of the Morning. She saw the bright celestial bodies that moved across the sky. The river of light that flowed from one horizon to another.

Jeyne felt a sense of wonder and awe as she gazed at the stars. She felt small and insignificant in comparison to their vastness and beauty. She felt curious and amazed by their mystery and magic. She felt connected and grateful for their guidance and protection. She felt their warmth and their light in her soul.

As she looked up her eyes widened when she saw something move across the sky, ever so slightly blotting out the stars as it flew. There were two, they were too high to get a good look at whatever they were, but Jeyne's heart began to beat faster, and her breathing increased. There was only one thing in this world that could fly at such a high distance and still be seen and there two were in the Riverlands at the moment, she thought of the effigies and watched as they streaked west over the forest.

She smiled, knowing in her heart what she had seen, and went back to bed, content with that knowledge.

The sun rose over the horizon and cast its golden light on the camp. The hunters woke up from their sleep and stretched their limbs. They had a light breakfast of bread and cheese and water. They prepared to leave the camp and return to their homes.

They gathered their belongings and packed them in their bags and saddlebags. They folded their blankets and tents and rolled them up. They collected their weapons and tools and secured them on their horses. They cleaned up the fire pit and scattered the ashes. They made sure they left no trace of their presence.

Jeyne was preparing Cecil for the ride back when she heard the men begin to talk and point out across the field towards the forest, she stepped from behind Cecil, and what she saw surprised her. From the forest emerged a procession of twenty or so smallfolk, some on horses and others on small carts being pulled by mules, at the head of the small party she recognized one old man, it was the elder from the village that she and Jason visited. She handed the bag that she was holding off to some maid before hurrying off to the growing crowd that included her uncle and Jason, she pushed her way through several men and came to stand beside her husband while her uncle was ahead of everyone else.

Her lord uncle sported a thick and heavy wool cape, dyed in the colors of their house, streaked with black and red. Bulging out from the bottom of the cape was the tip of the sheath that held his sword, in fact, all the men sported their swords on their belts, probably for good reason; though these were their lands it was always better to be ready for anything, she would have to carry her dagger from now on too. The villagers approached slowly and with respect, stopping when they reached a suitable enough distance from her uncle, the Elder dismounted and stooped down to one knee before him, they exchanged pleasantries before the Elder revealed that they had come to deliver the gifts that they had promised Jason and herself.

Jeyne was touched by the gesture, she had forgotten about the village but was glad they had not forgotten about her. Her uncle accepted the gifts and ordered men to retrieve what they brought and haul them up with everything else, from the crowd came a woman holding a small cake, it looked crispy and delicious, without wanting to do so Jeyne's tongue shivered at the thought of enjoying the delicious dessert. When held out her hand to receive the cake the woman came in close and pressed against her like how one would hug.

"M'lady," she whispered. "We did not come all this way to bear you gifts, but to bring you a summons as well."

Jeyne was confused. "Summons?" she questioned. She looked around and saw that Jason and her uncle were off talking to the Elder and another man, she wanted to call out to him and have him rescue her from this encounter.

"Yes, m'lady, a summons from spirits. The lords of the forest, they wish to meet you."

Before Jeyne could question her anymore the woman stepped away from her and adopted the previous smile that she once had, with a curtsy she was off. Jeyne was left standing there speechless at what had just happened, looking back at the small cake she saw that there was what looked to be an elongated creature with wings on it, she felt numb. She needed to speak with Jason.

"What?!" She shushed Jason hoping that no one else had a mind to stare at them after he had just shouted. They were riding at the tail end of the party returning home to Raventree. "She's mad, Jeyne, you should have asked one of the men to send her away... in fact, mayhaps we should look over the things they gave us, what if they're poisoned?"

"No, it's not that, or that I fear that. They're good people, mad people wouldn't have been so happy as they were when we came upon them." she said. "Remember the effigies, the masks, what they were saying about the Ironborn, I think they may be telling the truth."

"Jeyne, please listen to yourself." Jason cracked a smile and touched her arm. "Even if they were the dragons the woman said they summoned you, tell me how an animal can speak?"

Jeyne ripped her arm away from his touch and pulled Cecil away from the rest, Jason wanted to shout but he held his tongue.

"Stay here then," Jeyne told him. "I know what I know, I saw them last night. Flying over us, they went in the direction that the villagers said they reside in. They've done nothing but help us with the Ironborn, they're godsends, Jason. If you wish then you can stay here, but I will not, I must see for myself for if I do not then I will regret it till the end of my days!"

With that she spurred Cecil off into the woods, racing as if against time.

Jeyne raced through the forest, dodging trees and branches. She felt the wind in her hair and the sun on her skin. She heard and felt everything it seemed, her body was shaking, and her heart was racing just as fast as Cecil was. Everything came alive, the forest seemed to mold and tug at her, any moment she felt as if a tree would come to life and grab her.

She pushed her horse to go faster, following the trail that she swore she could remember from yesterday, she dove deep into her mind and tried to pry every single piece of memory that she could. She dug through the haze of last night and the sweet memories that came from that, she felt as if she was going to suffocate. She knew it was leading her to the dragons, for just a moment she felt like a little girl again.

She ignored everything else. She didn't care about the dangers or the consequences. She didn't think about her children or Jason. She didn't worry about the future.

She only focused on the present. She only felt her heart sing out in commanding her to fulfill her greatest desire. She only wanted one thing.

She wanted to see the dragons.

In the distance, through the ringing in her ears, she heard a voice scream out to her. "Jeyne!" It yelled. "Jeyne!"

She didn't bother stopping, instead, she turned her head around and looked to see Jason racing towards her. Even though she had no intention of slowing down for him, he seemed to catch up to her, it seemed that Cecil understood her even better than she understood herself, gradually Jason caught up and tried to get her to stop for a moment. She shook her head and refused to do so.

"I'm coming with you!" He yelled out. She smiled and felt like crying. She would have to kiss him for that.

After what seemed like hours, they reached a point where they found a stream. Cecil and Jason's mount brought themselves to a stop which almost made their riders fly over them and into the stream for an impromptu bath. Their clothes were dusty and wrinkled, their boots covered with dirt and grass. Jeyne's long black curls flew behind her like a banner. Jason's face was bright and red, his brown eyes clouded with fatigue. They looked at each other and regained their composure before urging their tired mounts forth through the ankle-high stream.

Jeyne and Jason followed a narrow path that led them to a small hut. Curious Jeyne dismounted Cecil and approached the door. Jeyne knocked softly. When the door opened Jeyne gasped. Standing before her was a woman who looked almost exactly like her. She had the same long black curls and the same oval face. She was dressed in a simple green dress and a white apron, holding a basket of herbs in her hand. She looked at Jeyne with a smile and soft eyes.

The only difference between her and this woman was the woman's eyes, unlike Jeyne's brown she had green eyes.

"Ah," the woman said with a voice that sounded as sweet as honey. "The villager folk re-laid the message then? You're the Blackwood woman?"

She forced herself to nod, the woman then looked at Jason. "And that is...?"

"That Jason Blackwood, son of Lord Hoster, the future lord of Raventree Hall. And my husband."

The woman grinned. From behind her poked out the small head of a little girl. Her child, Jeyne theorized.

"Who this mama?" The child asked. Her mother patted her head.

"This is who our lord wants to see, dear one." Jeyne questioned that.

"Your lord?"

The woman nodded her head as if it was obvious. "Our lord Seath, the one who summoned you here," she explained. "When the villager folk came and told me to tell him that you highborns had come through he was terribly excited, you see he wishes to speak with you."

Jeyne didn't know what to say. "Who are you to him then?"

"Me? Well, I'm the one who relays messages to him. You see, our lord's sister is not too fond of humans, the less in the forest the better. My name is Jessica."

"If that's the case than what now? Where do we go and what do we do?"

Jessica smiled and pointed further into the forest. "Keep riding and he will make his presence known."

"Best of luck!" The child said before the door was shut on her.

Jeyne huffed and remounted, shrugging their shoulders as they continued their march.

They reached another clearing in the forest and stopped. The sun was shining brightly, and the grass was green and soft. They saw a huge shape lying on the ground, covered with scales. It was a dragon, a white dragon with golden wings. It lifted its head and looked at them with piercing golden eyes.

Jeyne felt the slight presence of something brush up against her mind. "Lady Blackwood?" the voice in her mind asked, he then turned to Jason who he eyed with a questioning look. "Lord Blackwood?"

They both looked at each other and then opened their arms wide and bent their knees slightly, unsure of what exactly to do. Whatever they were doing seemed to please the dragon as they heard the voice in their heads chuckle.

The dragon stood and came close to them, he leaned in slightly and pulled his cheeks into a smile. "I have called you here because I believe that we can form a relationship of sorts..."

The two humans looked at each other. She felt dizzy. The next Jeyne knew the world turned black as her body gave out.

Last edited: May 7, 2023

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Beebos

May 7, 2023

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Threadmarks Chapter 10 - The Die Has been Cast

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Beebos

Bless King Maegor

May 12, 2023

#425

Late Fifth Moon, 3 BC

"And so, the legend of Garth Greenhand, the first King of the Reach and the founder of House Gardener, lives on, his incredible fertility and his ability to make the land bloom forever etched in the annals of Westerosi history."

Jeyne smiled as she closed the book and turned to look at Seath whose head was laid out on the floor, but who listened intently. She saw a glint of understanding in the dragon's eye, as if he had been transported back to the time of Garth and saw all his miracles at work, it was still surreal to her that she had the opportunity to read such a story to such a majestic creature. Seath stirred slightly which caused her to shift forward and then when done she leaned back against him, his warmth bringing a sense of ease to her body.

"Thank you, Jeyne," she heard Seath utter in her mind. "Garth Green was truly a remarkable figure, though his lifestyle leaves much to be desired," Seath said in his deep and resonant voice. "Though what I also find interesting is how you said earlier that the Maesters are always quick to remind us such things are just legends, are these Maesters that persistent with reminding you that Garth may not have been who he was?"

"They are," Jeyne said. "They say that there is no real historical evidence for his existence, even the more open minded maesters say that if that Garth did exist that he would not even bear the same name that is often given to him."

"What do you think?" Seath asked her. "Do you think he was real or no...?"

"Me? Well... I do, that may sound childish to say and to even think, how could a man make the land fertile and have women well past their prime as abundant as maids barely flowered? But I do believe in him and his legend, just as I do the Children and their weirwoods."

"As do I." Seaths words brought joy to Jeyne, she smiled at him. "Everything comes from something; am I not proof enough that there are things in this world that mysticism and magic exists? If dragons can exist, then why can't Garth be real?"

"Exactly!" Jeyne was glad that Seath at least agreed with her.

Some distance from them Jason leaned against a rock that their friend had so graciously found for him to sit against. He strummed the strings of his lute with gentle fingers, creating a soft melody that filled the air. She smiled softly, admiring his handsome features and his gentle soul. She felt a warmth in her chest, a flutter in her stomach, she always loved it when he took the time to play and grace the world with his music.

Seath seemed to enjoy the music as well as he swung his gaze over to her husband at times and seemed to get lost in the melody that emanated from him, he seemed to get lost in his thoughts. At times he would fall asleep to the sweet music that played, his body rising and falling as he breathed soft breaths, Jeyne smiled, she loved it. Her childhood dream had come true, she was with a dragon, a dragon that could speak and understand her if only Maester Alyn could see him.

Seath's words brought her out of her little world. "What else have you brought me?" She blushed, she hoped that he did not hear those words.

"Um..." she grabbed her satchel and looked through it to find two other books. One was a history of the Riverlands detailing the reign of King Tristifer the Fourth, and his victory in his ninety-nine battles, along with the downfall of his house. The other was a compilation of songs and poems to the Old Gods, and the final one was a book that talked of the war between the Rhoynish princes and the Valyrian Freehold.

"They all sound so interesting, makes it so hard to choose..." Seath hummed. "The third one, tell me of these Rhoynish princes and their struggle against the Valyrians."

"As you wish." Jeyne laid the book on her lap and opened the book and began reading.

The story of the Rhoynish civilization fascinated Jeyne just as much as that of the Freehold did, the Rhoynish may not have had dragons or fourteen volcanoes but what they did have was just as amazing. Much is often said of the Rhoynish water wizards and their great spells that could even bring down dragons. As a girl, she would often dream and fantasize about seeing the great palaces that were said to be bigger than any castle in Westeros, them with their great and giant domes that made even the Valyrians swoon. She loved to read about the exploits of the many female Rhoynish warriors that appeared throughout history, from Malaria of the Spear to Sarenna of the Niriah Pass. And of course, Princess Nymeria who led her people across the world to find peace.

"The Rhoynar seem like quite a strong and resilient people, I know every little of the Freehold, but to hold out and fight for so long against my kin is something remarkable."

Jeyne looked up from the book and smiled. "The Rhoynar were a remarkable people," she said. "They were known for their mastery of water magic, which some say allows them to create lush gardens and fertile farmland in the arid lands of Dorne. They were also a proud and powerful people, with a rich culture and a strong sense of identity."

Seath listened intently as Jeyne spoke, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "What happened to them?" he asked.

"The Rhoynar were eventually conquered by the Valyrian Freehold," Jeyne explained. "Some were able to flee across the Narrow Sea, where they eventually settled in Dorne. Their leader, Nymeria, led them to safety and helped them establish a new home in a land that was very different from their own. Their once proud civilization is long past and what remains clings to life in Dorne."

Seath was intrigued. "Tell me more about Nymeria," he said.

Jeyne flipped through the pages of the book and began to read. "Nymeria was the last ruler of the Rhoynar," she said. "She was a warrior and a queen, and she led her people across the sea to safety when all seemed lost. She married Lord Mors Martell, then a petty king whose kingdom was a backwater, and together they united the Rhoynar and the Dornish to create a new kingdom that was unlike any other in Westeros."

Seath listened in awe as Jeyne spoke, marveling at the resilience and strength of the Rhoynar and their leader. "Their story is truly remarkable," he said. "The Rhoynar are certainly a hard and enduring people, to even try and fight the Freehold, I can't imagine the struggle."

Jeyne nodded in agreement. "Fighting any number of dragons sounds daunting, but three hundred... I can't imagine that." She said. "Much of Nymeria's legacy is still alive down south. Due to her, Dorne is not a kingdom, but a principality ruled by a prince or princess. In Dorne, a daughter comes before a son if she was born first, as well as the stain of bastardy not being as loathed as it is in the rest of the Seven Kingdoms."

Seath couldn't help but be intrigued by the land of Dorne, where the Rhoynar had settled after fleeing across the Narrow Sea. "Dorne sounds like a land of contrasts," he said, looking at Jeyne. "It is a place where the harshness of the desert meets the beauty of the oasis, where the strength of the warrior is matched only by the richness of the culture."

Jeyne nodded in agreement. "Yes, Dorne is a unique and fascinating place," she said. "It has a rich history and culture that is unlike any other in Westeros."

Seath couldn't help but feel a sense of curiosity about Dorne. "I would love to visit Dorne someday," he said. "To see its deserts and oases, to meet its people and learn about its culture."

Jeyne smiled. "I'm sure you would love it," she said. "Dorne is a place of great beauty and wonder, and I'm sure you would find much to admire and appreciate there."

Seath nodded, feeling a sense of excitement building inside him. He knew that he would have to wait for the right opportunity to visit Dorne, but he was already looking forward to the day when he could explore its deserts and oases and learn more about its rich history and culture.

A roar brought their attention upwards to the sky. Across the sky flew a dark shape, Jeyne recognized it as Seath's sister, who was called Wraith. An appropriate name for such an elusive and fearsome dragon, she had not graced them with her presence nor seen it fit to even acknowledge their existence. To Jeyne it seemed as if the dragon was not at all pleased with them being here in the first place, whenever she lowered her gaze at them she always felt like she was being judged and when a dragon judges you it could only either lead to good or bad things and for lady Wraith, she felt as if bad would surely follow if Seath was not near.

"Lady Wraith has yet to greet us, I pray that we have not offended her with our presence?" Seath looked at her with apologetic eyes.

"Do not take it the wrong way, my lady. My sister is very different from me, as are the rest of my kin. She would rather hunt and fly for hours than sit and learn."

"Are all dragons not intelligent like you then?"

"Do not be mistaken, my lady, all dragonkin are intelligent in their own right. In some cases, they are even more clever than humans, but they are intelligent in their own way, just as a dog or a wolf are intelligent in their own way. If given time no doubt my sister could figure out the Common tongue and even tolerate the presence of people, but she has little patience for such things, she is young, as am I, but as I said I am far different from the rest."

Jeyne swore she could detect the slightest hint of pride in Seath's words. "Can dragons speak to each other like we people can?"

"Yes, dragons can communicate as well as any humans. Of course, that only extends to our own kind. I have yet to find any dragons that can properly communicate properly with a human. I'm afraid to say that inter-species communication extends one way..."

Jeyne frowned at that. "A shame," she then asked without thinking. "Then why can you?"

For a moment she wished she had kept her mouth shut. "It's a question I ask myself sometimes, my lady. Why can I speak with humans? There is nothing that I can give you that will answer your question. All I can say is that I find more comfort among you and Jason than I do among my own sometimes. Do not misunderstand though, I am a dragon, but my soul yearns for something more."

After a pause, he spoke again. "Though no matter what I may say I hope that my lady and my lord will not come to treat me as some freak, a curiosity. As far as my origins and my nature are concerned, I am Seath. Do not treat me as an it, else I will come to regret my association with you."

"What? No! Never!" Jeyne said panic and anguish in her voice. "I assure you, Seath, I will never treat you and regard you as such, neither will Jason!" Her husband chimed in in agreement with her. "You have become a dear friend, a friend that we hope to know for many years to come."

Jeyne's words brought peace to Seath as his eyes grew soft and he tipped his head to her. "Thank you, Jeyne. You have no idea how glad I am to hear such words from you. I think our friendship can become a thing of beauty and can only be mutual in time, trust me when I say that I am willing to do whatever for my friends..."

Even help in driving out the Ironborn, Jeyne wanted to ask, but he held her tongue. Seath is a friend, not a weapon, she reminded herself. It was far too soon to ask him to help them in matters of war, no matter how desperately she wanted to ask him, she calmed herself and forced herself to continue with a different matter now, war was not something she wanted to linger on while in his presence. Out of respect for his autonomy.

The cawing of a raven made Jeyne aware of how late it had become. As the sun begins to set, the sky is transformed into a breathtaking canvas of colors. The once bright blue sky is now painted with hues of orange, pink, and purple, creating a stunning display of natural beauty. The sun itself appears to be a glowing ball of fire, casting long shadows across the landscape as it slowly descends toward the horizon.

Jeyne cursed and looked over to Jason who shook his head, he had told her it was time to go some hours ago.

"Did I not tell you?" He said to her. "Father will want to know what takes us so long, what do you think we should tell him, huh?"

She wanted to smack him. "Quiet. Tis not my fault, am I to blame for not wanting to leave? We are only able to visit every fortnight, I wish to relish our time together. If you resent the length of our travelling than mayhaps you should stay in Raventree next time."

Seath intervened before the couple could escalate their argument. "Now, now... There is no need to argue about such things, especially when such things concern me. I enjoy all the time we have, no matter how short, we've had a whole day together. To me that makes up for the fortnight spent apart."

Jeyne smiled and wished to run up and hug him. "We will return, I swear it." Seath smiled, bearing those razor-sharp teeth that could tear most anything apart, and gave them both a nod.

"As always then?" He asked.

"As always." Jeyne promised.

They left then, as the sun sinks lower and lower. The colors in the sky become more intense, with the oranges and pinks deepening into shades of red and magenta. The clouds in the sky were illuminated with warm golden light, their edges tinged with a fiery glow that seems to dance across the sky.

Jeyne and Jason mounted their horses and left Seath who watched them leave. They rode along the dirt road that led from Raventree, which was mostly deserted at this hour. The air was cool and crisp, and the sky was painted with streaks of orange and purple. Jeyne wrapped her cloak around her shoulders and shivered. She felt a pang of sadness as she looked back at the forest and then upon seeing the white shape of Seath rise into the air.

She had grown fond of the place, she wished that she could stay there and be with him for as long as she wished.

Jason rode beside her, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He sensed her mood and smiled reassuringly. He leaned over and kissed her cheek softly. "Don't worry, Jeyne," he said. "We'll be back as always, just as you said, why are so sad this time? You can even come on your own when you want, I won't hold you back if that is what you think I do. I simply don't want father to think you are avoiding your responsibilities." He squeezed her hand and she smiled back.

"No," she said. "It's not that at all, you must forgive me for making you think as such. I love when you come with me, I need you. Where would I be if not for your music? Seath also loves your music as well."

Jason's face grew sour, but whatever she said that bothered him he did not say.

They rode on, passing through fields and forests, villages and hamlets. They saw few signs of life, except for some farmers tending to their crops or some travelers heading to their destinations. The Riverlanders are a diverse and adaptable people, who have learned to cope with the challenges and changes of their region. They are proud of their heritage and traditions, but also open to new ideas and influences. They value family, loyalty, honor, and justice, but are also timid, far too timid when faced with force as seen with the Ironborn.

Besides that, Jeyne was truly proud to be one.

They stopped once to rest and eat some bread and cheese they had brought with them. They shared a flask of wine and toasted their future happiness. They also fed and watered their horses, who were weary from the long ride. They resumed their journey as the stars began to appear in the sky. They followed and stuck close to the road as if it were their only lifeline, which glittered in the moonlight. They heard the sound of rushing water as they approached a bridge that spanned the streams. They crossed it carefully, avoiding the loose planks and broken rails.

They reached Raventree Hall around midnight. They saw the lights of the castle shining in the distance, welcoming them home. They also saw the ancient weirwood tree that stood in the center of the godswood, its red leaves rustling in the breeze. Jeyne felt her body relax and fill with a multitude of emotions, there was joy, nostalgia, and gratitude, there was a warmth in her chest as well as she gazed upon the banner of House Blackwood proudly flying over the square towers of the castle's walls.

After some shouting the gates were lowered which allowed them to cross the moat, at last, they were home. Jeyne counted their blessings that they arrived late at night, her uncle had long since retired to his chambers, though when she went to bed, she dreaded the next day and what it would bring, no doubt he would question why they arrived so late at night. As always, she would be right.

Jeyne was nervous as she entered the great hall of Raventree Hall. She had slept little the night before, after arriving at midnight and being shown to her chambers. She had barely seen her uncle, Lord Hoster Blackwood, who had greeted them briefly and then retired to his room. She wondered what he thought of her and Jason, and what he would say to them.

She saw Jason sitting at the high table, next to her uncle. He looked calm and confident, as he always did. He smiled when he saw her and gestured for her to join them. She walked up to the table and bowed to her uncle.

"Good morning, my lord," she said.

"Good morning, Jeyne," he said. "You look well. I hope you had a good rest."

"I did, thank you," she lied.

"Sit down, sit down," he said. "There's plenty of food. Help yourself."

She sat down next to Jason and took a plate. She was not very hungry, but she forced herself to eat something. She glanced at her uncle, who was watching them with a curious expression.

"So," he said. "You two have quite a story to tell, I imagine."

Jeyne felt a flush of heat on her cheeks. She looked at Jason, who nodded slightly. "What do you mean, my lord?"

Her uncle cracked a smile and sent a side eye her way which made her feel as if a bucket of ice-cold water had been splashed on her.

"Come now, dear," her lord uncle chided her. "Do you think I have lost my wits, dear? I assure you that my mind is very much still with me and that it will be a very long time before my mind leaves, so tell me, what possesses you and my son to depart every fortnight and spend a whole day away?"

She wracked her brain, attempting to conjure an explanation out of thin air that would appease his inquisitive nature. Like a witch brewing a potion, she mixed and matched various ideas, but each one ultimately led to a dead end. Her throat constricted, as if she had swallowed the deadly Strangler plant, but this poison was of her own making. She desperately tried to think of something, anything, that would extricate her from this predicament.

"Well... you see..."

The weight of Jeyne's thoughts was suddenly shattered by the raucous clamor of the hall's doors being thrown open. In strode two little figures, as though propelled by some great unseen force, followed closely by their nannies and Jeyne's own brother. Lyon and Lyanna, offspring of Jason and Jeyne, burst into the room with boundless energy, their small frames adorned in simple clothes of linen and wool, dirt and grass stains adorning the fabrics like badges of honor. Lyon was the spitting image of his father, with the same dark hair and piercing eyes that glimmered like obsidian.

Meanwhile, Lyanna bore her mother's tresses of dark curls, save for her peculiar grey eyes that hinted at her lineage from the House of Frey. As they approached Jeyne, their glee was evident, yet tempered by a hint of nervousness that caused them to fidget ever so slightly.

As they approached the high table, Lyon and Lyanna made a show of bowing to their grandfather, Lord Hoster Tully. "Good morrow, Grandfather," they said in perfect unison.

Lord Hoster's eyes crinkled with amusement. "What brings you two here at such an hour?" he asked.

"We've got a surprise for you, Grandfather," Lyon replied, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he tugged at his grandfather's hand.

"A surprise, you say?" Lord Hoster replied, a hint of curiosity creeping into his voice. "Well, then. I do love a good surprise. Pray tell, what is it?"

Lyanna, ever the secretive one, kept her hands firmly clasped behind her back. "It's outside," she said coyly.

"Outside? Then let's be off!" Lord Hoster declared, rising from his seat. Jason and Jeyne exchanged a knowing look, realizing that this was only a temporary reprieve from their uncle's inquisition.

As the group made their way outside, Benjen lingered behind, taking a seat at the high table beside Jason. "What do you make of this, Jason?" he asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice. "Do you think they're up to some mischief?"

Jason simply shrugged. "Who knows with those two? But I doubt they'd risk angering Grandfather."

Benjen grunted in agreement.

Jeyne's eyes met Benjen's, and she knew that he was on to them. "So," he said, his gaze piercing. "Where do you two disappear to every fortnight? I know you like to take outings, but always together, at the same time every fortnight? Something smells fishy here..."

Jason's face was as motionless as a statue, revealing nothing. Jeyne tried to keep her composure. "It's nothing to worry about," she said sharply. "We go riding. We thought it would be best if we spent more time together, even if it means less time individually."

Jeyne felt a tinge of guilt and fear. She knew that Benjen had been asking around the castle about their absences every fortnight. She hoped that his curiosity would die here.

"Just a ride," she said nonchalantly.

"A ride?" Benjen repeated, his skepticism evident. "Where to?"

"Just around the countryside," Jason interjected.

"For how long?" Benjen inquired.

"Not too long," Jeyne said.

"A few hours," Jason added.

Benjen looked at them suspiciously. "A few hours?" he said. "That's a long ride."

"Well, we like to enjoy the scenery," Jeyne replied.

"And the fresh air," Jason chimed in.

Benjen nodded slowly. "I see. And do you always take the same route?"

Jeyne felt a wave of panic wash over her. Had Benjen followed them or spied on them? She tried to remain calm and innocent. "No, not always," she said.

"We like to switch it up," Jason added.

Benjen hummed and narrowed his eyes at them. After an awkward pause, the servants arrived with trays of food. The roasted chicken, fresh bread, and hearty vegetable stew were simple but delicious.

"I want you to know," Benjen said suddenly, "that you can trust me. I would never betray you to our uncle. If there's anything I can do to help, I will. It would hurt me if you thought otherwise."

Though Jason was standing beside her, Benjen's words felt like they were directed at her alone. Jeyne's heart ached as she looked at her brother's face. She buried her feelings deep and spewed a lie. "It's nothing, Ben. You're nine-and-ten, a man grown. Aren't there enough serving girls to occupy your time?"

Benjen's face turned crimson. "Very well," he snapped, pushing his chair back from the table with a sudden force. The legs of Jeyne's chair scraped against the stone floor as he stood up, his body tense with anger.

He stormed out of the hall in a fit of rage, leaving Jeyne to gaze apologetically at his ghost. She clenched her jaw and resisted the urge to chase after him and apologize for her words. But she couldn't, not unless she revealed the truth and betrayed Seath's trust. She couldn't betray her friend's confidence, not yet.

"Don't worry, Jeyne," Jason said, his hand on her arm. "He's just being himself. You know how he is."

She shook her head. "He's my brother, my only brother. The gods frown upon those who deceive their own. Ben has always been on my tail, and it pains me to keep him in the dark."

"He's a man grown, as you said," Jason replied. "It's time he stopped trailing after you like a beaten dog. Tell me, has my father discussed any matches for him? He's the only male Blackwood of age."

There indeed have been talks between her and her uncle about potential matches for her brother. Many matches with other houses and vassals.

"Anya, my dear aunt, is blessed with a trio of daughters. The eldest, Willow, is ripe and ready to inherit the keep of Willow Wood. 'Twould be a boon for young Ben to be wed and wedded to the lordship of a castle. Another prospect for his hand is the comely Amerai Frey, a cousin of mine, gifted with a mellifluous voice and a deft hand upon the lute. And then there is the alluring Minisa Mooton, a cousin of thine, with curves as ample as her beauty, and a countenance that could make any man take up arms in a duel to the death."

"So many choices," mused Jason, quaffing a chalice of mulled wine. "But fret not, my dear. In time, our wayward lad shall return to his former self, as is his wont."

With a fervent prayer, she could only hope that Jason's words would hold true.

Jeyne perused the library's shelves, seeking a tome to captivate and enlighten Seath. History, geography, myths, and beasts, she had already relayed to him. Today she wanted something novel. Jeyne surveyed the book spines, scrutinizing for titles that would spark her intrigue. A compendium about the Age of Heroes caught her eye, as did a chronicle of the Andal Invasion. Treatises about the Old Gods and the Faith of the Seven illuminated the peoples' faith in Westeros, and genealogies about noble houses such as the Starks, Durrandons, Gardeners, and Lannisters revealed the region's lineage. A sense of wonderment consumed her as she realized the vastness of her homeland's history. Jeyne pondered if her day held enough hours to read all these books to Seath. Perhaps she'd have to leave them with him; she wondered if Jessica could tend to them while she was away.

She tucked one book beneath her arm and searched for another. A tome entitled The Book of Lost Books: A Guide to Unwritten and Unfinished Works by Famous Authors intrigued her. The book featured chapters about unwritten works by authors such as Lomas Longstrider, Septon Armen, Archmaester Loren, Alerio, Cleos, Arstan, Triston Hightower, Samwell the Good, Brandon the Wise, and Unwin Oakheart. Jeyne believed Seath would relish this book's secrets, mysteries, and stories within stories.

She cradled the book beneath her other arm and glanced for one more. A book named The Language of Dragons: A Comprehensive Study of Draconic Speech and Communication by Archmaester Galendro caught her attention. She opened it, discovering a litany of symbols, diagrams, charts, and notes. Jeyne surmised Seath would adore this book more than the others. It contained all that she found fascinating: dragons, language, and knowledge.

As she turned to depart, Jeyne heard a voice from behind her.

"Jeyne? What brings you to the library?"

She pivoted and spotted Maester Alyn standing at the entrance. He was an aged man with a lengthy white beard and a necklace of numerous metals around his neck. Jeyne scolded herself for not noticing his presence.

"Maester Alyn," Jeyne said uneasily. "I was looking for some books."

Maester Alyn scrutinized Jeyne, puzzled. "I can see that," he said. "But why do you need so many? You've never shown such interest in books before."

He approached her, examining the books in her grasp.

"The Andal Invasion? The Book of Lost Books? The Language of Dragons?" Maester Alyn recited with a disapproving tone. "These are not mere books, Jeyne. They are exceedingly rare and precious tomes, not to be taken lightly."

Jeyne's expression softened as she replied, "I know, Maester Alyn, but I assure you, I have a good reason for wanting to read them."

"And pray tell, what reason would that be?" the Maester inquired.

Jeyne hesitated for a moment. She knew she could not reveal her true intentions, not even to the wise and trusted Maester. She decided to bend the truth just enough to avoid suspicion.

"I am reading them for my son," she said.

Maester Alyn raised an eyebrow in skepticism. "Your son?" he repeated.

"Yes," Jeyne replied, nodding her head. "My son, Lyon."

"Lyon?" the Maester repeated, still unconvinced. "Why would a boy of four have any interest in these books?"

"He's always had a fascination with dragons," Jeyne explained, hoping her half-truth would suffice.

"Dragons?" Maester Alyn echoed incredulously. "What could a boy his age possibly know about dragons?"

"He's curious about them," Jeyne said, her voice tinged with desperation.

"Curious about what?" Maester Alyn probed.

"In everything," Jeyne replied vaguely.

Maester Alyn scrutinized her for a moment before speaking sternly. "Jeyne, I know you're not telling me the whole truth. What is it that you're really after?"

Jeyne knew she had to think quickly. She put on her most innocent and pleading expression and looked at Maester Alyn with big eyes.

"Please, Maester Alyn," she said. "I promise you, the books are for my son, and he will be very careful with them. He has a passion for learning, just like you. He will return them as soon as he is done. Please, Maester Alyn. Please."

Maester Alyn stared at her for a long moment, weighing her words carefully. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh.

"Jeyne," he said, his voice softened with sympathy. "I know you mean well, but I cannot let these books leave the library. They are far too valuable to be put in the hands of anyone who is not worthy of them."

Jeyne's heart sank. She had failed to convince the Maester, and now she was no closer to obtaining the books for Seath.

"Please, Maester Alyn," she begged one last time. "Is there nothing I can do to convince you?"

Maester Alyn shook his head. "I'm sorry, Jeyne. But my duty is to protect these books, and I cannot take any chances. Now, if you'll follow me, we have much to discuss."

Jeyne's heart sank as Maester Alyn turned to leave, but she knew she could not give up. She would find a way to get those books, no matter what it took.

Several days had passed since Jeyne began her mission to steal books from Raventree. As she crept through the dark halls with a lantern in hand, she couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the tapestries and paintings adorning the walls. They depicted the Blackwood's history, from wars and alliances to the legends and myths of their ancestors. She saw images of kings and queens, knights and ladies, heroes and villains, direwolves, weirwoods, and ravens. Blood and fire, love and hate, glory and sorrow, all were captured in these works of art.

Turning a corner, Jeyne entered a smaller hall where portraits of the Blackwood lords hung. She looked at their faces, some stern and proud, some kind and gentle, and some fierce. She wondered what they were like in life, what they did and said, what they dreamed and feared. She wondered if they would approve of her, a daughter of theirs sneaking through the halls on a mission to steal some books.

Jeyne moved on to another hall, where the trophies and relics of the Blackwoods were displayed. She saw swords and shields, helmets and armor, jewels, and coins. Banners and sigils, books and scrolls, bones and skulls. She saw things that she didn't recognize, things that looked strange and foreign. She wondered where they came from, what they meant, what they did.

The halls of Raventree castle held a deep fascination for Jeyne. She felt a connection to the ancient castle, which had been the seat of House Blackwood for centuries. She liked to explore its secrets and mysteries, to touch its stones and wood, to feel its history and magic.

Jeyne finally arrived at the double doors of the library, where she raised the lantern and illuminated the old doors' engravings. Though they were old and smoothed by age, the doors were once carved with some beautiful scenery, but that scene was now lost to time. When she tried to push the door in, it wouldn't budge. She cursed Maester Alyn under her breath.

She waited until the moon was high in the sky and the castle was quiet, Jeyne put on a dark cloak and hood to conceal her identity. She took a small lantern and a lockpick from her room and made her way to Maester Alyn's chamber, where he kept the keys to the library.

Jeyne knew it was a risky move, but she had no choice. She had promised books to Seath, her dragon friend who lived in a cave near the castle. He was curious and lonely, and he loved to hear stories and learn new things.

Reaching the door of Maester Alyn's chamber, Jeyne tried the handle, but it was locked. She took out her lockpick and inserted it into the keyhole, twisting and turning it to find the right combination. She heard a click and smiled. She opened the door and entered, closing it softly behind her. The chamber was small and cluttered, with shelves of books and jars of herbs and potions. A desk with papers and quills, a fireplace with a dying fire, and a bed with a sleeping figure. Maester Alyn, the old man who had served House Blackwood for many years, snored softly in his bed. He was kind and wise, but also strict and stern. He had caught Jeyne sneaking into the library before and had scolded her for breaking the rules. He had also taken the books from her and locked them away.

Jeyne moved quietly towards the desk, where she hoped to find the keys. She searched through the drawers and cabinets but found nothing. She cursed under her breath.

Jeyne's eyes flickered over to Maester Alyn once more. Could he possibly be carrying the keys on his person? She decided to take a chance. With bated breath, she crept towards his bed, moving with the stealth of a cat. She carefully reached for his robe, which hung from a hook near his head.

As she lifted the garment, she felt a heavy weight in one of its pockets. A grin of triumph crept across her face as she reached inside and withdrew a bundle of keys. Success was hers!

But just as she turned to leave, disaster struck. Her foot collided with the foot of the bed, and she let out a sharp yelp. Maester Alyn stirred, and Jeyne's heart leaped into her throat. In a panic, she slithered over to the lantern sitting on his desk, snuffing out its flame and plunging the chamber into absolute darkness. She stood there, motionless, her back pressed against the wall, praying that the maester's eyesight truly was as poor as he had claimed and that he would not discover her.

Jeyne's heart pounded like a hammer as she stood there in the dark, the silence broken only by the sound of Maester Alyn stirring in his bed. She held her breath, her body tense, as she waited for him to settle back down. Every second felt like an eternity, and she could feel the sweat slicking her palms as she clutched the keys tightly, her knuckles turning white.

At last, Maester Alyn let out a thunderous snore, and Jeyne breathed a sigh of relief. She waited for a few more moments, just to be certain, before slowly making her way toward the door. She moved as stealthily as she could, her heart racing with every step. She knew that discovery would spell disaster and that she must be cautious.

Jeyne slipped out of Maester Alyn's chambers, her heart pounding in her chest. She clasped the keys tightly as she moved down the dark hallway, her dress rustling faintly as she walked. The castle was silent around her, and she knew that one wrong move could end everything.

When she reached the end of the hallway, Jeyne paused for a moment, steeling herself for what was to come. Ahead of her lay the door to the library, its dark wood looming in the shadows. She took a deep breath, and then another, before moving forward. Each step felt like a journey, and her heart pounded in her chest with every footfall.

At last, she reached the door and hesitated for a moment, her hand hovering over the knob. This was the moment she had been waiting for. With a deep breath, she inserted the key into the lock and turned it, pushing the door open and stepping inside. The library lay before her, silent and shrouded in darkness. She moved through it with the stealth of a ghost, combing the shelves for the books she sought. After a long and delicate search, she finally found what she was looking for, closing the book with a satisfied smile.

But now, she had to return the keys. Jeyne made her way back to her chambers, depositing the books she had taken, before making her way back to Maester Alyn's chambers. She smiled slyly when she saw that a guard had taken up his post outside, standing at attention as she approached. She held up the keys to him, instructing him to return them to Alyn, but warning him not to reveal who had returned them. Her mission was complete, and Jeyne felt a surge of satisfaction as she slipped away into the night.

Content with what she had accomplished she returned to her chambers with a skip in her step. Never had sleep been so good, now she waited another week.

Fortunately for Jeyne, the week had passed in a flurry, a mere footnote in the grand scheme of her life. She had avoided her uncle's council meetings, dedicating herself instead to her children and the tranquility of the godswood. And yet, her mind could not shake the fear of Alyn's thirst for knowledge, especially the knowledge he had already acquired from her private library.

At last, the day of departure had arrived, and Jeyne rose before the sun had even begun its ascent. She knew the journey ahead would be long, a five-hour ride on horseback, and she dressed accordingly. Jeyne chose her attire with practicality and comfort in mind, selecting sturdy leather boots for support, fitted riding breeches, and a long-sleeved shirt made of soft, breathable fabric.

But it was her outerwear that would truly shield her from the elements of the road. A thick, fur-lined cloak of deep brown and a leather riding jacket with intricate stitching provided warmth and protection. And as a final touch, she donned leather gloves and a woolen scarf to shield her from the chilly morning air.

Yet, as she stepped out of her chambers, Jeyne's heart sank at the absence of her husband. She searched high and low, wasting precious time, and growing ever more anxious by the minute. Her frustration was palpable, and she knew that time was running out. She could not delay any longer, nor could she bear the thought of returning to her chambers without her beloved. With determination in her step, Jeyne headed straight for the stables to prepare for the journey ahead.

It was there that she found Jason, her elusive husband, deep in conversation with a group of men-at-arms. Though they bowed in respect at her arrival, Jason's expression was less than pleased, and her frown deepened at the sight.

"May I speak with my husband?" Jeyne's voice was calm but firm, and the men quickly cleared out, leaving only her and Jason behind. She noticed that he was still in his normal attire and asked, "Why aren't you dressed?"

"I am not going this time, Jeyne," Jason replied with a frown.

"But we need to go see Seath. He's waiting for us," Jeyne said, frowning as well.

"Like I said, I'm not going this time, Jeyne. It's not worth angering my father and keeping him ignorant," Jason said, his tone serious.

Jeyne gripped the wooden fencing tightly, feeling frustrated. "And what do you wish of me then, to tell him?"

"He will find out eventually. Tell me, Jeyne, what is the point of hiding it from him? He's the lord, he deserves to know what is on his land. Do you think he's going to form some kind of hunting band to slay them?" Jason asked.

Jeyne felt conflicted. She knew that Jason had a point, but she couldn't shake off the feeling that it wasn't their decision to make regarding Seath's existence. "Fine, no matter. I'm going, Jason," she said firmly. "With or without you."

Jason softened his expression. "I will not keep you here. You are your own woman, do as you please. Simply come back safely. I do not know what I would do if something happened to you. Imagine the children."

Jeyne felt a surge of anger. It was always the same with Jason, he never stopped her from doing something, but somehow their children would always be brought up as an excuse. She wanted to lash out at him, but she held her tongue. "I'm not a child, Jason," she said, raising her voice. "I can take care of myself. The ride is only several hours. I'll be back before sundown."

Jason sighed, knowing he couldn't change her mind. "Fine, Jeyne. But please, this must be the last time, even for you. Father will not let you worm your way out of his questioning again. He will be waiting for you when you return, know that. Convince Seath to reveal himself. I assure you, my father would never hurt him or any Blackwood man."

Jeyne nodded, feeling uneasy about the situation. She hoped that Seath would understand their predicament and wouldn't be offended by their actions. "I'll do my best, Jason. But I cannot promise anything."

"Understood. Be safe, Jeyne," Jason said, giving her a small nod.

Jeyne mounted her horse and rode off toward Seath's location, her mind swirling with conflicting emotions. She prayed that everything would work out for the best.

Jeyne set out on her journey, her heart heavy with conflicting emotions as she rode toward Seath's location. The winding path ahead would take her through the rolling hills and dense forests of the countryside, where danger lurked at every turn.

Her trusty steed carried her through the rocky terrain, its hooves clattering against the uneven ground. The air was crisp and cool, with a hint of woodsmoke lingering, a reminder of the villages and hamlets scattered throughout the land.

Jeyne rode through dense forests where the trees towered high above her, their gnarled branches reaching out as if to grasp at her passing form. She kept a watchful eye out for any lurking dangers, be it bandits or wild beasts.

As she rode, Jeyne encountered a variety of wildlife, both beautiful and deadly. She saw deer grazing in the fields, their heads lifting warily as she rode by. The distant call of a hawk echoed through the trees, its sharp cry sending shivers down her spine. And she caught a glimpse of a fox darting through the underbrush, its red fur a flash of color against the green foliage.

Hours passed, and the journey took its toll on Jeyne. She grew tired and hungry, her stomach grumbling for sustenance. She stopped by a small stream, her horse nickering as it drank greedily from the cool waters. Jeyne took a moment to stretch her legs and eat a simple meal of bread and cheese, savoring the taste of the fresh, crusty bread and the sharp tang of the cheese.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, Jeyne felt a sense of urgency, knowing she was getting closer to her destination. She urged her horse forward, riding faster and faster as the trees thinned out and the path grew wider, the anticipation of her reunion with Seath building within her.

After what seemed like an eternity on the road, Jeyne arrived at last. She greeted Jessica with a nod, then made her way to the clearing where she was to meet Seath. Dismounting her horse, she took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the place. The grass was soft and verdant, and the trees that surrounded the clearing were tall and stately, like pillars of the earth.

Jeyne breathed deeply, her heart pounding with anticipation. She knew that Seath would be there soon, and she was eager to see him again. She stood there in the clearing, waiting, listening to the distant call of a bird and the gentle rustling of the leaves in the wind. The cool breeze caressed her face, while the warmth of the sun kissed her skin.

At last, after what seemed like an age, she heard the sound of wings and a roar in the distance. A smile played across her lips as she looked up to see the majestic white-gold shape of Seath circling the clearing. He landed gently, his wings beating softly as he shook off any dirt or debris. Jeyne's heart swelled with love and joy as she approached him, knowing that their reunion would be a sweet one.

"Jeyne, it's good to see you again." With gentle yet piercing eyes, he looked behind her and around. "And where is Jason? Did he lag behind you?"

She shook her head. "He chose to stay behind this time, though he asked me to greet you for him."

"Of course, I do not take it to mean anything, of course. I hope you do not think that I would be offended, he is a lord."

She unloaded her satchel. "His father is lord, he is his heir, but yes. Jason does have many important duties and responsibilities to take care of."

The wind began to pick up, and Jeyne turned to face the source of the disturbance. To her surprise, she saw the black shape of Seath's sister, Wraith, descending upon her.

"Um..." Jeyne stammered, her heart in her throat.

"Do not panic," Seath reassured her. "She does not mean harm, I swear."

But Jeyne couldn't help but feel small and insignificant in the face of the dragon's imposing presence. Wraith regarded her with her piercing green eyes, and Jeyne could feel sweat breaking out on her brow.

"She asks whether you have food of some kind," Seath said.

Jeyne fumbled through her belongings, searching desperately for something to offer the dragon. Finally, she found some cheese and bread, but her mouth was too dry to swallow.

Wraith approached her, her hot breath wafting over Jeyne's face. The dragon sniffed at the food, but then shook her head in disgust.

"She says she would rather eat mud," Seath chuckled.

Really?

With that, she took back to the air leaving as just as she came. "Does she have something against cheese and bread?"

Seath chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. "No," he said. "It's just that she prefers something a bit more substantial, like a nice fat cow or a juicy deer. But ignore her, she's just curious to see you."

Jeyne smiled at Seath's words, but her mind couldn't help but drift back to Jason. She had hoped he would be here to witness this moment. But the words he had spoken to her before she left still echoed in her mind, like a never-ending refrain. She shook her head, trying to banish those thoughts. She didn't want to spoil her time with Seath.

Approaching Seath with a small stack of books in her hand, Jeyne said, "I brought you some reading material."

Seath looked at the books with interest, his eyes flickering over the titles. "What are they about?" he asked, his voice deep and rumbling.

Jeyne smiled. "Well, this one details the lineages of the great houses that rule Westeros. Lannister, Stark, Arryn, Durrandon, Gardener, and so forth. And this one details the unfinished works of several legendary figures like Lomas Longstrider and others. And then there's this one," she said, holding up the third book, "which discusses dragon language and behavior, written by Maester Galendro."

Seath's eyes widened with interest, and he took the book from her hands. "Galendro's work sounds fascinating," he said. "Shall we start with that?"

"With pleasure," Jeyne replied, feeling a thrill of excitement run through her.

The two assumed their usual sitting position, with Seath's body forming a near circle while Jeyne sat against him. She opened the book and began to read. The book described how dragons communicated through a variety of means, including body language, vocalizations, and even pheromones. Jeyne was particularly intrigued by the section on non-verbal communication, which described how dragons used their bodies to convey messages.

According to the book, a dragon's posture and movements could reveal a great deal about its mood and intentions. For example, a dragon that was standing tall with its wings spread wide was likely feeling confident and assertive, while a dragon that was hunched over with its wings tucked in close to its body was likely feeling defensive or submissive.

"Does any of this sound familiar?" She wondered if Seath had observed any of this.

"My sister reflects a lot of this, especially those sections about confidence."

It seems that Galendro was right about these things then. She wondered what else Galendro was right about, she continued reading.

As she continued to read, Jeyne came across a section on vocalizations. The book described how dragons used a variety of sounds to communicate, including roars, hisses, and even musical trills.

"I wonder how this Galendro managed to get so close to observe my kind," Jeyne wondered the same as Seath. Galendro was a Westerosi and thus not the Blood of Valyria, and like all those that were not of the Blood of Valyria should not have permission to enter the Valyrian peninsula proper, where all the dragons were allowed to roam and fly freely. Unless Galendro was able to view a dragon in the Free Cities where a dragonlord may have been stationed she wondered where he was able to get this information.

Then, by what seemed chance, the very next page is where Jeyne saw his notes. Small things, as if they were written in haste and real-time as the writing for these notes were done as if one would write in their journal or to a friend. One note read, "Pyraxis approached another dragon, his head held high and his wings slightly spread. The other dragon responded by lowering its head and spreading its wings in a submissive gesture."

Another note described the way that dragons communicated with each other. "The dragons communicated through a series of growls, roars, and trills. They seemed to understand each other perfectly, even though their language was foreign to human ears."

Seath listened intently to her and occasionally made a comment expressing his amazement and intrigue.

One note read. "Two dragons sat side by side, their wings touching as they shared a meal. They occasionally nuzzled each other, as if to express their affection."

While Jeyne had never really taken note of the behaviors shown by Seath or Wraith she had noticed how Seath sometimes had his head somewhat lower than his sister, as well as his tail often dragging behind him. Wraith always looked like a ball of spikes, her body was always tense and alert, Seath was far more passive and relaxed in comparison, she wondered what such things meant about them.

A final note read, "A larger dragon approached a smaller dragon, puffing up its chest and letting out a low growl. The smaller dragon responded by lowering its head and spreading its wings in a submissive gesture."

As Jeyne read through her notes, she couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the complexity of dragon socialization.

"What a good book. Galendro was lucky then, to be allowed to observe my kin. Especially if none-Valyrians were forbidden from Valyria."

"The man knew much about dragons," Jeyne mused, her voice low and thoughtful. "I'd even say he was the most knowledgeable man on dragons, save for the Valyrians themselves." Jeyne felt Seath's pain, the deep hurt that lingered in his heart. "My apologies, Seath," she said softly, she sensed the topic of dragons brought an air of melancholy and unease to her friend, the mental link between them amplifying his emotions. "Is all well, Seath? I hope I haven't caused offense."

"Nay, 'tis not your words that trouble me, Jeyne," Seath replied, his voice heavy with a forlorn tone. "It's the memory of Valyria that plagues me. The news of its ruin was a hard blow to bear. I never could have imagined that such a grand civilization could be snuffed out so easily."

Jeyne could feel the sorrow and heartache resonating within Seath's voice as he spoke of his lost home and kin. She empathized with his pain, knowing that the loss of one's own kind and home was an unbearable burden to bear.

"My apologies, Seath," Jeyne murmured, her voice low and soothing. "I did not mean to stir such distressing thoughts within you."

Seath let out a long sigh, his amber eyes fixed on the endless shelves of books surrounding them. "No need for apologies, Jeyne. Truth be told, the pain I feel for Valyria is nothing compared to what another dragon I know will bear. It's just... difficult to fathom the fate of my kind. We were once a thriving race, and now, we are but a shadow of what we once were."

Jeyne reached out, placing a comforting hand on Seath's wing. "I cannot imagine the magnitude of such a loss. But know this, Seath, you and your family are survivors. Your sister, mother, and father still walk this earth. Though your numbers may be few, the resilience of your kind will prevail, and one day, the skies will be filled with dragons once more."

Seath gazed at Jeyne, a glimmer of gratitude shining in his eyes. "Your words bring comfort, Jeyne. They are a balm to my troubled heart."

Jeyne smiled kindly at Seath, her heart warmed by his response. "Always, Seath. I am here for you."

Soon they moved on to another book.

Jeyne pored over the aged tome, the pages of which were filled with the lineages of the great houses of Westeros. Her fingers danced across the yellowed pages, searching for a passage worthy of sharing with Seath, the last surviving dragon.

After several moments, her eyes alighted upon a particular page, one that detailed the history of House Lannister. "Ah, here's one," she announced, the words of the passage hovering on her lips. "Did you know that House Lannister traces its lineage back to Lann the Clever, who was said to have tricked the Casterlys out of their castle?"

Seath, his eyes the color of molten gold, arched an eyebrow in interest. "No, I did not. Pray tell, Jeyne, what else do the annals say of this Lann?"

"The story goes," Jeyne began, relishing the opportunity to share her knowledge, "that Lann was a cunning trickster who crept into Casterly Rock and absconded with the golden treasures of House Casterly. He then spun a web of lies so convincing that the Casterlys believed a lion had come and stolen their wealth as punishment for their greed."

"Or so the story goes," Seath rumbled with a chuckle, his long tail swishing back and forth in anticipation. "But what of the other great houses, Jeyne? What histories do they bear?"

Jeyne paused, considering his words. "Well," she said slowly, "House Stark's lineage can be traced back to the First Men who settled in the North. And House Arryn's lineage goes back to the Andals who came to Westeros thousands of years ago."

Seath leaned forward, his intense gaze fixed upon Jeyne. "But how can it be that certain families have ruled over their lands for centuries?" he queried. "Surely their reigns must have gone through many phases, experienced many changes?"

Jeyne nodded, her fingers caressing the ancient pages of the book she held with care. "Aye, it is a question that has puzzled many a scholar, Seath," she replied, her tone thoughtful. "But perhaps the answer lies not in the deeds of long-dead kings or queens, but in the will of the people they rule."

Seath arched a brow, intrigued. "Explain."

"These families have earned their power through their deeds and their lineage," Jeyne continued. "Their ancestors built the great cities, fought off invaders, and forged alliances with their neighbors. They have earned the respect and loyalty of their people."

Seath shook his head. "I do not dispute their achievements, but I still find it hard to believe that their descendants continue to rule simply because of who their ancestors were. What if they are incompetent or corrupt? A single bad king can often end a dynasty."

"Aye, that is true," Jeyne conceded, her eyes narrowing. "But for those of us born into these houses, it is simply the way things have always been. We are raised to uphold our families' honor and continue their legacy."

Seath cocked his head to the side, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "But is that truly enough? Has there never been a time where the smallfolk rose up and said enough was enough, or where an ambitious vassal took advantage of a regency and outright overthrew the ruling house?"

Jeyne considered his words carefully before replying. "There have been instances of rebellion and uprisings, of course. But the great houses have always managed to maintain their power through alliances and marriages. They have expanded their influence and power over time, ensuring their survival."

Seath snorted dismissively. "Political maneuvering alone cannot explain the longevity of these houses. There must be more to it than that."

"Perhaps it is their traditions and customs that have kept them together," Jeyne suggested. "The great houses have a strong sense of duty and honor. They are bound by their oaths and their loyalty to their family and their people. They serve as an example to their vassals and inspire loyalty."

Seath regarded Jeyne with a mixture of skepticism and interest. "Traditions and customs can change over time, Lady Blackwood. People can become corrupt or power-hungry. It just seems... preposterous that these families have managed to avoid these pitfalls for so long."

Jeyne closed the ancient tome she had been reading and set it aside. "Perhaps it is a matter of luck," she said thoughtfully. "A great house may have survived through sheer luck, through the right alliances and the right people in power at the right time. But it is also possible that they have earned their place through their actions and their leadership."

Seath pondered Jeyne's words for a moment before settling his massive head down onto the ground. "Perhaps you are right, Lady Blackwood," he rumbled softly. "Perhaps it is a combination of all these things that have allowed the great houses to maintain their power for so long. But I still find it hard to believe that any family could hold a seat of power for thousands of years."

Jeyne smiled faintly and leaned her head against Seath's side. "It is simply the way of the world, my lord dragon," she said, her voice gentle. "Some families are destined for greatness, and some are not."

Seath huffed a breath, his great nostrils flaring as he shifted his massive head to gaze upon Jeyne. The sun was slowly descending beneath the horizon, casting the clearing into shadow and painting the sky in hues of red and orange. The dragon's wings lay folded neatly behind him, and his amber eyes remained fixed upon the forest beyond.

Jeyne sat with her back against Seath's scaly hide, her mind heavy with troubles. Her uncle, Lord Blackwood, weighed heavily on her thoughts. She knew she needed to speak to Seath about him, to tell him of her desire to reveal his existence to her kin. The thought alone filled her with apprehension, and she found herself nervously twisting a strand of hair around her finger.

"Seath," she began tentatively, "I need to speak to you about something that has been troubling me."

The dragon turned his great head to regard her with an inscrutable gaze. "Speak, Jeyne," he rumbled in his deep, resonant voice.

"It's about my uncle," Jeyne said, the words tumbling from her lips. "Lord Blackwood. I want to tell him about you."

Seath's eyes narrowed, his expression stern. "And why would you wish to do that?"

"Because he is my family," Jeyne replied, her voice rising in desperation. "He deserves to know. And if I do not tell him, I fear that I will not be able to keep visiting you."

A long silence stretched between them, Seath considering her words carefully. At last, he spoke, his voice low and ominous. "You must understand, Jeyne, that revealing my existence to others is a risk we cannot afford to take. The lords and kings of Westeros will not be so kind as to allow us to live in peace."

"But my uncle is different," Jeyne protested, her voice trembling. "He is a good man. He would not harm you."

Seath shook his head, his great horns glinting in the fading light. "You cannot know that for certain, Jeyne. And even if he is a good man, there are others who would seek to use the knowledge of my existence for their own gain."

Jeyne hung her head in defeat, her hopes crushed. "I understand," she said softly. "It's just...not fair. You know everything about me, but I cannot even tell my own family about you."

Seath let out a deep, rumbling sigh, a gust of wind that stirred the leaves in the trees. "I know it is difficult, Jeyne," he said gently, "but it is the only way. We must keep our secret, for both our sakes."

Jeyne nodded, though her heart ached with disappointment. She had hoped Seath would understand her need to share his existence with someone else. But it seemed that it was not to be.

For a time, they sat in silence, watching the sun dip below the horizon and the sky grow darker. Jeyne rose to her feet, brushing off her clothes and turning to face Seath.

"I suppose it's time for me to be going," she said, her voice heavy with regret.

Seath nodded, his great wings stirring slightly. "Yes, it is getting late. You should make your way back before it grows too dark."

Jeyne looked up at the dragon, feeling a mix of gratitude and sadness. "Thank you, Seath," she said softly, "for everything. For the stories, the conversations, and for keeping me company."

Seath lowered his great head towards her, and Jeyne reached out to touch his rough scales.

Jeyne rode away from the clearing, lost in thought about her encounter with Seath. The young lady's emotions churned within her like a violent storm, a tempest of sorrow, yearning, and profound gratitude for the moments she had shared with her beloved. As she trotted along the winding path, she couldn't help but reminisce about the memories, relishing each precious second of their time together.

The rustling of leaves and the sound of twigs snapping underfoot broke her contemplations. Jeyne pulled her horse to a stop, scanning the surrounding area. Her eyes fell upon a man garbed in dark clothing, his face hidden under a hood, and she eyed him with caution, for she knew all too well the dangers that lurked in the woods.

"Excuse me, Lady. Might I have a word with you?" the man called out, his voice muffled by the shadowy cloak.

Jeyne hesitated, her hand hovering near the hilt of her sword. Her father had taught her to be wary of strangers, especially those who concealed their visages. Still, something about the man's tone and demeanor seemed genuine, and she cautiously beckoned for him to approach.

"What is it you want?" Jeyne asked, keeping a wary eye on the stranger.

"Please, Lady, I have lost my way in these woods and am in dire need of assistance. I have been traveling for days and am exhausted and famished," the man said, his voice imploring.

Jeyne's heart softened at his words. She knew how easy it was to become lost in the woods and had herself been in such a predicament more than once. She gestured for the man to follow, though she kept a safe distance.

"Very well, I will assist you. What is your name?" she asked.

"My name is Ser Gervais, Lady. And I am most grateful for your help," he replied, bowing low.

Jeyne led the way deeper into the woods, listening to the knight's tales of his travels, battles fought, and noble lords and ladies encountered along the way. Though she listened politely, she couldn't shake off a feeling that something was amiss about the man.

As they neared a clearing, Ser Gervais suddenly spurred his horse forward, blocking Jeyne's path. He then grabbed her roughly, throwing her to the ground, leaving her reeling in pain. She scrambled to her feet, her hand seeking her dagger, but it was too late. The knight had already disarmed her and had her at his mercy, his dagger pricking her neck.

Jeyne's heart pounded in her chest as she looked up at the shadowy figure, demanding answers. "Who are you? How dare you lay your hands on a lady of House Blackwood?"

The man laughed, and Jeyne recognized the voice with a jolt. "Do you not remember me, Lady Jeyne? We met briefly at Fairmarket some years ago."

"As if I would ever remember a knave like you," she spat.

The man pulled down his hood, revealing his face. Jeyne struggled to recognize him at first, but soon realized with dread that he was none other than Prince Harwyn. "You don't remember me, little bird?" he said, grinning wickedly. "We danced together at that feast in my brother's honor."

Jeyne's heart froze, her face turning pale. "Prince Harwyn, have you lost your wits?! How dare you touch me!"

Harwyn's cruel smile widened as Jeyne struggled against him, her eyes full of fear and anger. He pressed the dagger closer to her throat, relishing in the power he held over the helpless Blackwood lady.

"You're a prize, my dear," he said with a sneer. "A delicate prize indeed." He threw her weapon aside and shoved her against a tree, causing her to gasp in pain.

A raven called from above, its cold gaze fixed on the unfolding scene. Harwyn looked up at the bird, then back down at Jeyne. "Do not fret, Lady Blackwood," he said, his breath hot against her skin. "I am not here to harm you...yet."

Jeyne's eyes widened in shock. "What game are you playing at, Prince Harwyn?" she demanded, her voice trembling with anger. "Why have you taken me? To intimidate my uncle? My husband will have your head if you or your father harm me!"

Harwyn shook his head, a cruel smile playing across his lips. "You think you can threaten me, girl?" he mocked. "You're nothing but a Blackwood, a weak and pathetic house. Your family's time is coming to an end, just like the rest of you fishmongers."

He pulled her close, causing Jeyne to turn her head away from his face. "Tell me what you want with me, then," she said through gritted teeth. "What is it? Ransom? Concessions from my uncle?"

Harwyn laughed, a sound that made Jeyne's blood run cold. "He could care less about such things," he said. "It's you that he wants. You are the key to a far greater prize, a prize fit for a king. And I am the one who my father entrusted to bring you, the precious key, to him."

Jeyne's heart sank as Harwyn's words sank in. "What do you mean, a greater prize?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harwyn's grip on her tightened, and Jeyne winced in pain. "My father is an ambitious, greedy, and prideful man," he said. "If there is something in this world that others have that he does not, he will want it at all costs. And in this case, it's a dragon."

Jeyne's eyes widened in shock and fear. "How...how could you know about him?" she stammered.

Harwyn twisted the dagger at Jeyne's throat, causing her to flinch in pain. "You think you're so clever, Lady Blackwood," he said with a cruel smile. "But we know all about your little secret. The dragons in the woods, the ones that have been attacking our patrol bands and disrupting our rule. The one you've been reading to."

Jeyne's mind raced as she tried to think of a way out of this nightmare. "But how...damn you!" she spat. "Who told you? A villager, a servant, or do you have a spy among us?"

"We have our ways," Harwyn replied, his grip tightening on the dagger. "If that dragon holds your life in any regard, I'm sure he'll come running when he finds out we have you as our hostage."

Jeyne's heart sank. "Please, Prince Harwyn, don't do this," she begged, tears streaming down her face. "Let me go and I promise I won't tell anyone about your father's scheme."

Harwyn's laughter echoed throughout the forest, his eyes flashing with malevolent amusement. "Favors and deals, my sweet Lady Blackwood, are an indulgence we cannot afford," he said, his grip on her arm tightening with each passing moment. "My father has designs for the dragons, particularly the one that has been speaking to you. He won't rest until it's under his control, and you, my dear, are the perfect bait to lure it in."

Jeyne's heart raced with fear and fury, her eyes flashing with defiance. She struggled fiercely against Harwyn's grasp, her fingers digging into his flesh as she fought to break free. "You will pay for this treachery," she hissed, her voice ringing with contempt. "My uncle will come for me, and my husband will make sure that you suffer for your crimes!"

Harwyn's smirk widened into a cruel smile, his fingers tightening around her arm. "Your uncle is a fool if he thinks he can challenge my father's power," he scoffed. "And as for your 'husband,' well, let's just say he's no match for a woman of your beauty and wit. But enough talk. It's time to go."

With a swift motion, Harwyn pulled Jeyne to her feet, his dagger poised menacingly against her back. She stumbled forward, her head reeling from the sudden movement. Harwyn prodded her forward, his grip tightening on her arm as they made their way towards a group of mounted men emerging from the shadows, their faces shrouded by black cloaks.

The men were armed to the teeth, some wielding crossbows, others with swords dangling from their waists. Jeyne's heart sank as she realized the gravity of her situation. She was hopelessly outnumbered, her fate in the hands of these ruthless men.

But before she could even scream for help, Jeyne felt the brutal blow of Harwyn's dagger pommel against her temple. The world went black, and she knew no more. As Harwyn and his men disappeared into the night, the echoes of their cruel laughter were the only sounds to be heard.

End of Arc I

Last edited: May 13, 2023

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Beebos

May 12, 2023

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