Chapter 45: Dragon Ride to the Rivernds—

  We soared beh a sky of tless stars, the chaos of King’s Landing fading to a glittering blur far below until it totally vanished as miuro hours,

  Sansa’s arms ed tight around my waist, her cloak snapping in the wind, her breath ragged but steady over time. She held me tightly; holy, it was fun to be held like that. I was sure she wasn’t even aware of it. My wings pounded against the cool night air, and each fp made me more familiar with flying, though the muscles in my back ached with every push. I couldn’t go on like this forever. I had to train on these new muscles.

  By dawn’s first glow, I knew we had to nd—daylight would make us more visible to people. More than that, my back hurt like crazy. My gaze fell on a quiet meadow near a winding stream, its tall grass swaying in the early light. With one final beat, we touched down, the dew spraying in silver arcs. As I let Sansa go, she stumbled, eyes unfocused.

  “My head’s spinning,” she muttered, stepping away from me and swaying on her feet.

  “Need help?” I offered, reag for her waist again. It was a firm thing.

  “Uh,” she half-swat my hand away with a flustered look. “I—I’m fine.”

  She steadied herself while I shrugged and folded my wings with a low ripple of magic. The membranes sank into my back, leaving nothing but smooth skih my cloak. This was an evolution I was still getting used to. It felt… right. Magical. I was being a dragon, but I could choose to hide the features. No trace of them remained except the dull ache in my shoulders.

  A moment passed as we looked around, and Sansa seemed unsure how to break the tension. I cleared my throat, rummaging through my [Iory] to retrieve a small hatchet and some provisions. She blinked as I did that, although she’d seen it on a before.

  Soon a small fire crackled between us in the meadow’s hush, and I used the meager supplies I'd stashed—some dried meat, a few wrinkled vegetables—to craft a modest meal. My iory wasn’t endless, so I couldn’t hold too many things in there. Sansa watched in stunned sileil I extended a handful of food her way.

  “Oh… Thank you,” she said quietly, l her gaze as she took a bite. We ate silently for a while, and then, her eyes flicked bae as she whispered, “Is… is it alright if I ask questions?”

  I arched my brow. “Ask away. I’m not a bore like Stannis Baratheon, don’t be so hesitant.” A smirk tugged at my lips, and she let out a soft, uneasy ugh.

  She gestured vaguely at my back. “You disappeared for so long, and now you have… wings? You carried me across half the sky, but I still ’t believe it. Are you still human?”

  I turhe spit over the fire, letting the savory aroma swirl around us. “I spent years in Essos after fleeieros with my baby sister, surviving mostly by wits and luck. People mocked me as a beggar king, and they took advantage of me along the way. They thought I never noticed, but I was just too helpless to say anything back. Those same people are crawling to me now as I’ve beore than a mortal man.” I paused, dropping my gaze. “To be fair, I ’t bme them for looking down at me before.”

  Her expression softened, sympathy brightening her eyes. “It’s not alright to look down on anybody, don’t say you ’t bme them. You should. I… used to think you were just the Targaryen prince who sold his sister for an army, for those are the stories that reached my ears. My impression of you was horrible like you were a piece of trash. But after you saved me, and as I realize what you went through…”

  I shrugged. “It’s irely untrue. I did hand Daenerys to Khal Drogo, but it wasn’t that simple. My father’s crimes ned our entire house, and we had no allies. You bme me for it, but I doubt you propose a better idea. And I doubt you realize how hurt I was. I know you people see i as a bad thing, but to us Targaryens, my sister wasn’t just that. From childhood, I dreamt of ruling the realm with her by my side… Imagine selling off someone like that to a barbarian,” I forced a faint smile.

  This wasn’t a lie. Before I’d awakehese memories, Viserys didn’t enjoy making that decision. He just had no other choio, speaking of choices, the marriage idea roposed to me by Illyrio Mopatis… I’d wohis before, but did Young Griff exist in this world? If he did, it’d make a lot of sense.

  Perhaps it’d been all a part of Illyrio’s pns. He maniputed the pre-Viserys into selling off his sister and future bride. Somehow, that realization made my forehead cool, and my blood boil.

  “I’m really sorry…” Sansa said, pulli of my thoughts.

  I shook off the rage and smiled, “Anyway, that’s all in the past. As for the wings, they are just one part of what I’ve bee. My… draic side, so to speak. I’m unsure if I am still fully human or not, but rest assured, I am human enough.”

  Her gaze flicked down. “Draic side,” she repeated as if tasting the words. A man who had bee a dragon. Even this young Sansa uood the implications of that. Then she exhaled softly, g her hands over the b. “I’m sorry you had to endure so much—because of what your father did. You and your sister didn’t deserve such things.”

  I smiled, looking up at the sky, and sighed. Then I nodded, stirring the small pot with my makeshift dle. “We have time, Sansa. I promised t you to your brother, but the journey won’t be quick. So if your curiosity itches, keep asking. Better to talk than brood in silence.”

  She smiled, “Sure thing, Prince Viserys,” she said, and I ignored how she didn’t call me Yrace. She’d seen others refer to me as that, but she chose not to. We spent a while sing questions and answers, Sansa’s voice growing more natural once she realized I wasn’t about to sh out and that this wasn’t a trap. I teased her about her formalities, and she teased me about my supposed arrogance. I didn’t think I was arrogant, but she didn’t agree.

  The talk was… surprisingly pleasant.

  But like all good things, it came to an eually, a ension slid across the camp. I looked up at a rustling iall grass. Fed figures emerged from the thicket, eyes sunken with huheir clothes hung off them, bones pressing against too-thin frames. My fingers brushed the hilt of my sword, uain if this would lead to violence.

  They shuffled forward, desperation in their eyes. “P-please, Ser Knight,” one croaked, eyes on the simmering stew over our small fire. “We mean no harm. Just… hungry.”

  Hungry, they say, I didn’t doubt them. They looked on the verge of dying from starvation. I’d say even Sansa could defeat them in this state. They meant no harm.

  Before I could decide, however, Sansa spoke up, her voice shy but firm. “Let them have some,” she said, gng at me. “We’ll be leaving soon anylus, we’d have a lot more food once we reach River—” She froze, realizing she nearly revealed our destination aloud. My warning look made her flush. “I—I’m sorry.”

  I sighed, turning to the men. It didn’t matter, even if they heard it; they were just hungry men. “Fiake a bowl.” I dled out a portion of the stew, handing it to their trembling hands.

  In the few mihey devoured all their portion with greedy urgency, uttering choked words of thanks before shuffling bato the shadows of the trees.

  Ohey’d gone, Sansa released a breath she’d been holding. “Once again, I’m sorry for slipping, and… Thank you for feeding them,” she whispered. “It was a good deed. I think you’re a far better King than Joffrey already.”

  I only nodded, stifling the pang of worry that we might’ve just raised suspis. But part of me admired how she refused to let fear bury her kindness, even if it risked everything. A King should be ruthless, but a Queen could be kind.

  We’ll just have to be careful. But I’ll admit, I like her. I noted as the sun climbed higher, warming the meadow. I doused the fire and packed our meager supplies.

  ****

  Yet, it seemed fate didn’t judge Sansa as kindly as me.

  Half an hour ter, my suspis showed up in the flesh. “How annoying,” I sighed as Sansa followed my gaze. I saw those same ragged men skulking back through the tall grass, only now they weren’t alone.

  A handful of guards in mismatched armor trailed behind, clutg ons with te ready grips. A calloused finger poiraight at me. “That’s him,” the leader of the hungry men rasped, his voice thick with guilt and triumph. “They’re the oraveling to Rivernds.”

  “Oh, the Seven, why…” Beside me, Sansa looked betrayed as she looked at the men. I shook my head while she looked at me, biting her lip. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her head l beh my look.

  “Whatever. Use this as a learning experience,” I exhaled, trying not to let the knot in my chest tighten further. So much for kindness. Stepping around our dying campfire, I let out a tired grunt. “I suppose there’s no helping it, then.”

  I didn’t bother to uhe my sword. No, I had a better idea. Without hesitation, I raised my hand sharply—calling upon the [House on] skill from within me.

  It’d been a few days since my baby st fed; this was a fine meal. A fsh of crag air ter, Viserion emerged in a swirl of hot breath and gleaming gold scales. Her roar shook the meadow, scattering embers from our half-dead fire.

  Terrified gasps split the group of newly arrived guards. Sansa jerked back, eyes going wide. “W-what?!” She shouted, and I caught her elbow, anch her in pce.

  “It’s alright,” I said, and turo Viserion. “Dracarys,” I let out a cold sneer.

  Fmes ed the clearing in an instant. Shouts turo shrieks, then died abruptly in the bze. Viserion lurched forward, fangs closing on charred forms with siing finality.

  [Your dragon, Viserion, has killed a human.]

  [You’ve received experience points.]

  [Your dragon, Viserion, has killed a human.]

  [You’ve received experience points.]

  [Your dragon, Viserion, has killed a human.]

  [You’ve received experience points.]

  [Your dragon, Viserion, has killed a human.]

  [You’ve received experience points.]

  …

  [Your dragon, Viserion, has killed a human.]

  [You’ve received experience points.]

  [You’ve leveled up.]

  [You’ve reached Level 29!]

  The stench of scorched flesh rolled across us, and Sansa gagged, turning her face away. My stomach rolled in disfort, but I pressed a reassuring hand against Viserion’s fnk anyway. She was simply being a dragon, after all.

  A momehe disfort vanished. And I felt my mouth water… I quickly blinked, shaking off the feeling. Shit, that’s not good. I didn’t want to eat humans.

  “...Well, that’s that,” I muttered under my breath, ign the hunger and sparing only a resigned g the bed remains of men who’d sold us out despite me giving them food.

  “What is this?! You have a real DRAGON?!” Sansa was shouting beside me while Viserion ate, but I ignored her.

  I tilted my head, p for a moment. The dull ache was still in my back, meaning I couldn’t fly on my own wings yet. I might have been fine if I wasn’t carrying Sansa. Real Dragons are built for this—my sy limbs are not. I made a decision as I watched Viserio.

  Saually went silent, her mouth agape, as she hid behind me and watched the dragon. I waited till she was doing, which didn’t take long. Then, I approached her.

  “Down, girl,” I anded, voice clipped. Viserion raised her head from the st bits of bones on the ground. Our eyes met, and she hissed, eyes bzing with rese.

  “What… did… you… say?” she asked, making me ugh. Sansa was trembling now. I locked gazes with Viserion, a silent test of wills passing through us.

  “What?” I asked. “Ye enough to carry me now. You’re my ride, Viserion, and I think your instincts know that already. Do not be stubborn in front of me, girl,” I said, and she just stared at me.

  Half a mier, she snorted and hunched down in the grass. “What…ever…”

  A hush fell, save for Sansa’s trembling breath. I turo the northern wolf, who was stunned, frozen, and beed her forward. “e,” I said, and her body moved on its own. Somehow, seeing a real dragon was more shog than seeing a hybrid. Then again, there were scary legends about Viserion’s species and none about mine.

  Sansa stumbled a little, still half-horrified at the se around us, but I hoisted her onto Viserion’s back with a swift pull. “H-hey! Is this smart?! Is this safe?!” She stiffened a out a small whimper as my arms encircled her waist.

  “You’ll be fine, uh, as long as I hold you,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. Her only response was a tiny nod, her hands ing around to grip my forearms tightly. I ughed and held one hand tight to the ridges along Viserion’s neck. She followed the gesture.

  As I settled behind Sansa, the dragon rumbled distent, but I ighe beast’s simmering attitude. Sansa was not a Targaryen, so Viserion might not like it, but she didn’t actively pin.

  “Go, girl,” I tapped her side with my foot, “fly right ahead,” I said, and with a low snarl, Viserion unched upward, kig off the blood-soaked grass.

  Sansa cried, must be feeliomach lurch at the sudden ast, but I didn’t feel it. The wind shed her red hair ay face, and I ughed. Sansa gave a choked gasp as we rose, each fp of Viserion’s wings sending us higher into the sky, away from the ruin of enerosity.

  So much for quiet travel, I thought grimly. But at least we were moving, skybound and free of that fresh age on the ground. It’s okay. I don’t have any reason to hide anymore.

  The world’s troubles vanished beh us, left far below in a swirl of ash and singed grass, while Lady Stark hugged my arms tightly more than she held onto Viserion. I didn’t mind.

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