Dance of The Dragonwolf

Reunion

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The Following 15 Chapters are available for Patrons.

Chapter 14 (Back to  Winterfell), Chapter 15 (A Walk  Through  Memories), Chapter 16 (A Feast), Chapter 17 (A Memory of The  Past), Chapter 18 (A Reunion), Chapter 19 (Leaving The  North), Chapter  20 (A Song of Happiness),  Chapter 21 (A Song of Sorrow), Chapter 22   (Father and Son), Chapter 23 (The Brave Prince), Chapter 24 (The  Mourning Dragons), Chapter 25 (Hightower), Chapter 26 (The Council of  101), Chapter 27 (Jaehaerys and Alysanne), and Chapter 28 (A Last Talk) are already available for Patrons.

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Aenar Targaryen

As he lay in his bed in White Harbor, wrapped in furs to keep warm, he couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over him. It was as if the frigid air outside had transported him back to his days in Winterfell, where he had spent countless nights shivering beneath his blankets. Though White Harbor was not quite as bone-chilling as Winterfell, the cold was still biting and unrelenting, a stark contrast to the warm, temperate climate of King's Landing, where he had spent the past few years. Despite the discomfort, there was something comforting about the familiar chill, like an old friend visiting after a long absence. Aenar hadn't spent much time sleeping in King's Landing in his past life, only a year or two until the War for The Living started.

Aenar's body shuddered as he lay on the bed, feeling the icy grip of death slowly creeping up his spine; the coldness on his chest grew more intense, reminding him of the fatal wound inflicted by the Night King's spear. Even though he tried to ignore the pain, it gnawed at his insides like a hungry beast, refusing to let go of him.

The memory of the Night King's cruel gaze, with his piercing blue eyes that seemed to hold the power of death itself, was still fresh in Aenar's mind; it was as if the nightmarish vision had been burned into his soul and would never let him forget the horror he had experienced. Despite his fear and pain, Aenar knew that he had to be strong for his people and himself, and he refused to give up just yet. Aenar remembered his blood poured out of his chest, and his blood spilled from his chest like a crimson river, staining the snow beneath him.

As Aenar slowly opened his eyes, he was greeted by the gentle warmth of the morning sun that was pouring through the window, casting a bright beam of light that illuminated his bedchamber. With each passing moment, the warmth seemed to spread throughout the room, enveloping him in a cozy embrace that made it difficult to leave the comfort of his bed. However, as the sound of the bustling castle outside grew louder, Aenar knew it was time to start his day. So he forced himself to stand up, feeling the coolness of the stone floor beneath his feet as he made his way towards the window to take in the breathtaking view of the White Harbor that lay before him. Aenar saw his clothes were left in a chair, all prepared by servants; he quickly wore all the clothes the servants had prepared for him.

Aenar realized that he had woken up earlier than both of his parents and even Ser Ryam, the knight guarding his door. Ser Ryam had immediately questioned the prince if something was amiss, but Aenar reassured him that everything was alright. The truth was, Aenar simply felt the urge to explore The White Harbor, to experience the city's bustling streets and the salty sea breeze that blew in from the harbor.

Later

The White Harbor was bustling with life as the young prince strolled through its streets, his regal presence commanding the attention of all those who laid eyes on him. The townsfolk, who had heard of his imminent arrival, had gathered in droves to catch a glimpse of the royal prince, and as he passed by them, they bowed reverently, their faces filled with awe and admiration. Ser Ryam followed closely behind, his hand never straying too far from the pommel of his sword.