The Targaryen and the Archeron

Chapter 1

-Rhaella-

Feeling the icy wind in my long white braid, standing at the bottom of a mountain. Which mountain? I have no idea. It's a mountain and it has caves, caves big enough to hide my dragon. And why are mountain names important anyway? A mountain is just a big rock sticking up from the earth, more you don't need to know.

Except if you're lost and are in a need of a map, and the damn name of the mountain. And how do I find a map, you may ask? I'm thinking of asking some complete stranger for one. And ofcourse if they refuse to help me, I could simply give them a little tour, to show off all my dragon's teeth. Many give in after seeing a little beast with wings, and would do everything to not end up in its mouth.

The problem is, I don't know how to fight. Nor how to drag a full grown man from the bottom of a mountain to the cave. My only skills are on dragon back, and running from my problems. As I may or may not be doing right at this moment. Running from my fiance and fucked up family.

I'm also capable of looking like an idiot, or so I am told. But I take it as a compliment, since my plan all along was to look like one, so no one mind see me planning an escape or even someone's death.

I never felt remorse for people that died, and I don't recall ever crying seeing blood flow out of a corpse. I blame it on the people that raised me. Letting me see all the death, but never teaching me how to bring it. Perhaps that's for the best?

My stomach growled. Bringing me out of my thoughts, and reminding me of the task ahead. Find a damn map, find out how to read it later.

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I've been walking for a good long while, and I found smoke. And I mind not be well educated, but I know where there is smoke there is fire, where there is fire there are people. So I have been following that damn smoke line in the sky, for gods know how long.

Walking through the icy forest, while sidestepping threes and sticks, plus a few animals. Is not as bad as I thought it would be, except for my numb ass feets! And freezing hands. No wonder the men and males at the castle always have so much clothing on when they are going for a hunt.

Holding my fur cape closer to me, looking forward to seeing the smoke still going, and far closer than before. I pull my hood over my head, to hide the hair. I wouldn't want anyone to bring me back for a good hand of gold.

The closer I get the more I can see. Apparently it's not one but many fires burning. It looks like an army. Their tents don't look like they can be easily moved, so they can't be traveling. Maybe its a war camp then, the men certainly look like warriors. Males not men, these people are not men, I can't see a single man! They all have weird bat-like wings, and as far as i'm concerned men didn't decide to grow wings.

Looking down at the males, from a little hill, I could make out the finer tents. Probably tents used for the generals or noble warriors. It would be a start to walk to one of those tents. I just have to get past all the others unnoticed, plus a really good lie to why the noble warrior should waste their time on some random lady.