We Are Dragons (Daemon Targaryen)

Chapter Nine

My dreams were haunting.

I saw snow falling on Winterfell. I felt the cold, as vivid as if I was truly there.

I saw the sigil of the wolf being cut down, falling into a pool of blood.

I saw a child, a young boy with brown hair, falling from one of Winterfell's towers, but before he hit the ground, I was thrown headfirst into the fire that consumed King's Landing.

Green fire.

Wildfire.

I startled awake with a gasp, panting softly as I sat up. I ran my hands over my face and looked back over my shoulder to see Ser Criston observing me with curiosity and concern.

To my right, my direwolf companion was sitting up. His back was straight, his ears perked up. He was alert as he observed the forest around him.

As if he felt my eyes on him, he turned, his red eyes meeting mine.

I heard a faint, echoing snarl and a howl, but his mouth didn't move.

I had a feeling the call I was hearing was not one that was happening at this time.

Once the others stirred awake, the knights fashioned two stretchers to carry the boars, enlisting their horses to drag the kills. One, Rhaenyra intended to surrender over to whoever wanted it. The second I would leave for my direwolf to eat.

Rhaenyra and I were still mounted on our horses, and my cousin took a moment to stare down into the valley that the Kingswood occupied, listening to the trees before we returned to camp.

She and I still had blood painted down the sides of our neck, coated in our silver hair. For the last few years I'd kept my short hairstyle, despite the reservations of those at court who thought it was un-ladylike.

There was a soft huff to be heard, and we all turned to see a shape approaching up the valley path.

The large white stag stopped under the lone tree, staring at us wearily. To my surprise, despite it being prey, my direwolf simply observed it. He seemed to have no intention of hunting it.

I looked back over my shoulder at Rhaenyra, who was gaping at it in awe.

Ser Criston began to draw his sword, the sound of steel making the stag shift nervously. "No." Rhaenyra whispered sharply to the knight, who sheathed his sword.

"Dismount." I said softly to Rhaenyra, who did. I dismounted and we approached the stag slowly. It took a step back and we stopped moving, standing halfway from where we'd started.

It took a hesitant step forward, and then another.

The white stag lowered its head, giving us full view of its massive antlers, before slowly approaching us. It stopped just a few inches away.

Rhaenyra slowly lifted her hand, holding it out to touch the creature's shoulder, and it allowed it. She gasped softly, moving her fingers across its white fur.

She looked at me, nodding for me to do the same, and I hesitantly did. I let out a soft breath, feeling my hand touch unnaturally silk smooth fur.

Some of the fur came off at my touch, a few small clumps resting neatly in the palm of my hand. The stag turned slowly and ran off, leaving us in shock.

Returning to camp was an interesting experience. For the first time, Rhaenyra was understanding the power that came from your struggles being visible on your body, while your head remained high.

She walked ahead of me, her arms clasped behind her back. She walked at a leisurely pace, not bothering to hide how disheveled and bloody she was. The people gathered around and gasped, looking at the two boars that were carried into camp.