Dance of The Dragonwolf

Viserys's Decision

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Chapter  41 (Aenar's Answer), Chapter 42 (You  Will Doom Us All), Chapter  43  (The First Cry of War), Chapter 44  (Revenge is a dish best served   Cold), Chapter 45 (Dragons and Snakes),  Chapter 46 ('You are not   Loved'), Chapter 47 (Rhaenyra's Rage),  Chapter 48 (Spread your Wings),   Chapter 49 (A Falling Dragon), Chapter  50 (Even Eyes Can Lie), Chapter  51 (A Crying Dragon), Chapter 52  (Tears of a Dragon), Chapter 53 (I  Wish We Had More Time), Chapter  54 (The Bitter Harvest), and Chapter 55 (Red Vipers, White Lies) are already available for  Patrons.

As the storm clouds rolled in over King's Landing, the heavens opened up, and a deluge of rain poured down upon the city, drenching everything in its path. The streets quickly turned into small rivers. In a frenzy, the people of King's Landing scurried for shelter, their bodies shivering from the cold rain that soaked through their clothes. And as the thunder boomed and lightning streaked across the sky, some whispered that it was the gods weeping for the loss of their beloved Queen Aemma.

The Bells of Sept were still echoing throughout the entire city. People who had homes ran inside, trying to find any cover from the rain, their clothes soaked from the cold rain. Many ran inside, but not everyone had a place to call home. Those who found nowhere to go were left at the mercy of the rain, cuddled together in dark corners of the city.

The young boy, with his tousled mop of dirty blonde hair, couldn't help but shiver as a gust of frigid wind cut through the air. His hair was in a constant state of disarray, falling over his forehead and partially obscuring his face. His eyes were a piercing shade of blue that seemed like ice. As the chill continued to seep into his bones, his small frame convulsed with violent shudders, and his teeth chattered uncontrollably. He could feel the warmth draining from his fingers, leaving them numb and tingling like ice.

He had only a torn blanket to cover himself. His hands held it tightly, and the wet surface felt uncomfortable to touch.

As the rain pounded down on the deserted alley, his back pressed against the cold brick wall of the abandoned house. His legs splayed across the muddy ground. The weight of the rain almost suffocated him, drenching his clothes until they clung to his skin like a second layer. His soaked garments revealed the outline of his ribcage, giving the illusion that his own flesh was a mere facade.

The boy feared looking further back. He knew they were hiding there, looking at him with hunger, many of them. He feared to look; if he did, he would scream. He didn't know how to count, but he knew there were too many.

The boy thought if he closed his eyes, they all would disappear. He could feel their red eyes looking at him, his heart almost bursting from his chest, and the rain; he could hardly see anymore.

As the boy closed his eyes, he thought of the gods. Why was he suffering like this? Did the gods wish for them to suffer? He wished for God to help him or for the Stranger to take him away.

"Why are you here?" A gentle voice spoke through the sound of the heavy rain; this one was almost like an old man. The boy opened his eyes. Strangely, the rain wasn't as heavy anymore. He could see now, and in front of him stood an old man. His eyes were hidden; he couldn't see them, but the boy was sure the man was smiling.

"Don't stay here, come with me, dear child. I will get you warm and fed." The old man offered; the boy blinked, his old hand extended towards him. The boy wondered what the man wanted in return; they always wanted something. No one was ever that generous. But the old man was promising him food and a warm place to rest; the boy knew nothing of such a place. The streets were deserted, and all left were children like him and the red eyes in the shadows approaching with hunger.