In the years I traveled Essos I spent my time perfecting my skill with a blade and gaining a reputation as a fierce dragon rider.
I first found employment with the Sealord of Braavos after I bested his First Sword.
I defended the city and its coast from pirates and deterred any advances from the Triarchy or slavers. In my spare time in exchange for sparing his life, the First Sword taught me the way of the Water Dance.
When the Dothraki hoards began raiding Pentos the Sealord then sent me to aid the Prince.
I regularly received letters from Rhaenyra who kept track of my whereabouts. She told me of her life at court and how lonely it had become.
On occasion Torrhen would write of home and how our Father would be leaving White Harbor with a fleet of ships to assist the Sea Snake in his war against the Crab Feeder in the stepstones.
Medrick would join him in the battle and Torrhen would stay behind to fulfill the duties of the Warden of the Whiteknife.
I was finally free to live my life and make my own choices. However, that didn't stop my thoughts from wandering back to Westeros and those I left behind.
One evening I had retired to my chambers in the company of one of the Prince's maids. Alia I believe her name was but she was only one of many I used to fill the void that was growing.
We lay naked and tangled in the sheets as her lips trailed across my jaw and her nails trailed down my muscled abdomen. I closed my eyes, picturing cascading silver hair and amber eyes that danced with flame.
There was still only one woman the fire inside me burned for. No matter how many I used to warm my bed at night.
Nameless faces passing like the days.
A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts.
Pushing the girl off of me I pulled a black linen shirt over my head. When I opened the door the servant bowed deeply.
"My deepest apologies Princess Viserra. It's a message from the King," She rushed.
My throat seemed as though it was closing and I nodded dismissing her wordlessly.
Closing the door behind me I turned the roll of parchment over in my hand apprehensively.
Alia lounged on my bed watching curiously. I unraveled the scroll and ran my fingers over my Uncle's scrawled handwriting taking notice of his personal seal.
"What does it say, Princess?" Alia husked crawling to the edge of the bed and winding her arms around my neck.
"It's a letter from my Uncle the King," I answered absentmindedly, "My Uncle and Father are losing their battle in the Stepstones. The King is sending aid and wishes to send his best dragon rider."
I could hardly believe what I read. His best dragon rider? How bad off were they for the Crown to finally intervene? For my Uncle to send for me personally.
"His best dragon rider hm? And will you answer the call?" She questioned leaning in for a kiss.
"I leave at first light," I told her, pulling away.
"What? So soon?" She asked crestfallen.
That was always the worst part. Cutting ties. I never lied about my position. Never did I tell them tales of grandeur or give them false hope. And yet every time it was the same reaction.
"Take me with you," She said quietly, tears streaming down her face.
"You know I won't," I said simply.
