𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗗𝗕𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗗 || Cregan Stark

10 | Old Valyria

CHAPTER TEN
O L D V A L Y R I A

-

When the wary guardman arrived at the door of her chambers that morning, telling her about a dispute outside the castle gates— it had taken her by surprise.

Not until she heard the rattling sound of a dragon's cry, echoing outside her very window, had she understood the relevance of the situation.

Now, as she steps out into the crowded courtyard of Winterfell, the ground beneath her feels cool and stern. Coming alive with each step.

Loud, vigilant voices reach around the snow-laden ground outside– thrumming with caution– and Viserra quickens her pace, her eyes searching into the far distance

It does not take long before she surpasses the gates, into the open air, and becomes a witness to a tumultuous scene. Guardsmen and stewards alike, scurrying before her with desperate plea whilst Karnax's woeful wails ring in the air.

The mount, wary and restless, has settled onto the ground and is now surrounded by a crowded posse of armed men. His limbs, large and charcoal black, take up further and further space, slithering with knowing precision.

He uncurls, spouting roars to those coming too close, and Viserra observes the dark gleam of his eyes. A savage intelligence lights his burdened gaze as he opens his maw, where rows of teeth lay soiled and broken.

The guards step back, their faces painted with startled worry.

She remains still, undaunted, furrowing her eyebrows.

"What is going on?" she asks, turning her head.

"He descended from nowhere, Princess," one of the guardsmen tells her. "He has not neared us before."

She glances back at the dragon, walking forward.

"Is he hurt?" she asks.

"I could not know," a voice ushers behind her.

She trains her eyes forward, stepping in front of Karnax, and quickly gaining his attention.

He closes his maw at the sight of her, his head lowering in her direction.

When close enough, she reaches out, dragging her palm beneath his eye in a coarse caress. Karnax leans into her touch.

Her hand remains on his skin, feeling the warmth thrumming beneath his rugged scales.

"Lykirī," she murmurs under her breath.

Karnax rumbles in response to her words, a low, resonant sound that vibrates through her palm and into her bones. The tension in the air eases slightly, the guardsmen and stewards exchanging uneasy glances but keeping their distance. Viserra continues her caress, her touch firm but gentle, an anchor for the beast's restless energy.

His breathing slows, his sides rising and falling with a more measured rhythm. The wild energy that had seized him begins to dissipate, leaving a heavy, lingering calm in its wake.

"Istia daor sȳngagon zirȳ," she says then, with a lingering tone. "Hae ao kivio."

You mustn't frighten them. As you promised.

He towers over her, like some god-like relic.

His limbs are larger than limbs ought to be. His blood runs hotter than blood ought to be. His wings are the colour of the dawn sky; dark and ash-stricken. His eyes are the same as hers, filled with relics of old Valyria.