Dragonborn

FIVE

Using the Conqueror's Blade as a makeshift pickaxe seems blasphemous somehow but beggars — or princesses — can't be choosers, I suppose. "Umbagon kesir, buddy. Ivestragī daorys rēbagon." (Stay here, buddy. Let no one pass.)

Vermithor flopped on the sandy beach as I pulled out Blackfyre from its sheath when I found a sizable deposit of dragonglass. The valerian blade made quick work on the dragonglass, easily cutting it to the base. The blade isn't even scratched — I guess the rumours of valerian-made blades cutting through everything aren't a rumour at all.

Vermithor's curiosity poked through our bond and I heard him moving. I get out of the cave to see what made my dragon too curious to disobey my commands. "Skoros iksos ziry, Vermithor?" (What is it, Vermithor?) He trilled, cocking his head in a way that reminds me of Trip when he find something fascinating.

I followed his gaze and gaped at the gaggle of knights subduing my uncle's mistress. "Hey!" I shouted as one of the assholes pulled the woman's hair. Vermithor's snarling roar mirrored my anger, both of us heading towards them.

My dragon reached them first, obviously, and they froze. One of them even screamed in the most girly pitch I've ever heard when Vermithor roared in their faces. It made the task of pulling the woman out of their grasp much easier.

"Vermi — hey! Stop that!" I said when the petite woman struggled against my hold. "I'm not going to hurt you — ow, please stop slapping me." It was impressive how much it hurt to be slapped by this small woman. "Calm down, please."

She relaxed a bit but I could still see her trying not to have a panic attack in the middle of a face-off between an irate dragon and terrified knights. I moved my hand around her back, pulling her into a loose hug. "That's it, relax," I said, rubbing her back in time with my breaths. "Just take deep breaths. You're safe. No one will hurt you when you're with me." The other woman sagged against me, gasping for breath. "That's it, good girl."

I looked back at the terrified knights. "Now, can anyone tell me why a group of Targaryen knights was harassing a lady — my uncle's woman, no less — in broad daylight? And do not lie to me. I do not like liars."

One of them, the one in the back looking like he'll faint, answered me. "It was the prince's command, your highness."

"Shut your fucking mouth, Dalton!"

"No! It — the prince is wrong! Imprisoning an innocent woman is wrong!"

"Prince Daemon's command is absolute. It's not our place to question it!"

"Enough!" I said. "Everybody shut up. Or the next one who will make a noise without my leave will be Vermithor's lunch. Do not test me." I look back at the boy. "Dalton, tell me of my uncle's orders."

"Prince Daemon ordered us to lock Lady Mysaria in the dungeons after your meeting." He looked up at me, guilt shining in his eyes. "I do not want to, Your Highness, but my prince's command supersedes everything even my knight's oaths."

"You fucking spineless —" his hateful screams cut off as Vermithor bit him in half. I hastily put my hands over the lady's ears as the sound of crunching bones and metal was heard with my dragon's chewing. The remaining knights screamed in terror, some even throwing up at the sight of blood and viscera. Vermithor let out a small fire, burning the remaining half of the body before eating it.

Well, I did warn them. "Dalton, remain here. The rest of you, scram." They don't need to be told twice as they scrambled away.

I sighed. I know my uncle is indifferent towards everyone not of Targaryen descent but this is just ridiculous. And callous. Imprisoning an innocent woman — his woman — is... Sigh. "I will talk to my uncle. His behaviour is unbefitting of a prince."