Visenya Targaryen, now Lady Stark, thought her journey was done when her husband took his final breath. Yet, a single step into the godswood sends her into a new world entirely-Middle-earth. With her youth restored and no one to trust, Visenya must...
The first hints of dawn washed over the mountains as Visenya walked through the misty field where her dragons roamed freely. Their massive forms moved like shadows, graceful yet powerful, their scales catching glimmers of the rising sun. Today, her dragons were calm, almost reflective, each creature radiating a silent, ancient wisdom. Visenya, dressed in her worn leather tunic and gloves, moved confidently among them, her presence as familiar to them as their own kin.
She was brushing the massive, midnight scales of her black dragon, his obsidian armor glinting like polished stone, when she heard footsteps behind her. Éomer's unmistakable stride was steady, though a touch slower than usual. Visenya glanced over her shoulder, a knowing smile on her lips as she saw him approach, his gaze flickering between the dragons with a mixture of awe and something close to unease.
"Good morning, Éomer," she greeted, crossing her arms with a smirk. "Here to brave the beasts? Care to help me, Éomer?" she called out.
He nodded, doing his best to look undaunted, but she noticed his fingers twitch slightly as he reached her side. Éomer forced a chuckle, shaking his head. "I thought I'd come lend a hand, if you'd have me. Though I must admit," he glanced at the black dragon beside her, its great golden eyes fixed on him intently, "they're... larger up close than I expected."
She chuckled inwardly, admiring his courage. Despite his formidable strength, a part of him was still wary around her dragons—and rightfully so. Even she, their rider, approached them with respect, never forgetting the power coiled within each beast.
"Which of these creatures is your closest?" he asked, eyes drifting to the towering dragon beside her.
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"This is Mornaur," she replied, pride clear in her voice as she stroked the dragon's neck. His scales shimmered with a deep obsidian gloss, almost absorbing the light, his massive wings folded against his body. He lowered his head slowly, bringing one enormous, bright eye level with Éomer, who resisted the urge to step back. "He was the mount of the King of Angmar. His bond with me is... unique." She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "We've become one another's shadow in many ways. He's as protective as any brother, but with a fiercer heart."
Mornaur's golden eyes watched Éomer closely, unblinking and intense, his presence undeniably intimidating. Seeing Éomer hesitate slightly, Visenya grinned, reaching for his hand. "Here," she murmured, pulling his palm forward until it rested beside her own against Mornaur's neck. She felt Éomer's initial tension, but when Mornaur huffed and closed his eyes, the dragon's warm breath eased his trepidation.
"He's... massive," Éomer whispered, awe flickering in his voice. His fingers relaxed against the dragon's scales as he felt the steady warmth pulsing beneath them.
"He likes you," Visenya said with a smile. "He doesn't let just anyone touch him."
Mornaur, seemingly content, let out a deep, rumbling chuff, something almost like a laugh. "He's protective of the others—and of me," Visenya explained, stroking Mornaur's neck affectionately. "He's seen his fair share of battles and will only tolerate those he trusts."
