ASOIAF: The Dragon Seed

The Narrow Sea and the Dragon's Fire

The Narrow Sea and the Dragon's Fire

[Scene: Dragonstone – The Courtyard, Sunset]

Annatar stands in the Dragonstone courtyard, gazing out over the rugged cliffs and turbulent sea. The sky is painted with hues of orange and purple, the sun sinking slowly into the waves. The three years he spent in the Stepstones have left their mark: a faint scar trails along his jawline, and there's a new intensity in his eyes. He feels at once like a stranger and a son returned.

Footsteps echo across the stone as his cousin, Aeron, approaches with an easy smile, arms crossed over his chest.

Aeron (smirking):
"Look what the war brought back. For a while, I thought you'd forgotten all about Dragonstone."

Annatar chuckles, moving to clasp Aeron's forearm with a firm grip. There's a moment of silence as they look at each other, the weight of their reunion lingering.

Annatar:
"The Stepstones have a way of making a man appreciate home."

A figure appears just behind them: Daeron, Aeron's father and Annatar's mentor. His face is stern, but there's a hint of pride in his eyes.

Daeron:
"Then prove what you've learned, Annatar. Show us how the war has sharpened you."

Aeron grins, drawing his sword with a gleam in his eyes.

Aeron:
"It's been too long since we've crossed swords, cousin. Let's see if you've picked up anything worthwhile."

Annatar's smile grows, and he unsheathes his sword, nodding in acceptance. They take their positions, circling each other with a mutual respect and a readiness for the challenge ahead.

With a swift move, Aeron lunges first, aiming a clean strike at Annatar's side. Annatar parries smoothly, twisting to deflect the blade with an agility that surprises even Daeron. The two cousins exchange a series of quick strikes, their swords clashing in rhythmic harmony, each movement speaking to their shared history and bond.

Daeron steps forward, joining the sparring with a calculated strike to test Annatar's reflexes. His moves are faster, more refined than Aeron's, and Annatar feels the familiar pressure of his mentor's skill. Yet, he matches every move, anticipating the strikes as if reading Daeron's mind.

Sweat begins to bead on Aeron's brow as he struggles to find an opening. Finally, Annatar seizes the moment, sidestepping and disarming Aeron with a swift twist of his wrist, sending his cousin's sword clattering to the ground.

Aeron (catching his breath, astonished):
"Seven Hells, you've become a damn warrior, cousin. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't felt it myself."

Daeron nods approvingly, a rare smile breaking across his otherwise stoic face.

Daeron:
"The Stepstones turned you into a swordsman of skill. I didn't expect this level of precision, Annatar."

Annatar sheaths his sword, nodding respectfully to Daeron and Aeron. He feels a sense of pride and relief, as if the years of war have finally been understood by those he respects most.

Annatar:
"War forces you to learn fast, or not at all. But seeing Dragonstone... it reminds me why I fought."

[Scene: Dragonstone – Silverwing's Nest, Midnight]

The moon sits high in the sky as Annatar walks quietly to Silverwing's nesting area. He navigates the rocky paths up the cliffs, where the faint sounds of the waves crashing below provide a sense of calm. Silverwing's form is silhouetted against the starlit sky, her silver scales glinting in the moonlight. She looks larger, more imposing, than when he last saw her, and his heart aches with guilt for leaving her.

As he steps closer, Silverwing's eyes meet his. She huffs, a low rumbling sound, and shifts her head to the side, her massive wings twitching with restrained energy. It's clear from her behavior that she's not pleased with him.

Annatar reaches out, placing a gentle hand on her warm, scaly cheek. Silverwing huffs again, nudging him hard enough to nearly push him back. She tilts her head away, making it clear that she hasn't forgiven his absence just yet.

Annatar (softly):
"I know, my old friend. I didn't want to be away for so long."

Silverwing snorts, almost rolling her eyes, and then turns her head slightly to give him a look of reproach.

Annatar:
"I went to war for you... for all of us. The Stepstones needed to be pacified to keep Dragonstone safe."

She stares at him with an unblinking intensity, then lowers her head slightly, the tension in her massive shoulders easing. Silverwing nudges him again, softer this time, almost as if she's finally acknowledging his reason.

Feeling a sense of relief, Annatar smiles and takes a breath, swinging up onto her back with practiced ease. Silverwing lets out a low rumble, spreading her wings wide. She leaps off the cliffside with a powerful surge, and together they soar into the open sky.

Annatar feels the familiar thrill of freedom as the cold wind whips past him, and he holds tight to Silverwing, her powerful wings carrying them higher and faster over the sea and land.

The night stretches around them, the stars above like scattered diamonds, and the moon bathes everything in a silvery glow. Annatar feels his worries slip away as he rides through the sky, reconnecting with the creature that's been his closest companion.

They glide over Dragonstone, past the sleeping cliffs, and into the open sea. Silverwing roars into the night, her voice carrying out over the waves, echoing into the vastness. Annatar closes his eyes, absorbing the sound, letting it echo in his heart. After all this time, he feels whole again.

After a long flight, they return to Dragonstone, landing softly on the cliff edge. Annatar dismounts, patting Silverwing's neck affectionately.

Annatar (whispering):
"Thank you, Silverwing. For waiting."

Silverwing nuzzles him gently before turning and settling back into her nest, her large eyes watching as Annatar makes his way back down the path. She remains a silent, powerful guardian, her presence reassuring him that no matter where he goes, Dragonstone will always be home.