CRISTON COLE
The war table dominated the small council chamber. Maps spread across its surface—troop movements marked in colored ink, dragon sightings noted with red circles, supply lines traced in careful green.
I studied the latest reports while the others argued.
"Rook's Rest is exposed." Lord Jasper Wylde jabbed at the map. "If we lose it, the Blacks control the entire southern approach to King's Landing."
"Then we don't lose it." Aegon's voice came from the corner where he slumped in his chair. Sober, for once. The crown sat heavy on his head. "Send dragons. Burn anyone who comes close."
"It's not that simple, Your Grace." I kept my voice level. Respectful. Even when speaking to a man I'd watched grow from sulking boy to reluctant king. "Our scouts report Princess Rhaenys plans to lead the attack personally. Meleys is one of the oldest dragons still flying. Fast. Experienced. If we commit a single dragon, we lose it."
"Then send two."
"Or three." Aemond spoke from the window. He stood with his back to the room, watching clouds drift past the Red Keep. "Vhagar alone could handle Meleys. Add Sunfyre and Silverwing, and there's no contest."
I nodded slowly. "A trap. Let Rhaenys commit to the attack, then overwhelm her."
"Exactly." Aemond turned. His sapphire eye caught the light—cold and beautiful and empty. "I'll fly with Vhagar. Aegon with Sunfyre. And our new dragonrider..." He smiled without warmth. "Time to see what the bastard can actually do."
The door opened. Ulf entered.
He'd changed since the coronation. Something in how he carried himself—looser, more confident. Like a blade that had finally found its edge.
"You summoned me, Lord Commander?"
"We're planning a battle." I gestured at the map. "Rook's Rest. The Blacks attack tomorrow. You'll fly with the king and prince."
Ulf approached the table. Studied the positions. His eyes moved quickly, calculating.
"Three dragons against one?"
"Against Meleys, yes. Against Rhaenys's experience, we need every advantage."
"What's my role?"
Aemond answered before I could. "Aerial support. Cut off retreat. Don't get in the way."
Ulf met Aemond's gaze. Held it.
"I can do more than that."
"Can you?" Aemond's voice dripped contempt. "Your bonding is—what? Three weeks old? You can barely stay mounted."
"I can harass. Disorient. Create openings." Ulf traced a line on the map. "Meleys will focus on the bigger threats—Vhagar and Sunfyre. She'll ignore Silverwing until it's too late. I hit her flanks, damage her flight surfaces, force her into defensive positions."
"With what? A knife?" Aemond laughed.
"With techniques you haven't seen."
The room went quiet.
I'd heard rumors about the bastard. Training that bordered on inhuman. Surviving dragonfire. Walking on air. I'd dismissed most of it as exaggeration.
Looking at him now, I wasn't sure.
"Show us," Aegon said. His voice carried genuine curiosity—rare for him. "These techniques. Show us one."
Ulf considered. Then he moved.
One moment he stood by the table. The next—a blur, a displaced rush of air—he stood beside the door. Twenty feet crossed in less than a heartbeat.
Aemond's hand went to his sword.
"That." Ulf walked back casually. "And others. Give me room to operate, and I'll make openings for your dragons."
Silence stretched.
Then I nodded. "Approved. You'll harass Meleys while Vhagar and Sunfyre press the main assault. If you see an opportunity for a killing blow, take it. Questions?"
"When do we leave?"
"Dawn. Be ready."
ULF
The nursery smelled like milk and warmth.
Jaehaerys sat on the floor, building something with wooden blocks. Five years old and already showing his father's silver hair, his mother's distant eyes. Jaehaera watched from her bed, too serious for a girl her age.
These are the children I'm protecting. These small, fragile, innocent lives.
Helaena stood by the window, arms wrapped around herself. She'd known I was coming—knew before I knocked, probably.
"You're leaving."
"Tomorrow. Rook's Rest."
"To fight dragons."
"To protect the realm." I knelt beside Jaehaerys. "What are you building?"
"A castle." He held up a crooked stack of blocks. "With a dragon tower. For Dreamfyre."
"It's a good castle."
"You think so?"
"Best I've ever seen."
He smiled—bright and pure, untouched by the shadows circling his family.
Jaehaera slipped off her bed. Approached me with the careful dignity of a child playing adult.
"Are you going to fight dragons?"
Yes. Three against one. Blood and fire and death.
"I'm going to make sure the dragons don't hurt anyone you love."
She considered this. Then she reached up, untied a ribbon from her hair. Light blue silk, slightly frayed at the edges.
"Take this."
"Why?"
"So you remember to come back."
My throat tightened. I took the ribbon. Tied it around my left wrist.
"I'll remember."
Helaena's hand touched my shoulder. Light. Brief.
"Children. Time for bed."
They protested—weak, halfhearted complaints—but obeyed. Helaena kissed each forehead, murmured goodnight, then followed me into the corridor.
We walked in silence until we reached a secluded alcove. Shadowed. Private.
"Come back to me."
"Always."
"Don't say 'always.' Say something you can keep."
I took her hands. Kissed her knuckles.
"I'll survive. I'll win. And I'll come back to you. That's not a promise—it's a fact."
She searched my face for doubt. Found none.
"You really believe that."
"I do."
"Why?"
Because I've trained for this. Because I can do things no one in this world has seen. Because losing you isn't something I'll allow.
"Because I have too much to live for."
She kissed me. Quick and fierce and desperate.
Then she pulled away. Composed herself. Became the queen again.
"Win your battle. Then come claim your reward."
A smile touched my lips. "What reward?"
"You'll see."
She walked away. I watched her go.
Tomorrow, dragons. Tonight, peace.
I returned to my quarters. Checked my gear. Tested my techniques one final time.
Sleep came easy. I dreamed of silver wings and blue ribbons and violet eyes waiting.
ULF
Dawn. The Dragonpit.
Silverwing waited in the mounting yard, her scales catching the early light. She'd grown accustomed to me—or at least stopped trying to kill me. Progress.
Nearby, Sunfyre preened golden wings while handlers attached riding harness. Vhagar loomed at the pit's far end, too massive for the main space, attended by a small army of servants.
Aegon stumbled into the yard, rubbing his eyes. Sober—someone had kept him from the wine last night.
"Flying at dawn. Wonderful." He spat. "Whose idea was this?"
"Mine." Aemond emerged from the shadows, already armored. "The Blacks expect us to respond slowly. We'll arrive before they're ready."
"We'll arrive while I'm still half-asleep."
"Then wake up. You're the king."
Brothers. Even facing war, they bickered.
I mounted Silverwing. She shifted beneath me—getting used to my weight, my movements. I adjusted my position, found the grip points I'd memorized.
Light weight for maneuverability. Heavy when I need impact. Keep Tekkai ready for fire.
Jaehaera's ribbon fluttered on my wrist.
Criston Cole approached on horseback. He'd ride to Rook's Rest with the ground forces—slower, but necessary.
"Remember the plan. Harass. Distract. Don't engage Meleys directly unless you have overwhelming support."
"Understood."
"And, Ulf?"
"Yes?"
"Whatever you are—whatever those tricks really are—use them. Win this battle. Make me glad I approved your inclusion."
"I intend to."
He nodded once. Rode away.
Aemond mounted Vhagar. The ancient dragon's head rose, blocking out the sun.
"Try to keep up, bastard."
Vhagar launched. Wind from her wings knocked handlers flat.
Aegon followed on Sunfyre—golden and graceful, smaller than Vhagar but faster.
I leaned forward. Whispered to Silverwing.
"Ready?"
A rumble. Agreement.
"Then fly."
Silverwing's wings beat. The ground dropped away.
King's Landing shrank beneath us—streets becoming lines, buildings becoming dots, the Red Keep becoming a toy.
Then we were above the clouds. Flying east. Flying to war.
Below, armies marched. Above, three dragons cut through morning sky.
I tested my Kilo Kilo. Shifted smoothly—1kg to 10,000kg and back. Perfect control.
Good. I'll need it.
Ahead, Rook's Rest waited. And beyond that, Meleys. The Red Queen. One of the deadliest dragons alive.
I touched Jaehaera's ribbon.
Time to earn my place.
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