Invisible String - Cregan Stark

Twelve~ Flattened

He made no answer beyond a low, content huff, and then padded back to where he was resting.

Merrax waited where the forest met the camp's edge, the rise of her black shape blending into the treeline until the glint of her green eyes caught the starlight. 

I heard her before I saw her fully: a low, restless shift of scale against scale, and the soft clatter of something brittle beneath her claws. Bones. A small, pale heap lay half-buried in the snow—what remained of whatever she had hunted when dusk first settled. The smell of scorched marrow lingered faintly in the cold.

At the crunch of my boots, her head lifted from the kill. A thin plume of steam curled from her nostrils, warm enough to melt whatever flakes dared settle on her snout.

A smile tugged at me despite the weight in my chest. "Hello, girl."

She gave a sound that was halfway between a rumble and a high, almost catlike keen—soft, pleased. Her tail, ridged and webbed, swept once through the snow in a slow arc. Then she shifted her bulk, and one great wing unfurled. An invitation as familiar as breath.

I stepped beneath it without hesitation.

The world changed at once. The snow could not reach me here; the cold could not touch me. The air under her wing was warm as a hearthside, smelling faintly of smoke and the faint metal-sweet tang of dragonfire. Her scales radiated heat through my cloak, steady as the pulse of the earth.

I leaned into her neck, felt the roughness of her hide against my cheek, and let out a breath I had been holding since morning—perhaps longer.

Above us, the pines swayed, letting the thinnest cracks of sky peer through. Stars wheeled quiet and distant, their patterns unchanging even as the world below fractured.

My mind wandered back to the laughter echoing in the trees, to the way snow had clung to Cregan's hair, to the way his eyes had fallen to my lips when we laid tangled in the snow.

I spoke softly, though I wasn't sure if I was speaking to Merrax or to myself. "What am I doing?"

I had come North for men, for allies—and I had succeeded. Yet the promise of houses and banners did little to quiet the constant hum in my mind.

I cared too much not to overthink. I could not fail my family. I could not let anyone down.

And then there was Cregan. I had spent years letting people assume, letting them wonder, keeping my truest self tucked safely away.

I feared what would happen if I let anyone in—feared feeling trapped, losing the fragile freedom I had carved for myself.

But Cregan had a way of undoing me without force—gently, as if untying knots in a thread. And I wasn't sure whether I feared or welcomed it.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Stop being foolish. There is war ahead. A wall of ice and oaths. He belongs to Winter. And I—I belong to a dying empire built on fire and blood.

And yet.

Here I was. Here we were.

I glanced back up at the stars, and the words found me again—soft, in Valyrian, like breath in the cold.

Then, soft and low—barely above a hum—I began to sing.

A lullaby. Old. Forgotten by most. Sung by the cradlemaids of Valyria before the Doom ever darkened their skies.

"Naejot lenton pryjatan, ñuha zaldrīzes, ēdruta...
Eglie gēlenkon... ēza vēttan...
Ābrar ūndissagon, yn īlva jorrāelagon..."

The melody was simple. Haunting. It twined through the trees like mist, soft enough to hush the forest itself. Merrax stilled entirely, save for the gentle rhythm of her breath.

I don't remember when I'd first heard it. Maybe my mother had sung it once, long ago, when I still fit into her arms.

Maybe I'd imagined it, pieced it together from whispers of memory and ancient books.

But it felt real. True.

And tonight, it brought peace.

Merrax let out a low, affirming sigh.

I rested my head against her, feeling her heartbeat under my palm. Strong. Steady. Eternal in a way mortals could never be.

Tomorrow would bring its burdens. A longer road, traps to be checked, plans sharpened like knives. War creeping ever closer on quiet feet.

But for now... for now I was only a girl tucked beneath her dragon's wing, warmed by scale and song and the memory of a boy who laughed as if winter was nothing at all.

Merrax breathed out, a warm gust that brushed my hair, and the heaviness in my limbs pulled me gently downward. Her heart beat slow and sure beneath my hand.

I let my eyes close. 

The night held me fast.

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