iv. WHITE HARBOR'S DIVINE
SEASON 1
EP 8: THE LORD OF THE TIDES
— HOUSE OF THE DRAGON —
HEAVY IS THE CROWN
WHITE HARBOR
8 YEARS LATER
132 AC
| THE MURMURING OF THE WAVES WAS HYPNOTIC AGAINST THE PLEADING WOOD OF THE CARGO SHIPS—ROAR OF A HYMN SAILORS KNEW. The plinking of the sails upon the ailing wind was quite enthralling—fitted at the seams like puffed pastries from the kitchen.
Men voices bellowed above the stained decks riddled with wear of years passed. The once vibrant oak was now muddied down to cast a shadow of life lived. Ropes cackled harsh against the boards; rubbing calluses between the mens' fingers.
Attention was sorted all towards the ship and its needs as the crew vastly approached the ever-so-delightful entrance of White Harbor. With a mile-long and striking thirty foot wall, fashioned with towers at every hundred yards— located on the pier that separated the two grand harbors. At both entrances held two Mermans, fashioned with their tridents pointing towards those entering. At the very entrance of the outer harbor, resting upon the cliffs; rested scorpions.
The harbors had been divided into the inner and outer. With the outer one being much larger, and the inner harbor offering the better anchorage. Yet that's where most of the Manderly fleet held. Not to mention having the shelter by the city wall on one side and the looming mass of the Wolves Den on the another. Many of whom would not dear to venture there.
Thus a normal routine route from the free cities to White Harbor to deliver and sale much needed goods brought upon the braavosi galleys. A cargo held tightly within nets below the massive decks—ones of precious nature. Yet intermittent the calm a daunting screech from above rattled those below. Most of the men eagerly adjusted their sights to the pale sky, some even halting their rowing—expecting more a glimpse of a sea creature or bird. Yet within the blinding rays of the sun, nothing appeared.
But the captain of many decades unemotional in his words yet tolerable in his commands—furrowed his darkened pepper brows. With an eye of brown as the other gazed over with a milky cloudiness—fixed upon the clouds hidden within the sun. A face worn with the elements of time fashioned vastly across the rows of crinkles upon his forehead and around his eyes.
Without pause, and precisely on time another screech erupted from the ominous clouds above once more. This time much louder than the last, echoing through the ears of the weary. But the captain merely playfully rolled the one eye in response, knowing of what was to unfold.
As the braavosi's seamen looked up to the sky then back to their commander for a second—an ear-splintering groan crackled across the frightened sailors. The once delightful welcome of blonde rays upon the deck was slowly covered by a darkness. A shadow of a massive creature formed on the elongated deck from the horizon.
The men hadn't much time to react before the beast of ole dove upon them vastly. Stringing down from the faint clouds. Wings as delicate as the stain glass upon the septum flattened horizontally along the ocean breeze. A head decked with bitty thorns of tan fitted at the tips with green fading to a light lime. Two large crests of yellow tan protrude on either side—grown far pass the three rows of yellow fins that sit upon its neck. A roar fiercer than the mightiest of lions—the body nearly bigger than the boats. The seamen hungered down with some even backing up towards their commander whom did nothing but grin.
And atop the mighty beast laid the famed divine of white harbor—a seventeen years grown. Her body delicately framed the curvature of the bronzed saddle. The dragon Windermere having grown three times the size he was 8 years prior. He halted down his speed match that of the galley as they twirled round back. Hovering just above the mast blanketed heavily with its sail. Windermere's massive tail whipped carelessly around nearly missing the top of it.
To which the captain huffed loudly, marching forward before taking a step upon the edge of his ship—raising his fist to the air, " Vyselyra you know better! Let's not go for a second time at destroying my ship!" He bellowed as his voice found her ears.
Vyselyra glanced over her shoulder with a small curve to her lips, " Come on now, Where's the fun in that for me?" She expressed rather nonsensical before hungering down once more to the saddle, taking the grips tighter against her palms.
Windermere grumbled madly with his mouth slightly agap; arching his back to form a U as he gleefully turned sharply—his wings beating against the breeze; mimicking the sound of the sails flapping loosely in the wind.
The captain only shook his head heavily, knowing exactly of what the princess desired and that was the cargo he held. This was not the first of dealing with the princess nor would it be his last, as he took a great liking to her little games. Although, Ones she had done since she were a mere child and her dragon 5 times less the size he were now. So now having a beast merely 5x the size of an elephant barreling towards them at a rate of speed wasn't exactly a friendly experience.
The man beaconed for the goods wrapped within a brown cloth to be quickly given to him before Vyselyra moved to make her round once more. The bundle sat secured upon the lookers outpost. As Vyselyra neared the bravoosi galley filled to the brim with men rolling once more, her eyes flickered eagerly to the captain's hand.
Even at that height, she knew exactly what it held. There her precious goods awaited. So with a subtle tap of her hand against the saddle, an eager Windermere dove; twisting his massive body to the curves of the wind. His wings taking a quick dip to the welcoming ocean. Just as the duo passed by, Vyselyra reached a lonely hand out; as the captain leaned back and with all his might, tossed the goods into the air.
Thankfully Vyselyra had been at this for years and had greatly improved her technique. With just a lean to the left with her arm stretched to its limits, her fingers clasped the delicate fabric. "Till next time M'lady!" He yells against the whipping breeze.
Joyous in her victory, Vyselyra quickly tore through the twine that held the fabric together. As the wool broke away it soon revealed the candied goods. Ones of a colorful array coated in sugar. Just as when she was a child, Vyselyra gleefully embraces the saddle—leaning forward slightly to gently pat Windermere. To which the beast playfully groaned.
As they approached the second harbor, down below half of the massive Manderly fleet held docked. Jolly Salt and North Star held docked to one side. The largest of them was Storm Dancer; commanded by Ser Wyllam Snow. The commander was often referred to as a bastard for his last name by Ser Arthur. Foremost it seemed neither liked one another.
The warship held steadfast to the front, having carried her father from his diplomatic mission. Storm Dancer was quite imitating, flaunting the main mass at 20 feet high with the other two falling short under that measurement. The foremast held the blazon of House Manderly painted plainly in sight for all to see.
As they soared overhead, Windermere let out another screech that bellowed throughout the city. Lord Desmond eagerly gazed to the sky to see his daughter going about her day without a care to the world. This brought a bright light to his eyes as a smile made across his pale lips. But of course the news of which he carried from Driftmark wasn't at all surprising nor what he wanted. Ser Wyllam smiled as well before continuing on his towards the opposite dock.
The young Targaryen rummaged through the candies upon the saddle before choosing a red one and quickly popping one into her mouth—savoring the intensity of the sugar before the sourness took over.
Admist the flavors contributing to her many faces of discern, Vyselyra observed her father's men closely that stood below with their tridents held firmly in their grasps. Horses held nearby became antsy with impatience and fear; pawed at the ground.
Popping in another sugared candy, Vyselyra figured it were enough sight seeing and so leaned her body down to fit the curves of Windermere's saddle. Windermere held with the passing wind—letting his wings dance with the breeze upon the whitened city, New Castle sitting tall in the back.
Passing over the cobbled square as his shadow masked the white and grey of the Fish mount. In the center stood ole fishfoot; the massive statue with a fountain below constructed below it. Townsfolk walked around with their daily chores and lives, without a mere flicker of their eyes to sky as the young dragon flew over.
Of course, once in the air the dragons were way faster than that of a horse. With wings twice the size of their bodies, they were able to gain more ground. So the princess knew she would be just in time for the meeting in Merman's court.
As Vyselyra and Windermere approached the dragon cavern—-the keepers were already out there awaiting her ever-so triumphant return. Slowly, Vyselyra leaned herself back from the saddle, releasing the pressure between her thighs upon the saddle—announcing to Windermere to slow for the descent.
Windermere began to flap his massive wings in backwards motion to steady their pace towards the ground, his legs hitting with a thud to shake the world beneath. The thumb of his wings burrowed into the soft dirt, rattling the calmness surrounding. It had taken quite a few times before nailing the landings. The lead keeper clapped his hands slowly, eyeing the young dragon whom he'd come to not like over the pass couple of years.
And it seemed the dragon held the same position, a quick glance the he-dragon screeched a sound that burrowed deep within the handlers' ears—-enough for them whence before backing off. Feeling quite happy in himself, he waved his head back and forth in a dancing manner. Before then gently leaning down his left side, letting his chest scrap the ground whilst using his back feet as a step for Vyselyra to descend.
Her heels dug into the softened surface, this time instead of dress of the finest silk; the princess fashioned in black slacks with leather boots that cut off just below the knee. A clock attached at the collarbone with a charm House Manderly's merman. The fabric was bright blue with green at the inside. And for the top was riddled with black and red bead work around the shoulders and neck line like dragon scales. At the shoulder tips, it flared out before coming back to end beneath her arms.
The princess slowly ran the tips of her right hand across the green scales shaped like the delicate heads of gems. Each one shinning a different color against the light. A smile flickered across her rosey lips whilst Windermere grumbled a purr beneath her calming touch. The he—dragon slowly angled his head gently towards her—eye of garnate fixed heavily upon her. His mouth slowly opened a bit, merely of 17 years patiently awaiting his earned treat.
With a playful shake of her head, Vyselyra took a couple candies from the cloth and carefully placed it between the crevices of his dagger teeth. Windermere made an absurd noise as the sourness made contact with his tongue. His dorsal fins tingling atop the ridges of his neck—a spiral that carried forth down to the tips of his tail. Wagging it slowly back and forth like dog. Vyselyra could not help beam at her dragon's euphoria in just a simple candy as herself.
Meraxes was quite eager to see her owner, not being able to contain the excitement within. Having grown over the pass 8 years, the once small pup was now the height of a goat. Fitted with a beautiful pale white pelt and icy blue eyes to match.
Those daring eyes locked onto her every movement. They were a match made in heaven, both beast and human, sworn to protect one another. Yet a gift from a boy that had taken the entirety of her mind—having now recited in the near back. It had been years since the exchange of Meraxes from Jacaerys. A small gift from a friend whom presumed they'd only be apart for months to a year.
Vyselyra gently patted Windermere a goodbye with the kind beast wiggling out the entirety of his neck. The eldest handler motioned his staff towards the dragon before pointing it back towards the cave entrance. Reluctantly Windermere huffed loudly, flaring his nostrils steady before slowly trudging in.
Vyselyra watched him for moment more before her attention flickered towards the wagging ball of massive fluff and then to her now loyal guard and friend, Isen. One whom has been her father's guard. A man twice her age who sported the finest arrangement of blue green armor of Manderly House knights. But that smile held steadfast faded upon seeing a letter within his grasp.
For a moment her heart pulsed differently, could it have been from Lord Cregan Stark? Or perhaps it was from Jacaerys yet again, trying plead forth his mother's reasoning. It had been 8 years since the news broke. It was not long after departing Driftmark to White Harbor when Vyselyra learned of what had befallen Laenor. And how Daemon and Rhaenrya took to marriage. A letter was sent whether quickly, one by Baela that is. The girl feeling it was right she only knew the truth.
Yet since then the young Targaryen had not replied to the Velaryon boy. Her heart stricken down with grief for a fallen friend and mentor. Where most of her anger had geared towards his mother. But even as she withheld certain feelings that had grew deep, pushing him to the very depths, Meraxes with a lovely teethy grin, somehow managed to bring him back every time.
Her eyes of golden flicked with brown studied Isen for a moment just as she began her weary walk towards him. Meraxes's little whines of utter euphoria filled the solid ocean breeze surrounding. " What is that?" She acquired softly, with a subtle point towards the letter. Slowly stroking over to the rather weary knight.
Isen swallowed hard, feeling as his throat had gone cottonmouth. " It is from Baela M'lady." He retorted beneath his breath before handing over the letter to the princess. Vyselyra was quite relieved to hear Baela's name instead of Jacaerys. But yet a hungering unease of the unexpected invaded her peace as she slowly unraveled the letter. The contents were nothing of what she expected from her dear cousin. The words marked in high Valyrian warning of Ser Vaemond Velaryon wishes to propose to the king to take Vyselyra to wife and to declare Driftmark as his. Thus uprising against Lucerys's claim. Now that had greatly added more power to the flame.
Her breath caught within her chest tightening, eyes widened as reality kicked in, jaw clenching merely under the pressure of his audacity. She grasped the paper into her hand tightly, cracking it between both before marching off towards the court. Isen released a heavy sigh of which he did realize he had been holding onto.
Trotting fiercely and perhaps missing a few steps down the long staircase, it was not long before the duo reached the courtyard. Vyselyra pulled the black leather riding gloves from her hands and tossed them to the floor with hast. Her brother Medrick, leaning up against a post, paused halfway through taking a bite out of an apple. His eyes fixated upon her as he stood frozen in place; expression taunted one of worry and confusion by her obnoxious characteristics.
Her feet's stomped through the yard— causing all within hearing distance to glance over. Vyselyra's jaw cracked and popped as she rearranged its position from left to right. Isen with his age, found it quite a task to keep up with the much younger princess. " Vyselyra please let us contain this. It needn't be spoken to the world." Isen pleaded but yet Vyselyra did not heed his commands.
Instead she bursted through the doors of Merman's hall, like bull doors of solid oak banging against the walls. Her father and his loyal guards and advisers stood. Each with a look of disbelief and disgruntlement.
" Father!" She bellowed through set teeth, with him merely wincing at her very tone. Mostly reminiscent of her mother Naemera. Arthur, one of his most trusted advisers, only casted a look of displeasure at the princess's sudden appearance. Isen cowering behind her with a innocent smile
to distract from the fact he could not stop her.
Before anyone could spit out a sentence, Vyselyra was sure making her voice be the first, " What even is this? A letter from Baela explaining Vaemond's demands..." Vyselyra growled, "Ser Vaemond does not have the right to ask of such things." She added before tossing the paper angrily towards Ser Arthur.
The tall, dark haired knight took a step towards the crackled letter, before leaning down and with a single swipe, recovered it. With a sigh of utter boredom, Arthur then to handed the letter toward Lord Desmond to see the contents.
Ser Arthur then look upon the princess, " We are having a meeting of most importance and you young girl are not allowed."
Vyselyra's eyes hardened and narrowed into slits as she studied his overall husky appearance before scoffing, " My great-grandmother, the good Queen Alsyanne made the Merman's court accessible for women not just men. So I have a place here in my father's court unlike those money hungry freaks in Kingslanding."
Ser Almund was quick to intervene, trying to ease the situation, " And how was the trip to Winterfell?" " I quite liked it. Very cold, but Lord cregan was quite welcoming." Vyselyra snapped back with a slight upbeat to her tone.
Ser Arthur frankly raised his brows high, " Oh I'm sure he was." To which Vyselyra gave a glare that spoke of thousand expressions to form hatred at his subtle accusation. " That's enough!" Her father's voice carried from within the closed room—it carried that of man broken and carrying a heavy burden of grief upon himself. This solely encouraged Medrick to come to the rescue; Mainly due to his curiosity. The red handed boy came trotting in, his face clueless as always as his darkened eyes fixed upon Vyselyra's eyes.
Now taller and much stronger than he was as a boy, often using that and his age difference against the young Targaryen. But amidst these petty moments, Medrick and Vyselyra shared common interest in their father's court.
Both sibling locked eyes for a moment, Medrick raised a brow in acquiring what had unfolded. Some sort of sibling language spoken using only facial expressions. Vyselyra then muttered Driftmark briefly under her breath to which he made an O expression. The man nineteen then flickered his sight towards their father. A man worn by the years having unfolded.
"Father, if I must say," Desmond merely caught off the young lad before the last could even be thought through,
" I'd wish you not." He grumbled but Medrick did not heed in this. " Anyway, though I'm not sure what is happening but i believe Ser Vaemond is not in the right for this." The eldest son pleaded openheartedly having only just joined the conversation.
Desmond rubbed at his temples harshly—so much that the pale skin was turning a light, red color. He perched his other hand on his hip as he began to pace. Vyselyra couldn't recall him ever being this stressed before, even when he fought in those great battles against the crab eater when he was younger— even so, he never once showed it.
He paused as he glanced at the window at the vast land that lay before him, "The issues at the step stones has become worse and worse over the years. And then as we all know,I'm invited by princess Rhaenys to go to Driftmark for the worry of her husband and a man not worthy of the name he carries, yet again puts forth accusations about Laenor's children, then has the audacity to ask for my daughters hand in marriage."
Medrick cleared his throat as he glanced from Vyselyra then back down to the floor. " Vaemond is a snake. Plunging his fangs into anyone weak enough to take in the poison." He retorted, but Arthur was quick to respond, practically cutting the boy off, " Yes, what he said about the Leanor's children was wrong, but lord you must understand why he put forth such a-proposal." Desmond boasted a cynical laugh before speaking, " Aren't you suppose with me? Because last time I checked you were of my men, not his little puppet."
Vyselyra felt a numbing sensation snaking its way through her body. Betrayal as its finest it seemed. It was something she felt more than she should with family let alone with Arthur's snobby comments.
Arthur tilted his head as his honey colored eyes meant lord Desmond's cold glare. " Lord, you made me your advisor, so that is merely only what I am doing..." he pauses—leaning his arm against the hilt of his sword, " You have three children, a daughter and two sons. All three are a potential solution to our marks with the Targaryens in Kingslanding & the Velaryons— to make the Manderly claim stronger."
Desmond merely waved him off, " And what about Rhaenrya's claim? Plus Torrhen is too far up his own arse to even realize how important he is to this kingdom, nor would I put one of Laena's daughters through that." He then pauses that claim momentarily, his eyes flickering between his two children before landing upon the doors.
" Where even is Torrhen?" He questions breathlessly, tossing a hand up to the air before it found its place at his hip once more. Both Vyselyra and Medrick slowly peered to another questionably before sharing a long sigh. Where's Torrhen?...: they'd both be filthy rich beyond their wildest imagination for every time someone asked that question.
" Well...he's probably at The Lazy Eel.." Vyselyra ended with slight exasperation riding upon her tone.
It were true in their youth years, Torrhen was to withhold the title of becoming a knight as the lordship would pass through Medrick. Yet now Torrhen held resentment towards that responsibility and fought it at every opportunity. Often finding himself down at the famed lazy eel with loads of old whores and vile wine. But apparently that attracted him and it often had him being thrown out on daily occasions.
Lord Desmond snorted in response, as this was a daily occurrence to where he was no longer surprised at that mention. With a loud drawn inhaled, Desmond resumed his speech, " As I was saying, as for my daughter, I WILL not have her bedded to a man of whom is much older nearly 2 times the age as me. Vaemond has said for too much for being a mere second child."
Vyselyra flashed a small smile to her father for coming to her defense and he did the same. Many would say he cherished his daughter and would rather her take the crown of White Harbor. Though this was when Vyselyra wasn't in one of antic roles. But Ser Arthur butted his two cents in. " Then what shall we do lord? Shall we sail back to Driftmark?" This time instead of Arthur making a stance, it was Almund. He cleared his throat, making the elder advisor's head twirl towards the noise. His curls of brunette hair bounced as he slowly stood to his feet— fixing his belt that carried his sword as he approached the side of Arthur.
" I think we shall sail for Dragonstone instead and alert the princess Rhaenrya of Corlys, if Baela has not done so. This way, there may be a chance at striking a deal with them. A marriage pact persay." Almund turns his head slightly towards Vyselyra, " Jacaerys is a year older than your daughter my lord, a pact that would seal an arrangement of a lifetime between us and the crown."
Desmond rubbed at his beard that scarcely grew around his chin, "We will come to the conclusion when we get to that point. I am in no need to rush my daughter like a cow to slaughter. We will make way for Dragonstone first thing." He lowly grumbled. "We will not step back in drift mark, I doubt this very much after my few chose words I had with Vaemond."
Vyselyra felt her heart skip a few thumps after those fore mentioned — for she had not seen her Velaryon cousins nor Rhaenyra in years. And it were for good reason, after Laenor's death and Rhae marrying Daemon rather quickly, her terms with them were as mere strangers now. And Jacaerys, well her heart and chest twisted in turmoil whilst she stood there—hands intertwined in front of her. In her youth, she cared much for him and it often was seen by all including Harwin.
But as memories of good flooded back in all over again so did the upsetting ones. It came round back to Rhaenrya as how could she have disregarded Laenor like that after everything. Like the snap of a thumb against a finger, Vyselyra pushed the Velaryon boy from her mind in the heat of rage taking over. She pursed her lips, a slight furrow between her brows as she stared pointedly at her father, and with an icy coldness spoke, " Why there? Why must we see them?"
Desmond's eyes went cold as ice as he glared upon her. His jaw locked firmly in place as the barely visible muscles shined through. Medrick swallowed hard, rapidly glancing between the two—knowing his half sister had struck a nerve.
" I think this meeting has come to its end." Desmond muttered in frustration—eyes never once wavering from hers. Arthur reluctantly stepped back from his position, and bowed before removing himself. Isen along with Almund where not far behind, saying their farewell's before taking leave.
Now all was left was a silent room of distain. Vyselyra held firm in her belief and refused to buckle under pressure. Medrick only eyed both of them, not sure if he should make a move or leave it be. Of course this was not the first time for his half sister's stubbornness.
"Why must you fight everything at every corner no matter what it is?" Lord Desmond questioned looking upon his daughter whom did nothing but tap her fingers upon the wooden table. With the silence lingering upon the skin like poison, Desmond motioned for Medrick to take his leave of which he happily complied. " You fight Ser Arthur like a rapid dog at every turn."
Vyselyra scoffs, " Because that man is horrid." Which her brother simply agreed with as he slowly closed the doors. Lord Desmond then made his way slowly towards the young Targaryen, patiently awaiting an explanation. She and Arthur had their quarrels since she was just a child—with her often speaking her mind more than once.
A simple shrug later, and a long exhale Vyselyra spoke, " Because of Laenor. He was my friend and teacher."She ended rather abruptly.
"And what of his son? Jacaerys, the boy that followed you around from day one latched at your hip?" Vyselyra inhaled sharply at her father's questioning regard, " Out of sight, out of mind." She carelessly expresses, innocently flickering her eyes over to him.
" Oh really? That's not what I remember. You need to forget about Ser Laenor, i understand he was dear to you but that was 8 years ago Vyselyra. I will not let you ruin something because it does not mix with your ideas." He ceased a moment to regain his breath, " I can deal Torrhen's insolence on occasion, but I will not deal with your ignorance on this matter. We are going to dragonstone whether you like it or not. You will be nice to Rhaenrya as you were before. I have let you have free rein for 17 years, do not end that now over some petty nonsense." Lord Desmond raised his voice slightly, before arching a hand against the table to keep him standing.
After clenching her jaw, and diverting her eyes elsewhere, Desmond then flicked two fingers to the air. Alerting whom ever was on the other side of the door to come rushing in. And like that, a maiden of blue and green dress proudly made her way over—holding a small crate filled with letters.
Vyselyra's chest became slightly upheaved upon seeing the contents—knowing just of whom those letters were from. She sworn to have hidden them well but apparently not well enough.
Desmond nods to the woman as she places the chest upon the oak table as Vyselyra glares ahead with a look that could kill. The maiden slowly bows before both, however quite uneased by the princess's side eye, before quickly taking her leave. Whilst Vyselyra earned a good reputation amongst the people, she had another side many did not want to find themselves on.
Desmond then retrieves an unopened letter from the crate before waving it in front of her unmoved face, " What even is this? Hoarding letters for 8 years? You can't even give the boy the common decency to answer back and tell him why?" Lord Desmond bellowed before tossing the contents of the crate onto the ground. Letters fly across the whitened floor like the sea washing up upon the sand.
As she stared at them, old memories of Jacaerys flooded back in—ones she had so desperately tried to forget in mist of his mother's antics. It was not his fault? No he couldn't have known....
But her thoughts were disrupted when Desmond coughed abruptly into his elbow, turning away from her as he did. Concern flooded across her face, disregarding the letters as she took a step towards him. " Father? Are you alright?" He coughed once more before regaining his composure—his hand trembling beside his mouth. " Yes, my dear I am fine. It's just please heed to my advice." He says, before looking to her for reassurance.
Vyselyra, reluctantly bowed to her fathers will—but as it always would be, she was high spirited and often did not keep promises. "Good, alert your brother and mother and of course round up Torrhen, that we will be leaving first thing in the morning."
NEXT MORNING HELD A DIFFERENT FEEL TO THE NORTHERN AIR— one of sorrow filled goodbyes and disdain for another. Grudges were brewing on every side of the throne and the very anxiety sat a heavy burden upon the kingdoms— men turning against each others throats like ravenous dogs. Torrhen was off down at The Lazy Eel when the guards retrieved him with Ser Medrick at their side. Thankfully she did not have such duties this morning as her attention was to be focused elsewhere.
Vyselyra was already out at the dragon cavern, twirling her thumbs behind her back whilst awaiting for her mother to ready. She glanced upon Azurine scale's glistening blue in the sun as she lay there awaiting her rider. Windermere groggily trudged out from the darkness cavern.
Naemera happily greeted the keepers with a smile, welcoming them as usual with heavenly grace. She then turned her attention back to Vyselyra. "Shall we embark?" Naemera spoke gently, gesturing towards the dragons. It seemed her mother mustn't have known what gone down the day before with the letters. Quite frankly, Vyselyra was happy she did not.
But just as Vyselyra nodded, Meraxes caught up and soon found herself stationed right beside the of whom she loved. " You stay here girl." Vyselyra command at the grey pup. But Meraxes then sat down, tilting her head ever so slightly at the silver haired woman.
Vyselyra could not bare to see the puppy eyes and got down on one knee— placing a hand utop the pups head, "You will be safer here than there." The pup only whined in response as the Targaryen's eyes left her.
With one last goodbye to the keepers, Vyselyra made her way atop the mighty Windermere. Hoisting herself up upon the bronzed saddle, with him grumbling peacefully beneath her, before outstretching his wings to the breeze.
Giving the onward motion and in gentle repose, they would arrive at Dragonstone in no time. As they set off, Vyselyra listened to the clamor of the townsfolk below, her glancing over her shoulder upon the castle she had spent much of her life in.
How strange it felt leaving once more. It wasn't a mere trip to Winterfell or to the free cities, no this was different. Those brick walls of white had been her cocoon for years—ones that secluded her when she needed their sanctuary. Vyselyra knew in her heart, she was not destined to see her home for a while. Little did she know of the horrors that would come of this trip.
Meraxes ran through the streets barking aimlessly before stopping right at the pier. "Goodbye my friend." She whispered under her breath—gripping the saddle harder, a single tear finding its way down her rosey cheek. Taking a sharp inhale, she placed her feet upon the stirrups— her body sinking into the nature curves of Windermere's back. Leaving home was never going to be easy, for anyone—yet Vyselyra openly took those emotions with her, the memories of comfort and joy. Those would see her through the time spent away.
As White Harbor, her home slowly dissipated into the horizon, melting into that of the sea. Azurine and Naemera speeding pass at immense speed—Vyselyra's journey had truly began....and one where hard choices would have to be made.
_________________________
SPECIAL DEDICATIONS
* Literally everyone at Arthur*
————— Okay it's here!!! So sorry
it took forever for this chapter,
Would you rather long chaps or short chaps?
And who's ready for some Jacaerys and Vyselyra action ?!!
♔