Part Two - The Stranger in the Storm
“I call it a rain coat!” Rhaenyra and Elinda oohed and aahed in delight as Olyvar demonstrated how the hooded oilskin cloak that keeps them from getting wet. To the girl’s delights, the ones the dragon keeper made fit snugly around them, keeping them warm with the rabbit fur lining.
The three of them had gathered for a night flight two days after the storm had begun battering down on the islands. Scholars in Pryr’s Institutes of Industrial Studies had theorized that they were currently in the eye of the storm with short intermittent rains, making a perfect flying condition for dragons with aquatic features. Alas Vaegon was too old to fly in such cold conditions but permitted his children and little Elinda to take their first maiden storm flight, accompanied by Grey Ghost.
“You are wasted as a dragon keeper,” Vaegon said severely under his huge umbrella as he glared at his nephew, who laughed, awkwardly rubbing his neck. “You will write a report and detail all the experiments you conducted while making this coat.” With one last pat on Grey’s snout, the Targaryen elder left with one last reminder for the children to record their finding and thoughts on the flight.
Rhaenyra turned to make one last check on Syrax’s straps when Olyvar muttered loudly, “Incoming.” Turning just in time to see her uncle melt into the darkness, pulling Elinda with him as Gwayne and two of the King’s Landing guards approached the dragons.
(They had decided to keep the two new dragon riders a secret from both the King’s Landing delegates and from the Velaryon twins, unwilling to drag both of them into the fucked up game of thrones.)
“Surely you’re not thinking of flying in this horrid condition, Princess,” Gwayne asked condescendingly.
“Why not?” She said airily, “I find this to be a wonderful flying condition and I fully intend on taking advantage of it.” She put on their riding gloves. She turned, wanting to be in the air but before she could do so, Gwayne grabbed her by the wrist.
Two things happened simultaneously; Harwin, who was shadowing her that evening, moved forward so quickly from beside Syrax, had his naked sword resting lightly against Gwayne’s unprotected neck, and Grey Ghost roared loudly, looming over the three of them.
Gwayne stumbled backward to avoid both the blade and the dragon, tripping over Harwin’s foot. But before he can rise, Grey Ghost puts its left front paw over his chest, forcing him back down, its sharp claws trapped the knight.
“P-Princess!!” He called out in panic.
“Careful now, Ser Gwayne. Grey Ghost is not my dragon and I have no control over him whatsoever.” Rhaenyra looked at the downed knight in satisfaction, not worried at all as Grey usually toyed with his victims and did not kill them (or Vaegon would be very displeased with him.)
She turned to Syrax, ready for her ride. She turned to the knight, smiling brightly. “Coming Harwin?”
The knight perked up in delight as he quickly followed his princess onto the dragon, gently placing his hands around her dainty waist.
“ Soves Syrax! ” She happily called out as Harwin couldn’t help but whooped as the dragon launched into the night sky, leaving Gwayne on the ground, staring at them in anger.
Grey Ghost, watching his lady love flying off with her humans, turned to the filth under his paw. Sniffing derisively at the rancid scent of human waste, he leaned closely and roared at the human once more before launching into the air, joining his mate and their children in the sky.
Olyvar screamed in delight as Dusk skimmed the waves, sprays of seawater tossed into the air every time the dragon dipped his wings into the sea. Elinda can be heard laughing incredulously as Terrax glided through the rain clouds, her strawberry blonde hair damped from the condensation.
Syrax and Grey Ghost meanwhile, were having a merry dance in the night sky, Rhaenyra and Harwin held on tightly as they were swept into the romantic flight, laughing and whooping in delight.
At one point, Daemon and Caraxes even appeared, the Rogue Prince’s hair were plastered to his face by the rain, looking like a drowned rat. “ Wild night to have a flight, niece.” He bellowed from on top of his dragon before heading back, after making sure his niece, cousin and handmaiden were okay.
Rhaenyra laughed, waving wildly at her uncle, trusting Harwin to keep her on Syrax before she and her two dragon riders break away from Daemon, wanting to do one last sweep around the islands.
Sweeping through the cold air, the princess can feel her sworn shield shivering. Olyvar didn’t manage to make a raincoat for Harwin (as Rhaenyra had invited him to join the flight at the very last minute), hence the poor knight was soaked to the bones despite his thick cloak. Maybe it's time to head home for the night.
“Princess.” Despite the rain, Rhaenyra was one shivering as Harwin breathed into her ears. “Is that a ship?”
She turned sharply to the left and to her horror, she could see a ship with a broken mast struggling against the rough sea.
“Syrax! Geptot!”
The wind whips around Cregan, tearing at the rigging and churning up a bitter spray that soaks him to the skin.
So , he thought bitterly, this was his uncle's plan all along. Killing him using the storm and blaming Princess Rhaenyra for his death when they find his battered body.
And to think he was glad they managed to find a way to save his Sara when all along he was leading her to her untimely death.
(He was surprised to see his maternal uncle, Gallbart Glover, was waiting for him just outside White Harbor.
“Nephew. Forgive me for being unable to save you. Bennard Stark has a close eye on our family and our allies. I barely get away as it is to see you. Rest assured that the North Remembers.” He said fiercely, hugging his young nephew. “I will try my best to find a way to bring you back.”
“Sara, save my sister first. The Boltons will break her.” Cregan set aside his pride, begging for his little sister.
“Worry not, nephew.” Gallbart gestured to one of the cloaked figures behind him. “We, too, realized how dangerous it is for a Bolton to have their hands on a Stark.” The cloaked figure opened their cloak to reveal they were holding little Sara who was asleep. “We managed to switch your sister with a dying girl child whom we fed Sweetsleep to ease her passing. By the time they reached Dreadfort, you and your sister would be far away and hopefully under Princess Rhaenyra’s protection.”)
Now sparing a thought for the little toddler hunkering down in the only cabin on the ship, the exiled heir spared a prayer to the Old Gods to protect them and not let his little sister die as he braces himself with an arm flung around the ship’s broken mast, helping the sailors who weren’t thrown overboard with the ropes.
“My Lord, get below now! As long as you stay above deck, I cannot guarantee your safety!” The Captain roared at him, struggling with the wheel of the ship.
“I can still help!” Cregan roared back.
“Foolish lordling!” The grizzly captain cursed but turned back to navigate the ship, hoping to find safe harbor.
A loud roar can suddenly be heard over the rough waves crashing against the ship. Cregan looked up to the dark sky and to his surprise, he could see a flight of dragons looming over their ship. The big golden dragon and two of the smaller dragons suddenly swooped downward before pulling away, giving enough leeway for their passengers to drop from their respective saddles and land safely on the deck.
One of the cloaked figures, the one with the drowned looking knight behind them, approached them. “Bad times going sailing, strangers. What brings you to Stepstones?” The feminine voice indicated that the speaker was a woman.
The captain,still holding onto the wheel, bellowed at them. “So we are close to Stepstones?”
“Yes, just the North of Moonstone Island. What business do you have with Stepstones?”
Cregan stepped forward, letting go of the broken mast. “They are escorting me.”
“And who are you?” The cloaked figure peered at him in confusion.
“I am Cregan Stark of Winterfell, son of Rickon Stark. My uncle, the new Warden of the North, sent me here to foster with Princess Rhaenyra.”
“In the middle of the monsoon season?!” The figure reared back in shock. In doing so, the hood hiding her face fell back, revealing a Valyrian beauty with luminous violet eyes.
So.
This is Princess Rhaenyra of Dragonstone.
“Well met, Princess Rhaenyra.” He tried to bow but wobbled as another wave crashed against the ship. One of the still cloaked figures moved forward and caught him before he could fall down. “I got you, kid.” He pulled back his cloak to reveal his silver blond hair and blue eyes.
“I’m not sure what’s going on but it seems we will need to head back to Moonstone before the storm picks up again.” Rhaenyra said. “Captain, do you mind if my dragons help you?”
“If the dragons can help us get to safety, by all means Your Royal Highness.” The captain bowed before turning back to steer the ship.
The princess smiled before whistling sharply. Some of the dragons, which includes a huge grey and white dragon, hovered over the ship. In sharp foreign tongue, the princess gestured at the ship and to their surprise, the grey and white dragon slipped into the sea and the ship began to move forward smoothly after a few false starts.
Dawn was breaking when Vaegon could see a foreign ship limping into the docks. Despite the rain falling heavily and wind bellowing sharply, the old Targaryen waited for his children to come home. He snorted when he realized his Grey was swimming behind the ship, pushing the ship with his head, some of the hatchlings hanging merrily on the side of the ship, chirping loudly at their sire as if they were cheering him on.
If he can strain his eyes, he can see his little granddaughter and son talking to a young boy, Harwin steadfastly standing behind them, little Elinda meanwhile was holding a girl child in her arms.
Now, what problem has his children brought into their home?