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SOMEWHERE IN THE TRUE NORTH — THE WHITE SKY
The winds howled like ancient ghosts.
Snow whipped through the air in thick curtains, turning sky and land into one endless veil of white. High above the frost-covered world, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen soared through the blizzard, her silver hair lashing against her face.
The cold stung her cheeks, sharper than any blade, but she endured it, her gloved hands gripping the reins that weren't truly needed.
Drogon's wings beat, cutting through the snow-laden air with power that shook the heavens themselves. Behind him, Rhaegal and Viserion flew in formation silent, vigilant, uneasy.
Daenerys narrowed her eyes through the swirl of ice, her breath visible in the freezing wind.
"That forest was destroyed," she muttered under her breath, her voice lost to the storm. "It had to be him… it had to be Aeron."
A shiver ran down her spine, not from the cold, but from something deeper.
"I wonder what kind of enemy could have pushed him that far.. It might be one of the champions of the gods he spoke about."
She paused, thinking, trying to make sense of the madness she'd flown into.
"How could he come here alone? No man would ever dare venture this far not beyond the Wall, not into this."
Her dragons groaned uneasily, their cries muffled by the winds. Even Drogon, proud and vicious, flew more cautiously now, scanning the world below with glowing eyes.
"No one in Westeros would care enough to do this," she whispered, her voice low and shaken. "So why... why does he care this much?"
The wind screamed in reply.
Then she saw it.
A faint flicker below the clouds.
A pulse of something not fire exactly, nor lightning. A glow, distant and trembling, like a dying heartbeat in the snow. The sound came next a low, guttural roar from the abyss, not from dragon, nor man, nor beast. Something else. Something she could feel in her bones.
Her heart quickened.
Daenerys rose in her saddle, shielding her eyes from the storm, trying to see past the wall of white. The glowing rhythm beneath the clouds didn't repeat, but she had already made her decision.
"Take us down," she commanded, calm but firm. Drogon responded with a sharp, echoing growl, tilting his wings.
"Now, Drogon."
The black dragon descended, cutting through the air like a spear. His brothers followed in tight arcs, Viserion snarling as the cold thickened, Rhaegal's breath fogging with frost.
As they pierced the storm, the ground slowly began to take shape, snow, broken hills of ice, and the faint remnants of something once colossal. A mountain, shattered. A battlefield, and smell of rotting corpses. The scars were deep lines etched in the earth like a god had struck it.
The dragons landed Drogon first, his claws splitting ice and snow with a crack that echoed for miles. Viserion and Rhaegal touched down moments later, wings folding, heads shifting restlessly.
Daenerys dismounted slowly, her feet sinking into the snow.
The cold bit deeper here.
There was something wrong with this place.
Her eyes swept the land. She saw piles of dead bodies, scorched, unrecognizable, scars from something so great that even the land remembered the pain.
"Aeron…" she whispered again.
The sound of her voice felt swallowed by the white, like even the wind didn't dare carry it far.
She walked forward slowly, each step muffled by the thick snow beneath her boots. Her silver hair whipped behind her in the wind, cloak pressed tightly to her frame as the storm howled around her. Behind her, the three dragons padded along, their massive wings furled and low to the ground, tense sensing something ahead.
The air tasted wrong. Tasted… haunted.
Her violet eyes swept across the land, searching, trying to make sense of what lay before her.
Charred corpses. Piles of them. Twisted beyond recognition. Some still smoldered, releasing tendrils of black smoke into the snowstorm. Some were burned so utterly that they'd become one with the ash-blasted ground. Others… she wasn't sure were ever men to begin with.
The silence was not peace.
Daenerys stepped forward, past the broken remnants of what may have once been a giant. Her dragons crept behind her like shadows, Drogon closest his great eyes darting left and right, smoke curling from his nostrils. Rhaegal hissed low. Viserion let out a growl as his claws crunched bone beneath snow.
"Is anyone here?" Daenerys called, her voice stronger this time.
She paused. No reply.
"Anyone at all?"
She stepped further into the storm, a hand brushing the air as if to part the blizzard. Then
"Aeron?" she said at last, the name trembling from her lips.
And then she saw them.
Not one.
Not two.
But hundreds.
Just beyond the white, as if the veil of the blizzard had thinned for just a breath, eyes.
Glowing eyes.
hateful, blue and violet eyes.
So many.
And every last one locked on her.
Daenerys froze.
Her heart skipped once. Twice.
The dragons roared in unison, all three of them. Drogon crouched, jaws widening, a growl building into a rumble that vibrated the ground. Flames sparked in his throat, but he didn't release.
She took a step back.
Then another.
Snap.
A branch underfoot.
And then
A hand reached from the blizzard and seized her wrist.
Daenerys gasped sharply, whipped around Drogon reared back, ready to unleash hell but a sound split the sky.
A roar. Deep and terrifying.
Even Drogon whimpered.
Daenerys' eyes widened in instinctive fear but then, from the fog, the figure came into view.
First a silhouette then the slow, sure glow of violet eyes.
The cloak, heavy with snow, shifted.
The face emerged.
A smile.
"Hello, Dany," came the low, almost amused voice.
She blinked.
"Aeron?" she breathed, not quite believing.
The figure stepped fully from the mist, and yes there he was.
Armor dark as shadow. Greatsword sheathed on his back. Violet eyes that gleamed. And that smile that sharp, cocky, unshakable smirk that always made her unsure whether to scold him or kiss him.
Without another word, he pulled her close and embraced her. The cold between them didn't matter his arms were warm, solid, steady.
She was in awe speechless and yet she hugged him back with every bit of relief in her bones.
"What… what are you doing this far north?" she managed to whisper, her voice barely there, tremulous with emotion and cold.
Aeron pulled back slightly, still holding her, and looked into her eyes with both affection and exasperation.
"Me?" he said with a small, knowing grin. "What are you doing here? I thought I made it rather clear: you were to stay in the south, preferably King's Landing, run the realm while I cleanse the filth from the world."
Daenerys' breath hitched, the storm still swirling around them.
"I couldn't stay idle," she replied, her voice firmer now. "Not while I have dragons that could aid you. Not when you ride off alone into the dark like some mad, cursed knight."
Aeron chuckled, actually laughed, and brushed her cheek with the back of a gloved hand.
"No, you should go back," he said softly. His tone shifted stern now. Low. "The Night King is close."
Daenerys searched his face.
"Then let me fight beside you..."
He placed a finger to her lips gently.
"He is smart and more powerful than I expected, I just fought three of his generals, If he sees you, he'll come faster. He'll strike harder. And I don't want to use you as bait."
Daenerys pulled her cloak tighter, her silver hair already frosted at the ends. She looked at Aeron not with fear, nor uncertainty, but with the kind of fierce resolve only born of queens.
"I'm not going back now," she said quietly, but with all the weight of royal command. "Not while you're out here alone."
Aeron turned slightly, violet eyes flicking to hers with a long, assessing look. His breath clouded in the air as he stared at her in silence.
He exhaled.
A low sigh. Half annoyance, half admiration.
"Stubborn as ever," he muttered under his breath. Then, louder
"I suppose I'll have to make camp for you, then…" His tone was dry, almost teasing. "Otherwise you'll freeze to death before nightfall. And I'd rather not explain to the realm how the Queen of Dragons died because of bad weather."
Daenerys raised a brow, incredulous. "A camp? Here? In this cursed storm? Also wait.. It's not nighttime already ?!"
Aeron's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile the kind that always came just before he showed something terrifying or extraordinary.
"You'd be surprised," he said, eyes glowing faintly violet now beneath the storm, "by what my soldiers can do."
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