บท 3: Chapter 3 - The Promise
114 AC
First day of the third moon
Gerardys Pov
Agony, pain, sadness, and guilt were etched on the boy's face. The thought of losing one's mother was truly heart-wrenching. As an abandoned child myself, I understood the feeling of not having anyone to care for you. Pushing those thoughts away, I sat there in deep contemplation, pondering why I couldn't save the boy's mother. My failure had resulted in him becoming an orphan. The maesters from the Citadel tried to console me, saying it was just a one-off case and that it didn't matter since the woman was just a common servant. But deep down, I couldn't shake off the weight of responsibility and the sadness that engulfed me.
Hours passed until Mary regained consciousness and called for her son. After hearing their heart-wrenching final words, I felt even more anguished, angry at myself for being utterly pathetic. Mary's passing had affected me deeply, regardless of her status as a servant. The boy left the room, leaving me to sit vigil for the woman who had grown up before my eyes and was now slowly passing away from this mortal life. Then, the door slowly creaked open, and Ser Alfred Broome entered the room.
Alfred's eyes were filled with tears, a sight I had never witnessed before. He glanced at Mary and then turned to look at me. I shook my head, silently indicating the devastating loss we had just experienced. His eyes met mine, and in that moment, I saw a man consumed by grief and pain.
"Uncle, is that you?" Mary whispered in a raspy voice, her eyes searching for a familiar face.
Uncle? How could Alfred be her uncle? He hailed from a noble house in the Westerlands, and Mary was a serving girl. The revelation puzzled me.
"Yes, it's me, Mary," Alfred replied, his voice trembling as he clasped her hand gently.
A faint smile played on Mary's lips. It was the first time I had seen Alfred smile, a man who had always been brooding before this moment.
" I will finally see grandmother again, won't I uncle? As well as mother and father. How I have longed to see them, always wondering how they looked, but now I will see them, finally."
Hearing her words Alfred solemnly nodded before giving her a small smile. That was the first time I had seen the man smile who was always brooding before I saw him.
"But before I go, I have a final request, uncle. Please protect Ulf. That's all I ask of you. If they find out about him, they will kill him. You know they will. You will have to protect him. Promise me, uncle... promise me," Mary pleaded, her voice barely a whisper, weakened by the fever.
Alfred nodded solemnly, his tears flowing freely now, as he made a promise to Mary. It was a promise that weighed heavily upon him. The room seemed to grow darker as Mary took her final breath, departing this world forever.
Thunder rumbled outside, and lightning lit up the sky, mirroring the pain and agony in Alfred's voice as he cursed the gods.
After what felt like an eternity, he turned to me. His gaze, once kind and gentle, now harbored a menacing threat.
"You will not speak a word of this to anyone, not even the boy. I will gut you like a pig if you so much as breathe a word," he said, his bloodshot eyes filled with rage.
I simply nodded, my mind racing with the newfound knowledge and the potential consequences if this secret were to be exposed.
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Ulf Pov
Those who believed that dragons were merely mindless creatures of war were mistaken. Seeing a dragon up close for the first time did not invoke fear or delight in me. Instead, it reminded me of my past life.
"Nyke jāhor sagon drēje rūsīr ao. Nyke emagon nykeā dream."
[I will be honest with you. I have a dream], I spoke in flawless Valyrian.
Gerardys had been instrumental in helping me learn the ancient language of the Dragonlords.
"Nykeā dream skoriot nyke sīmonagon naejot nykeā station bona daor smallfolk mirre emagon. Ziry iksos konīr skoriot nyke jāhor achieve greatness, naejot sagon remembered isse history syt centuries naejot māzigon."
[A dream where I rise to a station that no smallfolk has ever achieved. A place where I will achieve greatness and be remembered in history for centuries to come.]
I paused for a moment, gathering my thoughts before continuing.
"Se vys jāhor daor longer remember ao hae se docile zaldrīzes qilōni belonged naejot dāria Alysanne yn hae nykeā zaldrīzes qilōni iksos naejot sagon zūgagon se respected va keskydoso levels hen Balerion."
[The world will no longer remember you as the docile dragon that belonged to Queen Alysanne but as a dragon to be feared and respected on the same level as Balerion.]
"Jāhor ao dohaeragon issa achieve issa dream, Silverwing?"
[Will you help me achieve my dream, Silverwing?]
As I finished my impassioned speech, I locked eyes with the dragon, without flinching.
For a brief moment, I felt as though I would soon be reunited with my mother. Silverwing lowered her head, inviting me to touch her. I reached out, my hand coming into contact with her scales, and in that instant, a connection sparked between us.
She sat down, indicating that she wanted me to ride her. Carefully, I climbed onto her back, gripping her scales tightly as there was no saddle. Once I secured myself, I gave the command.
"Soves."
What followed was a breathtaking experience, the most extraordinary moments of my young life. As we soared through stormy clouds, a burst of sunlight greeted us. It was in that moment that I realized I had tamed a dragon—a feat that overwhelmed me with indescribable emotions.
In sync with my jubilation, Silverwing let out a mighty roar. It felt as though she, too, shared in my elation.
Then, I uttered the storied words I had longed to say since reading about dragons in books.
"Dracarys."
In response, Silverwing unleashed a torrent of silver flames, creating a spectacle of beauty and power. For the first time in both my lives, I felt limitless.
After our exhilarating flight, I directed Silverwing to land on Dragonmont, much to her chagrin. She seemed eager to showcase her new rider to the world, but she obeyed my command nonetheless.
Though many things raced through my mind, I knew better than to reveal my identity as a dragonrider. The current circumstances were precarious, and
I lacked the strength to protect myself adequately. Viserys, despite his goodness, would not welcome the claim of a smallfolk riding a dragon, and the nobles... well, their reaction would undoubtedly be far worse. The Hightower and the Rogue would not hesitate to eliminate a mere child of five namedays.
For now, I decided to conceal my true identity until the opportune moment—the "Dance."
Suddenly, a wave of dizziness washed over me, and to my horror, I noticed blood trickling from both of my palms, a consequence of tightly gripping Silverwing's scales.
Gerardys would surely have my head.
By the Seven, I was truly and utterly doomed.
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Last_Quincy
Last_Quincy The pacing of the chapters will increase from the next chapter onwards.
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