108 AC
Time passed quietly after my oath. Silverwing and I trained more often—longer flights, steeper dives, sharper turns through the narrow valleys of Dragonstone. I grew confident in the saddle, and the dragon grew used to my weight, my voice, my will. There was no one left on the island who questioned it. A few still watched from afar, but none dared speak of it openly. Some likely assumed I had been granted the old queen's leave. Let them.
In truth, I had begun preparing for what came next.
The war hadn't started yet. Not openly. Rhaenyra was still heir, but Queen Alicent's influence at court grew stronger. Prince Aegon—still a child—had lords gathering around him already. The court might pretend otherwise, but everyone could feel it. A clash was coming.
And I would not be caught unprepared.
I began keeping records. Notes on the older keepers who still had ties to the crown. Notes on the dragons—those ridden, those left unclaimed, those too wild to approach. I listened, I mapped, I watched the sky.
If war came, the dragons would decide it. And after the war, someone would need to guide what remained.
In the shadows of the old halls, I began crafting my place in that future.
I had no name of power, no great house to back me. But I had Silverwing. And I had knowledge. If the Dance ended in ruin—as many feared—it would leave the realm with few riders. Aegon the younger would survive, if the songs held true. A boy king would need a hand.
And who better than the last rider left?
I practiced my public face. I spoke with Maelion more openly now, asking subtle questions about the old queen's views, her allies, her intentions. Eventually, I would come forward. Not with a challenge, but with proof: that I had ridden Silverwing, trained her, and served the realm when others burned it.
There would be no need to take Ulf the White's place later—he would never claim Silverwing. I would.
Maybe I would even ask for legitimacy. A formal name. But even that wasn't necessary. I had already accepted the price. The dragonkeeper rituals, the old ones meant to bind us to royal dragons, had left me unable to father children. That was the cost. But I did not regret it.
Silverwing had become more than a mount. She was my future.
And in the years to come, I would make sure the realm saw it too.