𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙁𝙊𝙐𝙍 :
𝗥𝗲𝗱 𝗜𝗻 𝗠𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗙𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘀

𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑨𝑼𝑳 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑨𝑵 𝑰𝑴𝑷𝑶𝑹𝑻𝑨𝑵𝑻 𝑫𝑶𝑪𝑼𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻 when informed of Sylvia's presence and passed it along his servant once she entered, beckoning her toward the table of roasted chicken, glistening honey crepes, assorted fruits and rich wine. Her mouth watered and her belly grew impatient to stuff herself full, but felt it was best to wait for the King to sit and eat first.

Due to the King preferring privacy, Meya and everyone else were escorted from the room. It was just her and the King.

        Noticing the gesture, King Aul motioned her forward with a light chuckle. "Please, don't wait for this old man or you will be waiting till your grave." He sipped his wine, watching the girl devour her food as if it was her last meal, but first of many. "I trust you settled well in your quarters? Well rested I hear. You surely look better than when you first arrived; I can tell you're a woman."

        Neither could she.

        Sylvia couldn't believe the woman in the reflection was her and not the tall boy she'd portrayed since her flower bloomed and her breast swelled. The seamstress returned with a beautiful dress far nicer than anything she owned and more than which she thought she deserved. The grey dress clung tight to her skin, shaping her womanly figure, with red and golden embroidery patterning of the low collar and along the fitted sleeves. Her shaped curls hung just below her shoulders, healthy and wild with multiple strands in decorative tiny braids and pinned from her face with a golden hairpin.

        She looked as though she'd belonged. And now she did.

        Sylvia drunk her wine to help flush out chicken stuck between her teeth. Because she wasn't a drinker, a cup and a half was the limit. "I did, thank you." She remembered Meya's quick lesson along the journey and added. "Your grace."

        King Aul smiled warmly at her attempt. "I summoned you so that I may know you better and personally welcome you, but I regret to inform that the man you look for has not ridden his dragon for two years."

        Sylvia knew the King spoke of her father. She also knew by the glumness painting his old features that he held his brother with high gratitude and loved him dearly. Having not known her father personally, there were no tears to shed and share along his silent grief but Sylvia sympathized. It seemed fate wasn't in her favor and it's a shame he died before he could reunite with her mother, or she could succeed in her plans of delusion. . .which ended up working out after all but not within her imagination.

        Perhaps his death was the reason he didn't answer any letters or come save them, but that was two years out of seventeen. What happened then?

        "He was a good man." King Aul continued after a sip of his wine. "Arrogant and ambitious and too honest for his soul, God rest him. A king the people would have loved had been older and easily controlled."

        "How did he. . ."

        "In battle. Stepstones."

        Sylvia stopped eating. "Oh, I'm sorry."

        After a short moment of silence, King Aul offered a warm grin to hide his long-term grief. "Don't be. At least it was quick and he suffered no pain during his final moments, so I am told." He chuckled at the sudden change of moods and wished to revert the attention to the reason this meeting was happening. "Enough about me, eat. I hope you can fill me in on some details. What of your mother? Any siblings?"

        Sylvia continued eating. She weighed the honey tart between her greasy fingers and inspected the foreign treat before tasting it along her tongue. It's sweet. A lot better than it appeared.

        "No. Just me and my mother but we were split during the attack." Sylvia told the King, her voice somehow stronger than it wished to be. "I'm unsure if she made it out alive, but if she did, she knows where to find me. I intend to wait for her arrival however long it takes."

        Nodding, King Aul's keen to uncover more. "How did you get by? . . .Before the attack?"

        "My mother made a living as a whore. I took in daily chores."

        His expression didn't change upon learning this new information about her, but his mind did wander and contrived stories along her words instead of asking her, but one question didn't cave. "Are you still. . ." He trailed, hoping she would fill in the blank.

        It took Sylvia a moment to understand what he was asking until she realized and jolted upwards from her plate. "Yes. I-I gave myself to no man. My mother forbade my partaking in such acts because she wanted more for me. She's very strict about that."

        Although true, she had found pleasure with women within the house that left no evidence or proof of defilement. A man, she hadn't. She was saving herself for Yanis.

        "Good. That's good to hear."

        King Aul cleared his throat with an uncomfortable shift. This was a conversation a woman should be having instead and saw he'd rather talk about anything else than her virtue, but he needed to be sure. Now that he's legitimized a bastard, it would be a shame to have tarnished both their reputation while making a fool out of him within a day especially given her Dornish background.

        "You said you are now nine-and-ten years? Nearing the age of when a woman should be already married. Do you house a husband back home? Or engaged with plans of marriage?"

        "No."

        "And there is no one in your heart?"

        There was, but he was long dead now. "No."

        "As you are well aware, my brother meant a great deal to me and I intend to thrive our house and his bloodline which now includes you. Something I would have never done and is the first and last of my doing." Said King Aul, another sip of his wine that's been refilled quenches his thirst. Sylvia barely finished with her first cup. "That means you will have to marry soon and bear a family as big as life gives you. I shall find you an exceptional suitor for my brother's sake, but I know with Lady Vana's arrival, she shall know what is best for you. Do you oppose?"

        Sylvia relished the idea of marrying a man worthy of her and birthing a few children in a house of love and compassion. It's what her mother wanted for her too. Though a secure-functional relationship wasn't what she had experienced before and grew scared of belonging to an abusive man for the rest of her life and children who would grow up to hate her someday; she enjoyed the silly fantasy because it was the opposite of her environment. Another picture of a life she painted had things turned out differently and her mother's body wasn't a means of income.

        And now, her fantasy shall become her reality.

        A man with a generosity of wealth. A man who shall love her as she is and will see her as a true equal. A man to learn from. A man who knows she deserves better and shall give her not only the world, but his entire undevoted heart. And anything more which her mother had listed repetitively, and the list was long.

        "No, your grace, I don't oppose." Sylvia accepted the assignment. King Aul was far too kind than her expectation of how a king would normally present themselves. It wasn't a king when looking at him, but an old man living out his days in peace and wine and a proper future he'd leave behind when the time came. "But I'm curious why you gave me my father's name, more than what I asked. More than I deserve. You don't know me. I'm a stranger who came into your life, so why trust anything I tell you? Why do what you did?"

        "I told you. My brother was everything in ways I wished I were and I'd be damned to let his bloodline die out with his only son one sickeness away from death, or a sword like his father. Bastard or not, his blood is yours. The scales along your face makes you closer to dragons than one could ever be. How could I not claim you?" Said King Aul, wiping his greasy lips with a napkin. He sat back in his chair and allowed his servants to remove what he finished. Sylvia was done before him but had more to finish since he didn't eat as much. "You remind me of Daemon. Your spiteful nature and honest character. You are a stranger, yes, and I shouldn't trust your word too easily, but I'm choosing to go against all advice. I'm giving you an opportunity in a lifetime no bastard, even mine, has reached. It is a great risk I'm taking with honor. Our house is the future, our future. Now yours to ensure it remains that way."

        Sylvia couldn't eat anymore or her stomach would explode. The King had given her a great responsibility she was now questioning it if was a quest she could fulfill. This life was not one she was raised into and she needed all the help she could get to become a proper lady of court. And while this new life had its lavish perks that needed time to get used to, Sylvia wasn't sure how big of a burden he was asking of her. To think and put this house of strangers before anyone and to keep them in her best interest when the future was on the table.

        But as he said, this was an opportunity a bastard could dream of, exactly what her mother wanted. Kindness he won't extend ever again. And at least she'd remain in King's Landing depending on her suitors. She must carry herself differently to survive this world alone with lessons her mother taught.

        "You have good a heart." Sylvia could only say.

        But in his eyes, he was only a father, a grandsire, a man, hoping to see each of his kids and Daemon's happily and married. So the King chuckled lightly. "I hope so. Only a good heart can derive from sins of cruelty and motivate others to follow its lead, which I, came a long way from. I wish to remain a fair king till my deathbed."

        Sylvia said nothing and continued eating her meal when the king gestured for her to keep eating though there was no space left. To have all that she wished should she ask for more.

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                    𝑨 𝑾𝑯𝑰𝑻𝑬-𝑯𝑨𝑰𝑹𝑬𝑫 𝑩𝑶𝒀 helped himself to drinks while he awaited Sylvia's arrival. Sat comfortably at the center table with his chair facing the entrance, he perked with interest as she furthered into the room and halted her steps upon his unfamiliarity. She sent her handmaiden a look of confusion.

        Meya softly gasped and greeted the boy with a bow, neither expecting his presence too. "My prince," she motioned for Sylvia to greet him properly as briefly taught on her way to meet with the King. It was less poise and messy, still more work to be done. "May I present you her lady, Sylvia Targaryen, daughter of former Prince Daemon Targaryen. And he, Prince Aelor Targaryen, second son of King Aul."

        The prince had to be at least a year or two younger than Sylvia. He had the face of a baby with naturally flushed cheeks, a look of innocent trouble. His eyes were a lighter shade of purple and wore his dark silver hair — as opposed to Sylvia's and the King's whose hair were much lighter — short and fluffy at his ears like the morning clouds. Skinny legs and frail arms with a long skinny neck, and ridiculously tall once he stood from the chair.

        "There are tales within our bloodline who are born with dragon-like features, blessed by the Gods who deem them worthy. I call it bullshit. A pity-case. I don't believe in such a thing as it is rare, but rumors spread quickly and I had to come see for myself. See why a God would bless a bastard over true-borns."

        "Your Highness, my lady is no longer a bastard as the King — "

        Prince Aelor shushed Meya with a wave of his hand, forcing her to chew her words. "Once a bastard is always a bastard. Acknowledgment doesn't change it. A royal decree doesn't change it. Even my father's support doesn't change what you are and who you'll always be." He was obviously trying to get a reaction out of Sylvia, one he wouldn't find because she didn't give a damn.

        It would be different had she grown up a lady alongside this house, acknowledged since birth and fed into her head that she was more than a greasy bastard. Above them and all. . .But she'd always known her place and accepted it. Bastards in Dorne weren't a curse or often a threat but acceptable as they were and most times treated the same as true-borns. His discreditment did nothing but confirm what she already knew. I am a bastard and I'm a proud one. Bestowed her father's name didn't change how she viewed herself except on the outside which gave proof of her new status.

        And frankly, Sylvia wished him gone. Exhaustion wore heavy over her head and she needed to take a piss. Plus Meya had other plans that could take the entire day.

        Sylvia stood, unmoving. "So what of it?"

        Prince Aelor gave a careless shrug."Just wanted to be sure you know your place." He inspected her features at a close distance that Sylvia had to lift her head to meet his curious gaze. His lips were red and his breath reeked of alcohol. Then his shoulders dropped with disappointment. "You aren't ugly. Just a girl."

        "What were you imagining?"

        "A dragon's head on a woman's body." He admitted.

        Sylvia could laugh at his crazy imagination but decided to withhold it to avoid offending him.

        "Can I touch — "

        Sylvia leaned away from the prince's reaching hand desperate to touch the scales along her face. Denying so, frustrated Prince Aelor as though he had never been denied anything before and his cheeks grew redder than an apple.

        "I wish to touch your scales." He explained frustratingly. "I am your prince and your king one day should my brother fall ill. If you are quick to refuse my request, I shall remember this day when you ask me of something in the near future."

        Meya was quick to interject. "My apologies your highness, the lady is still yet new to court. She isn't familiar with our customs but she would be pleased to be touched. Please forgive her ignorance."

        Ignorance? Sylvia shot her handmaiden a glare who dared kept her eyes elsewhere.

        Nodding, the prince stepped forward. "Ignorance is a woman's trait. I shall forgive you today."

        No one but her mother, Yanis, and past lovers had touched her face and Sylvia didn't like it one bit. But because he was a prince with power beyond reach, and appeared as though he would throw a tantrum if she refused, Sylvia allowed him to proceed.

        As Meya said, Sylvia was a foreigner to their world. Refusing a prince could result in a harsher punishment than just getting it over with.

        His cool slender fingers touched Sylvia's face, padding his printed tips along her scales, smoother to the touch from the thick cream Meya lathered. The thrill in his eyes grew like a child discovering fun for the first time, and it took Sylvia every last ounce of strength not to push him away. She felt like an animal, worse than anyone had treated her which wasn't all that bad by covering up. The invasion, the live comments — it was insulting.

        His thumb slightly parted Sylvia's bottom lip, his index finger hooked under her chin and forced their gaze to meet. "There are no scales on my lips." She reminded the prince, a warning to remove it immediately.

        Prince Aelor ignored her and continued brushing, a lustful look filling his light purple eyes intrigued with the soft texture. And apparently more. "I hear your mother's a Dornish whore. Is that true?" His brows rose with his voice but it wasn't genuine curiosity behind it.

        Sylvia's jaw clenched. "It is."

        She briefly looked to Meya, waiting for her to intervene — since she had much to say earlier — but was interrupted by his raising hand before she could defuse anything.

        "As I thought. My little ears are never wrong. And so I'm curious," a tighter grip on Sylvia's chin forced her closer, the smell of wine thick on his breath and tickling her lips. "If the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree? Don't worry, what happens in this room, stays. Your virtue along with it."

        Sylvia shifted as far back as she could before their lips collided, ripping from his grip that his long thumb nail scratched her chin. Once free, she pushed the Prince. The strength behind her push was strong enough to lose his balance, his feet shuffling back as he failed to catch the table and fell on his ass. Meya rushed from behind to help him to his feet.

        "Get your filthy hands off me!" Prince Aelor shouted as he whacked away Meya's help.

        He was livid. Too embarrassed by his situation especially when there were witnesses to his fall at the hands of a woman beneath him, his eyes bewildered. Meya and the cupbearer kept their heads to the ground not to add to it.

        "You dare lash at your prince?" Prince Aelor gripped the table and fumbled to his feet. "I will have you beaten to death and hung in a pit of fire then your head placed on a spike at my window!" He seethed while jabbing his finger at the air.

        Meya rushed to Sylvia's side and whispered, "Apologize, my lady. You were in the wrong. This is not Dorne."

        Sylvia failed to see her mistake and what Dorne had to do with this situation. Someone whom she wasn't, not even the slightest, attracted to insulted her so she rightfully defended herself.

        "I will not." Stated Sylvia as though to challenge the prince which angered him further. Meya attempted to apologize in her place but was stopped before she could begin. "I don't owe you an apology, you owe me one. You made me uncomfortable by using your authority against me to sexually please you after you insulted me. Prince or not, you have no respect for women or for me. After all, it is a man's trait. I shouldn't expect much."

        Prince Aelor was visually shaking. He didn't expect Sylvia to talk back and neither did she. She knew better than to smart-mouth someone of higher status and got too bold. He was a prince. At any sign of his discomfort and irritation would anyone of sane mind would be on their knees begging for their lives — all which Sylvia refused to do.

        . . .She did wonder if she said too much. Did too much. If it was better to follow through and ask for forgiveness despite who was in the wrong — which he was — and as her mother often advised. She was still yet new to court and that mouth of hers could get her killed.

        "Aelor,"

        They followed the stern voice to a man leaning against the open door with a rather amusing expression as he watched the scene unfold, possibly from the beginning. And possibly another family member by his silver hair, lighter than Prince Aelor's, pushed from his face and brushing voluminously with light waves down his back. Important by how quickly Meya and others greeted him with a bow.

        Prince Aelor stuttered, "B-brother."

        Brother?

        Sylvia didn't shy from his violet eyes staring back with such intensity, that she was convinced he could see into her soul. He wasn't ghostly white like his brother but had a light tan that proved his love for nature. Certainly older than them both, two or three years at most. He wore a black tunic with intricate designs of red and gold along the collar enclosed around his neck, along the sleeves of his shirt reaching the cuffs, fitting his build perfectly. A steel sword laced at his belt. Attire fitting for a prince. Or a soon-to-be King. . .?

        His gaze snapped to Prince Aelor as he furthered into the room. "How would father react if he heard you've offended our beloved uncle's legitimized firstborn? Could you not have waited to stick your dick elsewhere? Preferably a common whore or one of your maids."

        Prince Aelor's anger festered toward the smug grin Sylvia failed to bite back. "She assaulted me!" He seethed.

        "And she did so with ease," he gestured his head behind him. "Go on. Leave us be before you cause another mess I will have to clean up."

        There was something about this man's presence that cautioned his brother from crossing a line Sylvia couldn't see. Prince Aelor was prepared to strike back and defend his honor — now stood in fear of his brother than the woman who bested him. He sent a deadly glare, bumping her shoulder before he took his leave. The cupbearer following behind.

        Sylvia picked up the cup that slipped out of the Prince's hand and placed it on the table. "Thank you." She released a half-filled breath of relief, the rest still held prisoner as a feeling of fear slowly seeped in. It could be Meya's still presence that she fed from or simply the man as he just stood there.

        "Your prince," the crease between Sylvia's brows allowed him to answer her confusion. "I am Prince Viseron Targaryen, first of my name, eldest son of King Aul Targaryen, crowned prince and heir to the Iron Throne. Therefore, you shall address me and my brother as such. It may even save your life and your attendant."

        Meya kept her gaze on the floor. Her lips were purple by how hard she chewed.

        Sylvia straightened herself quickly with a curtsy, only because it felt right. "My apologies for offending you, my prince." She corrected herself. It felt strange on her tongue from addressing the people in her home by their given names to addressing the people in their homes by their given titles.

        It's unknown whether Prince Viseron was insulted for not being addressed properly or if he genuinely wished to educate her by the tone of his voice. His watchful eyes held no emotion and the projection of words didn't help either. But his beauty was known, as her mother and the rumors that traveled quick had whispered of their untold beauty that even the Gods could make no mistake in their creation.

        His eyes were on Sylvia he rounded the table just opposite from her and poured himself a drink like he'd been here before. And had been. She had never felt small in one's gaze as he made her feel, and lie uncertain toward how he might proceed with this offense. After all, she did assault a prince no matter how it's viewed.

        "I'm not offended. Though, you have wounded my brother's pride." Prince Viseron gulped his cup in one sip. "Shall he retaliate, which I'm certain of, I won't save you then."

        "There's no need. I can look after myself."

        At that, he smirked.

        He didn't doubt that. At all.

        Placing down the cup, Prince Viseron stood before her. "This is the proper way to bow in the presence of your King, not whatever you were doing before as you still do now." He then showed her the proper way which wasn't what she was doing before, but it certainly felt as though it was.

        But it also confirmed another mystery. So it was he who laughed at her?

        "You should wear my dress then," Sylvia quickly added before she forgot. "My prince."

        Prince Viseron lifted himself from the bow and regarded the woman. His silence started to grow the feeling Sylvia attempted to wash away earlier. What she said had caught him by surprise and apparently wasn't appropriate given Meya's unsettling expression. She forced her eyes shut as if the day would pass over. She must regret agreeing to assist the new lady.

        The breath Sylvia held began to ease when a smile tugged the Prince's lips. It's bigger than the one he offered, and his eyes glistened with mischief and evil intent. "Why don't you undress yourself so I may?" Tilting his head, his violet eyes raved her feminine frame.

        Sylvia blinked. "Excuse me?"

        "You wish for me to try on your dress, and I happen to like the color red in many forms. Don't you think it's my color? Or are you jealous I might look better than you?"

        It's unsure whether Prince Viseron jests or if he was serious about Sylvia undressing herself before his watchful gaze. Mere teasing she doubted he'd take to the heart.

        He motioned toward the quiet handmaiden still refusing to meet his gaze. "Help her." He demanded.

        Meya was hesitant to move. She didn't wish to humiliate her lady to later retaliate against her for following the prince's order.

        "Are you serious?" Sylvia questioned his sanity.

        "I don't jest."

        "If I refused your brother a kiss and more, what makes you think I'd stand naked before you?"

        "Because I'm not my brother, and you are in no position to refuse me even while you hold our house name." Prince Viseron said.

        Sylvia was quick to repeat his words, "Even if the King hears of this?"

        No fear in his eyes at the mention of his father possibly hearing of this, and instead, found the situation amusing by his careless gesture. "You have much to learn if you wish to survive at court, my lady." Aside from humor laced on his tongue, it almost felt like he was advising her. Or a warning perhaps, should she alert the King.

        Sylvia looked to Meya hoping there was a solution to get her out of this predicament and the prince on his merry way. She was still tired and the pressure against her bladder had yet lifted, only growing worse by the second. As if aware of the answers she sought, Meya shook her head. There's no way out of this.

        Her options were limited, but Sylvia refused to give in just yet. "My dress is too small for you." She fought back, and at which, he came back harder.

        "I will make it work."

        "I like it better on me."

        The corners of his mouth lifted. "So do I."

        Fuck. Nothing worked! Nothing was working on him or changing his outlook. Prince Viseron refused her excuses and Sylvia fought relentlessly to keep her clothes on and not satisfy the bored prince, and yet, nothing worked.

        His gaze shifted behind Sylvia. "Did I stutter?" His tone was harsh and cold.

        The power in his harsh voice forced Meya off her feet. "N-no, my prince. At once." With a curtsy, she sent her lady an apologetic look — who was certainly not happy with her compliance — before obeying his orders.

        Her small, shaky cold hands were felt at her legs, grasping the intricate hem to lift over Sylvia's head. The prince stepped back for a better view with his head slightly tilted as he watched with delight as her dress rose higher and higher.

        She bit the inside of her cheek until it bled and looked away, hating the look in his eyes. It felt like forever until her slim calves caught light due to Meya's constant hesitation, praying he'd find reason at some point. He didn't.

        She bit harder. All this change and fancy bullshit and still, Sylvia held no real authority. Still she must act the same as back home; the lonely invisible girl with her head down and face covered to avoid further situations like this from happening.

        But Sylvia was tired and she didn't want to be that girl anymore. She came all this way to King's Landing, a city who didn't know the girl she left to burn with Toland, and she'd be damned if she was forced back to where she started.

        I am Sylvia Targaryen now, daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen, Blood of Dragons and the leading house in Westeros. I've shed my skin for new and now I must not be here for only my mother but for myself.

        She might not have any real authority against a soon-to-be-king and may even cost her life, but she must mean something if King Aul himself saw it too and she would use it to the ground. This was a new world and in this world, she must adapt.

        Sylvia snatched her dress from Meya before her upper thighs were exposed and the fabric fell to her ankles like how it should. "No." She stated with firm.

        Prince Viseron's brow lifted. "No?"

        "M-my lady — "

        "Did I stutter?" Sylvia spoke over Meya's attempt to control the conversation and save both their lives, at which the prince stood there baffled. Almost fooled he liked it. "If this is your way of humiliating me then you are wrong. I'm not ashamed of my body or to show skin, and had you asked nicely, I would have given you a tease. But I'm disappointed."

        "Disappointed?" He inquired with amusement.

        "You're so worried about me being jealous of you in my dress, but you should fear how good I would look in your clothes."

        "Are we to find out now?"

        "Sorry, but I wish to retire. It's been a long few days and I don't have time to entertain anyone." Yawning, Sylvia brushed her shoulder against the prince as she passed him toward her bed. "Meya, please escort the prince out of my chambers so I can piss and rest another day."

        Meya looked at her lady as if she had lost her mind. To command a prince, the promised heir ranked at a higher status, to leave of her accord. She must have gone mad.

        The light in his eyes were easily interpreted as amusement, which Prince Viseron very much was. Like his brother, he probably wasn't used to a challenge, to someone defending themselves and treated him like any other. But there was something else. . .like he'd finally met someone to play with. Sylvia was unsure if that was a good thing or bad.

        The prince's lifted hand stopped Meya from escorting him. "There is no need, I can walk myself out."

        "Perfect," but Sylvia was curious about another matter she couldn't let go. "How did you learn to do that so. . .proper and elegant?"

        He knew she referred toward the curtsy he displayed. "I enjoy watching women."

        Sylvia stood straight when he stalked toward her.

        "And you," now standing in front of the girl, Prince Viseron leaned forward, his lips brushing the rim of her heated ear. He then whispered for only her ears to hear. "I shall be watching you too."

        A chill sent down Sylvia's spine when Prince Viseron pulled back with a smug grin. They held each other's contact as he spun around and then headed for the door. A knight as big as two men followed behind once revealed.

        When he left, Sylvia rushed for the silver pot under her bed. She lifted her dress with the help of Meya rushing over to aid her and knelt to relieve herself of all that wine and tea. "Do I look funny to you when I curtsy?" She asked out of all things.

        "You have much more to worry about than that, my lady." Said Meya, so close they were breathing each other in. "I've been challenged with quite a task but fear not, we shall fix it together to assure we both live long — very long — healthy lives."

A U T H O R S N O T E

— How are we liking Sylvia and Prince Viseron's first meeting?  I can't wait to show more of their dynamics because it's fun to write.  We've also gotten to know King Aul and Prince Aelor a bit better. With a looot more to come soon