𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙀𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏 :
𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗦𝗵𝗲 𝗔𝗿𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗱

                    𝑰𝑻 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑳𝑶𝑵𝑮 𝑨𝑭𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑫𝑨𝑹𝑲 𝑨𝑾𝑨𝑰𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑷𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑽𝑰𝑺𝑬𝑹𝑶𝑵'𝑺 𝑨𝑹𝑹𝑰𝑽𝑨𝑳. So long Sylvia could be resting in bed but occupied her time kneeling on the wooden floor near the fire reading a book she stole from the study hall. It told the tales of dragons. The chaos they have caused throughout history, burning crops and feeding off children. She hoped it would reveal how she could own one herself, if it was allowed by the rights of her father's name. Maester Ollins never indulged in the fantasy and Meya wasn't quite sure herself.

        She followed along the words with her finger, awaiting its secrets. Ever since catching a full view of the small Jhegar after supper, it was all that consumed her rather than her life possibly endangered. Could even make the beast kill Lord Ellin and his followers itself instead of her.

        The aromatic incense sticks burning on the table helped with the nerves once remembering why she foolishly decided to stay up. But as silence filled the room, her anxiousness grew impatient and wishful with hope the prince bailed on his word and would return to the man he was before her arrival. But also worried he came to his senses and Sylvia wouldn't be able to see the city. These conflicting thoughts were forced to fester and conjure ideas far from the truth.

Knock.

Knock.

        Pause.

Knock.

        Three knocks. It must be the prince.

        Sylvia closed her leather-bound book, placing it on the nearby table. Merely glancing toward Meya's resting figure along the couch — who had fallen asleep waiting for her lady to grow restful first, though Sylvia allowed her to — she fixed herself quickly and rushed to open the door. Prince Viseron stood at the other side with a look rather livelier than before when he left the dining hall. No sight of his sworn protector. He was dressed in dark clothing with a cloak tied around his neck, the hood hiding his silver hair.

        The low-lit light of a lantern glowing down the halls forced the prince inside her quarters with his back pressed against the closed door. "You let me in." He sounded surprised by her decision like it wasn't agreed upon.

        "I said I would."

        He scanned Sylvia's quarters and understood why she was whispering. Meya was usually a light sleeper. She had to be. Her lady certainly kept her up with endless nightmares, always present and awake before her eyes opened for the day. But this time, she slept like the dead.

        "A lady of your background and such beauty should never invite a man, no matter the title, into your private quarters after dark." A chill scorned beneath his violet eyes, trailing along the thin material of Sylvia's nightgown that was thrown on once she was convinced he bailed. Her breasts were partially on display. "After all, we are men. Our thoughts are plagued by corruption and aren't as pure as you intend."

        Yet again, it was unknown whether Prince Viseron was offering another lesson to the naive one or pre-warning her of his intentions.

        Sylvia took a cautious step back. "Have you come here with impure intentions, my prince?" She asked, suddenly aware of the candle stick as a useful weapon or the stolen knife beneath her pillow.

        "Maybe."

        Without warning, her world caved into darkness upon something thick and warm being tossed in Sylvia's direction. She caught it quickly by instinct and saw it was only clothing. Clothes she was more familiar with than heavy, unbreathable ankle-length gowns.

        "Change into those and braid this. Our hair is a dead giveaway and it spoils the fun." His hand gently grazed her thick curls without touching a strand. It lay free and untouched by braids and precious hair ornaments, in its natural state, recently brushed just to tangle again. Left out, hoping he would show.

        Sylvia got dressed behind the bamboo panel. She removed her gown as quietly and quickly as she could without waking Meya. There was movement and prayed she hadn't been caught. But when peeking around, it was only the prince inspecting her quarters like he was trying to get a sense of her personality or find something to use against her. Then he kneeled before the fire, discovering the book she was reading. His lips noticeably lifted and a look of mild interest peaked across his handsome features.

        He whispered something that wasn't of the common tongue before his head lifted.

        Sylvia pulled back before she was caught and continued dressing. The pair of grey trousers were surprisingly a perfect fit but the long-sleeved shirt was too big for her arms that it hung with a droop. It also smelled of sweat. After braiding her hair into two sections and wrapping a scarf like before, Prince Viseron lifted his gaze once Sylvia appeared fully dressed on the other side of the panel.

         "You were right," he took her in, checking if her identity was well concealed but also confirming what he knew. "I am jealous of how good you look in men's clothing. Perhaps, I should see you in mine one day? Royal silks instead of common rags."

         Sylvia didn't know what to say. She definitely wanted to tell him she told him so, but bit the words from spewing out. "So, now what? How do we get past the palace guards and hundreds of servants without getting caught?"

        He motioned his head to follow him deep into Sylvia's quarters where her bed lies. Just near a growing plant behind the house flag, he felt against the wall.

        "What are you doing?" Sylvia questioned. If he didn't have his sight, she would have been convinced he was a blind man unable to locate the front door.

        Sylvia was ignored as the prince felt along the edges of the wall. Once he found what he was searching for, his palms pressed into the wall. The edges of the wall started to break apart, forming a thin slit that revealed a dark pathway. A cool gush made her shiver and its dry air could already be felt scratching her throat. She swallowed the cough though.

        Prince Viseron turned to her with the look of a satisfied child showcasing their skill. "This is our way out."

        "I didn't know this was here. In my chamber." Sylvia tried not to think about why this was here, how he knew about it, and who else knew. "Where does it lead?"

        "It leads to multiple exits and rooms throughout the castle. Not every room has access to these tunnels and not everyone knows it exists." He grabbed the lantern off the hook and stepped through the dusty area.

        It was then Sylvia was conceived someone was present that time with Lady Mercia. It wasn't her imagination but someone sneaking around. Could it have been Prince Viseron?

        "If you knew this existed, why use the front door?" She stepped inside the dark and humid tunnel, sure she was standing in a puddle of rat piss.

        Prince Viseron handled her the lantern so he could shut the wall, leaving their only light source to this lantern threatening to die out with each movement. "You seem like a screamer so I was being mindful. But if that's what you wish, I'll keep that in mind the next time I call on you." He took the light from her hands and stepped forward to lead the way.

        "I'm not a screamer." Sylvia muttered but the walls carried her voice so the prince heard her.

        "We will see about that."

        She could hear the smirk in his voice.

        "Do keep up and keep quiet until we make it outside. These tunnels might seem thick but these walls are thin. What we hear, they will too." He advised and Sylvia listened without protest.

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                    𝑭𝑰𝑹𝑬 𝑩𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑬𝑫 𝑨𝑻 𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑹𝒀 𝑪𝑶𝑹𝑵𝑬𝑹 𝑶𝑭 𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮'𝑺 𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑰𝑵𝑮, Illuminating the city and its people crowding the tight alleyways. Through its thick stench choking the air, a form of beauty could be found. Merchants filled the roads with their stands to sell to the poor and rich, music and laughter lingering in the air, the moans of a man and woman fucking against the moldy brick building where men argued and tussled, and knights in white armor patrolling in pairs.

        This was a new world to Sylvia. New faces. New scents. New weather. New culture. She missed surrounding herself with what felt most familiar than being stuck behind castle walls.

        There were many occasions Prince Viseron had to tug Sylvia closer behind him. Either due to the crowded area and how easily someone like her could get lost, but mostly because she was so fascinated by everything and needed a moment to settle. Which she could not do.

        "Where are we going?" Sylvia finally asked the prince. A thin white string floated from her arm and took it off knowing it was from walking through cobwebs. Multiple of them. She was not a fan of spiders and didn't enjoy the prince finding humor within her fear. Rats too. They were cat-size here.

        Many voices were heard while traveling between the walls. Nothing scandalous but often domestic arguments and royal orders and the loud moans of sex or pain and one of the palace knights was praised for dishonoring their vow by sleeping with a noblewoman behind her husband's back. There were many stairs too. Far too many built-in strange directions it was its own world within the castle, a world the prince navigated well. Like he knew the tunnels off the back of his hand.

        "We're following the music." The prince replied as he made his next turn with confidence. Sure of his directions. "I promised you fun and endless dancing so it's what we shall have. As you know, I am not one to break my promises where it counts."

        Sylvia couldn't hear any music. Not anymore. Her surroundings were already overwhelmed that the most she could hear was live roosters being betted on to fight. But as she followed his lead, the joyous tunes of laughter to a group of young and old dancing in circles or off in pairs. She watched in amusement but didn't step in to join them.

        Prince Viseron saw her standing there and pushed her forward with a soft nudge. "Well, what are you waiting for? Dance." He demanded.

        When she took a step, he didn't follow. "You won't join me?"

        He shook his head. "I would rather watch."

        "Me? Or the people?"

        "Both."

        By his secure stance and demanding gaze, gesturing yet again for Sylvia to join the number, she knew there was no way he would dance now. He was already comfortable. The people accepted her immediately in the circle. A woman noticed her standing idly close and grabbed her hand to squeeze her in. The choreography wasn't difficult and once getting the hang of it, it grew fun.

        Prince Viseron wasn't where he last stood. Sylvia almost panicked and believed he had left her before spotting his figure rounding the circle she danced in like a predator hungry for its prey. He watched only her as promised. While his expression remained unreadable, the fire in his eyes brightened.

        Pulled into another partner dance, Sylvia snatched away her gaze so she wouldn't trip up. Then she danced for as long as her body could give.

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                    𝑺𝒀𝑳𝑽𝑰𝑨 𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑺𝑬𝑫 𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑯𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑨𝑮𝑨𝑰𝑵𝑺𝑻 𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑹𝑨𝑪𝒀 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻 𝑩𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑶𝑼𝑻 𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑪𝑯𝑬𝑺𝑻, when Prince Viseron grabbed her arm and rushed them away from the music growing smaller with each step.

        She looked at him with warm cheeks, limbs tired and sore and still aching the moment when nothing else mattered. All her worries and grief long vanished. "I thought you would dance with me? Join in the next number instead of standing around." She pouted, clearly not worried about why she was abruptly snatched out of the circle. . .or that her hand now lay in his tight grip.

        "I hate dancing." Prince Viseron admitted.

        "But you danced earlier with me? And well."

        "I made an exception."

        Under Sylvia's breath, "how fun."

        "It was."

        "I don't like when you're not compilable."

        His lips tugged into a small grin. "Wasn't aware you liked me at all."

        "I'm contemplating it," Sylvia said, doing whatever she could to bite down her smile. He truly had a way of getting it out of her. "This certainly doesn't help your case, my prince."

        "When it is just us, call me by name. There's no need for titles when we are familiar and far from the Red Keep." He motioned his free hand forward as if beckoning her to use it now. Sylvia only stared, thinking it was a trick until he said, "go on, try it. I want to hear my name on your tongue."

        His name dragged from her lips, still unsure what game he was playing if there was one. "Viiiseron." It should've sounded natural as Sylvia was most familiar with first names than titles but it didn't. Neither did titles.

        Meya said it could be used if one allowed it, but it felt strange switching before a soon-to-be-king. And he knew it too.

        "Perhaps with a little more practice, it'll sound natural. I can help you with that, Sylvia." She gasped when he tugged her closer with his grip still on her hand, having no choice but to invade his space as she hit his chest. "I could have you saying my name in many practical ways I think you'd enjoy. Tell me yes so I can start."

        A thick lump forced itself down her throat as she held his unwavering gaze. Her stomach felt full and her heart pumped twice as hard, already working overtime to calm down from endless dancing. She knew what he was accentuating. She knew what she was getting herself into by agreeing to be here with him without supervision Meya strongly encouraged, and still, the invitation was tempting.

        But what she didn't know was where this sudden interest came from. They hadn't spoken since he demanded her naked aside from a few passing greetings. And she hadn't had thoughts like this since earlier today, after they exchanged a proper conversation. Why now was her heart fickling?

        His lips had never been more desirable than now. The way her name drizzled off his tongue with such familiarity and confidence didn't settle well in ways that she felt herself growing mad. Anything to hear her name again and again. Even as shame crept into her mind.

Shame.

        Shame.

        Shame.

        I must feel nothing but shame.

        Sylvia pulled free, consumed by conflicting emotions. What happened with Yanis won't happen again. This time, she would go by her mother's teachings. Should any man wish to be with her, he would do the chasing, not the other way around.

        Then chaos broke loose and people started screaming and pushing through any free space. Chaos which Prince Viseron detected when he overheard a nearby argument and acted quick before one stabbed his dagger deep in the tissues of his component's neck and another drew his sword looking for a fight.

        However, enough distance was placed between them when Syliva felt her hand being grabbed again and was rushed out. Only the sounds of metal clashing together through the screams were heard until silence.

        "Watch your step." The prince advised and saw they weren't heading back to the Red Keep.

        Sylvia quickly lifted her feet and jogged up the brick stairs to keep up with his long legs. When she went to graze her hand along the uneven stone wall that held up the stairs, she became aware of his grip around her hand still tight and warm. And sweaty because of her.

        They rushed up a few more steps, turned a few more corners, walked down two dark alleyways until they were on the second level of a half-filled tavern. Only then was Sylvia released when he took a seat at a secluded empty table outside with a perfect night view. She sat across, her mouth thirsting for a drop of water.

        A woman in a shapeless green dress and hooked nose placed down a pitcher of their best cheap ale, smiling in the direction of the prince with a bow. "I was hoping for your late arrival soon enough, my prince. The place dulls without your presence." Syliva perked at her accent. A Dornish accent. "Is there any more I can get you?"

        He removed his cloak and set it aside, revealing his identity that was no secret to others. "Water for my guest please, Belandra."

        She was too busy batting her eyes that she had no idea of Sylvia's presence until he pointed her out. "Right away."

        "You are Dornish?" Sylvia questioned the woman before she parted.

        The woman, Belandra, inspected her eyes since the majority of her face was covered. Long enough that she was sure this boy was a woman, not that Sylvia did much to disguise her voice. Then she tilted her head and smiled flirtatiously. "As you are I believe?"

        She nodded, and a ping of excitement soared. "It's been so long since I've met another Dornish person. I thought I was the only one."

        "We are everywhere around the world, my lady. Even in our enemies' lands." Pressing her hand on Sylvia's, Belandra leaned forward to allow her lips to brush her clothed ear. "You just have to find us like you have found me."

        They held contact as she backed away until she disappeared to bring water.

        The prince followed Sylvia's luster gaze and his mouth twisted pleasingly. "Do you want her?" Prince Viseron offered and Sylvia's eyes almost bulged out of its sockets at his bold words, knowing he was eager to see more beyond her thighs. "She's good with her lips and loud if you fancy a noisy woman. Perhaps," he scooted closer with strong intent. "We can share her together? Our first memory in the city."

        Instead of being swayed by his offer which was the least tempting for multiple reasons, Sylvia politely declined. "I'm to wed a noble lord soon. Sharing my body with you or any other will ruin any chances I have. It's best I save my virtue for my husband and not allow you to taint my body."

        He rolled his eyes with a groan. "He doesn't have to know. It will be our shared secret. Cut some blood on your sheets and the cunt will think he's the happiest man alive."

        "But I will know."

        "I want you to. My talents are not ones you should forget. And who's to say the one you look for isn't standing before you?"

        His response had Sylvia inhaling deeply to control the rising temperature of her face going against her word. From his point of view, she appeared agitated. He didn't seem to mind either reaction as the smirk on his face enjoyed any arising emotions he caused whether good or bad.

        Belandra returned and she was thankful she did.

        "I thought it was dangerous to reveal our identity? It spoils the fun." Sylvia fought to change the subject. The water left a nasty aftertaste but she was used to it and quenched her thirst after two more refills.

        Another tried for his attention which Sylvia seemed to have captured.

        Prince Viseron shrugged. "Danger is thrilling and I live for the thrill. You may remain as you are and conceal yourself or. . . join me and free yourself of burden." There was a double meaning behind his words and he seemed to be testing her for something.

        However, Sylvia was not one to pass up a thrilling opportunity though she was still hesitant. After living the majority of her life behind a scarf and being told the dangers that would arise if it was ever removed, still lies strong and permanent in her life. It was easy at the palace where nobles were more accepting of her features in their curious ways. Where she wasn't dressed in shabby clothing and forced to conceal herself for a night of fun that was her entire life.

        But to move on, she had to start somewhere. The old Sylvia was no more.

        Her shaky fingers unraveled the scarf slowly and unveiled her identity as the newest member of their house. She poured herself another cup to distract imaginary eyes and judgment seeping into her consciousness. As before, Prince Viseron's eyes never faltered.

        "You weren't lying about keeping your eyes on me." Sylvia grew anxious under his watchful gaze and tried to ignore it by fixing her braids. "Have you not grown tired? I always feel there's something on my face."

        He grabbed cashews from the bowl Belandra set aside, shook it in his closed fist before tossing them in his mouth. "Not at all. If there was something on your face, I would know and I would tell you." He said and it sounded genuine enough.

        "Since you're an honest man, tell me why you have been sending me gifts the past week?"

        "Gifts you accepted?" It wasn't a question but a reminder posed as one.

        Sylvia shrugged. "I don't waste food."

        The corners of his lips lifted. "I know."

        "So why? You're not trying to poison me are you?"

        "You would know if I was. You'd already be dead."

        Sylvia waited for him to add to his reply by actually answering her original question but he never did. That was it. He left it open for her imagination to fill, but there was nothing to fill it with. She didn't have an answer either because she had never been sent gifts before. This was a first. Whether it was smart to have accepted them or good to have retrieved them, the answer remained unknown. The only logical answer she could assume was it being his way of apologizing for his poor manners or welcoming her to King's Landing. Made sense as he had been relatively kind recently.

        Though through her limited time with Prince Viseron, Sylvia thought he was odd. Odd but interesting to be around. He wasn't complicated as Meya mentioned. Nothing about him fits the description of a cruel and bone-chilling prince. He was only himself; an odd handsome horny blunt.

        The handsome blunt leaned on the table with his palm resting under his chin. "Tell me something I don't already know about you or whatever is on your mind. Tell me one good fact." He changed the subject immediately.

        "Why only one?" Sylvia teased. She reached over for a cashew without thought and he slid the bowl closer.

        "You may tell me more, but I wish to know only one so I may ask the remaining two later down the line."

        "And why three in total?"

        He shrugged. "Lucky number."

        Sylvia opened her mouth only to shut it quickly. Meya hadn't taught her what words to mind speaking before a prince aside from swearing, which he didn't seem like one to mind. He couldn't be the only to know about her without something in return. The rumors tied to her name weren't looking pretty.

        "I'll tell you if I can ask back the same. Three in total. No more, no less." Sylvia proposed with another handful of cashews tossed in her mouth. "Actually, I would like to know what is on your mind. Three facts and an honest thought. No restrictions. Do we have ourselves a deal?"

        He sighed with a heavy breath but it was far from annoyance. "You are dreadfully inquisitive but I am most times fair. So yes, Sylvia, you may ask me of three facts anytime you wish and an honest thought of your choice."

        There he went again, speaking her name as if he owned it himself.

        With that, Sylvia revealed her decent archery skills. How she would hunt the sandy woods with a handmade bow and carved arrows, hunting anything with enough meat to sell or bring back and eat with her mother. And Yanis, a name purposely left out. She missed it. It was one of the few skills she excelled at even though she hated it at first. Yanis offered to teach her was why she stayed.

        Prince Viseron was intrigued by this fact. He even asked about her hunts and the biggest animal she had hunted compared to the smallest. Never once did he doubt her skills or call her a liar, simply hoping to see this with his own two eyes.

        Instead of asking Prince Viseron of his one fact, words kept spilling out of Sylvia during the silence he offered. "I've heard countless stories about dragons and their riders growing up and since living here, I haven't seen them fully with my own two eyes aside from Vaerys' dragon that was quite far in distance." She admitted. "I haven't ventured to the Dragon Pits nor am I allowed to, but I always hear echoey roars and their heavy wings hitting the air. And I wonder, how is it possible to ride them? How can such beasts be tamed? How can I ride one?"

        "A dragon is never fully tamed especially one with many riders. Even eggs hatched with a babe are still unpredictable and wild at heart. Caging with rage like us — true Targaryens." Prince Viseron plopped a few more cashews in his mouth and washed it with their best shitty quality ale. "We have the blood of dragons, the only in Westeros with Valyrian descendants and an army of dragons to conquer the world with fire and blood. Blood that runs in your veins, made closer to dragons by the scales along your skin. Just like your father, it is in your right to claim one and become a rider."

        "How?" A light burned in her grey eyes, a desperate need to ride a creature her father once had and learn everything about them.

        Prince Viseron seemed aware of her mild fascination with dragons that her excitement had him smiling brighter than before. Dimples Sylvia hadn't noticed before grew deep and his teeth were nearly perfect and untouched by decay. It did something to her body that she didn't like. "Another time." He said.

        Her brows furrowed. "Another time?"

        "Another time I will teach you to claim a dragon."

        "Wow. How honest and generous you are, my — Viseron." Sylvia corrected herself quickly, sounding more natural than before. Teasing him was much easier when he took it lightly, not that he minded it before. "I hope the price of your generosity keeps my clothes on."

        He smiled. "I won't oppose if you're offering."

        "I won't offer unless it's a command."

        The words that were originally a silly thought slipped out of Sylvia and it was too late to take it back once Prince Viseron replied.

        "I doubt you would listen."

        "Ah," her brows lifted with gratitude. "You know me so well."

        Prince Viseron lowered his head for the first time that wasn't a greeting bow. "I'm trying to." He muttered what Sylvia easily heard.

        She caught herself smiling when she sipped her water. The cup had hit her front tooth causing the water to drip along her chin than where it was supposed to go. Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment, but also with guilt noticeably flirting with a betrothed man. And he went along with it.

        This was the most Prince Viseron had spoken the entire night and the most his personality came to life. There was no shame about himself and he spoke with pride of his inheritance and their ability to do with only a few could, which was riding a dragon. His pride was beginning to rub off on Sylvia. She would always remember her home at heart, but life seemed more interesting in King's Landing. At least, he made it appealing.

         Sylvia bit her smile to hide all evidence of enjoying his presence and cleared her throat. "Your turn. Tell me one thing about you that I already don't know, which is plenty because I know nothing about you." At least out of his mouth than the words from others.

        Prince Viseron shifted his position like he was uncomfortable with the light shining on him, yet his expression was mildly controlled. His eyes were a different story. It was his idea and he agreed so Sylvia waited patiently. She would wait all night if needed.

        Aside from everything, she wanted to know him too.

        He slid a hand against his head where his wavy hair was tied back into a low ponytail falling effortlessly down his back. It was clear he was preparing himself to admit words Sylvia's ears were likely the first to hear and leaned forward to hear it all.

        "For three months straight, I dreamed of a woman." Reading her silent expression, Prince Viseron continued with much confidence. "She stood in a pit of fire with a look of hunger and greed in her eyes as blood poured from her mouth and along her naked breast. In her hand, she held the heart of a man. Still pumping and bleeding with each bite this woman consumed. Behind her, my dragon lies tamed but on guard as if to protect this woman who dares interrupt her feast. She would reach out her hand for me to join her, only I wasn't standing before her but wasted on the ground with a hole in my chest, crawling with all my might. To feed her. To satisfy her. To protect her. To stand by her side so I wouldn't die alone without her need."

        This nightmare felt fresh on his mind by the way he recited each detail as if he was currently living it. But there was no fear in his voice. He was calm and unwavering by something that would have kept Sylvia up. And strangely enough, a taste of desperation could be picked up if she focused.

        "With each crawl, the flames around her grew bright and deadly. Possibly hot enough to actually kill me, yet I gave no shit for my being because I knew this woman needed me as much as I needed her. The fire burned my skin raw and bloody. But finally, I would join her. And she would praise my bravery with a kiss so desperate and real I was sure it was true. You made it to me, she'd say, but you will have to crawl again. You're not desperate enough and I'm still hungry. Then I would wake in a dark room, waiting to relive the same dream over and over. I thought she was hunting me for my sins. Secrets I have long buried. That she was warning me of a doomed faith."

        Sylvia sat far on the edge of her chair, intrigued by this story. She had no idea how this dream was relevant nor how it would correlate to a fact about him. Maybe he was a good dreamer? Maybe he was so desperate to fuck this woman's insides that he was dreaming about her eating his?

        "And was she?" She asked, not sure how to interpret it.

        Prince Viseron stared at Sylvia for a long and silent moment before he shook his head. "I believe she was waiting for me and I was waiting for her to come to me." His reply confused the fuck out of Sylvia that she couldn't even hide it, but he was patient enough to explain his interpretation. "There are many interpretations when a true match is made amongst the Gods; raging flames, having your flesh feasted upon, crawling before their feet, a tamed dragon at their side, and many more. It's what we call Dragon Dreams. An unforeseen future. Rare and even rarer to dream of a perfect match that isn't a doomed faith, but common in this house. And once a dream has been cast, it is never wrong. Never."

        Sylvia had never experienced such dreams and didn't know if she would like to by how intense they were. She still didn't understand but would never dismiss his belief. "When did they stop?" She asked free of questionable judgment. "Your dreams, I mean?"

        Still holding her unwavering contact, "when she arrived."

A U T H O R S N O T E

— Viseron is quite something. Odd possibly unless he knows what he's talking about. Also I know Dragon Dreams showcase death and etc, but I tweaked it cause I'm a sucker for the trope.

— About to get some dragon chapters soon. Keep in mind we're only eight chapters in, very early in the book with much to happen. I don't have an outline for how long this book might be as I'm letting it write itself along with outlining but it might be quite long. We'll see.