𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙍𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙉 :
𝗕𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗙𝗹𝗮𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝗢𝗳 𝗧𝘄𝗼

𝑨𝑭𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑭𝑳𝒀𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝑾𝑯𝑰𝑪𝑯 𝑭𝑬𝑳𝑻 𝑺𝑯𝑶𝑹𝑻 𝑫𝑼𝑬 𝑻𝑶 𝑺𝒀𝑳𝑽𝑰𝑨'𝑺 𝑬𝑿𝑪𝑰𝑻𝑬𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻, Midnight set sight on a hill where a group of sheep were huddled.

Prince Viseron got off first to praise his dragon with long strokes before offering his help because Sylvia lost her footing. Nothing could save her from gliding down Midnight's wing, her rowdy laughter assuring the prince she was good once making impact to the ground. She rolled over onto her knees and took his hand to her feet, already wavering back and forth from the steadiness of land beneath her feet.

Prince Viseron remained close as he reached for his flask. He twisted open the top with his teeth and drank what was inside. "How was your first ride?" He asked, handing her the flask to drink from. She sniffed it and confirmed it was only water before taking a long sip to lubricate her dry throat.

        Her hands flew to her burning thighs with a hiss, careful not to spill the water. "Are my thighs to be sore?" The ground vibrated beneath Sylvia's feet from Midnight leaving to fill her belly with sheep.

        A look of concern flashed for a mere second before realizing the cause of her problems and chuckled. "You get used to it. Or. . .should I check for rashes? They grow deadly without a thorough inspection and proper care." Prince Viseron offered, his lips tugging playfully with intent.

        Sylvia knew his motives to see beyond her thighs, felt it hardening against her the entire journey to wherever Midnight landed. She kissed her lips while rolling her eyes, shoving the flask at his chest to hopefully snap him out of it. Even if it was true, he had nothing on hand to soothe the burning.

        "I have many questions about dragons. Can you answer them?"

        Prince Viseron removed his gloves and tucked them in his pocket. Then planted himself with his legs stretched out along the green grass far healthier than anything back home. "Go on." He huffed, preparing himself to be bombarded with many questions when he would rather spend this time doing something else.

        Sylvia plopped beside him with excitement. She had to be careful with the fabric rubbing against her raw thighs. "First, how the hell are dragons possible? Any of this possible? And, what hasn't been explained in books read — how does one obtain this creature? I mean truly own one as you own Midnight? No vague answers."

        "The existence of dragons originated from a chain of volcanoes known as the Fourteen Fires. Our ancestors, amongst a few other dragonlords, domesticated them — the only in history who have succeeded and lived to tell the tale even after the Doom of Valyria. Tis why every noble house across the realm is desperate for our blood. Why greedy pigs are betting on your bloody sheets, setting up private meetings with the King to offer their fortune and land to wed you. They want their hands on a dragon and will breed you like a dog for them."

        Sylvia shifted uncomfortably. Though she knew Lords were only seeking her hand in marriage because of family ties, and not what she or her mother wanted, hearing it out loud forced her to accept the truth as it was. She was the most desirable woman to wed in the Seven Kingdoms. Love was nonexistent. Of course it would be because women offered more than love — they offered the warm wetness between their thighs, capable of seeding bloodlines. That is all that they were worthy of, according to the laws of men and the Gods themselves.

        Not that she had long enough to be picky.

        "Dragons are dangerous, savage, and majestic creatures who have been around long before humans walked. No man can own them entirely, not even I with Midnight. To solidify a connection, it is a tradition to place a dragon egg in the crib as a babe." Prince Viseron continued after sparing Sylvia a look. "While many hatch, some do not and may never."

        "So I should've been an infant?" Sylvia kissed her teeth. All that time spent studying was wasted on a fever dream.

        "It would help, yes," he nodded. "But there is another way."

        She perked. "I'm listening."

        "In your case, you would need to tame a dragon with no rider."

        "Tame?"

        Sylvia followed him to her feet upon his command. "Repeat after me; dohaerās."

        This sounded familiar, but couldn't remember the meaning.

        "Dohaerās."

        "With meaning."

        Sylvia puffed out her chest with her chin lifted. "Dohaerās!" She repeated with clear projection and bass, to which the prince seemed pleased or thought the way it was said was funny. "What does it mean?"

        "Obey." With his hand stern on her waist, they shifted in Midnight's direction. "Try it on Midnight. Tell her to come to you and obey. Say Midnight, māzīs naejot issa se dohaerās."

        Excitement fueled Sylvia's system. She couldn't believe how easy it was to tame a dragon. That the prince would even trust her enough to tame his she-dragon whom slept in his crib as a babe, raised together as one. All that time spent reading between the lines in thick bounded books and scriptures of dreadful tales and unknowing words — when she could have saved time by coming to him.

        His thumb pressed into the fabric of Sylvia's waist, motioning her to do as told.

        Midnight ignored her first command. She tried again and the she-dragon glanced at her with a seemingly irritated look before being ignored once again. Sylvia scowled at the prince's satisfaction when nothing happened.

        She pondered if her diction was clear enough despite her heavy accent. If Midnight was being a bitch because she was hungry? Or if this was another hopeless game chosen to humiliate her for his own enjoyment?

        "Midnight, māzīs." Prince Viersin commanded, ignoring Sylvia's glare with a smug grin.

        Midnight lifted her head as soon as he spoke her name, mouth drenched in blood, red cotton of a dead sheep clenched between her razor-sharp teeth. A squelching sound twisted Sylvia's stomach as muscles and guts detached themselves from the sheep still hanging on, lifting the animal a few inches off the ground before the head and half its body detached completely and the other half fell. Then Midnight stood on its large clawed feet and made her way to her rider. The cracking of bones maneuvering in her mouth certainly made Sylvia nauseous.

        The way Midnight kept eyeing Sylvia it was clear she was the exception or else she would have been tasted along with the sheep.

        "When a dragon is tamed, they accept no commands other than their rider. Protective and loyal until their last breath or their riders." A low growl escaped from Midnight after Sylvia pushed at the prince for making her do something he knew wouldn't have worked. She called him a cunt and he laughed at her, then stepped forward to stroke Midnight and calm the tension. "Though it is harder to tame a wild dragon likely to end in death, a connection can be formed in many ways. There are a few dozen wild dragons in Westeros and spotted across the sea from as old as King Aegon The First's reign to as young as a fire babe birthed yesterday. You can hunt as many of them down and fight for their obedience, an honorable risk rendered useless because in the end, the dragon chooses you."

        "Not so helpful. You told me a lot but nothing at the same time." Sylvia kissed her teeth with a pout. How the hell was she to find a wild dragon? Nevertheless tame one?

        "There is no guide to tame a wild creature, ñuga jorrāeliarzy (my love). The dragon comes to you. It chooses you. It will fly the distance through storms and war in search of their rider. . .or you and I steal the logs from the Dragonkeepers and set sail together and hunt each dragon down."

        A tempting idea if it wasn't him offering it. "Wait for a dragon it is." Sylvia stepped back as Midnight curled her legs into her body to lie down, watching the sheep scurry in the distance.

        Prince Viseron chuckled at her sullen reaction and didn't make it better speaking on himself and his victors. "Midnight and I grew up together. I am her first rider."

        "So you keep telling me." She mumbled as she checked her ungloved hands for any rashes once feeling a burn. She had to remember it was because of the dragon's radiating heat.

        Sylvia was grabbed without warning and found herself against Midnight, snuggled further into her heat that was mildly comfortable but uncomfortable because her spikes — so beautiful but deadly — were threatening to stab her. When attempting to remove herself from the dragon, pressure against her backside kept her hostage as two arms locked just at her head.

        "But I would like to be your first rider." Sylvia shivered at his deepened voice, or it was his tender kisses along her ear, gathering her braids to push aside and allow more access. "Kiss you like this and more if I can." And as if it was instinctive, bent her neck to allow him to kiss further into the crook of her neck.

        Then he spun her so they were facing one another. He leaned forward to kiss her properly only to be stopped by Sylvia's hand at his chest.

        "I did ask," the crease between his thick brows deepened with confusion. "Isn't that what you said; to ask nicely if I want something?"

        He referred to their first meeting but got her words wrong. Twisted for his own benefit.

        "That," Sylvia needed a moment to control herself and was failing. "That is not how you ask."

        He kissed his teeth with agitation. "I need not ask for anything when it is given."

        "So you think me a whore? To willingly give myself to you? Ready to cater your needs above mine when it benefits only you?"

        "That would be easier."

        Sylvia's lips pressed thinly with a deep sigh. She pushed at the prince and received a threatening hiss from Midnight as she stormed from them. "Take me back." She took in their surroundings. On one side of the tall hill was water. The other side was open land and a small farm in the distance where a figure was gathering their cows into the gate. Nothing was familiar. "Where the hell are we? I don't care — just take me back. Ready Midnight with whatever command and take me back to King's Landing."

        Prince Viseron grabbed Sylvia's arm with a firm grip and tugged her back, slapping against him. "Do not misunderstand me, Sylvia."

        "What is there to misunderstand? Your words were clear."

        "It would be much easier to give in, yes, but it would be no fun without a challenge. As prince and soon King of the Seven Kingdoms, obedience from my subjects is given at every expense and is all I know. An act of defiance, even the slightest wrong breath of air is a death penalty." He said calmly on a serious note. "I do think highly of you. You are my challenge I adore, and remind me that beyond my title, I am flesh and bone. I respect you and your wishes so despite not having to, I asked. And I will continue to do so if. . .well, if I remember to. But if it's not to your liking, by all means, demonstrate your preferences. Don't piss at me for not understanding a woman's mind."

        He released his hold so Sylvia could demonstrate the proper way to ask a woman for a kiss — which he did, but couldn't think in the moment. Her mother taught many valuable lessons and consent was one of them. It was so she knew the differences of when a man respected her as a woman and not sought as an object for his sole pleasure. As always, she was adamant about Sylvia never following in her footsteps.

        Now she was a challenge. His challenge he admittedly adored.

        She met his patient gaze and cleared her throat. "My prince. My Viseron," Sylvia eyed his perfectly shaped lips, yearning for its taste in ways that made her just as feral as when he said her name. And called her his. "There's a desperate need within me to kiss you. Can I satisfy it? Or will you force me to beg?"

      A grin stretched his lips. "You begging is tempting, but since you asked, who am I to deny?"

        Before it was realized she had been tricked into asking Prince Viseron for a kiss, his lips were moving against hers. It took a second for Sylvia to register the action before quickly giving in, and the prince slid a firm arm around her back, his hand cupping her heated cheeks as they shared a desperate but passionate kiss. As soon as her lips parted, his tongue slipped inside for more. So she copied him into another kiss, their tongues mingling, and he chuckled in response.

        Somewhere in the hazy mist, Sylvia lost her footing against his weight pressing into her, which sent her crashing against Midnight's heated body.

        "Ouch." Sylvia pulled from the kiss with a hiss. Blood oozed from her palm that accidentally poked Midnight's tiny spikes trying to catch herself. It wasn't deep, but it was a lot of blood.

        Prince Viseron took her hand to inspect the cut. His tongue then darted out, licking up the red substance like sweet cream. It did something to Sylvia still struggling to catch her breath. Something that sent a chilling sensation down her core, between her thighs. This turned her on very much especially when remembering his love for the color red in many forms.

        After wrapping her hand with a cloth ripped from his shirt, blood glistening between his gums as Prince Viseron smiled like a blood-thirsty madman. "The Velaryon style suits you well. Any style really, but this one particularly captures your undying beauty. Very easy to do this." His fingers twisted in Sylvia's braids, grabbing a handful to yank back her head. A metallic taste seeped into her taste buds when he kissed her again.

        Sylvia naturally wrapped her legs around his waist when lifting her. Midnight was their support, not that she was paying any mind to what they were doing when catching her resting head. They were careful of her spikes. She moaned at the feeling of his hard bulge grinding against her. The friction was too good to stop and she wanted more. Her desperate fingers gripped through the prince's white hair, the other around his neck to keep him close, swallowing his pleasured groans and nonsense mumbling.

        Drowned by his natural scent, excited under his tender touch, a spark of sense reminded Sylvia why this wasn't a good idea and pulled back. It was also to catch her breath. Her eyes fluttered at his kisses along her neck, desperate for any contact of skin.

        When he tried for her lips again, Sylvia turned her head with a light shake. "This feels wrong." She breathed out through a tight moan.

        "There is no such thing as wrongs. Only rights."

        She bit her lips to contain her soft moans at his lips kissing the scales along her face, following along her chin to the corners of her lips. He continued to move and grind himself against her, his warm breath tickling her skin. It felt so fucking good, but still, so wrong.

        "Put me down." Confusion flashed as Prince Viseron listened against his better judgment. Sylvia could finally breathe untainted air. Long enough to gain more sense. "What are you doing to me? Why does my body betray me?" She asked herself. It's unsure if she was lightheaded because of her blood still lingering down her throat or the moment they shared.

        "Don't you wish to feel more of you do to my body without clothes?" Prince Viseron said with a chuckle, looking down at his bulge aching for attention.

       "Have you done this with your betrothed?" Sylvia caught his grimace and shared his confusion for the purpose of this conversation or Lady Julie's relevance. "Does she know you're out here with me in the middle of nowhere shoving your tongue down my throat?"

        "Should we send a raven or — "

        Her lips pressed thinly. "Viseron."

        He rolled his eyes with a dragged groan, clearly not in the mood to discuss the elephant in the room. "Who gives a bloody fuck?"

        "I give a fuck! Lady Julie is to be your wife, soon your Queen. I am promised to a noble lord whoever that may be. We can't continue this when we both have duties to fulfill and roles to play."

        Even after confronting the truth, Prince Viseron remained unwavering. It was as if Sylvia spoke of a stranger. An irrelevant presence that held no weight on his shoulders or thought in his mind. He clearly saw no wrong in their actions and would kiss her again. It caused her frustration to flare. How could he pretend otherwise?

       "I don't want her when I want you." His confession caught Sylvia off guard that she nearly choked on her spit. A strange fluttering feeling mangled with her frustration and caused further confusion.

        "You don't mean that."

        "Oh, but I do. And you know I do." Yes, she did. Sylvia couldn't accuse him of lying if she wanted to because of his honest nature. Maybe accused of blandly playing with her heart, but never a liar. And that was worse. "I tried being patient and understanding of your past, but I lack the patience and the past is in the past for a reason. Lady Julie offers me nothing. Too delicate and soft. Too obedient. Too much of a bore. We are not a perfect match — but we," he motioned between them, stepping forward. "We are perfect. A match made in heaven. Two burning flames harmoniously existing. The Gods chose us with care and aligned the stars so wherever our paths may cross, we would always find ourselves back to each other."

        "I too am delicate and soft." Syliva reminded him. "I have nothing to offer you."

        He shrugged. "Perhaps, but I prefer blood closest to dragons. Not further from it."

        And there it was. The true reason he desired Sylvia was the same as every greedy fat pig he spoke of — they wanted what her womb offered, not her heart. A major red flag she and her mother agreed upon. Prince Viserion was no different and it disappointed Sylvia because she was foolish to think there was something more. That there was even a speculate chance more was possible with someone beyond her status to maintain these feelings that wanted his attention and more.

        Shame, an old feeling returned, I must grovel in shame and accept it once and for all.

        Sylvia's bitter laughter deepened the crease between Prince Viseron's brows, unable to read the situation which he was sure would work in his favor. "How foolish of me to think you — " She shook her head, laughing more. "You don't want yourself a wife, or an equal. You want someone who will entertain you under the title of being your property. You pursue me for the wrong reasons other than who I am as a person — my blood is what keeps you interested. I mean, what will you do with me when I no longer am interesting? Breed me like a dog?"

        "I would never compare you to a dog. You're prettier than one."

        Sylvia pursed her lips and glared at him. Now wasn't the time when her heart was on the line. Of course, at any chance given, Prince Viseron chose now to jest about a serious matter they were discussing. Sometimes it felt like humor was his shield during confrontation, that it was better to soothe the tension or uncomfortable conversations without digesting the initial impact.

        Sensing her offense, he lifted his hands as if to surrender and accept his bad taste in words. With that same lifted hand, trailed through his long hair as a serious expression took hold. "I see you more than blood and any means of entertainment beyond all obstacles. Why do you think we are here? Why would I waste my breath teaching you our history or show you this world? Allow you to be the first to ride my dragon? Gift you nearly everyday? Give you my undivided attention that could be spent elsewhere? Do I lack courting skills or are you so infatuated with a dead body who could never love you that you are blinded by my obvious attempts?"

        Blood smeared his cheek when Sylvia slapped him with her bleeding hand. He touched his red cheek, stunned at the action. She didn't know why she did it or why she would defend Yanis when Prince Viseron spoke of the truth. Embarrassment rushed through her system and there was nothing she could do but accept the harsh truth. Something she needed to hear. She couldn't even apologize because then she would look even more foolish.

        Yanis was long dead. He would never love her the way she wanted. Sylvia knew it was time to move on and felt ready to, but the memory of him would always linger because he was the first man Sylvia loved. There was nothing she could do about that. He would always hold space in her heart as shameful as it was to admit, but it didn't mean no one else could fill it. Lady Mercia was. Certainly didn't expect Prince Viseron eager to fill it too.

        A hand grabbed Sylvia's chin and forced her attention back to Prince Viseron with more to say. "I don't care if you have nothing to offer me. I want you. I don't care if you one day end up boring me to death with your many questions — I want you now and as you are. Is that not enough?"

        It felt like enough. It felt better than enough. All these intense feelings and the sudden spark of excitement made it easy to be persuaded without any thoughts of the consequences if there were any. . .aside from possible death.

        But with Lady Julie still in the picture and many backing their marriage, it didn't feel worth it. "You are being unloyal to your betrothed. How can I trust her faith won't fall onto me?" Sylvia pulled her chin free and crossed her arms to cease any impulse that mainly wanted to kiss him again.

        "I may not be one with words, or perhaps I am, but actions speak louder. Allow me to assure you in that manner."

        "I don't know," she said softly and he questioned it in a rather patient tone that took her by surprise. "I need to think about this. What this means for me and our future if I agree to give my heart to you. In honesty, it doesn't feel right to Lady Julie. It doesn't feel right with her still in the picture and her father out for my head, and many others expecting it to be her. Not me. I don't want to feel like the other woman. Never felt like one before and I do now, and I don't like it."

        He gave a slow understanding nod, free of mild irritation. "How much time do you need?"

        "I don't know."

        "You must give me something to work with. To look forward to. A solidified answer. What can I do with that?"

        She rolled her eyes with a heavy sigh. "I don't know, Viseron. It's the only answer I have for you. Can't you accept that for now?"

        "Truthfully, no. I don't want to accept it. Our feelings have never been more clear than now. But," his fingers massaged his temple with small circles, carefully choosing his words not to offend her any more than he had. "I can accept it. I will because I see it's what you need. It's for the best. And perhaps, I shall use this time to prove you are no other woman but simply mine. The first and my last."

        They agreed upon this and spent the rest of their time on the hill in comfortable silence. Midnight regained an appetite for more sheep and burnt many alive to keep them from running. Sylvia scattered back a few steps with a gasp, its heat causing her to sweat more than she already was even when the fire was nowhere nearby. Then after she finished, the two flew back to King's Landing where Meya feared something had happened given they returned just after the sunset where Midnight nearly blended with their environment. And her wrapped hand that stopped bleeding.

        While Prince Viseron chose to stay behind with his dragon, Sylvia quickly rushed to the carriage without bidding farewells. Her fingers couldn't help but brush her lips where his warmth touched, unable to relinquish the memory and how her body reacted. Her heart specifically, desperate to consume his love even at the cost of other's demise.

        She wasn't that woman, but should her heart demand it, she feared the capabilities of her cruelties if her way wasn't met. If the prince wasn't hers to have.