Winterfell – Before Dawn
It began with silence.
The kind of silence that wakes the world—not with sound, but with absence. No birds. No wolves. Not even the whisper of wind between pine and snow.
Vaeron Targaryen stood on the battlements of Winterfell, cloaked in black and silver. His breath misted before him, violet eyes fixed on the eastern sky.
And then he felt it.
A rumble beneath his feet, deep and low, like the growl of some ancient god stirring beneath the earth.
The Cannibal had come.
Out of the pale morning clouds it emerged—wings spread wider than the godswood, scales black as obsidian, veined in glowing green. Its emerald eyes scanned the world below with an intelligence older than empires.
Winterfell's bells rang in alarm. Guards shouted. Arrows were notched. Stark men surged to the walls, bows raised—
"Hold!" Lord Stark's voice cut through the chaos like a blade. "Hold your fire!"
They did. But barely.
The Cannibal circled once. Twice.
Then it dove.
---
The Godswood – Moments Later
Snow fell softly as Vaeron stepped beneath the canopy of red leaves. The branches of the weirwood tree curled like claws, crimson leaves whispering secrets to the wind.
He waited.
A great wind slammed through the grove as Cannibal landed. Trees cracked. Snow exploded from the branches. The dragon's talons dug furrows into the earth. It lowered its horned head and stared at him.
Vaeron stared back.
He felt no fear. Only... certainty.
He took a step forward. The dragon's eyes narrowed.
Another step.
It growled—but not in warning. In testing.
Vaeron raised a hand.
"Do you remember?" he whispered. "The dream. The crypt. The voice that said: I come for you."
The Cannibal lowered its head until its snout hovered inches from the boy's outstretched fingers.
Vaeron touched it.
The bond snapped into place—ancient, primal, unyielding.
He saw fire. Saw empires fall. Saw Valyria burn and the sky filled with black wings.
But more than that, he saw himself. As he was. As he would be.
Not the Bastard Prince.
Something else.
Something more.
---
Great Hall of Winterfell – Midday
The dragon had not moved from the godswood, though its presence loomed like a stormcloud. The entire castle pulsed with nervous energy.
Maester Luwin trembled as he adjusted his chain. "We must send word to King's Landing immediately. The court must—"
"I've already written to Rhaegar," Ned Stark said, quiet and grave. "I told him the truth."
"And if he sees it as treason?" Luwin asked.
"Then let him come," Catelyn said coldly. "But he won't. Rhaegar may be many things, but he won't come north for a son he never claimed."
Robb shifted uneasily beside his mother. "He should come."
Sansa looked hopeful. "Maybe he will, now. Maybe he'll see that Vaeron isn't just—"
"He's not just anything," Arya snapped. "He's our brother."
Catelyn nodded. "And a prince, whether the court sees it or not."
---
Skagos – Long Ago (The Dragon's Dream)
In the frozen spires of Skagos, where wild things ruled and steel men feared to tread, the Cannibal had slept.
It had watched the Doom from the farthest reaches of the world—had refused the yoke of the Valyrians. Riderless. Untamed.
It had devoured lesser dragons, rejected every would-be master. No prince, no bloodline, no magic compelled it.
Until Vaeron was born.
That night, it stirred.
The song of fire met the silence of the North. And in that quiet, the Cannibal waited.
Not for power.
For will.
---
Winterfell Courtyard – Afternoon
The North gathered to witness madness.
Vaeron stood before the Cannibal, dressed in thick black leathers, sword strapped to his side. Stark guards watched with anxious eyes. Robb stood beside Maester Luwin, arms folded.
"You don't have to prove anything," Robb said.
"I'm not proving," Vaeron replied. "I'm becoming."
Cannibal lowered its foreleg, scales shimmering with frost. Vaeron climbed carefully, foot by foot, until he reached the space between the beast's shoulders.
A single breath passed.
And then the wings surged.
The sky swallowed them.
Gasps. Screams. Awe.
Cannibal circled Winterfell once, trailing green fire in its wake. Snow spiraled beneath its flight. Then, with impossible grace, it landed in the godswood once more.
Vaeron dismounted in silence.
No words were needed.
He had claimed the sky.
---
Maester's Tower – Nightfall
The raven came at dusk.
Its wings were red with blood—not its own.
Ned read the letter in silence. Catelyn watched his face carefully, reading every twitch of muscle.
"Well?" she asked.
"He summons him," Ned said at last. "Rhaegar has ordered Vaeron to King's Landing. He wants to see the dragon and the boy."
Robb's eyes narrowed. "As a prince?"
"As a threat," Ned said grimly.
---
On the Road to White Harbor – Two Days Later
Snow fell thick upon the road as Vaeron's party made its way toward White Harbor. Stark banners flew behind them, and Cannibal circled above like a god on black wings.
But not even a dragon could stop treachery.
Near the Dreadfort's outskirts, masked riders emerged from the trees—Bolton men, clad in grey and red, their banners flayed and foul.
"Kill the boy!" one shouted. "Skin the beast!"
Arrows flew. Horses screamed.
Vaeron ducked, sword drawn, cutting down the first attacker.
But the Cannibal was already descending.
It landed in a storm of ice and rage, its roar louder than thunder. Green fire burst from its maw, washing over the flayed men.
They didn't scream long.
Snow turned black.
Vaeron stood among the ruin, eyes shining. One Bolton survivor, crawling in the muck, whimpered:
"Monster…"
"No," Vaeron said. "Justice."
He turned away.
The Cannibal didn't.
---
Cliffs of the Bay of Seals – Dusk
The sea was a sheet of frozen silver, stretching endlessly toward the south.
Vaeron stood at the edge of the cliff, the wind tugging at his cloak. Cannibal lay curled behind him, eyes half-lidded.
From here, the world felt small.
Catelyn's words echoed in his mind:
> "You will never be loved for what you are. You must be loved for who you choose to become."
He touched the hilt of his sword. Felt the weight of the Stark wolf at his neck.
Then he climbed onto the dragon's back.
No saddle. No armor. Just trust.
Cannibal opened its wings.
Vaeron looked south, toward King's Landing. Toward the father who had never written. Never come. Never cared.
"Let him see me," Vaeron whispered. "Let them all see."
The Cannibal leapt from the cliff.
And the North roared.
---
End of Chapter Six
---