108 AC
By now, I had grown comfortable on Silverwing's back. Each flight sharpened my skill, and I no longer clung with fear but with control. We flew at dawn and dusk, over waves and clouds, sometimes even through storms. She listened to me now. Trusted me. That was the first step.
I had not yet revealed her as mine.
To the world, Silverwing remained a relic of a past queen. Too old, some said. Too proud. But I knew better. And she did too.
Still, I kept our bond quiet. The time wasn't right. Not yet.
But I was thinking ahead now—truly thinking, not just surviving. The war was coming. Anyone with ears and a brain could hear the thunder gathering over the realm. Queen Alicent's children were growing. The princess still had her supporters. The court would fracture. And dragons would be called to choose sides.
I couldn't stay hidden forever.
One day, I would make a claim—not just to Silverwing, but to a place in what remained after the fighting. The old stories told of Ulf the White, a common man who rose through blood and fire. I would take his place before history did.
But not recklessly. Not loudly.
I'd ask the queen's permission when the moment came. Maybe even seek to be legitimized. But it wouldn't matter much. My blood was already tied to flame. And the keepers' ritual—the one done long ago when I first served the dragons—had taken away any future heirs of my body. That truth would set me apart. Make me useful. Safe.
A rider with no claim to legacy. Only loyalty.
That was how I'd survive the storm.
And maybe... rule what was left of its ashes.