ULF
Solo training. Midnight.
The sky belonged to me and Silverwing alone. No observers. No Hugh Hammer. No politics.
Just us and the techniques I couldn't explain.
"Sōvēs," I called. "Naejot."
She flew straight. Steady.
I rose in the saddle. Found my balance point.
Rankyaku. Aerial variant. Now.
My leg whipped forward. Air compressed, hardened, flew—
The blade cut through darkness, invisible in the night. Below, I heard the crack of impact.
Tomorrow, I'd check the target area. See if I'd hit anything.
Good. Getting better.
But Rankyaku wasn't enough. In a real battle, I'd need mobility. Options.
"Kelītīs."
Silverwing hovered.
I stood in the saddle. Steadied myself.
Then I jumped.
Free fall. Wind screaming.
Geppo.
I kicked against air. Changed direction.
Again.
Another kick. Rising now instead of falling.
Again. Again.
I circled Silverwing in midair, walking on nothing, the impossible technique that no one in this world had ever seen.
She watched me with those ancient eyes. Curious. Unafraid.
"Trust me," I called.
I dove toward her. Timed the approach.
Landed on her back.
The impact jarred my legs, but I stuck the landing. Seated. Secure.
Dismount combat. Viable.
I laughed into the wind. Silverwing rumbled beneath me—her version of amusement.
"Again," I said. "Arlī."
We practiced until dawn crept over the horizon.
THE NEXT DAY
Otto's summons came at noon.
I found the war council already assembled in the small council chamber. Aemond stood by the window, Vhagar's shadow visible through the glass. Hugh lounged in a chair, feet on the table until Otto's glare forced them down.
And a new face—young, golden-haired, with the Targaryen features of the direct line.
Prince Daeron. Arrived from Oldtown. His dragon, Tessarion the Blue Queen, had been spotted circling the city that morning.
"Now that we're all present," Otto began, "the situation."
Maps spread across the table. Troop positions. Dragon sightings.
"Rhaenyra's forces move against Rook's Rest. Lord Staunton has declared for us, but he cannot hold against dragon assault." Otto tapped the map. "We must respond with overwhelming force."
"How many dragons do they have?" Daeron asked.
"Reports suggest Rhaenys and Meleys. Perhaps others."
Rhaenys. The Queen Who Never Was. Old, experienced, deadly.
"Three of us against one?" Hugh snorted. "Hardly sporting."
"This isn't sport, you fool." Aemond's voice cut cold. "This is war. We use every advantage."
"Easy for you to say. You've got the biggest dragon."
"And I intend to use her. But strategic deployment matters." Aemond turned to me. "Ulf. Your assessment?"
Everyone looked at me. The bastard dragonrider. Called upon for tactical advice.
Progress.
"Rhaenys won't fly alone. She'll have support—ground forces, possibly other dragons held in reserve." I traced the approach routes on the map. "If we commit all our strength and she has reinforcements, we're exposed."
"What do you suggest?"
"Layered response. Vhagar as primary force. Silverwing and Vermithor as flankers. Tessarion held back as reserve." I met Aemond's eye. "If things go wrong, Daeron can intervene or retreat for reinforcements."
Silence.
Then Aemond nodded slowly.
"Sound thinking. For a bastard."
"I prefer 'dragonrider.'"
"You'll earn that title at Rook's Rest." He looked around the table. "We deploy in three days. Prepare your mounts and your minds. This will be bloody."
The council dispersed.
THE GODSWOOD
Helaena sat beneath the heart tree with her children.
Jaehaerys played with wooden dragons—new toys, carved to resemble the Green mounts. Silverwing, Vermithor, Vhagar. He made roaring sounds, crashing them together.
Jaehaera sat beside her mother, reading quietly. Maelor napped in Helaena's lap.
A family. Almost. Pretending to be.
I approached slowly. Helaena's eyes found me immediately.
"Three days," she said.
"How did you know?"
"Your face. The way you walk when you're preparing for something." She didn't smile. "And the dreams."
"What did you see?"
"Fire over water. Dragons falling. You standing in the center of it."
The same vision. Unchanged.
"Do I survive?"
"I don't know. The dreams show moments, not outcomes."
I knelt beside her. Took her hand.
"I'll come back."
"You promised that before."
"I'll promise it again. As many times as you need."
She touched my face. Traced the new lines—worry, training, transformation.
"Come back to me," she whispered. "Come back to them."
Jaehaerys looked up from his dragons.
"Are you going to fight bad dragons?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Will you win?"
How do you answer that question to a six-year-old?
"I'll try my best."
"Mother says you always protect us."
"I do."
"Then you'll win." Simple logic. Absolute faith. "Because we need you to come back."
My throat tightened.
"I will. I promise."
Helaena pulled me close. Kissed me—brief, public, in front of the children and the watching servants and anyone else who cared to see.
"Three days," she said. "Make them count."
I held her until the sun began to set.
Then I returned to my quarters, checked my weapons, reviewed my techniques.
Three days to prepare for war.
Three days until Rook's Rest.
Note:
Please give good reviews and power stones itrings more people and more people means more chapters?
My Patreon is all about exploring 'What If' timelines, and you can get instant access to chapters far ahead of the public release.
Choose your journey:
Timeline Viewer ($6): Get 10 chapters of early access + 5 new chapters weekly.
Timeline Explorer ($9): Jump 15-20 chapters ahead of everyone.
Timeline Keeper ($15): Get Instant Access to chapters the moment I finish writing them. No more waiting.
Read the raw, unfiltered story as it unfolds. Your support makes this possible!
👉 Find it all at patreon.com/Whatif0