#valyrian reader

"Why did you take me all the way out here, my Lady?" Harwin hummed, pinning you to your saddle with those glorious green eyes.

"There's someone I want you to meet." Was all you were going to say with a soft teasing smile on your face as you both dismounted your horses, the creatures snorting from the ride from King's Landing.

His smile lit up the already bright day as you took his hand and began pulling him up the narrow trackway, excited giggles filling up your throat until there was room for little else. "Who is this person?" He pondered aloud, his hand warm and comforting as it gripped yours.

"You'll have to wait and see." The giggles escaped with your words, making his smile broaden, something you hadn't thought a possibility. It didn't take long for the trackway to swing around the cliff face and open onto a large shelf-like natural structure that fed into the mouth of a large cave. You didn't pull away from Harwin as you whistled, the sound vaguely similar to the sounds Caraxes and Vermax made. You didn't miss the way Harwin gripped your hand tighter as soon as it became apparent there was something massive in the cave, thumping around with heavy steps and a large frame.

The massive serpentine dragon slunk out of his cave, expression deceptively peaceful as he regarded you both, the scales of his face the many colors of the night while his eyes were like massive shining apricot sunrises. He crooned a warm greeting to you, amused at the wide eyed man beside you. His horned crests puffed up in pride as he came further into the sunlight, showing off his bulk and the veins of shocking copper and vivid malachite coloring that traversed his hide and the iridescent black pearl shimmer of his wing membranes. He was gorgeous and he knew it. "Gods be good." Harwin hissed in alarm with a sharp intake of breath, only holding his ground from years of training and paralyzing fear.

You smiled warmly and coaxed him forward, showing your back to Sȳndor as you pulled the knight closer with you, showing that you had complete faith and trust in the dragon "I would like you to formally meet Sȳndor," You hummed, only stopping when Harwin's grip on your hand became too tight "I know he's massive and terrifying, but I swear you have nothing to fear." You meant every word, even spanning the distance between the two males with your own hand, touching Sȳndor's snout as he purred in gentle contentment, resolved to reassure your companion.

"I have no doubt, Anna," He visibly gulped and nervously wet his lips, never taking his eyes off the dragon, even as he came a few inches closer at a time "I have heard the tales from the soldiers who served at the Stepstones, about his ferocity and how he put Caraxes to shame at times." Sage finally focused on you when Sȳndor didn't come any closer, content to let the man approach as he felt comfortable.

You disengaged with Sȳndor, instead closing the distance between yourself and Harwin with an understanding smile "Sȳndor is safe." You promised as you rubbed your thumb across his knuckles reassuringly "He's gentle when I ask, more gentle than a pup. The Princelings and the Princess have all learned how to ride a dragon on his back, how to find their seats." Sȳndor crooned again to prove your point, gently rubbing the softest spot of his snout across your shoulders in a bid for attention. "Just touch his head, and you'll be properly introduced, and if you wish, we can leave."

"I would not rob you of time with your dragon, Anna."

"Sȳndor is always in my head, Ser Harwin, we always have time together." Without another word and a visible gulp as though he was physically swallowing his fear, Harwin placed his hand between Sȳndor's nostrils, barely bigger than a small tooth, but the dragon appreciated the attention all the same. He purred like a contented cat and closed his eyes as Harwin became emboldened, moving from snout, to cheek, and then scratching like he were a very large hound.

"Magnificent." He breathed with a laugh, continuing to lavish him with attention. "He's different than any of the other dragons." Harwin remarked as Sȳndor rumbled happily, one of his back legs twitching as the man scratched a particularly good itch just under the spikes from his jaw.

"Sȳndor is very different from other Valyrian dragons, and no one has ever known why." You agreed, watching the two interact with a burning fondness in your chest. "His mother disappeared one year, no one knows where to, but she laid the most unusual clutch of eggs when she returned. Each one was like a gemstone. Sȳndor's was like carved marble, perfectly smooth and glimmering white with veins of copper running through." You explained, leaning against the warm stone of the cliffside as Shadow continued to enjoy Harwin's continued attentions. He liked the man, barely having to tell you on account of how strong and prevalent the emotion was.

"How did you end up claiming him?" He asked after a few moments, removing himself from the dragon and coming closer to you. Sȳndor's long neck swung around with a keening whine, wanting more attention from the both of you, his crests relaxing back almost flush with his neck.

You shrugged as you sat down, closing your eyes to soak in the sun's warmth a bit longer "I hatched him from an egg, so many years ago. He was very small in those days, if you can believe it." You joked, causing the both of you to chuckle as Harwin joined you on the ground, to your surprise, sitting a respectful distance away but still close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off of him.

The man stiffened as you pressed lightly against his arm, and you thought for sure that he'd reject you so you began to move away from him until his arm encircled your shoulders gently, pulling you even closer to his side. Relaxing against him felt as natural as breathing, your head fitting into the space between his shoulder and his neck "What does the name Sȳndor mean? Surely there were better names for such a unique fellow." Harwin teased, his voice so low it was practically rumbling straight from his chest.

You hummed as you relaxed further, his arm pulling you into his side more as he pressed a soft kiss against your hair "It means ‘Shadow’, because for many in battle his is the last shadow they see. He likes to go high into the air and swoop down at great speeds before he opens his wings to glide over the battle field, breathing a continuous jet of fire over the enemy. It is frightening to see, even for me." After a few minutes of enjoying the quiet together, you asked Sȳndor a question, sharing a thought with him through the bond with a hint of curiosity, not wanting to put anything to words before knowing if he was amenable to the idea. He rumbled in thought, shifting on his wing arms this way and that before agreeing "Would you like to go for a ride?" You asked Harwin, your voice soft to sooth his nervous before lighting them on fire.

He stilled as soon as the words left your lips, shifting to stare down at you as though you had grown another head or two and begun speaking solely in riddles "You jest." He huffed, lips pulling into a nervous, shaky smile that didn't meet his eyes.

"I'm quite serious. Sȳndor already said he wouldn't mind." You were careful with your words, not wanting to make the knight feel pushed or goaded into doing something he was wholly uncomfortable with. "If you do not wish to, I won't mind." You added quickly as his gaze shifted over yours rapidly, unease coloring the sage of his eyes a more murky moss. "Just say the word and I'll never bring it up again."

The picture of Balerion the Black Dread stared at you, an explosion of fire erupting from its parted jaws, while a stylized Aegon the Conqueror rode him proudly, white locks dancing in the wind as the dragon spread its enormous, ebony wings. You traced your finger over the drawing in admiration. At Winterfell, almost everyone had made fun of your appearance at least once, saying how you must have seen a ghost, or that you were born old, or how your eyes were strangler drops, one of the deadliest poisons. You had always loved the illustration in that book, an anthology of the Targaryens’ history, because you were sure that no one ever made fun of Aegon’s silver hair or purple eyes.

Sadly, you were not a dragon rider, or an important conqueror, and life reminded you every day of that. First of all by the way Catelyn Stark treated you when she was alive. She made sure to make you feel unwanted and uncomfortable whenever you talked. When you were just a child, it was disheartening, because you couldn’t understand the reason of such hostile behavior. With time, however, you learnt why the other Stark children got the best presents and all that you and Jon ever got was a spiteful glance from her. Ned wasn’t like Cat. He always smiled at you and looked after you, tirelessly asking if there was anything you needed, almost trying to compensate for Cat’s lack of love. Despite it all, you had a father and siblings who cared for you and respected you, even though only your beloved brother, Jon, could understand your situation fully.

Even if you were a bastard, you always reminded yourself, the blood of Old Valyria ran in your veins, which surely did not make you a Targaryen, but that sense of pride never left you. It was that book you read, whenever someone made your eyes teary and your lips tremble in shame. A long time ago, people who shared your same blood had made history. They had rode dragons and turned cities to ashes. What were a few stupid, ignorant farm boys compared to that? Nothing. And you made sure to remember that.

“Still reading that old book?” Jon entered your chambers smiling at the piece of childhood you held in your hands. He sat down beside you on the bed as you scooted over and eyed him playfully.

“If we are to meet the Dragon Queen, I want to be prepared. Maybe I could impress her with my knowledge of her noble House and convince her to help us.” You said, more or less seriously, as Jon smiled bitterly.

“There’s no way to make you stay here, is it? Sansa could really use your help. Your knowledge of our strengths and weaknesses is second only to that of a Maester. Besides, I don’t think that the woman who united the Dothraki, with an army of Unsullied and three dragons would be persuaded into a military alliance by flattery.” It was your turn to look bitter. You closed the old tome and kept it on your lap, then looked with determination into your brother’s dark eyes. You loved him, but sometimes you wished he weren’t so protective over you.

“Jon, we’ve talked about this. I’m not a Stark, and Sansa has a number of trusted lords to aid her. She is not stupid. And I surely won’t abandon you. I won’t let the world tear us apart again. We’re in this together.” He seemed worried at first but then, slowly, he smiled. The bond you shared with Jon was unlike any other one you had with the other Starks. Not even like Jon and Arya’s. You always seemed to be able to read each other’s mind perfectly, to share the same determination and honor. Only he could understand how you felt when the world was against you, when people adressed you as ‘bastard’, spitting out that word like a curse. He was the one to always be by your side, no matter what. After all you’ve been through, you were immensely grateful for having him. You had already lost too much.

As you hugged tightly, enveloped in the warm and thick furs of the King in the North, you closed your eyes and hoped. Hoped that Daenerys Stormborn would help you or your destiny, along with the one of the whole world, would be to perish under the Night King’s army.

That night, you could barely sleep. Your chamber at Winterfell was quite large, not as large as the one that belonged to your parents, but still it had everything that made it worth of being a safe, comfortable place to you. Inside the stone walled room were a bed covered in a set of fur blankets that was now empty on the right, while on the opposite side sat a wooden desk topped with scattered ink bottles and quill pens, and a rather tall bookcase which exposed a variety of tomes, from old, worn out volumes to the newest ones. A carpet made of more fur laid lazily on the floor, looking up at the various candle holders that lined the walls. The most beautiful element of your chamber, however, was the tall and slim window that stretched from the floor up to the ceiling, where it arched in an array of sinuous motifs. At its base, you had the servants put a wooden bench covered in pillows when you were younger. It was the perfect spot to read and think while beholding Winterfell and the stunning landscape around it.