From Storms to Thrones (Part 1)

Chapter 16: The Call of the Dragon

His voice echoed in my mind, deep and resonant, like distant thunder. "She thanked me for aiding her," he rumbled, the words wrapping around me like a heavy cloak.

He paused, the weight of his gaze intensifying. "And then," he continued, his tone shifting slightly, "she asked me to keep you safe."

As the last of his words settled in my mind, Rhaenyra turned toward me. The fierce, commanding presence of the Dragon Queen melted away, giving way to an unexpected tenderness. Her eyes, usually so sharp, softened, and the corner of her lip lifted into a gentle smile.

My heart lurched in my chest at the look she was giving me.

Fuck. I am so screwed.

***

The cavern opened up into a larger area, bathed in the warm, golden light of the setting sun that streamed in through a distant opening to the left. The soft, rhythmic crashing of waves against the shore mingled with the low, rumbling growls of the dragons.

The Cannibal stood imposingly in the center, his dark brown saddle settled at the base of his neck, an almost comical contrast to his massive, scaled frame. Beside him, Syrax, though significantly smaller, was adorned with her own saddle. The sight of her next to the Cannibal made her seem almost delicate in comparison, but the fierceness in her eyes belied her size.

The two dragons were locked in a tense standoff, their gazes fierce as they engaged in a silent, yet fierce exchange. Hisses and growls erupted from their throats, a dialogue of dominance and challenge that reverberated through the cavern. The air between them crackled with a palpable energy.

I watched the scene unfold, my heart pounding as the dragons' fierce communication continued. The Cannibal's massive form shifted slightly, his scales glinting in the setting sun's light. Syrax, though smaller, stood her ground, her own scales catching the light in a shimmering dance.

Rhaenyra, standing beside me, seemed unfazed by the spectacle before us. Her gaze, however, was riveted on the interaction between the dragons, a fierce concentration in her eyes. The cavern was charged with the raw energy of the dragons' silent exchange, a dance of power and respect between the two mighty creatures.

I took a deep breath, the gravity of the moment weighing heavily on me. The rumbling growls of the dragons and the distant, rhythmic crashing of waves created a backdrop that only heightened my anxiety.

Rhaenyra's voice cut through the tension, steady and calm. "Dragons and their riders spend years together before they take to the sky. They must build a bond, a mutual respect." She spoke with an authority that underscored the depth of her understanding. Her gaze flickered back to me, her violet eyes searching mine with a focus that felt almost intense. They then traced to the golden mark at my hairline.

Her hand moved with deliberate slowness, giving me ample time to pull away if I wished. But I didn't. Her fingertips brushed the mark gently, and I felt a shiver race down my spine at the contact.

"You can communicate with him through this, yes?" Rhaenyra's voice was soft but unwavering, her eyes locked on the mark.

I swallowed hard, my voice barely above a whisper. "Yes."

Rhaenyra's fingers lingered on the mark for a moment longer before she withdrew her hand and turned her gaze back to me.

"Then this will be easier for you," she said, a nostalgic smile touching her lips. "When I first took to the sky with Syrax at the age of seven, she ignored nearly every command I gave her. She shook me off over the Kingswood—I broke my arm in the fall, and she left me there."

My eyes widened in shock, my mouth falling open. The image of a young Rhaenyra being abandoned by her dragon and injured in such a dramatic manner was almost beyond belief.

Rhaenyra's smile was bittersweet, a mixture of pride and memory. "It took time, patience, and a lot of stubbornness to forge the bond we have now. Dragons are not easily tamed or persuaded. They need to trust you, and that trust is hard-earned."

I swallowed, the weight of Rhaenyra's story pressing down on me. "And you think the Cannibal will trust me?"

Rhaenyra's gaze shifted to the Cannibal, who stood with an imposing yet composed presence, his eyes glowing with a fierce, watchful light. Her eyes followed the dragon's every movement, a look of profound understanding in her expression.

"He chose you for a reason."

Rhaenyra's focus softened, and she turned her full attention to me. Her violet eyes, usually so sharp and commanding, now held a rare depth of contemplation. She seemed to be searching for something in my face, a quiet reassurance or perhaps a flicker of doubt. The intensity of her stare was both comforting and unsettling, as if she were assessing not just my readiness but the very essence of my resolve.

"Are you ready?" she asked, her tone steady but with an underlying current of urgency.

I took a deep breath, feeling the air grow thick with anticipation. Rhaenyra's gaze, though soft, pressed heavily on me, making it clear that this was more than just a moment of preparation—it was a test of will, a defining moment.

I turned my gaze toward the Cannibal, whose massive frame loomed against the backdrop of the cavern. His eyes were fixed on me, a smoldering ember of ancient fire and unspoken understanding. The enormity of the decision I was about to make weighed on me, yet I knew that hesitation was not an option.

"Yes," I said, my voice steady but betraying a flicker of uncertainty. "I'm ready."

Rhaenyra's expression shifted, a mix of relief and encouragement playing across her features. She nodded, her approval evident in the subtle relaxation of her shoulders.

"Then let's begin."