From Storms to Thrones (Part 1)

The morning sun bathed the landscape in a golden light, its warmth seeping into my weary bones and soothing the soreness in my muscles. I sat cross-legged in the long grass, my face tilted up towards the sky, eyes closed as I let the sun's rays wash over me.

The gentle breeze whispered through the trees, carrying with it the fresh scent of pine and earth, a smell that felt both familiar and distant. The world around me was a tapestry of vibrant colors—the deep green of the forest, the rich browns of the earth, and the soft blue of the sky.

I let out a slow breath, feeling a momentary sense of peace, as if the worries and decisions of the past few days were just a distant memory. The landscape was breathtaking, a perfect blend of wilderness and serenity, the kind of place that seemed untouched by the chaos of the world. 

The birds sang softly in the trees, their melodies a stark contrast to the roar of dragons and the clash of steel that had defined my recent days. I took another deep breath, the air crisp and clean, filling my lungs with a sense of renewal.

The beauty of the moment made everything else fade away. The choice I had made, the risks I had taken, the unknown future that stretched out before me—it all seemed distant, almost inconsequential in the face of such natural splendor. The landscape could have been anywhere, any place where the earth met the sky in a perfect union of nature's elements.

The sun's warmth was like a gentle embrace, lulling me into a state of calm. I could almost forget the weight of the decision I had made, the life I had left behind, the danger that lay ahead. For a moment, I allowed myself to simply exist in this place, to savor the stillness that was so rare in my world. The aches in my body felt distant, the tension in my mind eased, as I became one with the landscape around me.

But then, the sound of distant voices broke through my reverie, shattering the quiet like a pebble dropped into a still pond.

My eyes snapped open, and I turned my head, my senses on high alert. The voices grew closer, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of footsteps crunching through the underbrush.

My heart began to race, the serenity of the moment slipping away like sand through my fingers. I squinted into the distance, trying to make out the figures moving through the trees. The sun's glare made it difficult to see, but as the figures emerged from the shadows, my breath caught in my throat.

There were five of them, soldiers by the look of it, their armor glinting in the sunlight as they made their way through the forest. The leader of the group was a tall man with a stern expression, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he walked with purpose. The others followed closely behind, their eyes scanning the surroundings with a practiced vigilance.

It wasn't until they were closer that I noticed the emblem on their armor—a dragon, but not the familiar red and black of Rhaenyra's Targaryens. This was different, green and gold, the colors unmistakable in their significance.

The Greens. Aegon's men.

Well, shit.

I instinctively tensed, my mind racing as I quickly assessed my options. I glanced up at the sky, hoping to see a familiar shadow, the dark shape of the Cannibal circling above. But the sky was clear, empty save for a few drifting clouds. He had left to go hunting, leaving me alone with nothing but a stale piece of ration bread and the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

The soldiers drew closer, their voices carrying through the trees. One of them—a younger man with a sharp gaze—caught sight of me first. He stopped in his tracks, his hand shooting up to signal the others. They halted as well, their eyes following his pointing finger to where I sat in the grass.