For the first part of the journey, Viserys Targaryen did not dare look down.
He sat stiffly upon Winter's back, every muscle in his body locked tight, both hands gripping the saddle so hard his fingers ached. The wind struck his face in fierce, cold waves, far harsher than anything he had ever felt from the towers of the Red Keep, and every beat of the dragon's wings sent a deep shudder through his chest. It was not unpleasant. It was simply too much—too vast, too impossible, too real.
He had dreamed of dragons all his life.
Every Targaryen child did.
He had climbed the roof of the Red Keep few years ago, on a day when the city below had seemed endless and magnificent, and imagined what it would feel like to ride the air as his ancestors once had. He had stood there staring at Blackwater Bay, imagining himself looking down from dragonback, imagining castles reduced to toys and armies to marching insects.
Nothing in those dreams had prepared him for the truth.
Because the truth was not merely height.
It was power.
It was the terrible, exhilarating knowledge that the world below had become small.
Daenerys, on the other hand, had taken to the sky with all the delighted wonder of someone who had secretly been born for it. She sat beside Lyanna, her silver-gold hair whipping wildly in the wind, laughing every time Winter tilted slightly or rode a warm current upward. Fear touched her only lightly, never enough to root itself.
"Look!" she cried at one point, pointing downward. "Is that a river or a road?"
Sirius twisted in his seat to follow her hand and laughed. "That's a river. Roads don't glitter."
Viserys envied how natural Sirius looked up here. Nor arrogant or boastful—simply at ease, as if he had belonged in the sky for years. King Harry, of course, looked as calm as if he were sitting beside a hearth rather than riding one of the most terrifying creatures alive. Queen Lyanna too seemed utterly untroubled, one gloved hand resting lightly along Winter's neck, like a queen riding to inspect her lands rather than flying above half the known world.
Only after a long while did Viserys finally force himself to look down.
At first it was only a glance.
Then another.
And then he forgot his fear entirely.
The castles below were tiny.
That was what struck him most. These great strongholds that men had bled for, married for, murdered for—these symbols of dominion that filled songs and histories—looked like little carved pieces on a game board. Villages were even smaller, mere clusters of roofs. Roads looked like scratches. Rivers like silver ribbons.
People could not be seen at all.
Not one.
Viserys stared in stunned silence.
"Strange, isn't it?" Harry said without turning.
Viserys swallowed. "Everything looks so… unimportant."
Harry's voice was calm, almost amused. "That's one of the first lessons the sky teaches."
Daenerys leaned slightly to look at her brother's face and smiled. "You looked down at last."
He gave her a sharp look, trying to recover some dignity. "I was always going to."
"Eventually," she said sweetly.
Sirius laughed aloud, and even Lyanna's mouth curved faintly.
For a time, they flew above the land, and Sirius began pointing things out whenever they passed near some notable holding.
"That should be Maidenpool," he said once, squinting downward. "And those towers there—I think those belong to some lesser lord sworn to the Vale. Father?"
Harry glanced once and nodded. "Close enough."
Viserys shook his head in disbelief. "You can recognize castles from this height?"
"You learn," Harry said. "After enough journeys, the world starts forming its own map in your head."
The sea came soon after.
The land dropped away behind them, and suddenly they were out above open water once more, Winter's wings cutting through cold salt air. The rhythm of the dragon's flight changed there. Over land it had felt purposeful and measured, but above the sea it became strangely smooth, almost effortless. The waves below rolled in endless patterns, blue-grey beneath the sun, and the horizon stretched so wide that it made the world seem larger and smaller at the same time.
It was peaceful in a way Viserys had never known.
No court whispers. No old kings staring from painted walls. No maesters. No tutors. No duties.
Only sky.
For more than a moment he found himself wanting a dragon with painful intensity. Not for the glory of it, not even for the power, though that was part of it. He wanted it because the sensation was impossible to explain. To ride the back of such a beast was to feel the world submit to distance and wind. It made everything below seem temporary.
He understood, suddenly and sharply, why his ancestors had believed themselves above ordinary men.
Then Harry pointed ahead.
"There," he said.
Viserys followed his gaze.
The coastline of Andalos appeared slowly at first, then more distinctly, until the settlement itself could be seen. It spread along the shore like a young thing growing faster than expected—docks, cleared fields, rows of buildings, and roads cut with deliberate order rather than the crooked chance of old villages.
"That is Andalos?" Daenerys asked, leaning forward.
"Yes," Harry said.
Viserys narrowed his eyes, studying it carefully. He had heard endless talk of this place in the capital. Septons calling it stolen holy land. Lords calling it provocation. Traders calling it opportunity. His brother calling it a problem.
From the sky, it did not look like a problem.
"You built all that already?" he asked.
"Not me," Harry said. "Brandon did much of it. The settlers did more. People work faster when they believe the future belongs to them."
Lyanna glanced toward the shore. "Should we stop?"
Harry shook his head. "Not now. Narnia needs its king and queen back."
There was no reluctance in his voice, but there was weight. Viserys understood that much. For all the freedom of the sky, a king was never simply a traveler.
Winter did not descend. He passed over Andalos in a smooth arc, and the settlement shrank behind them as they crossed water again.
Then, much later, Viserys saw it.
At first it looked like a pale scar across the world.
Then like a line of frozen light.
Then like a wall truly deserving its name.
"The Wall," he breathed.
He had read of it often. Every noble child in Westeros had. But books made it legendary, exaggerated, impossible. Seeing it with his own eyes—great, sheer, unnatural, stretching farther than he could easily comprehend—left him silent.
"It's smaller from up here," Daenerys said.
"It's still enormous," Viserys replied.
Harry smiled faintly. "Perspective changes things."
Winter flew over it with insulting ease.
Once, that Wall had marked the edge of the world in southern minds. Now they crossed it in moments, dragon shadow passing over ancient ice.
Beyond it lay the lands men called lawless. Wild. Worthless.
Viserys understood then, with a sort of dawning embarrassment, why Westeros and Essos had never found Narnia.
No one had thought to search there.
No one had imagined that beyond the Wall, beyond the land of raiders and snow and forgotten clans, a kingdom had been built.
It was almost offensive in its brilliance.
He turned slightly toward Harry. "You hid an entire kingdom where everyone thought nothing but savages lived."
Harry shrugged. "Sometimes people hide things for you when they decide a place is beneath notice."
Sirius smirked. "And southerners are excellent at deciding things are beneath notice."
Even Viserys laughed at that.
They flew lower when Skagos came into view.
The land itself looked harsher than the southern coasts, but the settlement rising there was no savage outpost. It was large—much larger than he had expected. Not as vast as King's Landing, certainly, but there was something more deliberate about it. The roads were planned. The harbor had shape and symmetry. Buildings did not crowd one another randomly; they seemed to belong together.
And the artistry…
Even from the sky, he could see it. Rooflines carved with care. Stonework patterned rather than merely stacked. Towers built to please the eye as much as defend.
Daenerys gasped softly. "It's beautiful."
"It's Skagos," Harry said. "Or what Skagos is becoming."
"Who rules it?" Viserys asked.
"Ragnar," Harry replied. "He brought it under Narnian control. Slowly. Harshly where needed. Wisely when possible."
Then he saw Telmar, the capital.
He felt a strange mix of admiration and humiliation.
The dragon descended outside the city proper, landing in a broad field prepared clearly for the purpose. By the time Winter folded his wings, attendants and guards had already come running, though none approached too close until Harry dismounted.
When Viserys climbed down, his legs almost failed him. Not from injury, but from the odd, floating sensation of returning to ground after such a long flight. Daenerys, by contrast, landed and immediately turned back to stare up at Winter with unconcealed delight.
A carriage waited nearby to bring them to Gryffindor Castle.
As they began walking toward it, Daenerys looked back once more at the dragon.
"Shouldn't he be tired?" she asked. "He carried all of us all that way."
Harry looked at her, then at Winter, whose expression remained as aloof and unreadable as ever.
"That's not how it works," he said. "The saddle is enchanted. Featherlight charm. Winter doesn't feel the weight of the saddle or of us. To him, we're scarcely heavier than cloth in the wind."
Viserys frowned. "So he can fly forever?"
"No," Harry said. "Everything has limits. But I know his. I've explored much of the world on his back. I know how far he can go before he truly needs rest."
Lyanna glanced at the dragon with the quiet familiarity of someone who had learned to trust what once would have terrified her.
"And today," Harry added, "he's well within that limit."
They climbed into the carriage. Sirius pressed close to the window as the city rose more fully before them, and Viserys found himself doing the same despite his effort to appear composed.
He had left Westeros on the back of a dragon.
He had crossed sea and Wall and kingdoms in a single day.
And now he was arriving in a place no Targaryen had ever ruled, no maester had ever mapped properly, and no southern king had ever understood.
By the time the carriage reached the upper roads leading toward Gryffindor Castle, the exhaustion of the journey had finally begun to settle over everyone.
Daenerys pressed her forehead against the window glass, watching the city unfold below them as the road curved slowly up the hill. Viserys sat opposite her, arms folded, still trying to decide what he felt about everything he had seen that day.
Harry sat beside Lyanna quietly, letting the children absorb the view.
Gryffindor Castle stood atop a broad hill overlooking the capital of Narnia like a watchful guardian. It was not the tallest castle in the world, nor the most fortified, but its placement gave it an undeniable authority. From the highest tower, Viserys knew, a person could see almost the entire city stretching outward in gentle rings.
Harry had chosen the hill deliberately years ago.
A king should be able to see his people.
And the people should be able to see their king.
It was a small philosophy, but one he had never abandoned.
As the carriage climbed higher, the evening light began shifting across the streets below. The sun dipped low behind distant mountains, painting the rooftops with gold and copper hues.
Then the lamps began to glow.
One by one at first.
Then dozens.
Then hundreds.
Oil lamps mounted along the streets flickered to life as workers moved through the city lighting them. Soon the long avenues looked like rivers of warm fire flowing between buildings.
Viserys leaned forward slightly.
"Those… are street lamps?"
"Yes," Sirius said proudly. "We have them in every street."
Viserys blinked.
In King's Landing, the richer neighborhoods had torches and braziers, but whole streets lit like this were rare. Flea Bottom, especially, became a maze of darkness after sunset.
Here the streets looked almost festive.
As twilight deepened, windows across the city began to glow as well. Every house seemed alive with warm light inside. Smoke rose lazily from chimneys. The scent of food drifted upward on the cool evening breeze.
And the people…
They were everywhere.
Not hurrying home.
Not hiding behind closed doors.
But going out.
Daenerys watched in fascination.
"Where are they all going?"
"To enjoy the night," Lyanna replied.
Sirius pointed down the slope where a large building with banners and lanterns hung across its entrance.
"That one's a theatre," he explained. "They perform plays every evening. Some are funny, some are tragic. One last week had a giant puppet dragon."
Viserys stared.
"People go to watch plays?"
"All the time," Sirius said.
"And that building there," Harry added, pointing toward a broad hall filled with music drifting out into the street, "is a music house. Musicians gather there most nights."
Further down the road stood taverns, pubs, dancing halls, small gaming clubs, food markets still open long after sunset. The entire city felt alive in a way that King's Landing rarely did without the chaos of festivals.
Harry had always believed something simple.
People needed joy.
If a kingdom gave its people nothing but labor, law, and survival, resentment would grow sooner or later.
So Narnia had theatres.
Music.
Games.
Festivals.
Viserys watched silently for a long time.
He looked unsure what to believe.
Finally, he spoke.
"Why did you build the kingdom here?"
Harry glanced at him.
"Where?"
"In the lands beyond the Wall," Viserys said. "Why here? Why not somewhere else?"
The carriage rolled steadily upward along the road as Harry considered the question.
Viserys continued.
"You have an army," he said. "You have magic. You have a dragon. You could conquer Westeros if you wished."
The words were not hostile.
They were curious.
Genuinely curious.
"Why are you satisfied with just this land?" Viserys asked.
Harry smiled faintly.
"Of course I want to conquer the world."
The words made both Viserys and Daenerys blink.
But Harry's tone was calm.
"Why would I conquer Westeros?" he continued. "That kingdom is small."
Viserys frowned.
"Small?"
Harry gestured vaguely eastward beyond the sea.
"In Essos there are lands ten times larger than Westeros," he said. "Cities older than your oldest histories. Kingdoms collapsing under slavery and war. Entire regions where law barely exists."
His voice grew slightly colder.
"People are enslaved there every day. Entire villages vanish into chains."
Daenerys listened carefully now.
Harry looked back at Viserys.
"Why should I spend my strength conquering a continent that already has kings, laws, and customs?"
Viserys hesitated.
Harry leaned back in the carriage seat.
"If I build an empire," he said quietly, "it will be in Essos."
The words hung in the air.
"Because that," Harry said, "is where change actually matters."
He looked toward the glowing city below them.
"That is what Narnia will eventually do. Expand east."
Viserys absorbed that slowly.
Harry continued.
"Your ancestors had dragons," he said. "They had armies. They had power greater than anything Westeros had ever seen."
His gaze settled on Viserys.
"And what did they do with it?"
Viserys said nothing.
"You fought each other," Harry said simply. "Brother against sister. Uncle against nephew. Dragon against dragon."
Viserys' expression hardened slightly.
Harry's voice remained calm.
"You killed your own dragons in your wars. You burned your own kingdom."
He shook his head slightly.
"When you could have taken half the world."
Silence filled the carriage.
Viserys stared down at his hands.
It was not anger he felt.
It was something closer to realization.
After a moment, he asked another question.
"But Skagos," he said. "If Rhaegar found out you claimed it illegally… there could be war."
Harry laughed softly.
"Illegally?"
He shook his head.
"Just because someone says something belongs to them does not make it true."
Viserys frowned.
"Skagos never truly belonged to the Warden of the North," Harry continued. "The last kings Skagos bent the knee to were the Winter Kings."
He glanced toward Lyanna.
"And after the Starks bent the knee to the Targaryens, Skagos never truly bent the knee to them."
Lyanna nodded slightly.
"The Starks left it alone," Harry said. "It was wild land. Harsh land. No taxes to collect. No cities worth ruling."
Viserys thought about that.
"And when I came," Harry said, "there was nothing."
He spread his hands slightly.
"I built the harbor. I built the settlements. I built the prosperity."
He met Viserys' eyes.
"If the Targaryens wish to fight a war over it…"
Harry shrugged lightly.
"Then we will have a war."
After a moment, he asked the question that had been sitting in the back of his mind since they crossed the Wall.
"Why stay here at all?"
Harry looked amused.
"Do you think we will stay here forever?"
Viserys hesitated.
"You mean… you won't?"
Harry leaned back comfortably.
"I have magic capable of transporting entire cities all over the world," he said.
Viserys stared at him.
"Entire… cities?"
"Yes."
Harry's smile was quiet.
"This kingdom is partly an experiment."
Sirius glanced at him, already knowing what he meant.
"When the time comes, everything you see here—these buildings, these streets, these people—can be moved."
Viserys' eyes widened.
"Moved… where?"
"Essos."
"Why live forever in a harsh northern climate," Harry said calmly, "when we can live somewhere warm and fertile?"
He gestured out the window.
"That is why the colony in Andalos exists."
Viserys blinked.
"So Narnians can learn and adapt to the Essosi climate?"
Harry nodded.
"Exactly."
He looked back toward the glowing city beneath the hill.
"They will adapt slowly."
"To warmer lands."
"To larger cities."
"To a different future."
Viserys sat back slowly.
Everything he thought he understood about kingdoms and borders suddenly felt smaller.
The carriage crested the final rise.
Gryffindor Castle rose before them in full evening light, its towers glowing gold against the darkening sky.
Daenerys whispered softly.
"It's even more beautiful at night."
Sirius grinned.
And for the first time since leaving King's Landing, Viserys Targaryen realized something that both thrilled and unsettled him.
He had not merely traveled north.
He had stepped into a kingdom that was planning for a future far larger than the world he had known.
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