Chapter 85: Dreams of Fire
ULF
She woke screaming at midnight.
No words at first. Just the sound, straight up out of sleep with nothing in front of it, and the two men outside had their steel half drawn before I got a hand up through the gap in the door.
"The dragon eats the sun! The bronze takes what was denied! Fire in the Dragonpit! They burn, they burn, they all burn!"
I grabbed her. Held her still. She's strong inside one of these, and the last thing we could afford was her fighting me off the edge of the bed.
"Helaena. Helaena, wake up."
Her eyes snapped open. Wild. Unfocused. Still seeing whatever horror the dreams had shown her.
"The children. The children in the fire. Dragons eating dragons. Bronze and gold and—"
"You're safe. You're in our chambers. The children are safe."
"Jaehaerys sleeps with the shutter cord wound round his hand." Her voice came from somewhere between the two places. "If it burns, it burns onto him first."
"It isn't burning. Feel the floor. Cold stone, rain on the glass."
Slowly, she returned to the present. Her breathing steadied. Her grip on my arms loosened and left four white marks.
"I saw it." Her voice was a whisper. "I saw everything."
"Tell me."
She doesn't tell a thing front to back. She hands you the room first and the meaning last, and most nights she hasn't got the meaning and won't pretend to.
"The Dragonpit. Fire everywhere. Dragons dying. Something with bronze scales taking... taking what Hugh wanted. What Hugh was denied."
Vermithor. The riderless dragon. The grief-mad beast I calmed.
"Where in the pit? Which chamber?"
"The sand was wet." She frowned at it, as though that were the part worth arguing. "There shouldn't be water in that sand. And there were boots going up the tiers, a man's boots, going up and up and never reaching the top."
"What does bronze take?"
"A crown." Tears streamed down her face. "Fire and a crown. And screaming. So much screaming."
"Whose?"
"The gold one doesn't fight." She wasn't answering me. She rarely is. "That's what I can't put down. The gold one lies still and lets it happen to him."
I pulled her close. Let her shake against me.
"It's just a dream."
"My dreams are never just dreams. You know that."
I do. I've seen too much evidence to deny it.
"Then we prevent it. Whatever you saw, we stop it."
"How?"
"I don't know yet. But I'll figure it out."
She was quiet a long while. Then, in an ordinary voice: "When you go down there, bring me a scale. He sheds them in the sand and nobody troubles to pick them up."
The dragon eats the sun. Sunfyre, Aegon's golden dragon. Still alive, barely, recovering from wounds.
The bronze takes what was denied. Vermithor, seeking revenge for Hugh? Seeking the crown Hugh wanted?
Fire in the Dragonpit.
The Dragonpit.
I needed to pay another visit.
ORWYLE
The Grand Maester came at dawn.
Helaena slept fitfully, the prophetic dreams always exhausted her, and I met Orwyle in the antechamber.
"Her condition?"
"Deteriorating." He didn't soften the truth. "The visions drain her as much as the pregnancy. Combined with the stress of regency, she's burning through reserves she doesn't have."
"Options?"
"I've considered several." He counted them off on his fingers. "The poppy, or a dreamwine. Keep her calm, prevent the dreams, reduce the stress. But sedatives might harm the child, and I'd be guessing at the measure every night. Bring the child early. It's large enough to survive, possibly, but the bringing of it is itself the danger. Or we continue as we are and pray."
"None of those are acceptable."
"Then find me a fourth option." His voice carried rare frustration. "I'm a maester, not a miracle worker."
"What about removing the stress? The regency duties?"
"That would help. But she can't simply stop being Queen Regent."
Can't she?
I was still turning the idea over when a small voice interrupted.
"Is Mother sick?"
JAEHAERYS
The boy king stood in the doorway.
Seven years old, in his nightshirt, bare feet on cold stone, no guard within thirty paces of him. Already carrying too much weight on narrow shoulders. His violet eyes, so like Helaena's, held knowledge children shouldn't possess.
"Your Grace." Orwyle bowed. "Your mother is resting."
"She's not just resting." Jaehaerys stepped into the room. "She's sick. Really sick. Not prophecy-sick."
I knelt to meet his eyes.
"How did you know?"
"She never eats at meals anymore. She holds her stomach when she thinks no one's watching. She cries in her sleep." The boy's voice was steady. Analytical. "I'm not stupid."
No. You're not.
I considered lying. Decided against it.
"She's carrying a heavy burden. We need to lighten it."
"I can help." No hesitation. "I can do more at councils. Make decisions. Read the speeches without her there. Let her rest."
On the table behind me, weighted flat under a cup, four sentences in my own hand. Waiting for a mouth.
"You're seven years old."
"I'm the king." Something fierce in those young eyes. "I should be able to protect my mother. Let me help."
He knows. Maybe not everything, not the pregnancy, not who the father is, but he knows something's wrong. And he wants to fix it.
"You're a remarkable young man."
"I'm trying to be." He touched my arm. "You love her. I know you do. Everyone pretends not to see, but I see. Help me help her."
Orwyle found something on his cuff that needed his attention.
Seven years old. Already a better person than most lords twice his age.
"All right." I stood. "We'll work together. You and I."
"And Jaehaera. She notices things too."
"The three of us, then."
Jaehaerys nodded solemnly.
"We protect Mother. Whatever it takes."
When he'd gone I took the four sentences off the table and put them in the fire. Whatever he says to that council, he'll say knowing he chose it.
THE DRAGONPIT
I visited that afternoon.
Vermithor lay in the largest pit, still grief-mad but calmer than before. Sunfyre occupied a smaller chamber, the golden dragon's wounds healing slowly, his spirit broken along with Aegon.
The dragon eats the sun.
The bronze takes what was denied.
Sunfyre barely lifted his head as I entered. Dull gold scales, dimmer than before, one wing bound to a frame. The straw around him hadn't been dug at. Dragons dig. This one had lain where they put him.
His rider was dead, and dragons knew. They always knew.
"You're lost," I told him. "I understand. Your rider's gone. Your purpose is gone."
A soft rumble. Agreement? Resignation?
"But you're still alive. Still valuable. Someone will claim you eventually."
The dragon's eyes found mine.
Pain. Confusion. Loneliness.
I felt unexpected sympathy.
"Rest. Heal. See what comes next."
I left him and walked the tier round to Vermithor's pit. Two keepers came as far as the gate and no further.
The Bronze Fury was awake. Alert. Watching me with ancient, knowing eyes. The heat off him made the air over the sand crawl.
"Still grieving?"
A rumble. Not a threat, but not friendly either.
"Helaena dreamed about you. Fire in the Dragonpit. The bronze taking what was denied." I stepped closer than wisdom advised. "What are you planning?"
Silence.
Dragons don't plan. They follow instinct, follow riders, follow primal urges.
But Hugh wanted a crown. And dragons absorb their riders' desires sometimes.
"If you're thinking of revenge—don't." I met those ancient eyes. "I killed Hugh. I'm not sorry for it. But I didn't kill you, and I could have."
Vermithor's head lowered. Considering?
"Stay here. Heal. Find a better rider than Hugh. Or stay riderless and free." I turned to leave. "But if you threaten Helaena or her children, I'll finish what I started at God's Eye."
No response.
I walked away.
I got as far as the gate before the sound came. Not the flat bottom-heavy rage I'd heard out of him at God's Eye. The other one. The one that comes up out of him and breaks in the middle.
The keeper beside me got his hooks up.
"Put them down," I said. "Nobody goes in there until I say so."
Behind me, bronze scales shifted in the darkness.
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