Chapter Text
"In a land, so very far from here, and so very long ago, there lived a prince.
This prince wasn't just an ordinary prince, but a prince who could talk to dragons. He was a very special boy, talking to the tiny fledglings that would land on his balcony at night, whispering to them in the dark. He told them all of his secrets, of the goings on in the palace, of the things he learnt from his tutors during the day. He told them of his favourite foods and they shared theirs back with him.
The dragons would tell him of the dangers beyond the castle walls, the arguments between the wolves, the fish that argued in the babbling brooks, and the gigantic birds that hunted across the landscape. They told the prince of the goings on in far-off lands, the tales the older dragons would tell them, the tales of battles between orc and giant and troll. The sound of rock against rock, sword against shield, shield against sword. The sounds that could only be described like the greatest thunderstorms could ever make, the loudest rumbles through the ground like earthquakes, the flashes of light like lightening.
The boy and the dragons would become friends, telling each other these great stories of heroism that were both new and ancient. However, this new alliance would soon be tested.
Soon, when the prince had grown, and become a king, a dragon from his youth had landed on the green inside the courtyard. Frightened, the king's courtiers ran, fearing for their lives. The king, however, stood steadfast and accepted the draconic envoy.
'Yes, Pyldrior, One Of Eternal Fire? What word comes from abroad?' The King asked, knowing the dragons would not visit unless important.
The dragon bowed low, tucking an ember-red forelimb under his chest before speaking. 'King, an enemy approaches. Not one of us, those who you have treated kindly. One from Across The Sea, the land none of us go to. He is seeking new land, new places to conquer. You must flee. None will escape his ice, none shall survive amongst the cold he brings. To save yourself, you must flee.'
The King nodded, knowing the importance of such a warning. 'I shall gather the court -'
'No, King. You must run. You, and you alone.' The dragon interrupted. 'It is most important you go alone. There is no time to gather your court and your party will move too slow.'
The King nodded, understanding well. 'I thank you for your warning, Pyldrior. I will forever thank the Gods for bringing you to me. Take an extra sheep from the fields for your flight home as thanks.'
'My King.' The dragon bowed again before turning and flying off into the sky.
The king knew what he had to do. He ran to the stables, quickly readying his horse. He spoke in terse tones to his stable boy, urging him to do the same. The boy, only fourteen in age, understood, readying his own horse in similar haste.
They saddled quickly, the king in some of the stable boy's master's clothing from the spare in the stable, with only his sword strapped to his side.
They both leapt into the saddle, thundering out of the palace through the ancient tunnels bore into the side of the mountain at the back, avoiding all eyes as they both escaped the city. They rode on through the dark, the king only knowing the way from his time as an exploring prince, exiting through a dark passage to halfway up the mountain on the west side.
He looked out over his kingdom, already frozen with ice, a gigantic dragon soaring over the land, destroying forests and buildings before reaching the grand and gleaming white palace. He let out a small sigh as his kingdom and home was consumed with cold, knowing all inside would have had no chance to escape. All he had for his future was his young stable boy, now his ward and new page.
He knew he had to start again, and did so with his new charge at his side."
There was a brief silence in the room, filled with the soft crackling of a candle and breathing from its inhabitants. The castle was quiet after all went to bed, feeling as though a pair of twins were the only ones awake.
"I don't know why you must pick such stories, Bucky. I don't think I shall sleep well at all tonight," complained Rebecca, pulling her blankets up to under her chin.
"I think they're exciting," James explained, smiling as he sat up in bed, curled around the book. "And it helps with my reading, Maester Strange said so. And reading aloud to you is supposed to help too."
Rebecca hummed softly. "Maybe something less... Exuberant tomorrow, yes?"
"Alright. Your pick tomorrow. I'll read it for you then." Bucky smiled, lying the tome on the table near his bed.
"Maybe the one about the bluebird." Rebecca mused before closing her eyes.
Bucky chuckled softly. "Alright. The one about the bluebird. But first, we need to sleep before father's speeches tomorrow."
He snuggled down into his own bedding after blowing out the single light in the room.
"Goodnight, Bucky."
"Goodnight, Rebecca."