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Rating:
Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warnings:
Graphic Depictions Of ViolenceMajor Character Death
Category:
Gen
Fandoms:
House of the Dragon (TV)Warhammer Fantasy
Characters:
Ikit ClawRhaenyra TargaryenJacaerys VelaryonLucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra)Baela TargaryenRhaena Targaryen (Daughter of Daemon)Daemon TargaryenCorlys "The Sea Snake" VelaryonHelaena TargaryenAddam VelaryonBackground & Cameo CharactersSilverwing | Alysanne Targaryen's DragonOriginal CharactersJoffrey Velaryon
Additional Tags:
Crack Treated SeriouslyCanon-Typical ViolenceThe Dance of the Dragons | Aegon II Targaryen v. Rhaenyra Targaryen EraAlternate Universe - Canon DivergenceCanonical Character DeathCharacter Turned Into a HumanIkit got isekai'd as Jace's twinSkaven Species (Warhammer Fantasy)Death to all GreensHuman ExperimentationScience ExperimentsIkit is his own warningSilverwing still has shit taste in male ridersPOV MultipleBackground RelationshipsBackground Character Deathshow canon onlyDragon RidersAnimal AbuseIkit is an abusive dragonriderTho he's fairly mellow compared to his SkavenselfGood Parent Rhaenyra TargaryenNo beta we die like LucerysDysfunctional FamilyCannibalismBlood and TortureCanon-Typical BehaviorBAMF Helaena Targaryen
Language:
English
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Published:2026-02-26Completed:2026-04-22Words:181,492Chapters:55/55Comments:1,270Kudos:749Bookmarks:159Hits:33,636
The Rat Prince of Westeros
SkilledWarriorKiwi
Chapter 11: Ikit Claw
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The Horned Rat was not a kind god.
Any of His children knew this, from the highest clan leader to the lowliest slave, all of Skavenkind knew the Lord of the World Below was temperamental, infinitely patient, and eternally scheming.
It was why Ikit wasn't too surprised that the Horned Rat's gift of letting him be reborn after his death came with the punishment of being reborn as a Human. Annoying, but he knew far better than to curse about his fate granted to him by the Great Horned One least he wanted to be eaten like Seer Lord Kritislik.
Still, he wasn't particular fond of his new form even if he was grateful to being given another life by his God. First being born a whelp so he was completely helpless for months before he could make his useless little body move properly. Helpful in a way, just because he had to get used to the pitiful Human body where his legs bent the wrong way, spine was too straight and he had no tail to help balance. He had been a general, a warlock engineer, the Right Fang of Morskittar. Now he was just some ugly little Human thing.
However if any Skaven could adapt to such a fate, it would be himself. The most intelligent and gifted and marvelous of all the ratmen, granted a second life by the Great Horned One Himself. So unlike what every other Skaven would do in his situation which be to fail miserably, he chose to learn and watch and take control of his new life.
Admittedly one thing he never really got used to was how ugly he now was. He hated how every time he looked into a mirror, he saw that hideous flat face peering back at him instead of the handsome snout he was used to. At the least he got to keep his silver fur and green eyes and sharp teeth, even if everything else was ugly and disgusting. Though ultimately he found the lack of tail most offensive.
Yet sitting around crying like a whelp wasn't going to get him anywhere, so Ikit kept his senses sharp as he learned more about the strange new world he had been born into. Through his observation he learned that he had been born into a high ranking family, birthed to the crown princess of the realm. And he quickly realized she was Human, not an Elf like he originally thought when he saw the golden hair and purple eyes, so that was relief. The only Elf he mildly liked or at least tolerated was the Dark Elves, solely because they reminded him of Skaven in terms of similar morals and whenever he ended up allied with them it always resulted in joyous bloodshed.
He also learned he had a littermate, Jacaerys, and he was of Clan Targaryen which was of dragons. Or Velaryon. That seemed to change depending on who was cooing down at him and if that wasn't annoying, being treated like some cute little pet. At least he was given a dragon egg which he had enjoyed poking at with his useless little limbs. His sense of smell wasn't anywhere near as sharp as it had been as a Skaven but even with this new body he could smell magic and the egg stunk of it. Same for being able to smell his den mother when she approached.
Ikit couldn't remember his Rat Mother. Like all Skaven he was born to the whelp pits, him being born in those of Clan Skryre, and he was to leave the moment he was able to join the ranks. Then it was years of fending for himself, fighting others and slowly understanding his intellect as he learned the way of warpstone weaponry and excelling. But as for his time as whelp he had no memories; he couldn't remember any birthkin or any other bloodties beyond the one to his clan as a whole.
So being coddled by Rhaenyra, whom he learned his new 'mother' was called, was an entirely alien experience. Cuddled and cooed to and kissed and sung songs and just touched and cradled and generally being fussed over. Occasionally back within the Under-city a Rat Mother would have a favourite whelp, but Ikit didn't know if he had been one. And even then when the Breeder weaned her litter her whelps would be moved to a new area in the nursery, least their mother decide to eat them as she shifted to her next pregnancy for a Skaven Broodmother was forever pregnant.
Rhaenyra however barely left him alone, along with his littermate Jacaerys who he kept being paired with. There was a 'father' involved but that didn't concern Ikit as much. At the very least he quickly began to understand the language, with was remarkably similar to the common tongue upon his original world Mallus. Making his useless Human whelp mouth say the words took longer but he succeeded at it, especially after being addressed as that stupid name for so long.
Ikit could tolerate many things in this odd new world, yet being named anything other than his actual name was something he refused to tolerate.
At least these 'parents' of his listened when he screamed his true name at them enough to the point they changed it. He could hardly focus on the dragons though, stupid whelp eyes. Yellow and white though, which made him think perhaps his den mother's dragon was a very very young Sun dragon as it was a pale yellow instead of red. It was yet another difference he had to study and learn, keeping track of the rules of this new world and using his incredibly advanced intellect to keep himself alive.
But that was his new life and he had to guard it carefully. He had no army, no clan, no workshop, no warpstone. He could find them later once his body wasn't so useless but until then he would have to 'play along' so to speak.
Of course that didn't mean Ikit didn't find things infuriating- he was over a century in age, incredibly long lived for a Skaven, so being coddled as some stupid whelp was annoying. It also didn't help his new 'life' was absurdly boring.
Even meeting the king of the realm did not impress him, Ikit able to smell the sickness lingering upon the man like a smog. Still, as the leader of the realm Ikit made sure to act a sweet little underling and that obviously charmed the king. Being a suck up came natural to a Skaven, and the king was absurdly affected by it Ikit wondered how he wasn't dead yet.
But on the whole he was kept upon Dragonstone, the place where his den mother ruled. As he grew he focused upon information, quickly grasping the language and then investing long days in the library. Learning High Valyrian was easy enough, and he used his native Queekish for his notes and journaling so he didn't have to worry about anyone in this new world understanding it.
Because Skaven didn't exist. Elves didn't exist. Dwarfs, Greenskins, Beastmen, Vampires, Halflings, Lizardmen- none of them existed. This new world was, overwhelmingly, Human. The only ones he found in stories were Giants and apparently they were pretty much driven extinct. There was a few other non-Human races but long faded to history to the point he couldn't tell if they had actually existed or were just stories. Otherwise he was all alone.
And loneliness was something Ikit had never dealt with before.
Always he was near another Skaven. He would see them or hear them or smell them. It didn't matter if he was on the march or in his workshop or visiting Under-cites or attacking another race, he had never been alone. From Skavenslaves that he would abuse and use, testing his newest weapons on them or screaming at them to clean up messes or venting out his frustration on them, to meeting with other Clans and getting in verbal spats with them or outright fights depending on which Clan was warring with who. Either way, he had never once been without Skaven company. Never.
Now it was simply him.
That was what drove him to actually spend time with his strange new 'family', following around his den mother and asking her about dragons, speaking to his 'grandparents' and asking them about their adventures, playing stupid games with his littermate Jace, studying and wooing everyone with how smart he was, and eventually including Lucerys after den mother birthed him. It felt almost embarrassing but it was actually very hard to embarrass a Skaven so he found himself seeking out their company and spending time with them. For Skaven, having actual fondness for one another, much less 'love' was unheard of and he didn't really know how to deal with it.
The closest he ever felt to affection for a fellow Skaven would be his feelings for his clan leader, Lord-Warlock Morskittar and leader of Clan Skryre, and that was moreso due to the years Ikit had spent being Morskittar's right-fang.
Tradition would state that if he wished to usurp Morskittar for position as head of Clan Skryre, he would need to first touch the Black Pillar of Commandments the Horned Rat had gifted Skavenkind after the second civil war. Surviving the touch of the pillar would grant him immense longevity and dark power then after doing that he would challenge Morskitter and fight to the death. If he won then Ikit would take the defeated lord's place upon the Council of Thirteen.
As it was no one had actually done such a thing ever since the Black Pillar had been erected by the Horned Rat. Ikit himself felt no need to challenge Morskittar as he held no issues with how he ruled Clan Skryre. Ikit was typically off roaming the world, attacking and enslaving other races, blowing up their cities and tinkering his warpstone weaponry while Morskitter remained at the capital Skavenblight. Neither of them found that an issue with one another and Ikit was content with their 'relationship'.
Still, Morskittar was the closest he felt to another Skaven and even then he'd never expect the other ratman to be gentle or- eurgh -cuddle him. If he tried it then he'd get a pair of fangs to the face and he'd deserve it. But Humans played by different rules to Skaven and Ikit was smart enough to adapt even if he found it so profoundly boring and strange.
Skaven society was built upon tyranny, abuse, assassination, strength, backstabbing, lies and manipulation. Even amongst his own clan he would clash and fight with others, even if he held enough respect only the very stupid would challenge him. Skaven life was constant warfare, amongst individuals and the clans. Even with Clan Skryre being one of the four Great Clans alongside Eshin with their assassins and shadow skills, Moulder with their twisted and mad warbeasts, and Pestilens who spread plague and disease, didn't mean they could ever lower their guard. Always another clan would seek their place, or be one of the other Great Clans seeking to destroy their influence and power.
Here at Dragonstone it was disgustingly peaceful. There was no fighting beyond sparring, his 'family' loved him, never plotted against him, and he had a deranged sense of trust to them in knowing they wouldn't backstab him. Rather than go insane from the lack of anything exciting, especially while trapped in such a worthless body as he had forgotten how slowly Humans aged into maturity, he spent most of his time taking notes, researching and documenting all of Skryre experiments and weaponry and trying to discover ways he would bring back such things into this painfully mundane world.
That was another bizarre thing for his new life. How absurdly rare magic was. In the world he knew, magic was common. There was never an army that marched into battle that didn't have a magic user of some kind and in the overwhelming majority of cases the magic users were the most powerful. For the Elves their leaders were powerful magic users, and the Dark Elves were exactly the same. Humans of all creed had magical users. Even the Greenskins had their Goblin shamans and Orc magicians, while Skaven had the Grey Seers, Plague Priests and Warlock Engineers. Ikit himself had been one of the most powerful magic users of his species, and now he was just so painfully weak and vulnerable. Part of his readings was trying to discover how magic functions in this new world, but this 'Westeros' turned out to be disappointing over how boring it all was. Most books seemed to be in unison however, magic was across the narrow sea.
Through it all, growing up as a Human, having to bond with his new clan, learning more about the world, he made certain to keep with his faith. When he was too small to move or make a shrine, he would still silently pray each night to the Great Horned Rat.
Every Skaven, from the lowest slave to the highest of Clan leader, was expected to attend a mass at least once a day. Even Skaven like Queek Headtaker, who hated the Grey Seers, would still attend mass even for his animosity for their priests. When Ikit would spend long weeks in his workshop he had a shrine set in one corner and a bell to alert him of when it was time to tend to his altar and pray to the Horned Rat, and after any battle there would be sacrifices offered to the Horned One. When his useless Human body did grow large enough he quickly made a secret shrine in his room, and would pray to it each night. His sacrifices were currently rats and the occasional cat, and he hoped He understood the delicate state Ikit was in with the new world.
He hoped the Great Horned One understood Ikit would provide better sacrifices for him in the future, when he wasn't so vulnerable in his Human form. After all, the Horned Rat had been the one to bless him with another life when he lost the previous one.
Ikit had mixed feelings about dying. Obviously he was annoyed he had died in the first place, yet his death had been glorious beyond measure because in his dying moments he had ensured the Doomsphere beneath Avelorn had managed to detonate. And so went the paradise isle of Gaen Vale, Avelorn's capital. An island off the inner coast of Ulthuan, the ancestral home of the Elven race.
Ikit hated Elves like he hated all the other races, but High Elves especially annoyed him. After having several of his settlements attacked, destroyed and reclaimed by those stupid creatures he decided to do what all Skaven excelled at and that was be sneaky and underhanded.
It had taken an absurd amount of time to get an Under-city within Gaen Vale and it was only due to Morathi, First of the Hag Queens, attacking the northern edge of Avelorn, and Queek Headtaker rampaging across the western edge, drawing the Everqueen away from the isle, that he had managed to establish one in the first place via the Skaven-made undertunnels, a leaky thing that stretched from the mainland to the isle beneath the ocean, and paying Clan Eshin a ridiculous amount for their aid. He dedicated everything to keeping his Under-city still and quiet so no slaves taken, no raids, no pillaging, no mining, no hunting the abundant unicorns, pegasi and griffons no matter how delicious they looked. Murder holes, kill-perches, deeper tunnels, surveillance, muffling systems, everything was dedicated to staying hidden right underneath the Elves noses as he focused upon building his greatest and most destructive of all creations, the Doomsphere, within the bowels of the massive cave system of the Elves most sacred island.
He chose Gaen Vale solely because of how 'sacred' it was to the Elves. The Island of Rebirth as they called it, home to the most important shrine of Isha the Elven goddess of nature, fertility and the harvest. As one of the Horned Rat's children, he felt personally urged to attack the worship places of other deities and he wanted to show how he was the greatest and most intelligent Skaven of them all. Blowing up one of their sacred isles, dedicated to their useless divine mother, would certainly remind of that and would no doubt cause the Dark Elves to invade Ulthuan which was always entertaining.
His Doomsphere would make sure of that; a colossal steel orb within which was hordes of warpstone, housed amongst twisted machinery, a shell specifically designed by him to amplify the warpstones destructive power into an explosion capable of shattering entire cities and continents into ash with one perfect blow. While the Doomsphere was not his original idea, instead belonging to those of Skryre before the Council of Thirteen had even existed, Ikit Claw was the one to take the blueprints of the first failed prototype many centuries later, to refine it, to perfect it and now the Doomsphere was his. His perfection, his calamity to unleash.
And he came so close to succeeding. Well actually, he did succeed he just died doing it.
Of course the time Ikit Claw himself had gone into Gaen Vale to activate and detonate the completed Doomsphere had been the same time that the Everqueen Alarielle discovered it.
Truthfully if that idiot Elf had simply moved aside then Ikit would've been more than content to flee the fight. As it was she had been blocking the only exit, and at his back had been the huge humming mass of the Doomsphere, so his only option was a fight to the death.
Though called 'Alarielle the Radiant' to him she was disgusting and hard to look at with all that horrible light and horrible hair. Her touch could kill but Ikit was bound in twisted warpstone-infused armour charged with malevolent Dhar, the opposing Winds colliding with each other as they clashed. He ended up dying with his teeth embedded in the Everqueen's throat, left arm destroyed with the shattered warpfire projector setting the Everqueen's hair aflame while her magic twisted and sought to purify him to death.
But in that last instant he saw how her panicked eyes were not focused upon him but rather the bomb behind them, and he saw it detonate within the reflection of her eyes an instant before they were both vaporized in the blast, along with most of the island.
Death was strange, twisting and churning and with the stink of Chaos, but when he was 'reborn' it was even more strange.
On one part he was elated, the Horned Rat had granted him a second life. No doubt for his offense again the Elves in killing the most favoured of their goddess and blowing up the temple. But also conflicted because he had been reborn as a Man-thing. But Ikit knew it was simply how the Horned Rat was. He did as He pleased and Ikit was thankful for being given a new life and Ikit would make sure he could honour Him properly in the future.
However first he had to master this new world and he had been born into the only clan upon the planet which had dragons.
Ikit was no stranger to dragons- he's fought against, ran away from, and killed dragons before but he was curious as to how the dragons of this realm were wyverns in body shape. They lacked the front set of legs, having only four limbs instead of six. The dragons here also lacked the elemental variance in breath, with every one of them breathing fire regardless of colouring.
Dragons from his old world had breath elements associated with their hide colour; Red dragons were the most common and would breathe fire, Forest dragons were green and breathed noxious fumes, Storm dragons that could breathe lightning, Black dragons that breathed poison that rots flesh off the bone. Dragons of this realm all breathed flames yet as he learned when they grew into centuries they could melt stone and were immune to any weaponry- only a precise shot through the eye would fell them, and that had only happened once.
That intrigued Ikit, and when he was older his den mother introduced him more formally to her dragon bonded, Syrax. As his den mother talked to the dragon and patted its hide, Ikit studied and sniffed it and asked more questions and came to the very odd conclusion that the dragons of this world were stupid.
Back in his old world dragons were the oldest and greatest allies of the Elves so Ikit would not have interacted with any beyond on a battlefield, if not for the Black dragons of the Dark Elves. Their Black dragons were vicious and crazed from corruption of dark magic, but retained their intelligence.
When Ikit had to negotiate a peace in his war with the Druchii- even if both sides knew it was only temporally until the nearby Greenskin Waaagh! was over -Beastmaster Rakarth and his dragon Bracchus had met with him. While Ikit spent the majority of his time arguing with the Druchii, occasionally the Black dragon would speak and offer its opinion. Ikit just found it annoying, as he was having to argue with two people instead of one, but eventually they agreed to certain terms and then parted ways to wait until the peace fell.
So truthfully, he felt mixed disappointment and elation in discovering the dragons of this realm were nothing more than stupid beasts. Reminded him more of wyverns, in terms of being animals yet their sheer durability and fire breathing made him think of a mixture. Even if in this world wyverns apparently existed, far to the east. But he felt disappointed as he was hoping for vicious creatures like the Black Dragons, who could plot and scheme along with their riders.
And elated, because he wouldn't have to fear a dragon divining his true nature. He could tame a dumb animal, the same way he was tricking his Human family into thinking he was one of them. That would give him access to wings which would expand so much of his plans.
But as it was, he did not think of actually pursuing a dragon until he discovered the means to call warpstone into being. That had been his focus for years, a fixation that consumed all else. He had been studying everything he could, even the process of Valyrian steel fascinated him as he kept thinking of how he could incorporate it into his Skryre machines. Learning the ability to create Valyrian steel had been lost in the Doom frustrated him beyond measure and led to dark moods indeed.
Between that there had been some excitement over the years like finding the seer at King's Landing only to find she was a broken disappointment, however biting out that boy's eye had been delightful as had manipulating that room. Made him think fondly back to Skavenblight when he was a young rat and how often he framed and blackmailed others -and then his father died and den mother had a new mate. Ikit didn't care overly, he felt far closer to den mother than the father who are barely there. He gained more kin, 'cousins' as if he cared for the stupid word, but his family only meant to him the ones who came from den mother. At the very least the Rogue Prince would listen when Ikit pointed out spies or a rival faction. As much as he cared for his den mother and found himself almost guiltily liking her fussing, he couldn't understand how oblivious she was towards that green queen who clearly hated her and all of them.
It was why Skaven society was superior, peace clearly rotted minds and wits.
But beyond some excitements and spending time with his birthkin, Ikit focused upon trying to reclaim his old achievements. He could feel the magic in this body but it was subdued, locked away, and he needed to discover how to unlock it. He needed to find a way to re-imagine Skryre weaponry, he wanted warpfire throwers, ratling guns, mortars, warpgrinders, jezzails warp-lightning cannons, Doomwheels. He never realized how intensely he would miss his workshop and all the horrific wonders of his Clan until he was cut off from them.
However the main ingredient for all those weapons were warpstone and Ikit was no Grey Seer. Yet still, he was favoured by the Horned Rat. Upon his belly was the accursed triangle mark of Him.
So Ikit tried different ways, so many different ways, and eventually the Horned One answered him.
It had been through his attempted use of transmutation and prayer, that led to the shard of obsidian transforming into a gleaming pebble of warpstone. He had pried open his dragon egg, after reading so oft how dragons were bound to the magic of the world like a linchpin and used it as an offering. They were the last aspect of Old Valyria, a place which reminded him of the realm of the Dark Elves with their blood sacrifices, slaves, infighting and glorious magic. Dragons were the final, the last, living embodiment of magic in this mundane world, fire made flesh.
And splitting the egg open, eating the burning yolk while smearing his blood, and blood taken from Syrax upon the stone while praying to the Horned One had made it change. For a delirious moment he had been himself, Ikit Claw of Clan Skryre, until his birthkin Lucerys interrupted him. Ikit couldn't even be mad at him, even if he'd gutted slaves for less, which was its own worry.
But he had warpstone. A tiny pebble but it was refined, precious warpstone and already his exquisite Skaven mind was racing with possibilities.
Yet it still came to the same thing, he needed a dragon if he wanted to continue. He hadn't been concerned beforehand, since dragons just seemed as exotic mounts to fly about on, but now with his access to warpstone he no longer could sit idle.
He kept the warpstone amulet on his person, hidden beneath his clothes and keeping Lucerys to secret. It was easy enough to manipulate his birthkin into silence, even if it was moreso him explaining the warpstone was a talisman for luck and he wanted it to be a surprise which Luke accepted. And, well, Ikit wasn't wrong. Warpstone talismans would actually increase such a thing as a physical boost.
Now that he had a plan in place, all he needed was a target to bind himself to. Admittedly he first thought of the illusive Cannibal, a wild dragon that dwelled upon Dragonstone. It was well known for attacking hatcheries to devour eggs and hatchlings, and was why night flights were banned on the isle. Skaven didn't have a word for cannibalism, as it was a default for their species and if one became injured then they became potential prey to their fellows. The strong eat the weak and Ikit had done it numerous times himself over the years. It was just how it was.
There was also the fact the Cannibal had green eyes, like warpstone. But it was a fully feral dragon, never once been tamed and Ikit wasn't brave to risk his life for such an unsure reward. Like all Skaven he would save his own tail when it came down to it and wouldn't think twice. He wasn't about to put himself at extreme risk. If he had his slaves to use as bait, and great Valyrian chains, then he'd subdue the beast that way and forcibly bond with it but he was without such resources. He also knew den mother would never aid him with such a thing so that option was gone.
So he focused upon three he knew of; Seasmoke, Vermithor and Silverwing. All dragons that had once been ridden, had been used to humans. That was enough to get aid from his den mother, and their first attempt was Seasmoke. It had nearly worked, as the dragonkeepers had sung the dragon close. Den mother had been waiting anxiously at the base of the ledge within the pit, with the Rogue Prince next to her.
He was too forceful and it spooked the stupid thing, which just annoyed him. Ikit did not show fear but rather a demand the dragon obey and it had done so at first. Shifting its back to show the saddle as it leaned up against the slab of stone. But when Ikit got within arms reach of it, leaning forward to grab at the saddle, the necklace had shifted and a slip of glow had emanated from his collar and immediately Seasmoke had turned hostile.
Decades of warfare had lead Ikit to easily dodging the flames, even with his small weak body. Rhaenyra had run in, snatching him up in her arms and yanking him away as if somehow thinking her body would protect him from another blast of fire.
Syrax then attacked Seasmoke, knocking him away with great beats of her wings and snapping at the white dragon before chasing it from the pit with furious howls. Ikit then spent nearly an afternoon reassuring his den mother, who had demanded the Rogue Prince hunt down Seasmoke with his Bloodwyrm, until she finally calmed down and apologized. Seasmoke was allowed to live and Ikit didn't really care. The animal was too dumb for him and not stupid in the right way.
It was annoying, if only due to the fact he had seen Aemond tame the great green she-dragon Vhagar. He had stalked the boy that night in Driftmark, following him along the dunes and saw the taming. All the boy really did was yell at the dragon to calm down when it threatened him with flames and it immediately backed down. Most of the test seemed to be clinging to its back during the first flight and Ikit had been thinking that over when he walked leisurely back to Driftmark. That was when he interrupted the boy, who had returned with Vhagar by then, attacking his birthkin.
But it seemed dragons resonated with different means of approach, and if Seasmoke was too frightened of warpstone then the useless beast wasn't worthy of him.
The next dragon the located was Vermithor, even if he had to ask the Rogue Prince to take him to the dragon as den mother was still resistant to letting him try again. Ikit didn't know why, she had spare whelps, but a part of him still liked the fussing. The Bronze Fury had potential as his steed but after being flown up to the cave and making eye contact with the beast, Ikit knew it knew he was wrong. Perhaps not truly knowing, but enough to know it didn't like him. Or perhaps it could smell the warpstone as many animals disliked the smell. Or it was just a bad tempered beast, who knew truly. Daemon did not judge his refusal to approach the Bronze Fury and accepted it immediately.
That left Silverwing, Queen Alysanne's dragon.
Ikit found the beast by accident, as the Rogue Prince admitted he only had a vague idea of where the beast dwelled and their attempts to locate it failed. It was rarely separate from Vermithor, even if neither of them had seen the she-dragon in the cave. They tried looking nearby for a few days but nothing came of it, only disturbing an increasingly irritated Vermithor.
Impatient with his lack of success and eager to get on with his plans Ikit gone looking for the dragon one morning on his own, easily slipping from the castle with none the wiser. Skaven always stalked, always ambushed, and while he was not Eshin he was still far sneakier than a typical Human. He was growing more and more impatient, and he had to get a dragon to commence with his plan to once again become a warlock engineer. He had a bag slung over one shoulder with roasted meat it in, a potential bribe.
He ended up falling into Silverwing's lair by accident, after trotting about the isle and climbing over rocks. He had spotted the slender, snake-like Grey Ghost down by the beach, the dragon a shimmering white and pale blue that it blended in with the early morning fog as it fished in the bay. Ikit thought perhaps it would be a potential mount, and if not then Sheepstealer, when he tripped because his stupid useless Human hands couldn't cling properly to stone and his legs faced the wrong way.
Rolling down into a cave, having the wind knocked from him when collided with the sandy ground and crushed the fleshy mess of a makeshift nest. Hard scaled shells shattered about him and Ikit tasted the familiar sticky sulfurous taste of a split dragon egg upon his mouth.
Groaning, he pushed himself up onto all fours. He rubbed at his face, smearing more yolk into his hair. Behind him he heard the unmistakable snorting and huffs of a dragon, one he had not heard before. The cavern was huge, with great openings in the wall that let the sunlight stream through, enough huge wings could easily pass. The floor was littered with more nests, most broken and empty.
"She-dragon Silverwing," Ikit rasped, turning to see the huge beast peering down at him. Over a century of age and having the size to show it. Even larger than Meleys and Ceraxes, yet smaller than Vermithor.
It wasn't aggressive, he could tell that immediately even when those great jaws open and hot breath blasted his face. Curious instead. He could take advantage of that.
He let it nudge him, nearly knocking him over, let it sniff him and even lick him to make his silver hair stick up. Was it stupid enough to think he was a dragon because he had egg yolk on him? Or thought his hair being the same colour as its hide was familiar? He wondered if this was why Vermithor was so hostile, if his mate was so trusting with terrible instincts to things that invaded her lair and broke her eggs. Either way, Ikit wasn't about to dissuade it.
Reaching into his bag, he pulled forth the heavy lump of roast beef and offered it to the dragon. Silverwing let out a rumble, sniffing a few times before opening her jaws and letting him toss it into her great fanged maw. He watched, avidly, as the warpstone-tainted meat disappeared down its gullet. Then the dragon cooed and settled onto its belly, head on the ground. Eyes bright blue and watching him.
Ikit approached, careful but sure, as he eyed the ancient saddle still latched to the beast's scaled back. The dragon was huge, powerful, docile, gentle and stupid. Exactly what he needed for what he had planned.
The first flight cemented the bond, den mother has told him that. It would be unbreakable.
Silverwing waited patiently as he clambered up her scaled hide, clinging to the straps until he could reach the saddle. It was worn, and Ikit distantly remembered it had been over forty years since she had a rider. He would need to upgrade it, would need to make this she-dragon better.
With a rustle of scales Silverwing straightened back up, barbed tail scraping the stone as she shifted to face one of the yawning entrances of the cave where the sky was seen.
"You are mine-mine forever, servant-slave, and you will never escape me," Ikit hissed, feeling something slick and hot coil through his head as his lips peeled back in a fanged smile as he patted the dragon's hide. "Now, fly."
Great membranes flared wide, flashing metallic in the sunlight, then they were airborne.
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