ULF
The dragonkeepers thought I was mad.
"My lord, no one enters Vermithor's chamber without armed escort. Not since—"
"Since Hugh died. I know." I handed my sword to the nearest keeper. Then my knife. Then the weighted bracers that had become second nature. "I'm going in alone."
"He'll kill you."
"Maybe." I stripped off my cloak. No armor. No weapons. Just cloth and skin against dragon scale. "But if I don't try, he'll kill someone else eventually. A keeper. A curious child. Someone who doesn't deserve it."
The keepers exchanged glances. None of them wanted to argue with the Lord Protector, but none of them wanted to watch me die either.
"At least take Silverwing with you—"
"No. This has to be just him and me. Dragon to human. Honest." I turned toward the massive chamber entrance. "If I'm not out in an hour, tell Queen Helaena I love her."
I walked into darkness before they could respond.
Vermithor's chamber was the largest in the Dragonpit.
Built for a dragon of his size—nearly as large as Vhagar had been, bronze scales and ancient fury. The space could have held a small castle. Torches guttered along the walls, providing just enough light to see the shape waiting in the shadows.
He knew I was there.
The low growl started before I'd taken three steps. A vibration that traveled through the stone floor, up through my boots, into my bones.
He remembers. He knows what I did to Hugh.
"Vermithor." I kept my voice level. Spoke in High Valyrian—the language dragons understood best. "Nyke māzigon bē ñuha rōvēgrie. Nyke daor jaelagon ao mērī."
I come in peace. I don't want you to die.
The growl deepened. Flame flickered in the depths of his throat—not an attack, not yet, but a warning.
I kept walking.
Twenty feet. Fifteen. Ten.
Close enough that his breath washed over me. Hot. Sulfurous. The exhalation of a creature old enough to remember the Conquest.
"Iksan sorry."
The growl stopped.
Sorry. Such a simple word. Such an inadequate one.
"Hugh iksis henujagon. Ao deserve better."
Hugh was cruel. You deserve better.
Vermithor's massive head lowered. Those ancient eyes—amber shot through with gold—studied me with intelligence that had nothing to do with animal instinct.
Dragons weren't beasts. They never had been. They were something else entirely—beings of fire and will and memory that stretched back centuries.
And this one remembered everything.
"He wanted to rule."
I spoke the words aloud, not caring if Vermithor understood the common tongue. It wasn't about understanding—it was about truth.
"Hugh Hammer. He wanted to be king. Wanted to use you to take what he thought he deserved." I stepped closer still. "He would have burned cities. Killed children. Destroyed everything I'm trying to protect."
A rumble. Different from the growl. Questioning?
"I killed him. I'm not sorry. He attacked me first, but even if he hadn't—I would have killed him eventually. Before he hurt someone I love."
Vermithor's head tilted. Considering.
"But I didn't kill you."
That hung in the air between us.
"I could have. At God's Eye, when you were stunned. One more strike and you'd have died beside your rider." I held out my empty hands. "I chose not to. Because you're not Hugh. You're not cruel. You were just following someone who was."
The dragon's breath washed over me again. Testing?
I held my ground.
"I know you grieve. I know you want vengeance. But Hugh betrayed us both—you by treating you like a weapon instead of a partner, me by attacking when my back was turned." I took the final step. Close enough to touch. "We don't have to be enemies."
Silence.
Then, slowly, Vermithor lowered his massive head to the ground.
An invitation.
Or a test.
I reached out. Placed my palm against the warm bronze scales.
The connection was different from Silverwing.
She was patient. Gentle. A grandmother dragon who'd seen too much war and wanted peace.
Vermithor was fire and fury barely contained. The memory of battles. The weight of years. The desperate, aching loneliness of a rider lost.
But beneath all of that—beneath the grief and the rage—something else.
Recognition.
You stopped Hugh. You ended his cruelty. You set me free.
I felt it rather than heard it. Dragon-sense, maybe. The bond forming between species that should have been unable to communicate.
"I'm sorry for your loss." My voice came out rough. "Even if he was terrible, he was yours. That matters."
A rumble. Agreement? Acceptance?
The flame in Vermithor's throat died. The tension in his massive body eased.
I stood there for a long moment, hand against dragon scale, feeling the ancient heartbeat beneath.
Not enemies. Not anymore.
Maybe something else.
THE PROPOSAL
The dragonkeepers stared when I emerged.
"My lord—you're alive."
"Disappointed?"
"Shocked." The head keeper—a grizzled veteran named Marston—looked past me into the chamber. "Vermithor is... calm?"
"Calmer. He needed someone to acknowledge his grief." I retrieved my weapons. "And I need to make a proposal."
"What kind of proposal?"
"The unprecedented kind."
I explained what I wanted. Their expressions shifted from confusion to disbelief to outright alarm.
"That's impossible," Marston said finally. "No rider has ever bonded with two dragons."
"No rider has ever tried."
"Because they'd be killed! Dragons are possessive. They don't share their riders."
"Silverwing and Vermithor both know me. Both have accepted me in some capacity." I buckled on my sword belt. "I'm not talking about riding them simultaneously. Just... having both answer to me."
"Why would you even want—"
"Because Vermithor will go mad without a rider. You've seen it happening—the circling, the bellowing, the aggressive behavior. Eventually he'll break out and burn something." I met Marston's eyes. "But if he has a rider again—even a shared one—he might stabilize."
"Or he might tear you apart for the presumption."
"Then at least we'll know it doesn't work."
Marston shook his head slowly.
"You're insane, my lord."
"Probably." I started toward the exit. "But insanity's kept me alive this long. Set up the attempt for three days from now. I want witnesses."
"Witnesses to your death?"
"Witnesses to history. One way or another."
HELAENA
She was awake when I returned.
The pregnancy had reached the stage where sleep came in fragments—the child kicking, the body aching, the dreams interrupting every few hours. I found her propped against pillows, reading by candlelight.
"You went to see Vermithor."
Not a question.
"The keepers sent word?"
"I dreamed it." She set down her book. "I saw you standing in darkness with bronze scales towering over you. I thought—" Her voice caught. "I thought I was watching you die."
I crossed to the bed. Sat beside her.
"I'm alive."
"This time." She took my hand. "What happened?"
"We talked. Or I talked and he listened. He's grieving, not murderous. Hugh was terrible to him, but he was still his rider." I paused. "I'm going to try to claim him."
Helaena went still.
"Claim him?"
"As a second dragon. Bond with both him and Silverwing."
"That's—"
"Impossible. Insane. Unprecedented." I smiled slightly. "I've been getting that response."
"And you're going to try anyway."
"Someone has to. He'll destroy himself or the city if we leave him riderless. And I'm the only one he's accepted since Hugh died."
She studied me for a long moment. Those violet eyes that saw too much, knew too much.
"If you die trying to ride him, our child grows up fatherless."
The words hit harder than any blow.
"I know."
"Do you? Because you keep risking yourself for everyone else—for me, for my children, for the realm—and I love you for it, but I also need you alive." Her hand pressed against her swollen belly. "She needs you alive."
"She?"
"I told you. I dreamed her. Dark eyes, silver hair, standing in ruins, building something new." Tears gathered in Helaena's eyes. "But the path to that future requires you to survive. Every time you risk yourself, you risk her too."
I pulled her close. Careful of the pregnancy. Gentle with her fragile state.
"I'll survive. I always survive."
"You've been lucky."
"I've been skilled. And careful. And very, very determined." I kissed her forehead. "Three days. If Vermithor rejects me, I'll accept it. I won't force the issue."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
She leaned against me.
"Two dragons. Because one wasn't dangerous enough."
"I prefer to think of it as twice the protection for you."
A weak laugh.
"My impossible man."
"Your impossible Lord Protector of the Realm."
"Gods, that still sounds ridiculous."
"It does." I held her closer. "But ridiculous has kept us alive so far."
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