The Cannibal's vast black wings beat the air as it tore across the sky, each stroke heavy enough to shake the clouds themselves. Heat rolled from the great dragon's body like breath from a furnace, warping the air around it until the world seemed to shimmer and bend.
At dawn the next morning, the light was pale and cold.
The knights of the Riverlands marched for King's Landing, mail clinking, banners snapping in the chill morning wind.
Aegon and Rhaena mounted the dragon and rode north, seeking the host of Cregan Stark.
For a moment, Aegon felt the pull of temptation. He could have flown straight to the capital, descended upon its broken walls, and taken the cheers of the crowd as the city bent the knee. Yet he forced the thought aside. First came the Wolf of Winterfell.
The Cannibal carried them swiftly, its shadow racing across fields and rivers alike. Aegon felt the deep, familiar resonance of the bond between them, stronger now than it had been before the battle. Fire answered fire. Dragon and rider moved as one.
"Do you mean to renew the Pact of Ice and Fire with Lord Cregan?" Rhaena asked quietly as the wind tore at her cloak.
"The pact will stand," Aegon replied, eyes fixed on the horizon. "But the terms cannot remain unchanged. You remember the agreement."
Rhaena nodded. "It was Prince Jacaerys's doing. Lord Cregan pledged the North to the queen. In return, Jacaerys's first daughter was to be fostered at Winterfell at seven years of age, and later wed to Lord Cregan's heir, Rickon."
She hesitated, her voice lowering. "You do not still mean to bind us to that clause."
Too much blood had been spilled. If Aegon and Rhaena were to wed, their children would be few, precious, and born into a world still burning. House Targaryen stood thinner now than at any time since the Doom.
"The pact remains," Aegon said evenly. "But it will be reshaped."
Seeing his certainty, Rhaena did not press further.
"You place great weight on Lord Cregan," she said after a time. "Because of his army?"
"Because of the man," Aegon answered. "And because the North is a power best met face to face. If I did not seek him first, it would be folly."
Rhaena inclined her head. "He is one of the few who can still be trusted."
The North stood apart from the rest of the realm. Its people kept the old gods, not the Seven. They were sons of the First Men, not the Andals. That difference alone ensured they would never truly belong to the south.
By the time the Cannibal's shadow crossed the Riverlands once more, the northern host had already passed the Neck.
They found Cregan Stark's army marching south beneath two banners: the direwolf of House Stark, a grey wolf running upon a white field, and the quartered dragon of Queen Rhaenyra.
Some twelve thousand men moved with him, clad in mail and leather, heavy cloaks of fur hanging from their shoulders. Beards tangled and eyes hard, they looked less like soldiers than like a great pack of armored bears trudging inexorably toward war.
The Cannibal circled overhead, once, twice, three times.
Its shadow swept across the ranks, and its roar rolled like thunder.
"A dragon!"
"Gods be good, what a dragon!"
"Sound the alarm. Fetch Lord Cregan."
Horses screamed and reared, men shouting as order wavered. Some northerners had seen dragons before at Winterfell, but nothing like this. The Cannibal's sheer presence crushed the air itself, dominance made flesh.
"I am Prince Aegon Targaryen," Aegon called as the dragon descended into a low glide. "Heir to Queen Rhaenyra. I come to meet Lord Cregan Stark."
The host stirred. Cregan Stark had already fixed his eyes on the black beast overhead. This was no dragon like Vermax. This was something older, wilder, and far more terrible.
"Prince Aegon?" Cregan asked the Manderly brothers at his side. "Since when does he ride a dragon?"
"He claimed one," came the answer. "That shape, that color. It can only be the Cannibal. King of the wild dragons."
"So Jacaerys named him quiet and withdrawn," Cregan said softly. "War forges men quickly. And dragons answer to blood and fire."
He rode forward at once, barking orders to clear ground for the dragon to land.
Aegon and Rhaena dismounted as the Cannibal folded its wings, the earth trembling beneath its weight.
"I have come to renew the Pact of Ice and Fire," Aegon said.
The soldiers parted instinctively, eyes never leaving the great dragon. Cannibal watched them in turn, green eyes burning with wild, arrogant intelligence.
Cregan Stark approached, flanked by his lords, his presence commanding the field. Every eye measured the Cannibal with wary respect. This dragon stood among the greatest, long unclaimed, long feared, now bound at last.
Cregan was lean and long-faced, brown hair dark against pale skin, grey eyes cold as winter skies. Mail covered him, and a heavy cloak of bear fur hung from his shoulders. Ice, the greatsword of House Stark, rested across his back.
Though only three-and-twenty, he already stood among the realm's deadliest warriors, a man hardened early and utterly.
"The North does not forget," Cregan said with a brief smile. "Welcome, Prince Aegon."
They embraced, wolf and dragon meeting as equals.
"Princess," Cregan added, bowing to Rhaena.
"You are not quite like Prince Jacaerys," he said, studying Aegon closely. "But brothers remain brothers."
"I mourn Jacaerys deeply," Cregan said then. "War shows no favor. Death is the only gift it grants freely."
"I remember them all," Aegon replied. "My brother. My family. My father. Stormcloud."
They stood for a moment in shared silence.
"The Battle of the Kingsroad is ended," Aegon said at last. "Lord Borros is dead. The Riverlands march south. King's Landing will fall soon."
"And the false king?" Cregan asked.
"Most likely already dead," Aegon answered. "Though I cannot say how."
"Dead or living, we march," Cregan said grimly. "This war is not finished."
These were men who had come south with no thought of return.
"You were wise not to fly straight to King's Landing," Cregan added more quietly. "That city is a pit of vipers. Courtiers, turncloaks, smiling liars. They destroyed your mother once. They would do the same to your uncle, given the chance."
The Wolf of Winterfell had spoken.
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