I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.
https://www.patréon.com/emperordragon
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Chapter 67: Reunion
The banners of House Stark and House Targaryen fluttered in the wind as Robb Stark stood in the courtyard of Riverrun, flanked by his grand-uncle Ser Brynden Tully and his uncle Edmure Tully. Behind them, gathered in disciplined formation, were the lords of the North and the Riverlands, awaiting the arrival of their king. The Northern army, which had been divided at the Twins, was now whole again, its banners a sea of direwolves and trout outside Riverrun's walls.
A sudden, earth-shaking roar split the sky, sending a shudder through man and beast alike. Robb had heard reports of Daeron's dragon, but hearing about it was nothing compared to witnessing it. The dragon soared over Riverrun, its massive wings casting a shadow over the castle as the beast let out another piercing cry. Horses reared, and men muttered prayers to the Old Gods and the Seven alike. Robb forced himself to remain steady, heart pounding at the sight of the dragon in flight.
Then, the gates of Riverrun creaked open, and at the forefront of the approaching retinue rode King Daeron Targaryen. His black hair caught the afternoon sun, and his dark Valyrian steel armor gleamed as he guided his horse forward with a calm confidence. Just behind him rode Lord Eddard Stark and Ser Arthur Dayne, the legendary Sword of the Morning. Their presence alone would have commanded awe, but all eyes were on Daeron.
As one, the assembled lords dropped to their knees in respect to their king.
"Rise," Daeron commanded, his voice steady and strong.
Robb stood, stepping forward as Daeron dismounted. He barely had time to process his emotions before Daeron embraced him firmly.
"It is good to see you, brother," Daeron said.
"And you," Robb replied, his voice thick with emotion.
Then, before he could say more, his father was before him, pulling him into an embrace. Robb felt like a boy again, seeking comfort in his father's strength.
"I am proud of you, Robb," Ned Stark said. "You have done well."
Robb felt a lump in his throat but remained composed. "The gods were with us that day. Ser Brynden took care of the Lannister scouts before the battle. We had the advantage."
Ser Brynden allowed himself a small smile at the praise but remained silent.
An hour later, inside the solar of Riverrun, the atmosphere was more relaxed. Daeron sat at the head of the table with his father to his right and Robb to his left. Ser Brynden sat across from them while Ser Arthur stood watch behind Daeron, ever the vigilant knight.
"Jaime Lannister is your prisoner," Daeron remarked, glancing at Robb. "A great victory, one that has turned the tide of this war."
Robb nodded. "We made sure he was well-guarded, but the Lannisters won't let him stay a prisoner for long. They will push for terms."
"They have little choice now," Ned said. "With Tywin dead and King's Landing vulnerable, their position weakens."
Daeron leaned back slightly, considering. "Tywin Lannister's death was necessary, but the war is not yet won. There are still claimants to the throne, and the Iron Throne must be taken before peace can truly be secured."
Robb studied Daeron carefully. His cousin looked different—not just older, but hardened by battle and responsibility. There was an unmistakable fire in his gaze, a presence that commanded loyalty.
"I must ask," Robb finally said, "your dragon. Lyrax. How did you come by such a creature?"
Daeron's expression remained unreadable. "Lyrax is a gift of my blood, of my heritage. Beyond that, it is a story for another time. But rest assured, she is loyal, and she will burn our enemies if need be."
Robb nodded, understanding that there were secrets even he was not meant to know.
As the evening wore on, they continued to speak—of battles fought, of strategies ahead, of what would come next for the North, the Riverlands, and the Seven Kingdoms.
As the meeting went on, Daeron suddenly turned to Robb. "Come," he said. "There is something I want you to see."
Robb looked at his father, who nodded, and then followed Daeron out of the castle, Grey Wind at his side. Daeron's direwolf, Ghost, padded silently beside him, its white fur a stark contrast to the evening shadows.
Daeron led him to the outskirts of the Northern encampment, where a clearing had been set aside. As they approached, Robb could feel the shift in the air—a presence unlike anything he had ever encountered. Then he saw her. Lyrax lay curled in the clearing, her golden eyes glowing in the dimming light.
Grey Wind stiffened beside Robb, ears perked, muscles tense. The direwolf, fearless against men and steel, seemed to recognize the primal power of the dragon before them. Ghost, however, stepped forward with steady confidence.
Lyrax lifted her head, exhaling a small gust of smoke. She studied the newcomers, her gaze falling upon Robb first, then Grey Wind.
"She won't harm you," Daeron reassured him. "She knows who I trust."
Slowly, Robb stepped forward, keeping his movements deliberate. Grey Wind hesitated, then cautiously followed. Lyrax tilted her head before letting out a low, rumbling growl—not of hostility, but acknowledgment.
Daeron placed a hand on Lyrax's side, then turned to Robb. "Go on. Let her know you mean no harm."
Robb reached out, his palm pressing against the dragon's warm scales. He could feel the raw strength beneath them, the power coiled within her massive form. Grey Wind, after a long moment, took another step forward and sniffed the dragon's massive foreleg. Lyrax let out a soft huff but did not pull away. The direwolf and the dragon regarded each other for a long moment before Grey Wind relaxed slightly.
Daeron smiled. "It seems they accept each other."
Robb let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "I never imagined I'd stand this close to a dragon."
"Neither did I," Daeron admitted. "Not until I did."
Robb smirked. "And now you have the greatest weapon in the world."
Daeron's expression turned serious. "Perhaps. But even the greatest weapons need to be wielded wisely."
Robb nodded. He understood. The dragon was not just a beast of war—it was a symbol, a legacy, and a responsibility.
With that understanding settling between them, the two brothers stood side by side, watching as Grey Wind and Lyrax, creatures of old magic, acknowledged each other in the fading light.