AN: In the original A Song of Ice and Fire timeline, the Defiance of Duskendale occurred in 277 AC, when Lord Denys Darklyn took King Aerys hostage for half a year. This event significantly worsened Aerys's paranoia and mental decline.
The Defiance of Duskendale never happened in this timeline because Thalor's presence and Nightfury's existence created a different political situation that prevented it. If it did happen as in canon around 277 AC, Thalor would have been around 10. (Honestly, don't count on me to be precise on the years or timeline. I will make mistakes.)
But in this story, Aerys's madness is caused by his dreams and twisted ambitions.
THALOR
The forge tucked away in the corner of the Red Keep's armory was small by most standards, but for Prince Thalor Targaryen, it was a sanctuary. Here, among the tools and metals and glowing coals, he felt most like himself—most like Hiccup, the blacksmith's apprentice from a world away.
At seven years old, Thalor had grown tall for his age, though still slender, with none of the burgeoning bulk that Rhaegar had begun to develop at ten. His silver-gold hair was tied back from his face with a leather cord, and soot smudged his cheeks, giving him a most unprincelike appearance that would have horrified the royal septa had she seen him.
But that was precisely why he worked at this hour—long past midnight, when most of the castle slept and only the most discreet of servants might glimpse the second son of King Aerys II engaged in manual labor more suited to a common blacksmith than a prince of the blood.
"Almost there," Thalor murmured, holding up his latest creation to examine it in the forge light.
The riding harness he'd been perfecting for months was nearing completion. Unlike the rudimentary saddle he'd used for their secret flights in years past, this was a proper piece of engineering. Supple leather reinforced with Valyrian steel components that he'd painstakingly salvaged and repurposed from a damaged ornamental dagger gifted to him on his sixth nameday. The metal's legendary lightness and strength made it ideal for his purposes, though he'd nearly given the court armorer an apoplexy when the man discovered what Thalor had done to the priceless blade.
The design was a significant improvement over his earliest efforts, incorporating everything he'd learned from his previous life as Hiccup, adapted to Nightfury's unique physiology and their current needs. Secure footholds for his legs, a safety tether for his waist, reinforced hand grips, and most importantly, an aerodynamic profile that would enhance rather than hinder Nightfury's natural agility in the air.
"What do you think, bud?" Thalor asked, turning to where Nightfury lay curled at the edge of the forge's warmth, watching his every move with intelligent green eyes.
The dragon, now the size of a large warhorse, lifted his head and chirped questioningly. He rose in a fluid motion and approached, sniffing carefully at the harness, examining it from all angles.
After a thorough inspection, Nightfury gave a satisfied rumble and nudged Thalor's shoulder approvingly.
"Yeah, I think it'll work too," Thalor agreed with a grin. "The adjustments to the shoulder straps should distribute the weight better, and the new foot rests will help me maintain balance during those tight turns you love so much."
He ran his hands over the finished piece, feeling a swell of pride. His hands were still a child's, smaller and less callused than Hiccup's had been, but they were becoming increasingly skilled, increasingly familiar. With each passing year, the disconnect between his mind's capabilities and his body's limitations narrowed.
"This calls for a proper test flight," he decided. "Not just around the bay this time. Something... significant."
Nightfury's eyes lit up at the suggestion, his head bobbing eagerly.
Thalor laughed. "I thought you'd like that. Dawn tomorrow, then? We'll head north, maybe as far as Crackclaw Point if the weather holds."
The dragon's enthusiasm was palpable, a vibrating energy that communicated itself to Thalor through their bond. The prospect of true flight—distance, speed, freedom—after years of careful, limited practice sessions filled them both with anticipation.
"Let me just finish these last adjustments," Thalor said, turning back to his work.
As he made the final touches to the harness, his mind wandered to how much had changed in the four years since Nightfury had hatched. The dragon had grown from a cat-sized hatchling to a formidable presence, large enough now to be a serious combat mount if necessary. His scales had hardened, his flame had grown more powerful and precise, and his intelligence continued to astonish everyone who witnessed it—though Thalor was careful to limit public demonstrations of Nightfury's more exceptional abilities.
Their training with Ser Willem Darry had progressed from basic maneuvers to complex combat drills. Rhaegar often joined them now, observing and occasionally participating, contributing tactical insights from his studies of historical dragon warfare.
The alliance between the brothers had strengthened, built on shared knowledge of the threat from the North and mutual respect for each other's abilities. Where once Thalor had sensed wariness, even envy from his older brother, now there was genuine partnership.
It wasn't perfect, of course. Rhaegar still sometimes struggled with the implications of what Thalor had revealed about his past life, about his purpose in this new existence. And Thalor himself wrestled with the constraints of being both a child in body and a seasoned warrior in mind, of navigating court politics while preparing for a war most believed was mere legend.
But they were making progress, slow and steady. And with this new harness, with the enhanced flying capabilities it would provide, their preparations would advance significantly.
"There," Thalor said at last, setting his tools aside. "Finished."
He carefully packed the harness in an oilskin wrap, concealing it within a mundane saddlebag that would draw no attention. Then, after banking the forge fire and cleaning up his workspace with practiced efficiency, he gestured to Nightfury.
"Let's get some sleep, bud. Dawn comes early, and we've got a long flight ahead."
Together, they made their way through the sleeping castle, using the hidden passages and servants' corridors that had become second nature to them over the years. The guards posted at intervals throughout the keep had long since grown accustomed to the prince and his dragon's nocturnal movements, and few bothered to question them anymore.
In Thalor's chambers, Nightfury settled on his customized sleeping platform near the large fireplace, while Thalor placed the saddlebag carefully beside his bed. Tomorrow would bring their first true flight together in this life—a milestone he had been working toward for years.
As he drifted toward sleep, Thalor's mind filled with images of Berk, of soaring through cloud formations with Toothless, of the perfect harmony they had achieved in that other life. Soon, he promised himself. Soon they would recapture that feeling, that freedom.
And this time, they would use it not just for themselves, but for the realm they were now bound to protect.
---
Dawn found Thalor and Nightfury on their usual private beach beneath the Red Keep's eastern walls. The morning was perfect for flying—clear skies, a light breeze from the west, and a sun just beginning to crest the horizon, casting long shadows across the water.
Thalor worked quickly, fitting the new harness to Nightfury's sleek form with practiced hands. The dragon stood patiently, occasionally shifting to assist as straps were tightened and buckles secured.
"How does it feel?" Thalor asked, stepping back to assess his work.
Nightfury stretched his wings, twisted his body experimentally, then pranced a few steps along the beach, testing his mobility with the harness in place. After a thorough examination, he turned to Thalor and nodded his approval.
"Good," Thalor said, unable to suppress his excitement. "Then let's fly."
He climbed into the saddle, securing his legs in the specially designed footholds and fastening the safety tether around his waist. His hands found the grips naturally, as if they had been molded specifically for them—which, in fact, they had been.
"Ready when you are, bud," he said, leaning forward to pat Nightfury's neck.
The dragon needed no further encouragement. With a powerful thrust of his hind legs, Nightfury launched them into the air, wings snapping open to catch the morning breeze.
The sensation was glorious—the rushing wind, the sudden weightlessness, the perfect coordination between rider and mount. The new harness performed exactly as designed, keeping Thalor securely seated while allowing him the freedom of movement necessary to shift his weight with Nightfury's aerial maneuvers.
They climbed steadily, spiraling upward until the Red Keep looked like a child's toy below them. King's Landing spread out in all directions, still peaceful in the early morning light, most of its inhabitants unaware of the dragon and rider soaring high above.
Once they reached a comfortable altitude, Thalor patted Nightfury's neck again. "North, bud. Let's see what this harness can really do."
Nightfury banked sharply, orienting himself toward the northern horizon, and surged forward with a powerful beat of his wings. The sudden acceleration pressed Thalor back against the saddle, but the harness held firm, the foot rests providing just the right counter-pressure to keep him balanced.
They flew over Blackwater Bay, then followed the coastline northward, the landscape below changing from the crowded streets of King's Landing to the more sparsely populated farmlands and forests of the crownlands. Thalor felt his spirits lifting with each wingbeat, each mile they covered. This was what they were meant for—this perfect synchronization of dragon and rider, this mastery of the skies.
As the sun climbed higher, they reached the rugged peninsula known as Crackclaw Point, its dense forests and rocky highlands reminiscent, in some ways, of Berk's wilder terrain. Thalor guided Nightfury toward a particularly promising mountain peak, free of human habitation and offering a panoramic view of the surrounding countryside.
They landed gracefully on an outcropping near the summit, Nightfury's claws gripping the stone with practiced ease. Thalor dismounted, legs slightly wobbly after the long flight but his face alight with exhilaration.
"It worked perfectly," he said, running a hand appreciatively over the harness. "Better than I'd hoped, even. The control is so much more precise now."
Nightfury rumbled in agreement, stretching his wings and neck after the sustained exertion. He nudged Thalor playfully, then moved to the edge of the outcropping, looking out over the vista below with evident pleasure.
Thalor joined him, taking in the breathtaking view. From this height, they could see for miles in all directions—north to the God's Eye and Harrenhal, east to the narrow sea, south to King's Landing just visible on the horizon, and west to the rolling hills of the riverlands.
"It's beautiful," Thalor murmured. "Different from Berk, but beautiful in its own way."
Nightfury chuffed in agreement, his green eyes scanning the landscape with the same appreciation as his rider's.
For a time, they simply stood there in companionable silence, enjoying the moment of peace, of connection with this new world that was slowly but surely becoming home.
Then Nightfury stiffened, his attention suddenly fixed on something to the north. A low growl rumbled in his throat—not aggressive, but alert, concerned.
"What is it, bud?" Thalor asked, instantly attentive.
The dragon used his snout to point, directing Thalor's gaze toward a distant smudge of smoke rising from the forest at the base of the highlands.
Thalor frowned, shading his eyes against the morning sun. "That's not a campfire or a controlled burn. Too much smoke."
Nightfury growled again, this time with a distinct note of urgency.
"You want to investigate?" Thalor asked, already knowing the answer. Some things hadn't changed across their rebirth—neither of them could ignore someone potentially in trouble.
The dragon lowered himself, allowing Thalor to remount smoothly. The new harness proved its worth again as they launched from the rocky outcropping, diving steeply toward the source of the smoke before leveling out just above the treeline.
As they approached, the situation became clear. A small caravan—merchants, by the look of their wagons—had been ambushed in a clearing beside the road. Men in mismatched armor and shabby clothing surrounded the overturned wagons, helping themselves to the goods within while holding the merchants at swordpoint. One wagon was already ablaze, the source of the smoke they'd spotted.
"Bandits," Thalor muttered grimly. "At least a dozen of them."
Nightfury circled above the scene, still high enough that the men below, focused on their plunder, hadn't noticed them. Thalor assessed the situation with the tactical eye he'd developed through two lifetimes of conflict.
The merchants—three men, two women, and what appeared to be a teenage boy—were gathered in the center of the clearing, hands bound, guarded by two of the bandits. The others were either ransacking the wagons or standing watch at the edges of the clearing.
"We need to be careful," Thalor told Nightfury. "The merchants are too close to the bandits for a direct attack. We need to create a distraction, separate them."
Nightfury rumbled in understanding, already anticipating Thalor's plan.
"Target the burning wagon first," Thalor instructed. "Make it spectacular, but contained. We want them scared, not hurt."
With a powerful beat of his wings, Nightfury dove toward the clearing. They were spotted moments before they reached the burning wagon, shouts of alarm rising from the bandits who pointed skyward in terror.
"DRAGON!" one of them screamed, a cry that sent several of his companions scrambling for cover.
Nightfury released a precise bolt of blue-white flame directly into the already burning wagon, causing it to explode in a spectacular shower of sparks and debris.
The controlled blast was exactly what Thalor had asked for—dramatic enough to create panic, but focused enough to avoid injuring anyone.
The effect was immediate. Most of the bandits broke formation, running for the cover of the trees in terror. The two guarding the merchants hesitated, torn between fleeing and maintaining control of their captives.
That hesitation was all Thalor and Nightfury needed.
They wheeled around for another pass, this time swooping low over the guards. Nightfury didn't fire—he didn't need to. His menacing presence, jaws agape and eyes fixed on the men, was enough to send them sprinting after their companions.
The moment the guards fled, Thalor guided Nightfury to land between the freed merchants and the retreating bandits. The dragon's wings spread wide, creating a protective barrier as Thalor quickly dismounted.
"Are you hurt?" he called to the merchants, who stared at him with relief and astonishment.
"N-no, Your... Your Highness," the oldest man stammered, recognizing the Targaryen features despite never having seen the young prince in person. "They took us by surprise at dawn. We thought we were done for."
Thalor moved quickly to help them, using a small knife from his boot to cut their bonds. "The bandits will regroup once they realize we aren't burning them all," he explained, working efficiently. "We need to move quickly."
"Our goods—" one of the women began, looking toward the ransacked wagons.
"Take what you can carry," Thalor advised. "Your lives are worth more than your merchandise."
As the merchants hurriedly gathered what valuables they could salvage, Thalor kept a wary eye on the forest's edge. He could sense Nightfury's alertness, the dragon's keen senses detecting movement among the trees.
"They're coming back," he warned the merchants. "Some of them, at least. The braver ones, or maybe the ones with more to prove."
"What do we do?" the teenage boy asked, clutching a small sack of what appeared to be jewelry or coins.
Thalor made a quick decision. "Get behind Nightfury. If they want to reach you, they'll have to go through him." He remounted smoothly, the new harness allowing him to position himself for both defense and potential attack.
"And they won't."
Sure enough, four of the bandits emerged from the trees, weapons drawn. They moved cautiously, eyeing Nightfury with obvious fear but apparently unwilling to abandon their prize completely.
"That's far enough," Thalor called out, his young voice nevertheless carrying authority. "These people are under my protection now. Return to the forest, and we'll let you leave with your lives."
The apparent leader of the bandits, a scarred man with a patched eyepatch, sneered up at him. "You're just a boy," he called back. "A Targaryen whelp playing at being a dragon rider. That beast won't flame us with you on its back."
Thalor smiled thinly. "You seem very confident about what my dragon will or won't do." He leaned forward slightly. "Nightfury, warning shot."
Without hesitation, Nightfury fired a precision bolt of plasma just in front of the bandits' feet, scorching the ground and sending them stumbling backward in alarm and screams of shock.
"The next one won't miss," Thalor informed them calmly. "And as you can see, Nightfury's flame is quite controlled. He can burn you without singeing a hair on my head."
The demonstration had the desired effect. The bandits exchanged glances, their bravado visibly crumbling.
"This isn't finished," the leader growled, but there was more fear than menace in his voice now.
"It is for today," Thalor replied firmly. "Go."
After a tense moment, the bandits retreated, disappearing back into the forest with occasional backward glances at the dragon and his rider.
Once they were gone, Thalor turned his attention back to the merchants. "We need to get you somewhere safe. Is there a town or keep nearby where you can seek shelter?"
"Whisper Hill is just a few hours' ride south," the oldest merchant replied. "We have friends there, other traders who would take us in."
"Good." Thalor considered their options. "We can escort you part of the way on foot. Nightfury can keep watch from above, make sure the bandits don't return."
"You would do that for us, Your Highness?" one of the women asked, clearly moved by his offer.
Thalor slid from Nightfury's back, adjusting his simple riding clothes. "Of course. It's a prince's duty to protect his people, isn't it?"
The conviction in his voice surprised even him. In his past life as Hiccup, he had often struggled with questions of leadership and responsibility. But here, now, in this life as Thalor Targaryen, his path seemed increasingly clear. Whether it was fighting White Walkers beyond the Wall or bandits in the Crownlands, his purpose was to protect—to use the abilities and knowledge from two lifetimes to safeguard those who couldn't protect themselves.
As they gathered what belongings they could carry and prepared to move south, Thalor caught Nightfury watching him with knowing eyes. The dragon rumbled softly, a sound that Thalor recognized as approval.
"Yeah, I know," he murmured, patting Nightfury's neck. "Feels right, doesn't it?"
For the next few hours, they escorted the merchants southward, Nightfury alternating between walking alongside them and making short flights to ensure no enemies approached. The merchants, initially awestruck by the presence of a Targaryen prince and his dragon, gradually relaxed enough to share their stories—tales of their homes in the Reach, of family left behind, of the challenges and rewards of the merchant's life.
Thalor listened attentively, asking questions that revealed a surprising understanding of commerce and everyday struggles for those of common birth. By the time they reached a well-traveled section of road where other caravans could be seen in the distance, the merchants had developed a genuine affection for the young prince.
"We can make it from here, Your Highness," the older merchant said, bowing deeply. "How can we ever repay you?"
Thalor shook his head. "There's no need. But if you truly wish to show gratitude, perhaps spread word of what happened today. Not to boast of my deeds," he added quickly, seeing their eager nods, "but to let people know that dragons—that Targaryens—can protect as well as destroy. That we serve the realm, not just ourselves."
The merchants promised fervently, clearly touched by the wisdom in his young voice. After heartfelt farewells, Thalor remounted Nightfury, and they took to the skies once more, circling high above until they were certain the merchants had joined safely with another caravan traveling south.
Only then did they turn northward again, toward King's Landing and the Red Keep. The morning's adventure had been unplanned but illuminating. The new harness had performed perfectly under real-world conditions, including rapid maneuvers and combat positioning. More importantly, they had helped people in need—a reminder of the good they could do with their unique abilities.
As they soared over the landscape, Thalor felt a sense of peace settle over him. For the first time since his rebirth as a Targaryen prince, he felt truly himself—not just Hiccup trapped in Thalor's body, nor Thalor burdened with Hiccup's memories, but a synthesis of both. A person shaped by two lives, two worlds, united in purpose.
"We did good today, bud," he told Nightfury as they approached the familiar silhouette of the Red Keep. "And the harness worked even better than expected. I'd call that a successful first flight."
Nightfury trumpeted in agreement, executing a joyful roll that the harness handled with ease, keeping Thalor secure while allowing him to move in perfect coordination with his dragon's acrobatics.
They landed on their private beach just as the sun reached its zenith, having been gone far longer than originally planned. Thalor knew there would be questions about their absence, perhaps even concern, but he couldn't bring himself to regret the morning's adventures.
As he removed the harness from Nightfury's sleek form, inspecting it for any wear or damage, Thalor's mind was already racing with improvements, refinements for the next version. Perhaps a mechanism to adjust the footholds during flight, or additional attachment points for carrying supplies—or weapons, should they be needed.
"This is just the beginning," he told Nightfury as they made their way back up the cliff path toward the postern gate. "With this harness, we can start making longer flights. Maybe even to the Wall someday soon, to see for ourselves what's stirring beyond."
Nightfury rumbled in agreement, his green eyes bright with anticipation.
Together, they slipped back into the Red Keep, a dragon and his rider, partners across two lifetimes, ready to face whatever challenges this new world might bring.
Behind them, the sun sparkled on Blackwater Bay, and a fresh wind blew from the north—a wind that carried, for those with the wisdom to sense it, the first subtle hints of the winter to come.