Chapter 23: Mother and Son
Serenya sat by the tall window of her new home, gazing out over Blackwater Bay. The house her son had purchased for her was large, airy, and filled with soft light. Ten trusted maids and five guards attended her daily. For the first time in years, she felt almost like a lady of high birth rather than a retired courtesan.
Still, the waiting weighed on her.
"Assadora," she called, "has there been any message from my son?"
The handmaiden entered with a small smile. Assadora was a former Dothraki slave who had escaped years ago and arrived at Vaelros's clinic heavily pregnant. He had taken her in without question. She remained beautiful, sharp-eyed, and fiercely loyal.
"Yes, my lady. A letter arrived this morning. The young lord is halfway here. He should arrive in three days."
Serenya's face brightened.
"Finally. Wonderful news. We must prepare a feast. Gather the entire household. If he has returned from that cursed land with success, we will celebrate properly."
Assadora hesitated.
"The messenger also said to keep the house under high guard. He… claimed a dragon. It is hard to believe."
Serenya let out a soft, knowing laugh.
"It may be hard for others to believe, but I know my son. He has always had that drive." She stood, already full of purpose. "Come, Assadora. We have much to prepare."
Vaelros
High above the waves, Vaelros rode the black-and-gold dragon for hours, the wind tearing at his hair and robes. The bond between them grew stronger with every wingbeat. Memories of another life flickered through his mind soaring through strange skies as Doctor Strange, facing gods and monsters. But this was different. This was real.
The name Storm no longer felt right.
He leaned forward and spoke near the dragon's ear.
"You don't like the name Storm, do you?"
The dragon let out a deep, rolling roar that sounded like thunder.
Vaelros smiled.
"In my past life I fought alongside a man called the God of Thunder. His name was Thor. He was powerful, proud, and unyielding. That is the name you will carry… and the honor you will protect."
The dragon turned its great head, green eyes gleaming. It snorted in amusement, then gave a proud, resonant cry of agreement. The name settled between them like a vow.
When they finally descended toward the Ashen Gale, Vaelros whispered a quick spell that made his body light as a feather. He stepped off the dragon's back and floated gently down onto the deck.
Ser Calen Hill stood waiting with a smirk.
"Well, look who decided to grace us with his presence the Dragon Rider himself."
Vaelros grinned.
"You're just jealous. And I changed his name. He's called Thor now… the God of Thunder and Lightning."
Both Calen and Tharn burst into loud laughter. The dragon rumbled overhead as if offended.
"All right, all right," Vaelros said, raising his hands. "He's a prideful creature, so try not to laugh too hard. He's surprisingly intelligent more like a clever child or a wild teenager. I think the growth spell left him a little… young in mind."
The two men exchanged looks, then shook their heads and started walking away.
"Wait where are you going? Don't you want to hear more?"
Tharn called over his shoulder, still chuckling.
"We don't want to be standing here when you start talking about things that fly over our heads."
Vaelros snorted. As Tharn passed, the big wildling pointed at Vaelros's ruined trousers
.
"You'll need a proper saddle soon. Those scales chewed up your clothes."
Still laughing, Tharn and Calen disappeared below deck.
Vaelros muttered under his breath and headed for his quarters. The cabin was a controlled mess of scrolls, books, and journals recovered from Valyria. He changed into clean robes, then spent the next hours designing practical dragon-riding gear tough leather that could withstand the dragon's scales, preferably treated or reinforced.
Later that night he cleared his desk and began a far more important project.
Laid out before him were a Valyrian steel ingot, a dragon tooth taken from the ruins, and a length of pure iron. He needed a proper magical focus for high-level work something small, heavy, and perfectly attuned to him.
He chose the oldest form: a wand.
For hours he worked, etching intricate sigils into the iron, shaping the dragon tooth into a small orb with blood and will, then carefully melding the three materials together through layered spells. It was not forging. It was synthesis a slow, draining process of binding metal, bone, blood, and magic into one seamless whole.
Nearly a full day later, the wand was finished.
Vaelros held it up to the lantern light. The finished piece was elegant and deadly in its simplicity a long, slender shaft of dark, twisted metal that spiraled upward like frozen lightning, ending in a sharp, needle-like point. The lower half was a refined silver grip wrapped in a precise diamond lattice pattern, cool and solid in his hand. Faint traces of the dragon tooth's power pulsed deep within the dark metal, giving the wand a quiet, living presence.
He could already feel the difference. Spells that once left him exhausted would now cost him far less.
He set the wand down carefully, exhausted but satisfied.
Outside, the Ashen Gale cut through the waves toward King's Landing.
In three days, he would see his mother again.
And the world would learn that a dragon had returned.
__________________
Sorry about if this chapter is short and if it's late thought I posted this last night but it didn't so here you go right now I'm working on another story about a blacksmith who has the template of the iron bull from Dragon Age Inquisition and the template of Hephaestus