He watched in disbelief as his companions "came back to life." The Night's Watchman, responsible for collecting their bodies, felt as though something had flown out of him.
The Night's Watchman and Viserys' soldiers drew their swords in unison.
"Capture them alive!" Viserys ordered.
It was important to have this evidence, something tangible to present to the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms. With this, he wouldn't need to describe the horrors of the Long Night. However, he couldn't help but wonder. The White Walkers don't usually transform corpses this fast...
As if sensing his thoughts, the captured White Walker reacted violently. Magic surged, and its body exploded into a massive ice flower, engulfing Viserys in its icy shards.
"Your Grace—"
Jorah gasped, dodging the sudden blast instinctively. Before he could finish speaking, the realization struck him—Viserys was in danger. He rushed forward, followed by the rest of the soldiers, who hurried to check on their king.
As the white mist from the explosion gradually dissipated, a collective sigh of relief escaped the crowd when they saw Viserys still standing. But as the last of the mist cleared, revealing his face, everyone saw it—his face and neck were covered in shards of ice crystals, as if dusted with a fine layer of snow.
A chill spread through Viserys's body, and his mind began to slow, the cold seeping into his very bones.
Above them, the Yellow Dragon, which had been circling, suddenly descended like a falling star, crashing into the ground and pushing the onlookers aside. Now fully grown, it was nearly the size of an adult buffalo.
It landed heavily behind Viserys, wrapping him in its tail and lowering its head protectively over him. The heat emanating from the dragon's body counteracted the freezing shards embedded in Viserys's skin.
Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, Viserys's closed eyes slowly fluttered open. Even the fine cuts on his face and neck had mostly healed.
"Your Grace, are you okay?" Jorah asked anxiously.
Viserys didn't respond to Jorah. Instead, he turned his gaze to Mance, who still looked shocked by the scene.
"Mance, die—or move with the wildlings!" Viserys demanded.
...
With the White Walkers dead, the wights they had raised also fell. The Night's Watch cremated the bodies and held a funeral for the fallen. As for Craster, he was arrested and executed, and his women followed the Free Folk, moving southward.
The migration of tens of thousands of wildlings was no small task. Mance estimated that the first wave would consist of 30,000 to 50,000 people, followed by another group of 10,000 to 20,000, and eventually another 30,000 or so after that. After the first group moved south, Mance personally went in search of other wildling clans still wandering beyond the Wall.
While the others were occupied with the migration, Viserys made his first attempt to ride the Yellow Dragon. Aemon and Jon watched closely, witnesses to the birth of the first dragon rider in centuries.
Viserys noted the dragon had two rows of finger-sized spines running down its neck and upper back. By gripping two of these spines and pulling left or right, he could steer the dragon in that direction. If he pulled upward, the dragon looked up, and if he pressed down, it looked down. Once airborne, he could control its flight by leaning on the spines.
After learning how to guide the dragon, a new challenge arose: finding a comfortable position. The dragon was still not fully grown, so Viserys had to lean his entire body forward to distribute his weight evenly.
This, however, created a problem—his legs hit the dragon's wings. He wondered, Should I tuck my feet under the wings or place them on top?
After some experimentation, Viserys discovered that if he placed his feet under the dragon's wings, they would get "pinched" when the dragon flapped them. Putting his feet on top was less comfortable, but for the sake of riding, he chose the latter.
"I'm going to take off!" Viserys called out.
"Fly, Viserys! Fly!" Aemon shouted, his purple eyes full of excitement.
At first, Aemon felt a pang of regret that he was too old to ride a dragon himself. But he quickly pushed the thought aside. I've lived for a hundred years, he reminded himself. I've not only witnessed the resurrection of the dragons but also the revival of the Targaryens. And now, the first Dragon Rider in a century is about to be born. The thought filled him with exhilaration.
Jon, standing beside Aemon, also watched with wide eyes as Viserys sat astride the Yellow Dragon.
"Is Your Grace Viserys really about to fly?" he asked in disbelief.
Flying was something everyone dreamed of, and this was no exception.
Hoo-hoo-hoo!
The sound of the dragon's wings drew attention. People nearby turned to look, and the soldiers in the watchtowers couldn't resist peeking as Viserys mounted the dragon's back. Now they stared openly, transfixed.
The dragon flapped its wings with tremendous force, and Viserys felt the lift beneath him grow stronger. The surrounding scenery and buildings began to shrink, and he knew then—he and his dragon had finally taken flight!
The world below grew smaller as the dragon ascended, its wings beating rhythmically, creating powerful air currents with a deafening roar. As they climbed higher and higher, Viserys noticed the people below. Night's Watchmen and soldiers alike had emerged from their posts, gazing up in awe at him as he soared into the sky. After a hundred years, a true Dragonlord had returned.
The other two dragons circled the Yellow Dragon, but the eldest growled impatiently at its siblings, as if to tell them to leave, like a serpent hissing at rivals.
Soon, Viserys was flying over the Great Wall. From his vantage point, he saw how the eastern half of the Wall stood straight as a blade, while the western half wound in curves.
Another way to control it, he realized, gently twisting the dragon's spine. The Yellow Dragon hovered in place.
"I should get Dany a parachute, just in case," Viserys mused. He estimated they were about 200 meters above the ground. The height, while exhilarating, didn't feel entirely safe.
"It'll be a few days before the fleet is ready. I might as well use the time to meet with the lords of the North." He smiled slightly at the thought. If Robert knew about this...
With that, Viserys directed the Yellow Dragon southward, soaring through the sky.