GOT: The Great — Chapter 231 - Above the Sea of Clouds

Drogo watched Sansa. The charcoal in the brazier had dimmed; only a few pale pieces flickered in the ash. Her face was half-lost in shadow, her red hair dark in the low light.

"Your prayers may have been heard long ago. A greenseer can enter the weirwood network by touching the trunk, watch distant places, even look back through history. But what does it matter? The greenseers can barely save themselves. How could they spare a thought for the Starks?"

Sansa lifted her head.

"I'll admit it — the power of the Old Gods is nothing compared to the Lord of Light."

Sansa was quiet for a moment. Her fingers spread open on her knees, then slowly curled back in.

"Do you believe in the Lord of Light?" she asked.

"No," Drogo said. "But I can use him."

He stood and extended his hand toward her.

"Come. I want to show you something."

Sansa looked at his hand without rising.

"Show me what?"

"A sight most people live their entire lives never seeing."

Sansa placed her hand in his. Cooler than Daenerys Targaryen's, with rougher knuckles.

They walked out of the Painted Table Chamber, through the stone corridor, and out onto the black volcanic rock of Dragonstone. Sea wind swirled between the pillars, carrying dead fish and salt.

Drogo whistled.

Black wings appeared first behind the Stone Drum Tower. Then the massive head.

The Black Dragon came in from the direction of the volcanic crater. Every wingbeat rolled a gust of brine-heavy air ahead of it, blowing Sansa's hair across her face.

The great dragon landed in front of them, claws scraping against stone with a harsh grinding shriek.

It lowered its head. Those ember-hot vertical pupils lingered on Sansa for a moment, then it exhaled a blast of scorching air, as if reading her scent.

Sansa stepped back.

"My woman is afraid of dragons?" Drogo said.

"Your woman is not afraid of dragons." Sansa held the Black Dragon's gaze. "She's just not stupid."

Drogo laughed once, swung himself up onto the dragon's back, and pulled Sansa up after him.

She sat in front of him, her back against his chest. One arm wrapped around her waist; his other hand gripped the scaly ridge running down the dragon's spine.

The wind lifted her hair. It swept across his face, carrying something light and warm.

"Hold on."

The dragon launched into the sky. Sansa didn't scream. She simply locked both hands around Drogo's arm, her shoulders rigid as stone.

"You're going to throw me off."

"I could never."

They flew above the clouds.

The black sea spread out below. Dragonstone shrank to a gray speck. King's Landing was still swallowed by the horizon, invisible.

"Beautiful?" Drogo asked.

Sansa was looking east.

"This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

The dragon climbed higher and punched through the first layer of clouds.

The world went white. Nothing visible anywhere, only the wind, the steady rhythm of the wings, and Drogo's arm around her waist.

Then the dragon burst through, and everything opened.

A sea of clouds stretched below them, rolling all the way to the edge of the sky. The cloud layer billowed like slow white waves. Above it, the sky was pure blue, so deep it edged toward violet.

The whole world had been reduced to two colors. Blue above. White below.

Sansa's hands released his arm.

She stopped holding on to anything. She rested both palms on the dragon's back and let herself feel the warmth of the scales beneath them.

Her shoulders dropped. Her chin lifted slightly. Her eyes moved from the horizon to the clouds below and back again, though all there was to see was black water and white mist.

"You know," Sansa said.

"Hm?"

"You're my lucky god." The wind shredded her voice to pieces, but Drogo heard every word. "My miserable life didn't end until I met you."

"You told me my sister Arya is alive. That my brothers Bran and Rickon are alive. That gave me something to hope for again. You looked after me, protected me, swore to avenge me. And then you brought me word that my mother is alive."

Drogo held her and listened. His beard brushed against her hair. His breathing was slow and even.

"You always surprise me. I never thought I could fly. This is something I'll carry with me."

"Same as you," Drogo said. "First time I climbed onto a dragon's back, I felt exactly the same. There was no saddle yet. I couldn't sit steady, had to grip the dorsal fin with both hands. When it rolled, I was hanging upside down in open air with nothing between me and the ground but my grip. I remember thinking — it would be such a damn waste to die like this."

Sansa laughed. He could feel it through her back, her shoulders shaking against his chest.

"Want to make this flight even more special?" she asked.

"What?"

Sansa took hold of his arm and stood up slowly.

Drogo reached instinctively for her waist. She was already steady.

She turned to face him on the dragon's back.

"You told me that when Dothraki do something that matters, they let the sky bear witness." She met his eyes. "We're close enough to the sky now."

She unfastened his belt with both hands. The wind was fierce, and her fingers fumbled a little, but she wasn't rushing.

She worked with her hand for a while, a mischievous curve at the corner of her mouth. Then she shifted her weight and settled.

Drogo drew a slow breath.

The high-altitude wind was bitterly cold. But she was warm. Especially where the sunlight couldn't reach, the places only Drogo could.

Her hands pressed flat against his shoulders. Her nails dug into his skin. Her head tilted back.

By the fifth stroke he was done. She didn't complain. She felt the rush of heat, lowered her head, and buried her face in his neck.

"My magnificent man," she breathed against his ear. "I love this feeling."

Drogo wrapped both arms around her and pulled her in tight.

The dragon glided above the sea of clouds. Its wings had stilled, only the occasional tilt to hold the current, riding the air like a ship rides the water.

The wind softened. Sunlight broke through the gaps between clouds and fell across them.

Her hair spilled over his arms. Her heartbeat pressed against his chest, and gradually, slowly, it settled into the same rhythm as the wings.

Holding each other. Holding each other close. What a beautiful feeling, he thought. What a beautiful woman.

They stayed on the dragon's back a long time. Drogon tired eventually and began to descend, banking back toward Dragonstone.

Sansa lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him. Her eyes were bright.

Then she lowered her head and tidied his clothes. Her movements were unhurried.

She aligned the buckle on his belt and pressed it closed. She smoothed the wrinkles from his lapel with her palm. Then she straightened up and kissed him on the mouth.

"I will remember today for the rest of my life," she said.

Drogo thought: Don't say that. Next time I'll do better.

The dragon landed on the open ground before the Stone Drum Tower. Drogo dropped down first, then lifted Sansa off the dragon's back.

Her legs were unsteady. She held his arm until she found her footing.

Brienne was waiting at the entrance of the Sea Dragon Tower. The sworn swordswoman took one look — Sansa's disheveled hair, the loose gap at her collar, and said nothing. She simply had a clean cloak folded over her arm.

Sansa let go of Drogo's arm and walked toward the Sea Dragon Tower. After a few steps, she turned back.

"My man," she said. "I thought you would say something sweet to me."

"I did."

"You didn't."

"I said 'what a beautiful woman.'"

Sansa looked at him. Her eyes were clear. She smiled once, then turned and walked toward Brienne.

➤ Next: The Lion Heads North