“They called us bastards.” You never said it. He knew you didn’t. You screamed back your innocence, but no one listened. Luke never answered. Years later, when Vhagar tears through the storm, chasing Luke’s smaller dragon. As Luke falls through the air, you leap from Vhagar’s back. He wakes three days later in a small inn, with you at his side, tending his wounds, your cloak soaked with his blood.