Black Fire, White Dragon

As the visor on his sallet was raised, Naerys knew he had been found out, but who wouldn't hear all his huffing. The face that peered through the night was one he did not recognize, though the hair and the eyes were definitely that of a dragon. A Targaryen that he did not know? A bastard's features could not be so pure, could they? Rather than just have a gander at him, the stranger poured something awful in his mouth.

Grunting, he choked all the same. How was his kidnapper to prevent it? Well wishes? The bevor that protected his neck made reaching into the armor quite difficult. That was the point of it after all, or part of it. While he could hardly waggle his tongue, he could at least swallow. Thank the seven or this fool would have drown him. If he was to be killed, Naerys was really hoping it would be quicker than that. The stuff tasted like a boot and the familiar sting of alcohol was hidden within.

After poisoning him with lowborn swill, he was hefted along again, though the lordling wasn't sure where they were going. One assumed the mysterious assailant was keeping off the main roads. A man with features like his carting a child with the Targaryen standard emblazoned upon his armor was sure to draw some manner of scrutiny. And it seemed as if his carrier wished to avoid undue attention. He was terrified of where he was being taken.

Before long, he was wiggling his finger within his glove, and then two, and then five. It would not be long before he could move again. Once that happened the boy was sure to no longer go quietly. The man was fortunate beyond the stars that he suffered from this debilitating affliction, Dragon Dreams he was told. Had he not been so cursed he would have given this fool a facefull of his sally, and Aerys... The next time he saw his cousin, he probably would stab him in the balls.