58: Chapter 58 A Little Finger Touched

There was another long silence.

Drogon's left hand had originally been resting on his knee, but at some point, it had slipped down to the floor.

Daenerys's right hand was propped on the floor, right beside his left hand.

There was only an inch of distance between their fingers.

The links of the chain were spread out between them, reflecting the faint moonlight from outside the window.

Daenerys did not speak. But her pinky—ever so lightly and quickly—brushed against his.

It wasn't a grasp. Just a touch. The tip of her fingernail lightly tapped against his scales.

It was as if she were confirming he was still there. Or perhaps, on this night bound by chains, she was giving him a signal she hadn't even fully thought through herself. After touching him, she immediately pulled back. Her finger curled up, her nail digging into her palm again.

Drogon did not turn his head to look at her.

But his tail traced a circle very slowly behind him. With a movement just as light, he tapped his pinky back against her fingertip. The moment his scales touched her skin, the temperature difference was stark—his scales were icy cold, and her fingertips were warm.

Her warmth lingered on his scales for a fraction of a second. In those few fractions of a second, his scales absorbed that tiny bit of heat.

Then he also pulled his finger back.

A line of tiny text popped up from the system. Rarely, it was not a warning. The font was white. "Detection of core spouse emotional state: Anger has subsided → Sadness subsiding → Relief added. Host is advised to maintain current distance before the closing operation. The current chain restraint does not affect combat attributes; the host can still fight at full strength during the closing operation."

"Are you going to unlock the chains or not?"

"The power to revoke punishment lies with the core spouse. Please do not break them on your own."

"Understood."

Before dawn. The bedchamber.

The sky was about to brighten. The night darkness over the sea outside the window was receding, and a faint, pale white was emerging in the east. Daenerys had already lain back down on the bed. On her side. Her silver hair spread across the pillow, the tips scattered on the quilt.

The quilt was pulled up to her shoulders. Her left arm was exposed, the black silk scarf still on her wrist—a new thread had frayed at the edge of the scarf, twisted out by her fingers repeatedly rubbing it tonight.

Drogon had not left. He was still sitting on the floor by the bedside.

His left ankle was bare, but the lingering sensation of the chain seemed to remain on his skin—not heat, but cold. valyrian steel is cold, but after staying against his high-temperature skin for so long, it would be warmed by him. Now that the chain was unlocked, the residual temperature was slowly fading.

His tail slid under the quilt as usual, gently wrapping around her ankle. This time she did not pull her leg away. Her ankle turned slightly within his tail's coil, leaning a bit closer toward his tail.

Daenerys reached her hand out from under the quilt. She placed the chain she had just collected by the side of the pillow. Not into a drawer, not into the treasure vault. She placed it by the pillow. Right next to that emerald necklace.

The chain's links spread out by the pillow, moonlight shining through the gap in the curtains, illuminating subtle signs of deformation on a few of the links—left there from when he wore the chains while shifting into his dragon form.

She looked at those deformed marks, her fingers lightly brushing over the links. Then she withdrew her hand. This was a signal—this object was not a historical relic to be sealed away, but a tool belonging to her, one that would be used again.

Drogon watched the chain being placed by the pillow. His slit pupils contracted slightly. The corners of his mouth curved up in the slightest arc. His tail flicked gently under the quilt. The red mark on his ankle had almost faded.

"Next time you use it, remember to tell me in advance what clause I've violated. Don't go digging through the old code every time."

Daenerys closed her eyes. Her voice was already laced with sleepiness. Her breathing began to slow and deepen.

"Memorize the clauses yourself..."

The system popped up a notification. The font changed from blue to grey-blue, quite reluctantly.

"Host, the Old Valyria dragon spouse contract clauses have been imported into the system database. The clause triggered for this punishment: Volume 3, Chapter 4, Section 7. Next time, it is advised to avoid triggering Volume 5, Chapter 2, Section 9—'Concealing major information from the core spouse'. The punishment for this clause usually involves extending the chain restraint time for up to three days."

Drogon: "..."

"You're helping her. Are you her system or my system?"

"I am the host's system. But according to the blood bond contract, Volume 4, Chapter 1—the system's neutrality automatically leans toward maintaining contract stability when it involves the core spouse's rights. The host tacitly agreed to this clause when signing the blood bond. This clause was signed by the host himself with blood from his reverse scale; the system has no authority to unilaterally revoke it."

Drogon closed his eyes. His tail flicked gently under the quilt. Forget it. He really hadn't read the fine print when he signed the blood bond. The system had displayed the full text of the clauses, and he had skipped over them. Now he knew regret. But he didn't regret it either.

The bedchamber fell quiet. Outside the window, the first rays of morning light over Meereen were rising from the sea. The morning light was pale gold—different from the golden light when he broke through on the city walls.

The light on the city walls had been explosive power of bloodline, blinding and overbearing. The light before him was the sun climbing out on its own, gentle and quiet. The chain lay silently by Daenerys's pillow, next to her emerald necklace.

valyrian steel gleamed with a cold light in the morning sun; the deformed links still showed traces of being stretched out under the morning light. Drogon leaned against the foot of the bed, eyes closed, his tail still wrapped around her ankle.

Her ankle moved slightly within the coil of his tail—not to pull away, but to lean even closer toward his tail. Their synchronized heartbeats, the same tune. In the dawn light, they slowly fell into sync.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The day had dawned.