Viserys turned his gaze toward the distant Free Folk, who were slowly gathering and preparing to break camp.
"Yes, that's right," he admitted calmly.
"Many of them simply want to survive."
He paused, then continued, "Besides, killing them would accomplish nothing. Their bones cannot become bricks for the Wall, nor can their blood warm the frozen soil of the North. Fear can make people submit for a time, but it cannot win true loyalty."
Rhaenys fell silent for a while, her gaze lingering on Viserys's profile as the fierce wind whipped up his long silver-white hair.
She thought of how he had handled things recently, especially matters concerning the Iron Islands and now the lands north of the Wall. He had become somewhat different. She could not say exactly how, but she could feel it.
"Brother," she finally said softly, "you really seem to have changed quite a bit lately."
At those words, Viserys turned and gave her a somewhat speechless look. Rather than answer her directly, he merely raised a hand and patted King Ghidorah's back.
"Let's go," he said, sidestepping the subject. "We should head back. You need rest, and I imagine Ser Dennis and the others are getting anxious."
On the stretch of the Wall above the Shadow Tower, the black-clad men of the Night's Watch had long been straining their eyes in anticipation. When two black specks appeared in the sky toward the Gorge, then rapidly grew larger and revealed the unmistakable outlines of dragons, the men atop the Wall erupted into cheers they had held back for far too long.
At first, only a few scattered cries rang out, but they soon swelled into a chorus, echoing through the icy air above the Wall.
Only a short time had passed between the Dragonlord's departure on