ARC IV: THE SECOND DANCE OF DRAGONS
Chapter 65: The Dragon Feast & The Vow
POV: Ros
Inside the dark wood, runically finished imperial carriage, the rattling of wheels on the stony road to Storm's End served merely as a rhythm for what was happening within. I was enjoying a private, hands-on lesson in anatomy and reproduction, grinding forcefully on Arawyn Stark's lap, feeling the sheer size and warmth of the man filling me completely.
Suddenly, two sharp, firm knocks on the wooden carriage door cut short my moment of pleasure.
I stopped moving reluctantly, panting in frustration, and yelled angrily toward the window:
— Someone better be dying for you to be interrupting me right now, Joey!
Arawyn let out a low, deep laugh, holding my thighs with his massive hands as he said:
— Nobody died, my dear, unfortunately... But we have arrived at our destination.
I climbed off his lap with a pout of pure anger written across my face. After all, quiet, uninterrupted moments alone with the Emperor of the North were becoming a terribly rare luxury these days.
Adjusting the folds of my dress, I opened the carriage door. As my feet hit the ground, I came face-to-face with one of the soldiers of the Empire's Dark Guard standing at attention beside the step. I looked the fellow up and down and asked mockingly:
— Tell me something, Joey... Could that gleaming runic armor of yours protect you from a direct attack by a giant eagle?
The guard stiffened his posture, staring at me through his visor with absolute, unwavering silence before answering sepulchrally:
— Yes, milady.
— Shit... — I grumbled, rolling my eyes. — These damn indoctrinated Dark Guard soldiers aren't scared of a single thing in this life.
Arawyn stepped out of the carriage right behind me, his massive body casting an imposing shadow on the ground. He gave a amused smile and placed a large hand on my waist:
— Stop teasing the guards, Ros. Let's settle all this political mess once and for all, and then we can go back to where we left off in the carriage.
— You'd better, Arawyn Stark... You'd better, — I replied, narrowing my eyes at him.
We walked toward the gates of Storm's End castle, passing through the massive camp set up by Daenerys Targaryen's military forces and Northern regiments. Looking over the crowd of tents, I commented:
— And do you think the Targaryen girl will accept the peace agreement without making a scene?
Arawyn looked down at me sideways, raising an eyebrow:
— You're a Level 4 Greensight user, Ros... Why don't you peek into the future yourself to find the answer?
— Oh, you know perfectly well I hate using my mind to snoop around timelines, — I retorted, crossing my arms. — I much prefer the practical satisfaction of threatening to send eagles to attack people who annoy me.
Arawyn let out a chuckle:
— You know threatening imperial officers is technically a crime, don't you? Aren't you afraid of being punished by me?
— Why, Arawyn! — I gave a confident smile and ran my hand through my red hair. — The only redhead as hot as me on this continent... you did the favor of ripping her heart out with your own hands in King's Landing. If you decide to punish or kill me, you'll end the global quota of hot redheads once and for all!
The Emperor laughed out loud, shaking his head at my nerve:
— Always full of yourself... I really have no idea where you get such a ridiculously giant ego.
— Age must be catching up with your memory, my dear Emperor, — I replied haughtily. — I was just a fifteen-year-old girl who left the South and came to Winterfell thinking I'd become a common whore in some tavern... Only for the King of the North himself—the most powerful, handsome, and influential mage in history—to personally choose me to be his official concubine and mistress. If my ego wasn't sky-high after all that, something would be seriously wrong with me!
Arawyn gave my ass a gentle pat and smiled:
— As always, there is a surprising amount of wisdom hidden in the middle of your nonsense.
When we reached the main entrance of the fortress, the key leaders from the Battle of Storm's End were already waiting for us in a solemn line. Young Aemon Targaryen stepped forward quickly and knelt in a fluid motion on the stone floor:
— My Emperor.
Arawyn stared down at his cousin and said calmly:
— I see you and your dragon handled most of the problems around here, Aemon.
— Actually... we still have a few hostages kept in the dungeons, — Aemon answered, raising his face.
— And why are they still alive? — Arawyn asked without blinking. — Kill them all at once.
Aegon and Rhaenys took hurried steps forward, but it was Aegon who spoke up urgently:
— They are our Dornish relatives, my Emperor! Members of House Martell!
I carefully caught the micro-expression of irritation that crossed Arawyn's face for a fraction of a second. However, he merely sighed and answered in a terribly cold voice:
— Right... I understand it would be a personal and political disaster for you to order the execution of your own blood. Don't worry, I will give the execution order to the executioners myself.
I held back a loud laugh that almost escaped my throat. I knew Arawyn well enough to know when he was just being sarcastic and testing the resolve of others. However, to everyone present—including Rhaenys, who was extremely close to him—it sounded like a 100% real threat of imminent death.
Rhaenys stepped forward, her voice trembling slightly:
— Actually, Arawyn... We would like to request a royal pardon for them.
Arawyn turned his gaze to her, his green eyes flashing like wildfire:
— A pardon? A pardon for turning their backs on their own family to support a Blackfyre impostor and traitor? Is a pardon for that ignorance what you're asking for?
I looked at the tense faces of Aegon and Rhaenys. That was when Aemon intervened, keeping his posture upright and his eyes fixed on the Emperor:
— Yes, my Emperor... That is exactly what we are asking for.
Arawyn stared at Aemon for a few seconds and yielded with a sharp nod:
— Let's talk to them first.
As we walked through the corridors, I couldn't help but mentally admire how impeccably hierarchy worked within that family's dynamics, even with everyone being so close and affectionate in private. Aegon always took the lead in normal conversations, not because he was a man, but because he was an actual lord and landholder, unlike Rhaenys who possessed no direct administrative power. However, when both hesitated before the weight of the Empire, Aemon took the reins of the situation without flinching... because Aemon was King. And as King—alongside Robb Stark—he was the only one who possessed the hierarchy's prerogative to speak with Arawyn on a closer level. But all of them knew perfectly well how to separate the moment they were talking to "Cousin Arawyn" from the moment they were in the presence of the Emperor of Winter.
We entered a private room on the upper floor, where the Dornish nobles held hostage were gathered under heavy guard.
Thanks to my hidden abilities as a Greensight user and Warg, I didn't need to be physically watching every corner. The people in the room had made a point of exterminating and clearing all animals and rodents from the space to prevent spying from Northern skinchangers. But they knew nothing about true magic. For us, the true arcane masters, even a tiny mosquito flying near the ceiling was more than enough to see and hear everything. And, well... with the right neural manipulation technique, I could look through the eyes of human beings without even needing to fully control them.
Upon entering the room, Arawyn walked slowly and sat at the head of the oak table, staring at the Dornishmen with a deep gaze.
— Well... I can't say I'm surprised by this treason, — Arawyn began, his voice echoing through the room. — After all, no matter how well you treat a snake, it will still try to bite you the moment your back is turned... That is its nature. But look here: this entire rebellion was an unbelievable level of stupidity.
Oberyn Martell—the Red Viper—leaned back in his chair and answered in a bitter tone:
— You know something, Emperor? I don't think we'll ever know what the hell went through my brother Doran's head to make such a stupid decision.
— Yes... Perhaps we never will, — Arawyn agreed coldly.
The Emperor turned his gaze to Princess Arianne Martell. The girl maintained a perfectly calm posture and a practiced smile on her face, but inside, her mind was in absolute panic and terror. I let out a soft laugh at the girl's fake demeanor.
Arianne glared at me with disdain and spat with venom in her voice:
— You're Ros, right? Rhaenys always talked a lot about you. Went from a prostitute to the Emperor's personal assistant.
I took a step forward, smiling sweetly at the Dornish princess:
— Life is always full of changes. Some go from a prostitute to a queen, and others from a princess to a prostitute.
Arianne lifted her chin arrogantly:
— Well, let me be a prostitute with a dragon, and you?
— Well, — I smiled even wider, tilting my head, — I could make that dragon eat you or just make you cut your throat like right now.
In the very next second, Arianne's eyes widened in pure terror. The girl completely lost control of her own body; her right hand rose involuntarily against her will, drew a sharp dagger from her waist, and pressed the cold blade forcefully against her own jugular, drawing a fine line of blood across her skin.
The panic and desperation on the Dornish princess's face were simply delicious to watch. She tried to fight against the invasion of my mind, but her human will was nothing before my power.
Arawyn reached out and lightly touched my side. In that exact instant, I released the neural control, and Arianne fell back into her chair, gasping and coughing in terror as she dropped the dagger to the floor.
— That's the main reason, my Emperor, — I commented to Arawyn. — They saw Rhaenys do her simple magic tricks and assumed that was the ceiling of our abilities.
Arawyn nodded slowly:
— Yes... That was pretty much it. Plus the fact that Doran believed the fake Blackfyre bastard was invincible with a dragon and that I wouldn't lift a single finger to save the South. Well... if the boy had just presented himself as an ordinary Blackfyre, I really don't know if I'd bother to intervene. But by trying to steal and use Aegon Targaryen's name, he signed his own death warrant.
The Emperor paused, staring at the hostages:
— But let's get back to what matters: you. I still haven't decided whether I'll send you to the executioner's block or straight to the gallows.
The room fell into a dead silence. Arawyn then turned to Rhaenys:
— Rhaenys... You spent more time with them in the past. What do you think should be done?
Rhaenys sighed and answered firmly:
— In the end, the blame for all this disgrace lies with Doran. I think you should focus the punishment on him, not the other members of the family.
— Right... — Arawyn decreed without hesitation. — Send Doran Martell to the executioner's block. That makes Oberyn next in line for the principality's succession.
Arianne raised her head quickly, protesting:
— That makes me next in line for Dorne!
Arawyn let out a short, mocking laugh:
— You married a Blackfyre traitor, girl! I care very little about your customs, but after I pass through here, you'll still have to settle things with your real King in the South... and I doubt very much he'll let you lead Dorne. If he doesn't send you to the gallows as well, you should already be thanking the gods every day.
And it was the absolute truth. Technically, Arawyn possessed no direct jurisdiction over the South's succession laws, but young King Gendry Baratheon had already granted full authority to the Emperor to resolve the Dornish crisis as he saw fit.
Arawyn looked at Oberyn:
— So... How will it be, Oberyn?
The Red Viper stared at the floor and answered in a grave tone:
— I will not usurp my brother's blood... Nor will I take the Sunspear Seat.
Arawyn smirked:
— No? Well... That shows you at least possess some honor. Then we'll do this: you will assume the temporary regency of Dorne, but the ultimate leadership and title will belong to Rhaenys.
Rhaenys widened her eyes, surprised:
— Me?!
I stepped forward and winked at her:
— Yes, my dear... And I will personally help you with the administration of the place.
Rhaenys thought for a few moments, looked at her family, and yielded:
— Only if they receive clemency and their lives are spared.
Arawyn stood up from the table:
— So be it. It doesn't matter much in the grand scheme of things... You will deal with them from today on.
I accompanied the Emperor out of the room. As we walked alone down the deserted corridor, I leaned in and whispered in his ear:
— Step two of three successfully completed, my love... Now only boy Tommen is left to finish his part in the North and everything will be perfectly resolved.
Arawyn nodded in silence. I shifted the topic and asked curiously:
— Tell me something... Do you think that in the future all of Westeros will be formally unified under the Northern Crown?
— Why don't you peek at the timeline and see for yourself, Ros? — he teased.
— Oh, I don't know about that... — I gave a suspicious smile. — You're pushing me so hard to look at the future today that I feel like you're trying to troll me with some weird vision!
Arawyn stopped before the door of the royal quarters, opened it, and made a courteous gesture:
— Ladies first...
— You just want to look at my ass as I walk by, that's what! — I murmured, stepping past him.
The second I crossed the doorframe, Arawyn delivered a hard, slappin' smack to my ass, gripping the soft flesh and squeezing tightly:
— As if I only want to look at it...
I let out a surprised squeal as he pulled me against his massive body.
— Why do you get even hotter with every passing day, Ros? — he whispered in a raspy voice against my neck.
— Why! — I gave a teasing chuckle, throwing my head back. — I'm the official mistress and concubine! I have a moral obligation to be the hottest in your harem always!
Without another word, Arawyn lifted my dress all at once and began fucking me right there, standing up against the doorframe. At over two meters tall and with superhuman physical strength, he lifted my body off the ground as if I weighed absolutely nothing.
He began walking through the room without stopping for a single second from penetrating me. Every step drove his length into my body with violence and pleasure. He threw me onto the large double bed, still without pulling out of me. His colossal frame covered me completely; the weight and width of his shoulders pinned my arms and legs entirely defenseless against the mattress, allowing me only to moan loudly and be completely taken by him.
After several minutes of a fierce pace, Arawyn penetrated me one last time to the hilt and filled my womb with an absurd, warm load of semen.
While I was still catching my breath and enjoying the heat of his seed in my belly, Arawyn used a light wave of pure magic to completely incinerate my clothes all at once, reducing the fabrics to ash and leaving me 100% naked on the sheets.
I felt his large fingers touch the region above my buttocks. With terrifying ease, the giant head of his shaft began carving a path through my rear hole. Thanks to sorcery and the magical elasticity he applied to my body, that giant member managed to be completely hidden inside my anus.
After going all the way in, he stayed still for a few seconds, letting my body adjust to the absolute fullness.
Arawyn then turned me face up without pulling out of me. He grabbed both of my legs and brought them up near my head, holding me firmly by the ankles. In that position, both of my entrances were completely spread and exposed to him.
— You've been looking for this during the entire trip, haven't you, my dear? — he asked with a wicked smile. — Well... Here is your favorite cock.
— It's the only one I need in this life... — I murmured, my voice choked with lust.
Arawyn began to move without the slightest care for my physical integrity. After all, a simple touch of his magic was enough to heal any tear in the next second... and for that reason, he could be absolutely brutal and merciless.
His massive body rose and fell with overwhelming force, penetrating deep into my anal canal. Even if sorcery kept having twenty-five whole centimeters in my ass from killing me, it was still twenty-five centimeters of hard flesh inside my body. I felt every thrust push my intestines inward. And due to the arcana matrix he created, the pain transformed instantly into an Electrical Discharge of pure, indescribable pleasure.
The result was chaotic: with every brutal thrust he delivered into my anus, a strong jet squirted violently from my wet pussy. Due to the folded position I was pinned in, my own fluid splashed directly onto my face and onto Arawyn's chest. And the Emperor maintained that insane pace for hours and hours throughout the entire night.
When the first rays of sunlight finally cut through the room's windows, I was still lying in bed, trying to regain control of my mind and the sensation in my lower limbs.
The only reason I could endure a sexual pounding of that magnitude without losing my sanity was my innate talent for mental magic. My mind was so absurdly powerful that the hyper-stimulation and amount of pleasure that would shatter any ordinary woman's psyche didn't do the slightest damage to me. Furthermore, my consciousness was strong enough to clearly narrate every detail of that moment instead of just drooling on the pillow unable to speak.
Wait a minute... Narrating to whom, anyway? What a weird, random thought... Why the hell did I just think that now? — I shook my head, dispelling the strange thought.
After recovering leg movement with the help of Arawyn's magic, dressing, and composing myself, I accompanied the Emperor for the rest of the day's political resolutions. I witnessed the arrival of the Southern Royal Family, who came to Storm's End to reclaim their ancestral fortress and give a fitting, honorable funeral to the late Renly Baratheon.
And, well... soon we would have the grand final meeting to decide the fate of the continent, but that didn't matter much to me anymore.
POV: Daenerys Targaryen
In the royal quarters of Dragonstone, I was finishing adjusting my riding attire to return to Storm's End.
After the end of the great battle and Emperor Arawyn's arrival on the island, I was finally able to go out in search of my son Viserion. My cream dragon had flown, injured and frightened, straight to the cliffs of Dragonstone, making a nest in the ancient volcanic rocks of the fortress. With the patient help and knowledge of Shiera Seastar, I managed to approach him little by little, treating his wounds until he began responding to my call with affection once more.
Now, I was preparing for the final journey where we would decide the fate of the Seven Kingdoms.
Shiera was sitting near the window of my suite, observing me in silence. Suddenly, she asked in a soft tone:
— And so, my dear Dany... What have you truly decided about your future?
I lowered my head slightly, feeling a surge of shame take hold of my chest. Shiera rose from her chair, approached, and lifted my chin delicately:
— Don't lower your head like that, girl. Now tell me: what is the reason for all this shame?
I let out a deep sigh and confessed once and for all:
— I... I don't know if I want to fight for the Iron Throne anymore, Shiera.
I spoke the words quickly and closed my eyes, waiting for a severe scolding or biting comments from my mentor. However, silence reigned in the room. No reprimand came.
I opened my eyes slowly, confused:
— You're not going to scold me?
Shiera smiled sweetly, caressing my cheek:
— And why on earth should I scold you, girl?
— Because ever since my three dragons were born in the pyres of Essos, I gathered armies and people under the promise of reclaiming my House's heritage! — I said, my voice thick with emotion. — I made thousands of men cross oceans and risk their lives for this cause... Only to hesitate now, after a little time spent with my family, in such a pathetic and cowardly way?!
Shiera gave a short, comforting laugh:
— Don't be foolish, Dany... We are here for you. Your Unsullied and Dothraki follow you, not that ugly piece of metal in King's Landing. If tomorrow you decide to open a lemon tart shop in Barrowton, you can be sure all of them would support you just the same! Choose solely what will make you happy in this life. Don't let your brother Viserys's ghost continue haunting you and dictating your steps.
At that moment, the bedroom door opened, and Missandei appeared dressed in elegant travel attire, smiling sweetly:
— I am ready, my Queen.
I wiped a discreet tear from the corner of my eye and smiled:
— Yes... Let's go.
The journey back to Storm's End was extremely fast. Mounted on Drogon's back and aided by Shiera's blood magic—which created a mystical bubble of protection against the winds—we made the trip without needing a single stop.
As soon as Drogon landed in the main courtyard of Storm's End, I was received by Grey Worm and King Aemon Targaryen.
Well... Shiera was completely right from the beginning. As the days passed and through the conversations we had, I came to terribly like that Northern lad. Aemon was like a considerably improved and much more bearable version of Emperor Arawyn: he possessed the same unwavering self-confidence and teasing provocation, but without that annoying attitude of acting like he was the absolute center of the universe every second. (Well, Arawyn technically was the most powerful being in the world, but it was still irritating to be in his presence sometimes). Or maybe it was just my Queen's pride speaking louder.
And, well... in the realm of intimacy, Aemon had also proven to be an absolutely extraordinary man.
I approached him in the courtyard and teased with a side smile:
— What is it, Aemon? Did you come to receive me in the courtyard as soon as I landed because you're in love with me or something?
Aemon stared at me with his grey eyes and answered with the most nonchalant face:
— Actually... yes.
I blinked, caught completely off guard:
— What?!
— It's the plain truth, — Aemon continued, taking a step toward me with disarming sincerity. — I didn't think it would be possible, but I think I fell completely in love with you, Dany.
I felt my face heat up like fire. I looked at him in disbelief:
— And... And you just say a thing like that with a straight face in front of everyone?!
Aemon gave a side smile and shrugged:
— What can I do? It's exactly what I feel. Actually, I'm hoping from the bottom of my heart that you refuse this stupid fight for the Iron Throne... That way I can try to convince you to come to the North and become my Queen.
— You... You idiot! — I barked, my face burning with pure embarrassment while Shiera burst into laughter right behind me. — You're saying that now just to try and influence my decision in the meeting!
— Of course I am! — Aemon admitted without the slightest shame, winking at me. — I'm combining business with pleasure! That way I already leave it imprinted in your subconscious that you won't lose any title, since you'll continue being Queen anyway... just by my side in the North!
— I hate you! — I protested, turning my back and walking briskly inside the castle, leaving him behind.
I take back everything I said before: Aemon Targaryen was ten times worse than Emperor Arawyn! Who the hell says something like that, out of nowhere and without warning?! And the worst part of it all was that I knew perfectly well he was being 100% sincere in every word... That arrogant, miserable bastard!
Hours later, the Grand Council of the Continent was convened in the Main Hall of Storm's End.
The room was filled with powerful figures: Emperor Arawyn, young King Gendry Baratheon, Lord Stannis, Arya Stark, Aegon, Rhaenys, and the main commanders of the North and the South.
Arawyn took the floor and addressed King Gendry:
— King of the South... Regarding the resolution of Dorne, it has been decreed that my niece Rhaenys Targaryen will assume the title of Lady of Sunspear and lead the principality from this day forward.
Gendry thought for a few moments and nodded in agreement. I clearly noticed that the young king was in a major internal conflict over what to do with the traitorous Martells. The decision made all the sense in the world, since Rhaenys possessed the blood of Dorne and the unconditional support of the Northern Empire.
Arawyn then turned his green eyes directly toward me:
— Right... Now let's talk about you, girl. Are you still yearning for that Iron Throne in King's Landing?
I adjusted my posture and answered cautiously:
— Perhaps... We can decide this political matter after the end of the Great War that is coming in the North.
Arawyn shook his head and dismissed it:
— No. That war against the dead will still take a few weeks to break out at the Wall... It's much better to resolve all this nonsense once and for all today.
— And what is your brilliant suggestion, Emperor? — I asked, raising my eyebrows.
Arawyn gave a mischievous smile and answered point-blank:
— How about we take a gold coin, flip it into the air, and whoever guesses the side gets the Iron Throne?
The silence that followed in the hall was absolutely deafening. No one dared to let out a single laugh.
Arawyn let out a sigh and rolled his eyes:
— Jeez... It's just a joke, everyone. You people definitely need to work on your sense of humor in this Southern court!
He turned to me again, his voice becoming more understanding:
— You know perfectly well you don't want that ugly throne, Daenerys... You only carry subconscious guilt over your brother Viserys's death and the tragedy of your family. And, after gaining so much power in the East, you feel you have a moral obligation to try to 'correct' the injustices of the past.
I remained in absolute silence. The Emperor's words struck the bottom of my soul like a painful truth. After all, most of my House's tragedies had been caused by my own father's madness and Viserys's greed.
Arawyn continued:
— We will make the following formal agreement: the Iron Throne will return the island and castle of Dragonstone perpetually to your House. And, in exchange, I am formally asking for your hand in marriage on behalf of my cousin Aemon Targaryen! This will keep you as a sovereign Queen in the North, but now surrounded by your real family.
I felt my heart leap in my chest. I looked around the hall. I saw Shiera smiling at me with complicity. I looked at Missandei, Grey Worm, and my Dothraki warriors... and I saw in everyone's expression that they already knew my answer and were deeply happy for me.
I faced Arawyn and asked in a low voice:
— And... And will I be happy with this choice?
Arawyn gave a serene, sincere smile:
— Yes, Daenerys... You will be incredibly happy. Oh, and about that little fertility problem of yours resulting from Essos sorcery... It's something ridiculously easy to fix for the mage speaking to you.
I took a deep breath, feeling a giant weight lifted off my shoulders, and declared to the whole hall:
— I accept the agreement!
Beside me, Aemon broke into a giant smile that went from ear to ear.
Arawyn looked at King Gendry and Lord Stannis:
— I imagine the Southern Crown does not oppose this peace agreement, correct?
Stannis Baratheon stepped forward and gave a slight bow:
— We are in total agreement with the terms, Emperor Arawyn.
I smiled and commented:
— Right... We'll see about the wedding details later, so we don't rush.
Aemon immediately chimed in with a playful tone:
— Yeah... We can leave the wedding for tomorrow! It doesn't need to be today!
The men in the hall burst into laughter at the boy's cheekiness.
After the meeting concluded, I walked toward my royal quarters in the castle, accompanied closely by Aemon.
— Did you ask the Emperor to say those things in the meeting about the marriage? — I asked, looking at him sideways.
Aemon gave a mysterious smile:
— Arawyn sees the past and the future, Dany... He knew exactly what both of us wanted even before we knew it ourselves.
Reaching the door of my room, Aemon entered the space without even being invited, adjusting his sword at his waist and saying mockingly:
— Well... I came here to get to know my future wife a little better.
I closed the door behind me. I walked slowly to a small side table and picked up a small leather riding whip I used for riding.
Aemon looked at the object in my hand and joked:
— I guess it's a bit late for me to leave, isn't it?
— Absolutely, — I replied, approaching him with slow steps and a dangerously sly look.
— And can I at least ask for your forgiveness for today's teasing? — he asked, feigning innocence.
— No... — I smiled, touching the handle of the whip to his chest. — Your only punishment today will be to serve as my mount. I am going to ride you until I dry out your balls completely... Only that will rid me of all the anger and embarrassment you made me go through in front of the lords today!
Aemon placed his hand on his chin, grumbling under his breath while pretending to calculate the pros and cons of the situation:
— Well... Evaluating the conditions carefully... It's a proposal that is totally worth it!
Without losing another second, I pushed him hard against the large double bed and mounted his body, staring at him with an ardent gaze:
— Don't worry, my dear King... If there is one thing a true Khaleesi knows how to do perfectly well in this life... it's how to ride!