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Maegor sat in his chambers in the Temple of the Lord of Light, another letter from Baela in his hands. Her messy handwriting always made him smile:
"Dear Aegor (because fuck that cruel bastard's name),
Still alive, unfortunately not killing as many greens as I'd like. The cowards keep running away the moment they see Moondancer. Can you believe these shits? I finally get a dragon and all the knights suddenly remember they have urgent business elsewhere. Father says I should be patient, but patience is overrated when you have a crossbow and dragonfire.
What are you learning over there? Something interesting, I hope. Better than the boring shit they teach at court, I bet. That red priestess of yours seems fascinating – does she actually walk through fire like they say? Can she teach me? And I still don't understand what the fuck you are doing there, and why you were send there in the first place.
Write back soon, you secretive big shit.
Your favorite sister,
Baela
P.S. Rhaena says hello. She's still writing sad poetry. Save me."
Maegor chuckled, picturing Baela terrorizing the Greens with her characteristic lack of subtlety. But then his amusement soured as thoughts of Rhaenyra crept in – Rhaenyra, who he'd loved so much, who he'd trusted completely. Rhaenyra, who'd betrayed that trust in the worst way possible, taking his father to bed. And then Criston Cole. And who knew how many others?
Baela was the only one who still called him Aegor instead of Maegor. He had told her many times to call him by his true Name. That's who he was, after all. But Baela insisted that his name was Aegor. Rhaenyra had told the others that he had gone there to learn from the Red Priestess and not to make an alliance with his dear Aunt. Thought his dear cousin had wanted him dead, but she was a coward to do it herself.
He pulled out a fresh piece of parchment:
"Dear Baela,
Your letters always arrive at the perfect moment. I keep telling you to call me Maegor. That's who I am.
Kinvara is teaching me things that would make your eyes light up – and probably terrify everyone else. Let's just say fire answers to more than just dragons. You'd love it here. The temples are full of secrets, and none of them involve sad poetry.
Keep making those green knights run. Sometimes fear is more useful than blood.
Your brother,
MAegor
Please tell Rhaenyra that she sucks."
He sealed the letter and handed it to Kinvara, who stood waiting by the door. "Send this to Harrenhal. To my sister Baela."
"Of course," Kinvara smiled, her ruby glowing at her throat. "She has your fire, your grace. More than you know."
"She has more than fire," Maegor replied. "She has honesty. That's rarer than dragonflame these days."
Tomorrow
The golden light of dusk filtered through the high windows of the Golden Pyramid of Volantis, casting long shadows across the floor where dozens of servants carried chests filled with gold, jewels, and precious artifacts. Maegor Targaryen stood at the top of the grand staircase, his tall frame imposing in black armor adorned with red dragons. His silver-gold hair caught the light, making it appear as if his head was crowned with fire.
Beside him, Saera Targaryen watched with keen violet eyes as their newly acquired wealth was cataloged and stored. Her black and red dress, cut in the Volantene style but bearing Targaryen colors, rustled softly as she moved to examine a particularly large chest of gold coins.
"The Qol-Daras family had been hoarding wealth for generations," she remarked, running her fingers through the coins. "Now it serves a greater purpose."
Kinvara stood nearby, her ruby choker gleaming against her throat. Other red priestesses flanked her, their red robes creating a sea of crimson below the stairs.
"The Lord of Light has blessed your victory," Kinvara declared, her voice carrying through the chamber. "The flames showed us your triumph before it came to pass."
Maegor's lip curled in a satisfied smirk. "I wish I was there to see it myself."
"Their slaves now look to you for leadership," another priestess added. "The ones who bore the flame tattoos of the Qol-Daras family await their fate."
Saera descended the stairs. "They will be given a choice. Serve us like they served their masters, or they can leave and find their own life." Saera said with a little sly smile.
"A generous offer," Kinvara observed, falling into step beside Saera. "But I must ask, now that Volantis kneels to House Targaryen, what comes next? This city holds more slaves than any other in Essos. Its fleet is unmatched. Its wealth, now yours, is vast."
Maegor exchanged a knowing look with his great aunt. "Come," he said, leading them through ornate corridors to a chamber dominated by an enormous table.
The map table was painted directly onto its surface was a detailed map of Essos, from the Free Cities to the Bone Mountains. Cities were marked with golden dots, trade routes tracked in red lines, and territories delineated in various colors. Small dragon figurines carved from obsidian were placed strategically across the surface.
Saera traced her finger along the coastline. "Volantis is merely the beginning. Look here – Lys, Myr, Tyrosh. The Disputed Lands between them have kept them at each other's throats for centuries. They're ripe for unification under the right banner."
"Our banner," Maegor added, moving one of the dragon pieces to hover over Lys. "The Three Daughters have grown fat and corrupt on their slave trade and petty wars. They'll never expect us to move so soon after taking Volantis."
Kinvara leaned over the map, her ruby casting red reflections on its surface. "And the Lord of Light's temples in these cities? What shall become of them?"
"They will flourish," Saera assured her, placing a hand on the priestess's arm. "We've seen how your priests can sway the hearts of the common people. Your words brought us thousands of supporters in Volantis alone."
Maegor nodded. "The Lord of Light's teachings will spread with our conquest. Every city that bends the knee will hear R'hllor's wisdom."
"But it won't stop with the Three Daughters," Saera continued, her eyes alight with ambition. She swept her hand across the map. "Pentos, Norvos, Qohor – all the Free Cities will be free no longer. They'll be united under the dragon's wing. But not just them, we will take over Bravoss as well, but that will take a long time, but for now we will focus on the free cities."
"An empire," Kinvara breathed, understanding dawning in her eyes. "Not seen since Old Valyria itself."
"Better than Valyria," Maegor declared. "We'll build something new. Something lasting."
A red priestess stepped forward, her voice trembling with excitement. "The prophecies speak of a time when darkness will be banished by the Lord's chosen. When fire will cleanse the world and forge it anew."
"And what better tools for R'hllor's work than dragons?" Saera asked, smiling. "Fire made flesh."
Kinvara clasped her hands together. "The Lord of Light has truly blessed this union. Our temples will call all faithful to your cause. From Volantis to the Shadow Lands, they will know that R'hllor's chosen ones have come to lead them into the light."
"But first," Maegor said, placing another dragon piece over Myr, "we must secure our position here. Volantis's fleet will need to be expanded. The army trained to our standards. The city's defenses strengthened."
"The gold we've claimed today will help with that," Saera noted, gesturing to a servant who carried in a ledger. "The Qol-Daras family's trading contracts alone will fund our initial expansion."
"And what of the other families?" Kinvara asked. "Those who submitted to your rule rather than fight?"
"They'll be given the chance to prove their loyalty," Maegor answered, his voice hard. "Those who serve well will prosper. Those who plot against us will join the Qol-Daras in hell."
Saera moved to stand beside her nephew, their matching violet eyes fixed on the map before them. "Every city has its own politics, its own power structures. We'll need to understand them all, find their weaknesses, their pressure points."
"The temples can help with that," Kinvara offered. "Our priests hear many secrets in their daily duties. The common people trust us with their fears and hopes."
"Perfect," Saera smiled. "And in return, R'hllor's teachings will spread with every city that falls under our protection. A fair exchange, wouldn't you say?"
Maegor placed his hand over Saera's on the map table. "The dragons will soar again, and all of Essos will remember why they once knelt to those who command them."
"The night is dark and full of terrors," Kinvara intoned, the other priestesses echoing her words. "But the fire of the dragon will light the way to dawn."
Outside, below, in the streets of Volantis, the news of the day's changes spread like wildfire. The dragon banners of House Targaryen flew from every tower, and in the temples, the red priests sang songs of prophecy and power.
"Which cities shall feel the dragon's breath first, your Graces?"
Maegor moved his hand across the newly acquired territory of Volantis. "Before we march on any city, we must forge our captured resources into a proper army. The slaves we've inherited from the Qol-Daras and other families – half of them will be trained as soldiers."
"Half?" Saphira asked, her striking beauty enhanced by the red robes of R'hllor that draped her form. Unlike the other priestesses, her hair was long, dark as night, with red rings.
"Yes," Maegor confirmed. "We have over twenty thousand able-bodied men and women who were kept in chains. Once trained, they'll fight for us with the fervor of the truly liberated."
"The other half will work the fields and mines. Volantis has relied too heavily on the slave trade for too long. We'll diversify our exports – precious metals, crops, textiles. When other cities see how we prosper, they'll be more inclined to join us willingly." Saera added with a commanding voice.
"A sound strategy," Kinvara nodded. "But which city will be your first target?"
Saphira leaned over the map, her finger hovering between two points. "Lys or Mantarys? Both are within striking distance."
Kinvara's face darkened at the mention of Mantarys. "The demon road is not to be trifled with, even for those who command dragons. The stories we hear from travelers who survive that cursed path..." She shuddered. "Even the Lord's light struggles to penetrate those shadows."
"Agreed," Maegor said firmly. "Mantarys can wait. We'll focus on the Free Cities first, beginning with Lys." He placed a dragon figurine over the island city. "Their defenses are formidable, but they rely heavily on sellswords and their fleet. Dragons change those equations significantly."
"My King," Saphira interjected, her voice carrying a note of concern. "There is something you should know about Lys. Prince Qoren Martell of Dorne is a frequent visitor to their pleasure gardens. He has... significant investments in several establishments there."
Saera's laugh was sharp and musical. "Let him enjoy his pleasures while he can. Dorne's protests will mean little once we have the strength of Essos behind us." Her eyes took on a predatory gleam. "In fact, Dorne itself will kneel to us eventually. The Martells may have resisted Aegon the Conqueror, but they've never faced me and Maegor."
"You plan to cross the Narrow Sea?" Kinvara asked, intrigued.
"In time," Maegor replied, sharing a knowing look with Saera. "But first, Lys. Their wealth and naval power will be crucial for our future conquests."
"The pleasure gardens and pillow houses will make excellent recruitment grounds for our cause," Saera added. "Those slaves hear everything their masters discuss in unguarded moments. And the Lyseni pride themselves on their spy networks – networks that will soon serve us."
Saphira moved closer to the map, studying the sea routes. "Their fleet is considerable. Almost as large as Volantis's."
"Combined, they'll be unstoppable," Maegor declared. "We'll need that naval power when we move against Tyrosh and Myr. The Stepstones will become our highway across the Narrow Sea."
"And what of the current slaves in Lys?" Kinvara asked. "They number in the thousands."
Saera's smile was cold and calculated. "The same offer we made here – freedom in exchange for service. Those who choose to fight will be trained. Those who prefer peaceful work will help build our growing empire. The pleasure slaves will be given special consideration – many have valuable skills in gathering information."
"The Lord of Light showed me great fires spreading across the waters," Kinvara said, her eyes growing distant. "I saw dragons casting shadows over marble palaces and chains melting in their wake."
"Your visions serve us well, High Priestess," Maegor acknowledged. "But we'll need more than visions. Your priests in Lys – how loyal are they to the main temple here in Volantis?"
"They will do as the High Priestess commands. I will talk with her tomorrow," Kinvara assured him. "When the time comes, they'll spread the word of your coming among the faithful. Many slaves in Lys follow R'hllor – they'll be ready to act when you arrive."
Saphira stepped forward, her voice urgent. "My King, if I may suggest – the Lyseni pride themselves on their beauty and their blood ties to Old Valyria. Playing to that vanity might serve us well. They might be more willing to submit to those who truly carry the blood of the dragon."
"An excellent point," Saera agreed. "We'll send envoys first, of course. Give them the chance to bend the knee peacefully. Those who resist..." She trailed off meaningfully.
"Will learn why the dragons are feared," Maegor finished. He turned to Kinvara. "How long before our new troops are ready for battle?"
"With R'hllor's blessing and proper training, three months should suffice for basic combat skills. The more talented ones might be ready sooner."
"Good. That gives us time to consolidate our hold here and prepare the fleet." Maegor began placing more markers on the map, representing troop movements and supply lines.
"What message shall we send to Prince Qothor?" Saphira asked. "He'll certainly report our movements to Sunspear."
"Tell him nothing. Let him discover our presence when dragons shadow his favorite pleasure house. The time for diplomacy with Dorne will come later, when we're ready to turn our eyes westward." Saera said with a gleam in her eyes.
"The Prince might try to rally support against us," Kinvara warned. "Dorne has many friends among the Free Cities."
"Let them plot," Maegor declared confidently. "By the time they realize what we are doing, it will be too late, and even if it's not, we have dragons. The Free Cities have grown soft and complacent in their wealth. They've forgotten what it means to face dragons in war."
"And what of the Dothraki?" Saphira questioned, pointing to the vast grasslands on the map. "They've been unusually active lately, pressing closer to the Free Cities' territories."
"The horselords will learn to fear dragons as their ancestors did," Saera said dismissively. "Perhaps we'll give them a demonstration when they next approach our borders."
Kinvara raised her hands, and the torches in the room flared brighter. "The Lord of Light guides your path. Your enemies will burn, and from their ashes, a new empire will rise."
"Not just an empire," Maegor corrected, pulling Saera close to his side as they looked down at the map together. "A dynasty that will last a thousand years. The Targaryens will rule again, greater than ever before."
"What about the east territory of Essos?" Saphira asked.
Saera's finger traced a long arc around the smoking ruins of Valyria. "To reach Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen, our fleet must take the long route around the Smoking Sea. It will add months to the journey, but..."
"But it's the only safe path," Maegor finished, his eyes fixed on the ominous region marked as the Smoking Sea. "Unless..." He turned to Kinvara. "Has anyone successfully traversed those waters since the Doom? It's been 230 years."
Kinvara's face grew solemn, the ruby at her throat pulsing more intensely. "Many have tried, my King. Adventurers, treasure hunters, madmen seeking glory – they sail into those cursed waters with dreams of Valyrian steel and ancient magic. None return."
"None?" Saera leaned forward, intrigued. "What befalls them?"
"The stories vary," Saphira interjected, her voice hushed with reverence and fear. "Sailors speak of waters that boil ships like eggs in a pot. Some claim the very air burns their lungs and drives men mad with visions."
Kinvara nodded gravely. "In the flames, our priests have seen terrible things dwelling in those ruins. The teachings of R'hllor speak of firewyrms – massive serpentine creatures, like dragons without wings but twice as large. They burrow through stone and earth as easily as fish swim through water."
"Firewyrms," Maegor mused, his hand unconsciously moving to the hilt of his sword. "Could they have survived the Doom?"
"Our texts suggest they not only survived but thrived in the aftermath," Kinvara continued. "The heat and fire that killed everything else only made them stronger. But they're not alone in those ruins. There are... other things. Creatures so horrific that no living person has seen them and lived to describe their form."
Saera's violet eyes widened suddenly. "Princess Aerea," she said softly. "She might have seen them."
"Princess Aerea?" Saphira asked.
"A stupid Princess of our family," Saera explained. "She rode Balerion the Black Dread and one day she disappeared for more than a year. When she finally returned to King's Landing, she was dying."
Maegor's face darkened. "The maesters' records describe her condition in detail. She burned with fever, yet felt cold to the touch. And there were... things moving beneath her skin."
"Moving?" Saphira's face paled.
"Whatever was inside her," Saera continued, "it killed her within a day of her return. The Grand Maester who treated her reported creatures writhing inside her body, trying to burst free. And Balerion, the most powerful dragon ever known, returned with massive wounds across his chest."
Kinvara's eyes flashed. "Firewyrms could have caused such wounds. They're the only creatures known to rival dragons in size and power. And the things inside the princess..." She exchanged a meaningful look with Saphira.
"Soulburrowers," Saphira whispered. "The ancient texts speak of them – parasitic worms that enter through the mouth or nose while their victims sleep. They grow inside the body, feeding on blood and flesh until..."
"Until they're ready to emerge," Kinvara finished grimly. "The princess was fortunate to die before that happened."
Maegor studied the map intently. "Balerion was the only dragon known to have returned from Valyria since the Doom. Even he, with all his power, did not return without a wound that some say caused his death. Perhaps the long route to Slaver's Bay is wise after all."
"The sea route has its own dangers," Saera pointed out. "Pirates in the Basilisk Isles, storms off the coast of Sothoryos, and the journey would leave our forces exposed for months."
"Still better than facing whatever dwells in the Smoking Sea," Saphira insisted. "At least pirates can be fought. Storms can be avoided. But those... things in Valyria..."
"There are other tales," Kinvara added, her voice dropping lower. "Some of our oldest scrolls speak of stone men who were once human, of demons that take the form of beautiful women to lure sailors to their doom, of ancient dragons gone mad and feral, their minds twisted by centuries of isolation."
Maegor traced the coastline of the Smoking Sea. "The Doom destroyed the greatest civilization ever known in a single day. Whatever power caused that destruction might still linger."
"And now these creatures roam freely through the ruins," Saera concluded. "No, we'll take the long route to Slaver's Bay. When the time comes, our forces will sail around the Summer Sea, past the Basilisk Isles."
"A wise choice," Saphira agreed. "Though it means we should focus on the Free Cities first, building our strength before attempting such a lengthy campaign."
"The Free Cities, then Slaver's Bay," Maegor confirmed, returning to their earlier planning. "By the time we reach Astapor, our reputation will precede us. The Good Masters might be more inclined to negotiate when they hear what became of Lys."
"And if they don't?" Saphira asked.
Saera's smile was cold. "Then they'll learn why the Doom of Valyria wasn't the end of dragon fire in this world. Their walls may be ancient, but they'll melt all the same."
"And the slaves?" Saphira questioned. "The Unsullied of Astapor alone number in the thousands."
"They'll join our cause," Maegor stated confidently. "The Unsullied are the finest infantry in the world. Once freed, their discipline and skill will strengthen our armies immeasurably."
Saera thought this would be the end of their discussion when Maegor asked a question that caught her a little off guard. "What news from Westeros?" Maegor asked. "The flames must show you something of the war."
Saphira stepped forward. "The Red Queen is dead. Rhaenys and her dragon Meleys fell at Rook's Rest. Burned by both Vhagar and Sunfyre."
"Two against one," Saera scoffed, pushing open the heavy doors to their chambers. "How very brave of them."
"There's more," Saphira continued as they entered. "Your father, Prince Daemon, has taken Harrenhal. But the flames show... darkness around him. His intentions toward Queen Rhaenyra grow... uncertain."
Maegor's expression tightened slightly. "And The Whore Queen?"
"The Queen is not well," Kinvara interjected. "Her mind fractures like ice in spring. The loss of her sons... she sees enemies in every shadow."
Saera lounged on a velvet couch, laughing coldly. "Poor, dear Rhaenyra. All those years of being the Realm's Delight, and now her realm delights in tearing itself apart for her." She reached for a goblet of wine. "Let them destroy each other. It will make our eventual return all the easier."
"You sound almost disappointed that you won't get to kill her yourself," Maegor observed, studying her face.
"Oh, I don't care enough to want her dead," Saera replied dismissively. "Let her live and suffer. Let her watch everything she thought was hers turn to ash."
One of the red priestesses moved to pour more wine as Maegor paced the chamber. "Daemon has two children with her."
"Don't tell me you're growing sentimental," Saera's voice carried a warning edge.
"Not sentimental," Maegor replied carefully. "Strategic. Aemond One-Eye needs to die. He and Vhagar are too dangerous to leave unchecked."
"You want to help them?" Saera's tone was incredulous.
"I want to remove a threat," he corrected. "A visit to Westeros might be worthwhile, just long enough to deal with Aemond."
"And Vhagar?" Saera sat up straighter. "Will you kill the old dragon too?"
Maegor exchanged a subtle glance with Kinvara, one that Saera missed as she drank deeply from her goblet. "No. Vhagar is more valuable alive than dead."
"The oldest and largest living dragon," Kinvara mused, her ruby choker pulsing. "Such power should not be wasted."
Saera waved her hand dismissively. "Do what you want with the war in Westeros. Play the hero for your father and his little dragonspawn if it pleases you. Just remember where your true destiny lies." She rose and walked to him, pressing against his chest. "Remember who made you king."
"I remember everything," Maegor assured her, though his eyes met Kinvara's again over Saera's shoulder.
Saphira cleared her throat softly. "The flames show another path. Aemond's death could change many things. Vhagar without a rider..."
"Would be a powerful ally," Maegor finished. "Or a dangerous enemy."
"Unless someone worthy were to claim her," Kinvara added meaningfully.
Saera pulled away from Maegor, moving to the balcony that overlooked the city. "Let them have their dancing dragons across the sea. We have real work to do here. Real kingdoms to conquer."
"The war will keep them distracted," Maegor agreed. "They won't notice what we're building here until it's too late. But Aemond... he's too unpredictable. Too dangerous to ignore."
"The flames show him burning cities," Saphira warned. "Reveling in destruction for its own sake. He brings chaos where he flies."
"Then go," Saera said, still gazing out over Volantis. "Go play with your father's war. Kill Aemond. Save whoever needs saving. But remember, my love..." She turned, her violet eyes gleaming dangerously in the torchlight. "I won't wait forever."
"A few weeks at most," Maegor promised. "Just long enough to remove a threat and... secure certain advantages."
The red priestesses exchanged knowing looks. They had seen what was coming in their flames, had seen the plans within plans that were unfolding. Saera might not care about the dragons of Westeros, but she didn't need to. Not yet.
"When you return," Kinvara said softly, "the army will be ready. The fleet will be prepared. And the Lord's light will guide us to greater victories."
"And if you don't return?" Saera's voice carried both threat and promise. "If the dragons of Westeros keep you too long?"
Maegor crossed to her, taking her face in his hands. "Nothing in Westeros could keep me from our destiny. This empire we're building, this power we're gathering – it's everything. A few weeks to remove a threat and strengthen our position is worth the investment."
"Just remember where you belong," Saera insisted, pressing her lips to his. "With me, conquering the east, not playing savior to our your father's other children."
"When have I ever forgotten my purpose?" Maegor asked with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Now, shall we help you two relax, your graces?" Kinvara offered as she walked over to Maegor, pulling him a little away from Saera, who was quickly distracted by Saphira.
As Maegor drew Kinvara close, her lips met his with warmth. He knew that Red Priestess were always warm to the touch, but tonight, their bodies felt warmer than ever before. The ruby at her throat blazed bright enough to cast red shadows across their faces as his hands explored the curves beneath her crimson robes.
His breath caught as he tasted her—the warmth from her mouth wasn't just hot; it was blazing, like pressing his lips to the heart of a bonfire.
Kinvara moaned into his mouth, the sound vibrating through his chest as his hands roamed her voluptuous form, eager fingers tracing the full, ripe mounds of her breasts through the delicate red silk of her dress. Every touch seemed to ignite her skin even more. The ruby nestled at her throat pulsed in tandem with her growing desire, flashing crimson light that illuminated her flushed skin.
"Mmmmm, yes," Kinvara moaned softly against his lips, her voice like a sultry breeze. She pressed her curves harder against him, and he groaned as he felt her body melt into his. "Take me, my dragon king," she purred, her breath hot and heavy. "Fill me with your seed, and make me stronger."
Her words sent a jolt of lust straight to his cock, already rock hard and straining against his trousers. Maegor's hands gripped her more tightly, feeling the weight of her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples through the thin fabric, eliciting another moan from her.
Across the chamber, Saera let out a sharp gasp as Saphira's lips claimed hers with the same fiery intensity. The Red Priestess's mouth was warm; the kiss was hot, sweet, and pleasurable, and Saera couldn't pull away. Her body arched into Saphira's warm touch, craving more of the delicious heat that set her nerves alight. Saphira's hands roamed freely over Saera's form, and her fingers felt warmer tonight, making Saera whimper and squirm with need.
"Such beautiful breasts," Saphira purred against Saera's lips, her fingers kneading Saera's ample mounds through her dress.
"Being blessed by R'hllor grants us certain advantages when it comes to pleasure," Saphira whispered, making Saera's skin prickle with anticipation.
Saera whimpered, her lips parting as the heat intensified. "Gods..." she gasped, barely able to form words as the searing touch of Saphira's fingers trailed lower. The heat was excruciatingly perfect, sending her mind spiraling into a pure need as Saphira's fingers found their way between her thighs. Saera's knees buckled, her whole body trembling.
Saphira's warm fingers gripped Saera's silk dress and tore it apart, exposing her beautiful tits. "Such perfect breasts," she purred, her hot breath making Saera shiver as those warm hands cupped the exposed flesh.
"Ohhhhh fuck..." Saera moaned as Saphira's mouth blazed a trail of kisses across her upper breasts, each touch like a brand against her sensitive skin. The priestess took her time, worshipping every inch with warm lips and tongue.
"You like that, don't you?" Saphira murmured, moving to the soft undersides of Saera's breasts. Her heat had Saera writhing, crying out as that warm mouth worked its way higher.
"Yes! Please... more!" Saera begged her back arching as Saphira finally claimed a hardened nipple. The wet heat of her mouth was almost too much to bear, making Saera's head spin with pleasure.
"Such responsive little nipples," Saphira purred before sucking hard, her tongue swirling patterns of fire around the sensitive peak. At the same time, her fingers found Saera's clit, circling the swollen bud with teasing touches that made her hips buck.
"Fuck... your fingers... so hot!" Saera's moans grew louder, more desperate as Saphira alternated between her breasts, leaving no inch of flesh untouched by her warm mouth.
"That's it," Saphira encouraged, increasing the pressure on Saera's clit as she sucked harder at her nipples. "Let everyone hear how much you love this..."
"OHHHHH GODS!" Saera screamed, her entire body shaking as the pleasure built to impossible heights.
Saphira plunged her warm fingers deep inside, making Saera scream as the pleasure exploded through her like wildfire. Her hands clutched desperately at Saphira's shoulders, nails digging into her skin, but the priestess only smiled darkly, clearly reveling in the power she held.
Meanwhile, Kinvara had dropped to her knees before Maegor, her hands working deftly to free his aching cock from the confines of his trousers. Her eyes glinted with delight as she gazed up at him, her ruby still pulsing, casting an eerie red glow over her face. "The night is dark and full of terrors," she whispered with a devilish grin, "but I shall show you pleasures as bright as flame..."
Before Maegor could respond, Kinvara's mouth engulfed him, and he let out a roar that echoed through the chamber. Her mouth was warm, much warmer than any other mouth he had fucked with his cock, her tongue licking hot patterns along his shaft, every sensation heightened to an almost unbearable level. It felt like being swallowed by fire itself, yet the pleasure was unlike anything he had ever known. His hands tangled in her red hair as she took him deeper.
"By the gods..." Maegor groaned, his voice ragged as Kinvara's warm mouth worked its magic on him. The ruby at her throat pulsed faster, matching the rhythm of her movements as her tongue teased and tormented him. Each stroke of her hot tongue sent waves of heat and pleasure crashing through him, his mind reeling from the sheer intensity of it.
Across the way, Saera's cries of pleasure filled the chamber, her body pressed hard against a stone pillar as Saphira's fiery fingers worked her over. Saera's back arched, her breath coming out in short, desperate gasps as Saphira curled her fingers inside her, sending waves of heat and pleasure through her.
"That's it, sweet queen," Saphira murmured, her lips brushing against Saera's ear as she pressed harder, her fingers moving faster. "Let yourself burn for me. The night is dark and full of terrors, but the fire... oh, the fire brings such sweet release..."
Saera was nearly incoherent with pleasure, her moans growing louder as Saphira added another finger, stretching and filling her, while her thumb found her most sensitive spot. The pillar at her back was the only thing keeping her from collapsing as the heat and ecstasy overwhelmed her.
Kinvara's mouth worked Maegor's cock with relentless passion. Her tongue swirled in intricate patterns along his shaft, every touch sending fiery pulses of pleasure shooting through him. The heat was addictive.
"Seven hells," he groaned, the words torn from his throat as Kinvara took him impossibly deeper. Her lips tightened around his shaft, and the searing heat of her throat made him feel as if he were being consumed by an infernal blaze.
"Mmmmmm," Kinvara hummed, the vibrations from her moans sending shockwaves of pleasure straight through Maegor's core. The sensation was almost too much to bear. Her hands gripped his thighs, fingers digging into the hard muscle, and drawing blood.
Maegor's breathing grew ragged, his head falling back as Kinvara's warm tongue licked and teased every inch of his sensitive flesh. His balls tightened, heavy and full, as her pace quickened, her throat working his length with a hunger that seemed insatiable. "I'm close," he warned through gritted teeth.
Kinvara didn't relent. Instead, she doubled down, her mouth devouring him with even more intensity. She took him so deep that he could feel the unbearable heat of her throat squeezing the very tip of his cock. Her burning gaze locked with his, her eyes glowing like embers as she worshipped him. The sight of the powerful Red Priestess on her knees, beautiful red full lips wrapped tightly around his cock as she drank him in like a parched woman seeking water sent him spiraling over the edge.
With a roar, Maegor came, his cock pulsing violently as he unloaded deep into Kinvara's eager mouth. His heavy balls pumped stream after stream of thick seed down her throat, and she moaned with delight as she swallowed it all. Her throat worked rhythmically, taking in every drop as if his cum were the lifeblood of R'hllor himself, sacred and powerful.
Kinvara didn't falter, didn't pull back even as his climax stretched on, seemingly endless. Maegor's body convulsed with wave after wave of pleasure, his cock still pulsing as he continued to fill her mouth. The sheer volume of his release would have overwhelmed any normal woman, but Kinvara's nature allowed her to handle it effortlessly. She swallowed it all, her lips wrapped tight around him as if she never wanted to let go.
For thirty glorious seconds, Maegor's body trembled with pleasure, his legs nearly giving out as his cock pumped hot seed into her mouth. Kinvara moaned around him, her own arousal building with each second of his release. Her body shuddered with ecstasy, her ruby choker flaring to a blinding brightness as the raw power of his essence fueled her magic.
When Kinvara finally pulled away with a wet pop, Maegor's cock was still hard and glistening, her lips swollen and red. She looked up at him with a wicked grin, licking the last traces of his seed from her lips as if savoring every drop. Her eyes blazed with satisfaction, her chest heaving as she caught her breath.
"Your seed carries the power of old Valyria," she purred, her voice low and sultry, the heat of her breath sending another shiver down Maegor's spine. "It burns even hotter than my flames." Her tongue flicked out to tease the remaining droplets from the tip of his cock, her lips curving into a satisfied smile as she tasted him again.
"I want you inside me, my King," she rasped, her voice thick with lust and power. "Fill me with your dragon seed..."
Maegor growled low in his throat as he hauled her to her feet. With one swift motion, he spun her around and pressed her against the soft mattress of the bed, his hands hiking up her skirts. Kinvara was bare beneath, her warm skin radiating heat. But the need was too strong, and when he finally thrust deep inside her, they both cried out in unison, their voices echoing through the chamber.
"Yes!" Kinvara screamed, her nails raking down his back. "Claim me, my dragon! Make me burn!"
Maegor's thrusts grew harder, faster, driven by the heat of her body wrapped so tightly around him. Every slide into her molten core felt amazing, the pleasure so intense it was nearly painful. Her body clenched around him, pulling him deeper, her heat stoking the flames higher with each thrust.
Saera screamed as Saphira's fingers drove her over the edge, her entire body convulsing as her release hit her like a tidal wave of fire. Saphira held her tight, whispering sweet words of encouragement as she wrung every last tremor from Saera's trembling form.
Moments later, Maegor's roar filled the chamber as he found his own release, his seed spilling deep into Kinvara's body. The ruby at her throat flashed blindingly bright, casting the entire chamber in crimson light as their combined climax sent shockwaves of heat and magic pulsing through the room.
When the light finally dimmed, they all lay panting. The air smelled of sex.
Kinvara smiled, her lips curling as she straightened her skirts, her ruby still glowing softly. "The Lord of Light is pleased," she murmured, tracing her fingers over Maegor's chest. "His fire burns bright in all of us tonight..."
The chamber door swung open, releasing a wave of hot air as five more Red Priestesses entered. Their fiery hair seemed to glow like living flame, and their eyes gleamed an intense ruby-red, glowing in the dim light like embers that had caught fire. Each of them—Kassandra, Nassira, Nymithra, Ariyssa, and Lunara—shed their crimson robes with effortless sensuality, revealing curves that would drive any man mad with lust. Their bodies were sculpted to perfection, as if R'hllor himself had shaped them for this very purpose.
"The Lord of Light has blessed us tonight," Nymithra purred, her gaze falling hungrily upon Saera, who still trembled from the heat of Saphira's touch. With a sly smile, Nymithra and Ariyssa advanced toward her. As they approached, Saera could feel the intensity of their combined heat prickling against her skin, making her shiver despite the overwhelming warmth.
"Let us worship you properly," Ariyssa whispered, her voice a sultry murmur as her lips brushed against Saera's ear. Without hesitation, she pressed her warm lips to Saera's neck, her mouth like a brand searing her flesh in a way that made Saera moan with desperate need. Meanwhile, Nymithra's fingers danced across Saera's inner thighs, teasing closer and closer to her core. The heat was dizzying, her entire body writhing beneath their touch before they'd even truly begun.
Saera's skin flushed, her breath coming out in shallow gasps as the two priestesses guided her to the massive bed in the center of the chamber.
"Mmmmmmm... yessss..." Saera whimpered softly as their warm tongues began their sweet torture, her fingers twisting in the silk sheets. The pleasure was already building, making her thighs quiver.
"OHHHHH FUCK YES!" she suddenly screamed as they hit a particularly sensitive spot, her back arching dramatically off the bed. Her cry echoed off the chamber walls as their skilled mouths drove her wild with need. "Don't stop... please don't ever stop!"
Their tongues worked in perfect harmony, drawing increasingly desperate sounds from her throat. When they slid their fingers inside her, the combination of sensations had her seeing stars. Her hips bucked wildly against their faces as waves of pleasure crashed through her trembling form.
"R'hllor... yes! Right there!" she wailed, grinding shamelessly against their mouths as they pushed her higher.
"Taste me," Lunara commanded sweetly from above, straddling Saera's face with the grace of a goddess. The scent of arousal filled Saera's senses as her lips found Lunara's warm center, her tongue eagerly lapping at the priestess's dripping heat. Lunara moaned in approval, her hands tangling in Saera's hair as she ground down harder against her mouth, her hips moving in urgent rhythm.
Across the chamber, Kassandra, Nassira, and Kinvara turned their attention to Maegor, who stood like a warrior carved from stone, his massive frame glistening with sweat. His cock stood tall and proud, pulsing with need as they surrounded him, their warm hands roaming his muscular body with hunger. They led him to the opposite side of the bed, making him sit on the wooden frame of the bed.
Their ember-bright eyes gazed up at him, their lips parted. Kassandra was the first to claim his mouth in a kiss that nearly made his knees buckle. Her tongue was warm, her lips searing, but it only fanned the flames of his lust as his hands reached up to grip her breasts, squeezing and teasing the sensitive flesh. Her moans were deep and guttural, vibrating against his mouth as her body pressed harder into him.
Below, Nassira and Kinvara worshipped his cock with their warm tongues, each lick sending jolts of fiery pleasure through his body. They took turns, their mouths working together in perfect harmony to drive him mad. The sensation of their tongues tracing over every inch of his shaft made him grip the sheets tightly, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he fought to maintain control.
"Please," Kassandra gasped against his lips, her voice thick with need. "I need you inside me..." Her body radiated heat as she straddled his lap, her hands guiding his cock to her entrance, ignoring the pouts of Kinvara and Nassira. When she sank down on him, taking him to the hilt in one smooth, fluid motion, they both cried out, their voices filling the chamber.
Kassandra's inner walls clenched around him like a velvet furnace, her body burning with need as she rode him with increasing urgency. The bed creaked beneath them; the other two Red Priestess continued worshipping Maegor, their hands and tongues worshipping every inch of Maegor's exposed skin.
Saera's muffled moans grew louder as Lunara ground harder against her face, her thighs trembling with the incoming orgasm. Beneath her, Nymithra and Ariyssa's tongues worked tirelessly between Saera's legs, their fingers curling and teasing her most sensitive spots, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. The heat in the chamber was unbearable, yet they all craved more—more heat, more pleasure.
The priestesses chanted in unison, their voices low and thick with passion. "Let the fire take you. Surrender to the flames and find your release..."
The rubies at their throats flared brightly, casting the chamber in waves of crimson light as the pleasure built to impossible heights.
"OHHHHH R'HLLOR!" Lunara screamed, her whole body shaking as pleasure exploded through her. "Yes... yes... YESSSS!" Her thighs trembled violently around Saera's face as she rode out her release.
"FUCK... I'M CUMMING!" Saera wailed against Lunara's pussy, her back arching off the bed as her own orgasm claimed her. "Don't stop... please don't stop... AHHHHH!" Her cries grew increasingly desperate as Nymithra and Ariyssa's skilled tongues pushed her higher.
"By the Lord of Light!" Kassandra's voice rang out as her climax hit, her inner walls gripping Maegor like a velvet furnace. "Fill me... breed me... YES!"
"TAKE IT ALL!" Maegor roared, his massive cock pulsing as he flooded Kassandra's womb. His seed burned hotter than dragonfire as it spilled into her eager womb.
For a moment, the chamber seemed to shimmer with the divine power of R'hllor himself, the flames crackling with energy as the priestesses and their lovers found their release. The heat was overwhelming.
When the glow finally faded, they lay tangled together on the massive bed, their skin gleaming with sweat and satisfaction. The ruby chokers around the priestesses' throats pulsed softly, like embers cooling after an inferno.
"The night is dark," Kinvara murmured, a satisfied smile playing across her lips as she ran her fingers lazily across Maegor's chest.
"But the fire burns eternal," the other priestesses responded in unison, their eyes still glowing with hunger.
Maegor stood amidst the glowing, sweat-slicked forms of the Red Priestesses, his thick cock still throbbing with the need to conquer. His stamina astounded even these women who were accustomed to the fire of R'hllor burning through their veins. Kinvara was the first to kneel before him again, her body trembling with desire.
With a deep, satisfied groan, Maegor pushed inside her once more. Her warm heat clenched around him like a vice, gripping his cock with an intensity that left no part of him untouched by her fire. Kinvara's cries echoed through the chamber as he pumped into her, the headboard shaking in time with his powerful thrusts.
"Yes!" Kinvara cried out, her back arching off the sheets as Maegor's relentless pace drove her to the edge of madness. Her hands gripped his broad shoulders, nails biting into his skin. "Fill me with your dragon's essence!"
Her inner walls clamped down on Maegor's massive cock like a vice, squeezing and rippling around him as she rode out her intense climax.
"MORE! DON'T STOP! BREED ME!" she wailed, her nails raking down his back as another wave of pleasure consumed her. The ruby at her throat pulsed frantically, casting the chamber in waves of crimson light that matched the rhythm of her release.
When he came, it was with a roar that reverberated through the chamber, his cock pulsing as he flooded her core with thick, hot ropes of cum until it overflowed, spilling out of her in sticky trails. Her body shuddered beneath him, the ruby at her throat flaring with every pulse of his seed.
Before his cock had a chance to soften, Kassandra replaced Kinvara, her fiery red hair fanning out across the silk sheets as she lay beneath him, her body writhing in anticipation. Her large, heaving breasts bounced with every breath she took, and Maegor wasted no time driving his thick length into her molten depths. Her body clung to him with the same unbearable heat, but Maegor only thrived on it, feeding off their fire.
"By R'hllor," Kassandra gasped, her voice cracking as each powerful thrust pushed her closer to the edge. "Your virility is truly blessed!"
Her words spurred him on, his hands gripping her waist, pulling her onto his cock with every slam of his hips. The sound of their bodies colliding echoed through the room as he fucked her into the bed, his balls slapping against her soaked heat. Kassandra's moans grew louder, more desperate, until she screamed his name, her body shaking with ecstasy as her release washed over her. Her ruby choker pulsed like a heartbeat, glowing with the power of their union.
One by one, Maegor took the remaining priestesses—Nassira, Nymithra, Ariyssa, Saphira and Lunara. Each coupling was more intense than the last, the heat was intense and amazing. His stamina never faltered, his cock remaining hard as iron as he drove into them, filling each of them with his potent seed. Their moans of pleasure reverberated off the stone walls, mixing with the wet sounds of their joining. Each time he climaxed, it was with such force that the priestesses convulsed beneath him, their bodies shaking as his hot seed spilled into them.
By the time he was done, the chamber reeked of sex and sweat. The bed was soaked with their fluids, and yet, Maegor's cock still throbbed, ready for more. He turned his gaze to the last woman untouched by his hands—Saera. She lay sprawled on the silk sheets, her pale skin flushed a deep pink from countless orgasms given to her by the priestesses' hands and tongues. Her chest heaved with ragged breaths, her breasts rising and falling as she gazed at him with wide, pleading eyes.
Maegor crawled towards her with predatory grace, his muscles rippling under his sweat-slicked skin. He positioned himself between her thighs, his thick cock brushing against her drenched entrance. Saera whimpered, her lips parting as she felt the head of his cock press against her sensitive folds.
"Sweet Nephew," she whimpered like a whore. But before she could say more, Maegor thrust deep inside her in one swift, brutal motion, burying himself to the hilt. Saera cried out, her back arching off the bed as he filled her completely, the thickness of his cock stretching her to the limit.
"Gods, you're so tight," Maegor growled, his voice dark and feral as he set a punishing pace. The headboard slammed against the wall with every powerful thrust, the room filled with the sounds of their rough coupling. Saera's moans grew louder, more desperate, as she clung to him, her nails raking down his back.
"I'm going to breed you proper, little dragon," Maegor growled, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he drove into her harder and faster.
His words sent a shiver of desire through Saera, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper inside her. "Yes! Please, breed me!" she cried, her voice thick with need. "I want to bear your children!"
Around them, the Red Priestesses formed a circle, their hands raised, their voices rising in an erotic chant that filled the air with power: "Blessed be the seed of dragons, blessed be the children of flame! R'hllor's power flows through their union!"
The words of the priestesses spurred Maegor to even greater heights of passion. His thrusts became more frenzied, each powerful stroke driving Saera up the bed until she had to brace herself against the headboard. Her breasts bounced wildly, her moans growing louder and more desperate as she begged for his seed.
"Fill me!" she gasped, her inner walls clenching around him as her body tensed with the intensity of her impending release. "Make me round with your child!"
"Take it all," Maegor growled, his voice deep and feral as his pace became erratic. His cock swelled inside her, the tension building to unbearable levels as his release approached. "Every... last... drop!"
Her moans reached a fever pitch as she felt his cock swelling inside her. "Fill me up... breed your aunt's hungry cunt... YESSS!"
"OHHHHH FUCK YES! I'LL BEAR ALL YOUR CHILDREN, MY SWEET NEPHEW!" Saera screamed at the top of her lungs, her entire body shaking as his release triggered her own explosive climax. "BREED YOUR AUNT'S HUNGRY WOMB!"
Her back arched dramatically off the bed as Maegor's cock continued pulsing inside her, pumping rope after thick rope of hot dragon seed into her eager channel. "So much cum... don't stop... fill me up!"
After fifteen seconds of continuous pumping, his seed began overflowing her stuffed pussy, trickling down her thighs despite his cock still being buried to the hilt. "YES! MORE! FLOOD ME!"
Thirty seconds in, and still he came, his stamina allowing him to paint her inner walls with seemingly endless waves of hot seed. "By the gods... how are you still cumming?" she gasped in wonder.
At forty-five seconds, the flood finally began to slow, though her pussy was so full that each small pulse caused more to spill out around his thick shaft.
"I can feel it... so deep inside me..." she whimpered, her inner walls still rippling around him as aftershocks rocked through her. "You've bred me so well, nephew... I'll give you so many beautiful children..."
The priestesses watched in awe as Maegor's seed continued leaking from her stuffed channel, forming a growing pool beneath them on the silk sheets.
"The Lord of Light blesses this union," Kinvara declared, her voice filled with awe as she gazed upon them. "Your children will carry the fire of R'hllor in their veins."
Maegor collapsed on top of Saera, both of them still joined intimately. Her inner walls clenched around him again, making him groan with the aftershocks of his release. He could feel his seed settling deep within her, the thought of her round with his child sending another jolt of pleasure through him.
"Rest now," the priestesses murmured, their ruby chokers pulsing softly in the dim light. "For the night is dark, but your passion burns eternal..."
They curled together on the massive bed, their bodies tangled amidst the satisfied priestesses as the chamber's braziers cast dancing shadows on the walls.
Later
Maegor's eyes opened to darkness, but not the familiar darkness of his bedchamber. Gone were the sleeping forms of Saera and the priestesses. Instead, he stood alone in a place where smoke hung thick as fog, and the very air seemed to shimmer with heat. Nearby, water bubbled and hissed in pools that glowed with an inner light.
"Maegor..." a voice called, the ancient Valyrian words sliding like silk through the darkness. "Māzigon kesīr... Come here..."
He moved forward, drawn by the voice. The ground beneath his feet was warm, almost hot, and in places, steam escaped from cracks in the stone. Through the haze, shapes began to emerge – enormous structures that seemed to touch the smoke-filled sky.
"Kesīr... here..." the voice beckoned.
As the smoke parted, Maegor's breath caught in his throat. Before him stretched the impossible grandeur of Old Valyria. Towers of fused black stone rose like spears thrust into the heavens. Dragons carved from marble and precious stones perched on every corner, their eyes seeming to follow his movement. Streets paved in patterns of dragonglass led to plazas larger than the Red Keep's courtyard.
"Impossible," he whispered in Valyrian.
A figure appeared at the end of a wide avenue – a woman in flowing robes – but when Maegor blinked, she was gone. Then another, a man in armor that seemed made of living flame, vanished as soon as Maegor tried to focus on him.
"Are you real? Or am I going mad?" he called out.
"Real... not real..." the voice answered. "Past... present... future... all one here..."
More figures flickered in and out of existence around him. A group of children playing with a baby dragon. A procession of priests carrying crystal staffs. Warriors mounted on full-grown dragons soaring between the towers. Each vision lasted only seconds before dissolving like smoke.
"What is this place?" Maegor demanded though he knew the answer. "Why have you brought me here?"
"Your blood brought you," the voice replied. "The blood of Old Valyria calls to its own. Look closer..."
Maegor approached one of the massive buildings. Its walls were covered in writing – spells and histories carved in letters that seemed to move and shift as he watched. He reached out to touch them, but his hand passed through the stone like it was mist.
"This isn't real," he said. "This is a dream."
"All dreams are real here," the voice countered. "The city remembers. The stones remember. The magic remembers."
A dragon's roar echoed through the empty streets, but when Maegor looked up, he saw only the swirling smoke above. More figures appeared – nobles in rich robes, servants hurrying on errands, merchants with exotic wares. They moved through him as if he were the ghost, not they.
"What do you want from me?" Maegor asked, his voice echoing off walls that might not truly exist.
"Want?" The voice seemed closer now. "We want what we have always wanted. Power. Knowledge. Control. The same things you want, son of Valyria."
"Show yourself!" Maegor commanded, turning in place as more phantom figures appeared and vanished around him.
"We are shown," the voice replied. "In every stone, every shadow, every breath of smoke. We are Valyria. And you... you could be more."
A window in one of the towers caught Maegor's attention. Unlike the other structures, this one seemed more solid, more real. Through the window, he could see a room filled with scrolls and strange instruments. On a pedestal in the center sat something that made his heart stop – a dragon egg, but unlike any he had ever seen. Its scales were black as night but seemed to shift with internal fire.
"More than a king," the voice continued. "More than a dragonlord. You could be what we were... what we are..."
"And what is that?" Maegor asked, unable to take his eyes off the egg.
"Gods," the voice whispered, and suddenly the city seemed to pulse with power. The phantom figures multiplied, hundreds now, thousands, all going about their lives as if the Doom had never happened. Dragons filled the sky, their shadows dancing across the streets.
"This is what was lost," Maegor realized. "This is what could be again."
"Yes..." The voice was everywhere now, in the stones, in the smoke, in his very blood. "But first, you must claim it. Claim us. Claim your birthright."
"How?"
"Return..." The phantoms began to fade, the city growing dimmer. "Return to us, son of Valyria. Return and learn what your ancestors knew. Return and become what they were."
"Wait!" Maegor reached for the window with the egg, but it was dissolving like all the rest. "I need to know more!"
The voice called again through the smoke-filled air, and this time Maegor detected its feminine quality, ancient and powerful. His eyes were drawn upward to the highest tower of black stone, where something moved in the darkness.
What he saw made his breath catch in his throat. A dragon unlike any in history sat perched upon the spire, but to call it merely a dragon seemed an insult to its magnificence. Two sets of massive wings spread against the dark sky, crimson lightning dancing between them like living webs of power. Its scales weren't the typical dragon armor he knew – they appeared to be made of Valyrian steel itself, rippling with the same dark patterns he'd seen in his sword.
The creature's horns rose like black spears, wickedly curved and adorned with smaller spikes that gave it a crown-like appearance. But it was the eyes that truly captured him – two burning red stars that pierced the darkness, each one blazing with an inner fire that made even the red priests' rubies seem dim in comparison.
"Gaomagon nykēla, ñuha ābrazȳrys, (Come to me, my dear child,)" the dragon spoke in High Valyrian, its voice both terrible and beautiful, like the song of steel on steel mixed with the music of the spheres.
"Skoros... skoros iksā? (Who... what are you?)" Maegor asked, his voice steady despite the awe filling his chest.
The dragon rose to its full height, and Maegor's mind struggled to comprehend its size. He had seen Vhagar, had known she was the largest living dragon, but this beast made Vhagar seem like a hatchling in comparison. Its body alone was five times the size of the ancient dragon, with a wingspan that could have covered the entirety of the Red Keep.
For a moment, Maegor thought such a creature could never achieve flight – its mass should have made it impossible. Then the dragon launched itself from the tower. Red lightning exploded around it as it took to the air, moving with a speed that would have made even the Blood Wyrm envious.
The beast circled him, leaving trails of crimson lightning in its wake. The very air seemed to crack and split at its passing. When it landed before him, the ground shattered. Fissures spread out from its claws, glowing with inner fire, while bolts of blood-red lightning struck the earth around them.
Maegor found himself staring into eyes larger than he was tall, each one a pool of living flame. Despite the creature's overwhelming presence, despite every instinct screaming at him to run or cower, he stood his ground. His heart raced, but his stance remained proud, his gaze steady as he met those burning eyes.
A sound like rolling thunder emerged from the dragon's throat – laughter, he realized with surprise.
"Vēttan kēpāzma mazōt daor ziry issare dōrīngon nykeā, (Centuries have passed since any mortal stood before me,)" the dragon spoke, its voice making the very air vibrate. "Tolī lo daor bona kostagon gevie ūndegon hae ziry. Issi... gevivesa, byka zaldrīzes. (Longer still since one did so without fear. You are... interesting, little dragonlord.)"
"Iksan ñuha kepa iāys, (I am my father's son,)" Maegor replied. "Se ñuha māpas. Raqiros dōrī jiōragon ñuha bē sylutegon sȳrī. (And my mother's. Fear has never served my bloodline well.)"
"Daor (No,)" the dragon agreed, crimson lightning playing between its teeth as it spoke. "Raqiros issa syt bōsas iksi. Yn ao... ao vīlībāzma Valyrio iōragon. Daor lys qrimbrōzā kēli lanti ēngos issa. (Fear is for lesser beings. But you... you carry the true blood of Valyria. Not diluted like so many others who claim our legacy.)"
"Ēngos īlva? (Our legacy?)" Maegor caught the word. "Bisy iā... ao issi... (Then you are...)"
"Iksan skoros iksā, (I am what was,)" the dragon interrupted. "Skoros iksā. Skoros moriot kostagon māzigon arlī. Iksan ōñōr ñuhys āeksio gīmigon, drīvose zirȳ kīvia, ānogar zirȳ raqiros jiōragon. (What is. What could be again. I am the power your ancestors knew, the truth they kept hidden, the destiny they feared to embrace fully.)"
Its massive head lowered until one eye was level with him. "Se ao, ābrazȳrys hen nādīn se prūmia, ao iksā se vala bona ziry istan jorrāelagon. (And you, child of fire and blood, you are the one I have waited for.)"
"Skoros ao jorrāelagon hen nyke? (What do you want from me?)"
"Jorrāelagon? (Want?)" Lightning crackled around its horns. "Nyke jorrāelagon skoros ao jorrāelagon. Ōñōr. Drīvo Ōñōr. Daor prūmia velmizan ao lenton iā Westerosi jevi. Daor zōbrie mazverdagon ao vēzos iderēbagon ziry sȳndin. Tolī ōñōr. Ōñōr bona mazverdagon bisy ñāqira. Ōñōr bona mazverdagon ziry arlī. (I want what you want. Power. True power. Not the pale imitation your family plays with in Westeros. Not the weak magic your red priests think they understand. Real power. The power that built this city. The power that could build it again.)"
Maegor's mind raced with possibilities. "Ao jorrāelagon nyke māzigon iā Valyria. (You want me to come to Valyria.)"
"Nyke jorrāelagon ao naejot ēdrure iā ñuhys ryvves, (I want you to claim your birthright,)" the dragon corrected.
"Bisy ēdrus issi udrir bōsa drīvose. Māzigon iā prūmia bona iksā. Māzigon iā Valyria Embōs. Skorion, ao rhaenagon skoros daor belmȳn. Skorion, ao gīmigon skoros ao sīr naejot iksā. (These dreams are but shadows of truth. Come to the heart of what was. Come to Old Valyria itself. There, you will find what was lost. There, you will understand what you truly are.)"
"The Doom..." Maegor started.
"Ziry iksos lantra naejot kostagon ēngos rȳbagon, (Is a barrier to keep the weak away,)" the dragon finished. "Yn ao... ao emagon se jēdar. Se drīvo jēdar. Umbagon Daor kostagon mazveragon skoros ziry gīmigon hae hāedus. (But you... you have the blood. The true blood. The Doom cannot touch what it recognizes as its own.)"
Red lightning illuminated the ruins around them, and for a moment, Maegor saw the city as it had been – magnificent, impossible, eternal. Then darkness fell again, leaving only the dragon's burning eyes.
"Māzigon nykēla, (Come to me,)" it commanded. "Māzigon iā Valyria Embōs. Ānogar ao bē āeksia kessa emagon zirȳ māzis iā ñuhys ēngos. Māzigon, se sagon skoros ao kostagon sȳrī sagon. (Come to Old Valyria. Your destiny awaits in the city of your ancestors. Come, and become what you were always meant to be.)"
Before Maegor could respond, the dragon launched itself skyward. Its roar split the heavens, and red lightning consumed everything in a flash of crimson fire.
.
.
Maegor jerked awake, his body burning as if touched by lightning. Beside him, Kinvara sat up, her ruby glowing with an intensity he'd never seen before.
"You saw her," she whispered, awe in her voice. "The Mother of Dragons. The True Dragon."
"You knew?" Maegor demanded.
"I saw glimpses in the flames," Kinvara admitted. "But never so clearly. Never so... completely." She touched his face. "You are chosen. The Lord of Light and the ancient powers agree – you are the one."
Maegor looked out his window toward the east, where somewhere beyond the horizon, Old Valyria waited. The dragon's words echoed in his mind, promising power beyond imagination. His blood seemed to sing with the memory of that crimson lightning.
"Prepare the ships," he commanded softly. "We sail for Valyria."
Kinvara's eyes widened. "But the Doom..."
"Cannot touch its own," Maegor finished. "And I am blood of the dragon. The true dragon." He smiled, remembering those massive eyes of living fire. "It's time to claim my birthright."
Daemon & Baela
Daemon found Baela atop the castle walls, where she often went to be closer to Moondancer. His daughter stood with one boot propped on the battlements, her short silver hair glittered like pearls as she adjusted the crossbow strapped across her back.
"Ready to kill some green bastards?" she asked without turning, somehow always knowing when it was him approaching.
"The question is, are you ready?" Daemon moved to stand beside her, noting how she'd grown into her warrior's stance, no longer the awkward girl playing at being a soldier.
Baela turned to him with that familiar wild grin – his own grin, if he was honest. "Born fucking ready. Moondancer's getting faster every damn day. Last week, we caught a flock of birds mid-flight just for practice. Those poor shits didn't know what hit them."
"Show-off," Daemon chuckled. "Just like your old man."
"Well, someone has to be, you ass." She patted Moondancer's scales as the young dragon preened under her touch. "Can't all be sitting in the Vale writing bloody poetry like Rhaena."
"Speaking of your sister, how is she?"
Baela rolled her eyes so hard Daemon thought they might get stuck. "Oh, she's fine. Still sulking about not having a dragon." She gestured to Moondancer with exaggerated sweetness. "Not that I blame her. I'd be miserable as shit too if I had to watch everyone else flying while I was stuck on the ground like some common peasant."
"Baela..." Daemon's tone carried a warning.
"What? I'm being nice, damn it!" She grinned again. "It's not my fault she spends all her time bitching about how I 'stole' all the dragon luck. As if I forced Moondancer to choose me."
Daemon sighed, running a hand through his silver-gold hair. "Your sister has other talents."
"Yes, yes, she's very good at needlework and playing the harp and making everyone feel guilty for having dragons." Baela made a face. "Meanwhile, I'm out here actually fighting in this shit war."
"Speaking of fighting," Daemon shifted topics, "how goes things with your stepmother?"
The change in Baela's expression was immediate, her playful smirk turning to a scowl. "Oh, you mean when she screamed at me two weeks ago because that cunt Ser Criston Cole is still breathing?"
"What happened?"
"She blamed me for missing him during the assault." Baela's hand tightened on her crossbow strap. "As if I wasn't trying my damned best to put a bolt through his smug fucking face while avoiding getting shot down myself."
"And what did you say to her?"
Baela's wicked grin returned. "I told her it wasn't my bloody fault he was still alive, since I wasn't the one who spread my legs for him when I was younger."
Daemon nearly choked. "Seven hells, Baela!"
"What?" She looked at him with innocent eyes that fooled no one. "It's true, isn't it? Everyone knows about it, for fuck's sake. Besides, she shouldn't have yelled at me. I was doing my best up there while she sat on her ass in the castle."
"You're too much like me, you know that?"
"Is that a bad thing, you old bastard?" She raised an eyebrow.
"It's going to give me gray hair, that's what it is." He shook his head. "Though I suppose I deserve it, after all the grief I gave my own father."
"At least I'm not seducing any Targaryens," she quipped. "Though the way some of those green shits run when they see me coming, you'd think I was trying to get in their pants instead of trying to kill them."
"No, just terrorizing them with that sharp tongue of yours." He reached out to ruffle her short hair, making her duck away with a laugh.
"Stop that! I'm not a child anymore."
"No," Daemon agreed, looking at her with pride despite himself. "You're a warrior now. Though you could still learn some diplomacy."
"Diplomacy is for people who can't aim straight," Baela retorted, patting her crossbow. "Besides, Rhaenyra started it. She's always treated Rhaena and me like we're somehow less than her precious boys."
"Just... try not get into any trouble with her? For my sake?"
"Fine," she sighed dramatically. "Next time I'll just say 'Yes, Your Grace' and wait until she's out of earshot to make comments about her youthful indiscretions."
"Baela..."
"That's as diplomatic as you're getting from me, Father." She grinned and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Now, are we going to talk about fighting strategy, or are you just here to lecture me about my manners?"
Daemon couldn't help but laugh. "Actually, I wanted to discuss a raid on some green positions along the coast. Thought you and Moondancer might be interested."
Baela's eyes lit up with that dangerous gleam he knew so well – the same one he saw in the mirror. "Now you're speaking my language. Tell me more about these positions that need burning."
As they began discussing tactics, Daemon watched his daughter gesture enthusiastically. She was beautiful, deadly, and utterly fearless – everything he'd hoped she'd become and everything he sometimes feared she would be.
"What about their archers?" she was asking, already planning angles of attack.
"Nothing Moondancer can't handle with a good dive," he replied. "Just remember to-"
"Keep the sun at my back and watch for scorpions," she finished with a smirk. "I know, Father. I'm not a complete idiot."
"No," he agreed, "just half of one sometimes."
She punched his arm playfully. "Says the man who once tried to claim the Iron Throne with just Caraxes and a bad attitude."
"I had a very good attitude, thank you very much."
"Sure you did." She turned back to Moondancer, who had been watching their exchange with typical dragon patience. "What do you think, girl? Ready to show these greens why they should fear the Rogue Prince's daughter?"
The young dragon gave a sharp cry that sounded suspiciously like agreement.
"See?" Baela beamed. "Moondancer knows what's what. Now, about those coastal positions..."
As they talked more about the places they would burn, Baela suddenly turned to her father with a sharp look in her eyes. "Speaking of attitudes, why do you even give a fuck about Rhaenyra's feelings? She sent Aegor to that red priestess in Volantis without even telling me. Shit, you didn't even leave a bloody note."
Daemon's expression hardened slightly. "It's complicated."
"It's really fucking not," Baela countered, checking her crossbow string with practiced fingers. "You don't love her anymore – if you ever did – but you're still playing nice like some damn courtier. Why bother?"
"Because, my darling daughter with no filter," Daemon sighed, "I have two sons with her, and the last thing we need is their mother losing what's left of her mind during a war."
Baela snorted. "Seven hells, bit late for that. Have you seen how she's been lately? One wrong word and she starts ranting about traitors and betrayals like a bloody madwoman. Makes me wonder if she's getting prophecy lessons from that drunk woods witch."
"Baela," Daemon warned, "don't say things like that where she might hear you."
"Why the hell not? It's true." She shrugged, completely unrepentant. "Not my fault she's allergic to hearing the truth about herself. Besides, everyone's thinking it – I'm just the only one with balls enough to say it out loud."
Daemon ran a hand over his face, knowing this was a losing battle. His daughter had inherited all of his sharp edges and none of his occasional diplomacy. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"I prefer 'refreshingly honest,' old bastard," she grinned. "Anyway, Aegor was better off going to Volantis. At least there he can learn something useful instead of listening to Rhaenyra's endless bullshit about loyalty."
"Speaking of traveling," Daemon tried changing the subject, "you should visit your sister in the Vale after this next fight. She'd love to see you."
Baela's response was immediate and flat. "That's not fucking happening."
"And why not?"
"Because I'm not in the damn mood to spend weeks with my not-fun sister while she sighs dramatically about how unfair life is and writes sad poetry about not having a dragon." Baela patted Moondancer's scales. "Besides, someone needs to keep burning these green bastards here."
"Rhaena is plenty of fun," Daemon protested.
"Father, her idea of excitement is rearranging her bloody book collection by color instead of author." Baela wasn't even looking at him anymore, focused on adjusting her sword belt. "The last time I visited, she tried to teach me proper needlework. Needlework! In the middle of a fucking war!"
"Some people enjoy peaceful pursuits."
"Some people are boring as shit," Baela muttered. Then her eyes lit up with that dangerous spark Daemon knew too well. "Hey, instead of visiting Rhaena, why don't I go to Volantis and bring Aegor back? I bet he's learned enough by now."
"I'm sure he told you plenty of times to call him by his name, why do you keep calling him Aegor?" Daemon asked, curious about his daughter's choice of name.
"Because fuck Maegor the Cruel, that's why. I can never understand what you were drinking when you decided to name him Maegor." Baela said with blunt accusation in her voice. "My brother shouldn't have to carry that monster's bloody name. He's Aegor to me, and that's that, and he likes it when I call him Aegor."
"And how would you know that?"
"Because unlike some people, I actually write to him, you ass." She gave her father a pointed look. "He says that red priestess is teaching him all sorts of interesting things. Though he won't tell me exactly what – says it's all very secret and mysterious." She rolled her eyes. "Boys and their dramatic bloody secrets."
"Kinvara is teaching him what he needs to learn," Daemon said carefully.
"Oh yes, very fucking specific," Baela mocked. "Next you'll tell me he's learning 'important things' and 'crucial knowledge.' Come on, Father, I'm not stupid. Something big is happening with him, isn't it?"
Daemon looked at his daughter's keen eyes and saw too much of himself in them. "Some questions are better left unasked, little dragon."
"Fine, keep your damn secrets." She threw up her hands. "But I still think I should go get him. Moondancer's fast enough to make the trip quickly, and you know I'm good in a fight if shit goes wrong."
"You're needed here."
"Am I? Because lately it seems like all I do is listen to Rhaenyra bitch and watch the greens run away before I can even get a good shot at them." She patted her crossbow. "At least in Volantis I might learn something interesting. Maybe that red priestess could teach me some fire magic."
"The last thing you need is more ways to cause chaos," Daemon chuckled.
"Says the man who once offered to put the king's crown on my head just to spite those Hightower cunts." She grinned wickedly. "Face it, Father, chaos runs in our blood. It's what makes us interesting."
"It's what makes us dangerous," he corrected.
"Same bloody thing." She turned to Moondancer, who was watching their exchange with those intelligent eyes. "What do you think, girl? Want to fly to Volantis and bring our brother home? Bet you'd love to meet whatever dragons they have there."
The dragon made a sound that could have been agreement or amusement – with dragons, it was often hard to tell the difference.
"See? Moondancer agrees with me." Baela turned back to her father with that familiar stubborn set to her jaw. "Come on, Father. Let me do something actually useful instead of just flying circles around this dreary shithole."
"The answer is still no," Daemon said firmly. "Aegor will return when it's time, not before."
"When it's time for what?" She pressed, but Daemon just gave her a knowing look. "Ugh, fuck's sake. Keep your mysterious plans. But don't blame me when I die of boredom here."
"Somehow I doubt that will happen," Daemon smiled. "Especially with that raid we're planning."
"Oh yes, very exciting. More green soldiers pissing themselves and running away at the first sight of a dragon." She sighed dramatically. "At least Aegor probably gets to set things on fire in interesting ways."
"Baela..."
"I know, I know. 'Some questions are better left unasked.'" She mimicked his voice perfectly. "But remember, Father – I'm your daughter. Sooner or later, I always find out what I want to know, whether you like it or not."
"Just promise me one thing," he said finally.
"What's that?"
"Try not to start any new wars while we're still fighting this one."
Baela's laugh echoed across the battlements. "No promises, Father. No promises at all."
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