Dragon's flame

[NEW GHIS]

Nestled in the Ghiscari Strait, the city of New Ghis proudly proclaimed itself as the rebirth of Old Ghis, a living embodiment of the fallen empire's glory. But today, all that remained was carnage. The streets echoed with the piercing screams of its citizens as wyverns descended from the skies, unleashing death and destruction upon all in their path.

Amid the chaos, an elderly man, trembling yet defiant, confronted the carnage's orchestrator. "Why are you doing this?" he asked, his voice filled with desperation.

The man he addressed only laughed, a cold and cruel sound that seemed to echo across the blood-soaked streets. Without hesitation, he swung his sword, beheading the old man in a single stroke.

The city was a nightmare brought to life, its once-proud walls stained with blood. The cries of the dying mingled with the roars of the wyverns, creating a cacophony of terror. This was no battle; it was a massacre.

Amid the ruins, a group of Ghiscari captives was dragged forward in chains. One of them, defiant even in defeat, spat at his captor.

"Nazlara Zarar! Scion of the treacherous House Zarar!" he shouted, venom dripping from every word.

Nazlara smirked, unfazed by the insult. "And why are we traitors?" he asked mockingly.

"You sided with the Valyrians during the wars against Old Ghis," another captive yelled. "Then, you betrayed even them. You and your house are nothing but traitors!"

At these words, Nazlara's expression darkened. He took a step back, and with a flick of his hand, five wyverns descended upon the captives, their screeches blending with the agonized screams of their victims. The beasts tore into them, feasting savagely.

As the blood pooled at his feet, Nazlara turned to his followers, his voice rising above the din. "AFTER we bring down those sheep-fucking Valyrians, House Targaryen ,we will purge this world of every last soul! WE ARE THE PLAGUE OF GOD! THE PUNISHMENT UPON HUMANITY!"

His words were met with wild cries from his men, their voices rising in a high-pitched, warlike chant. "YOOOO!" they yelled, a chilling sound that reverberated through the ruined city.

This was but one of the many atrocities committed by the Zarar clan, their wyvern-led assaults leaving trails of devastation across the Red Waste, Old Ghis, and even the Dothraki Sea. On that day the death toll in new ghis alone surpassed 120,000, a grim testament to their savagery

[KING'S LANDING]

The council chamber was suffused with tension, the air heavy with the weight of impending doom. Every seat at the table was occupied, each lord's face a mask of worry and unease. Otto Hightower's expression betrayed barely contained fear, while the others exchanged grim looks, searching for answers in the silence.

It was Lord Corlys Velaryon who finally broke it, his voice steady but grave. "Your Grace, these men are no conquerors. They are murderers, sacking entire cities with unbridled brutality."

Otto nodded in agreement, his tone low but trembling. "They do not seek dominion—they seek annihilation. And with dragons at their command, they spread death like a plague."

"Wyverns, Otto. Not dragons," King Viserys interjected firmly, his voice sharp enough to cut through the air.

The Master of Whispers, who had remained silent until now, leaned forward. "Your Grace, according to my spies, the enemy rides forty to forty-five wyverns and commands a small but highly mobile force of five to seven thousand soldiers. They claim to be of House Zarar, descendants of Old Ghis."

Viserys's face darkened as the weight of the information settled upon him. The members of the council exchanged nervous glances, fully grasping the gravity of the situation.

"They will come for King's Landing," Viserys said at last, his voice heavy with conviction. "Prepare for war. Summon Rhaenyra and Daemon immediately. Ensure every dragon egg is sent to Dragonstone by nightfall."

At his command, most of the council members rose and exited the chamber, save for Otto and Lord Corlys.

"Otto," Viserys continued, his voice quieter but no less commanding, "send a raven to Oldtown. Inform them to prepare for any eventuality, and make sure Daeron is kept safe."

The news of the wyverns' atrocities spread quickly across Westeros, fanning the flames of fear. The massacre of New Ghis had shaken even the most battle-hardened lords and ladies. Many began sending their heirs to King's Landing, deeming it the safest stronghold, with dragons guarding its skies.

Dragonstone, however, was off-limits. Letters even arrived from across the Narrow Sea—Volantis, Braavos, Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh—all requesting dragon riders in exchange for vast sums of gold. The world was united in its fear, for it was clear: this enemy did not seek to conquer but to destroy.

---

[DRAGONSTONE]

The island was alive with preparation. Soldiers scrambled to position scorpions and ready their defenses. The smell of oil and steel filled the air as every ship in the harbor was equipped with scorpions and other siege weapons.

"Double the guards at the Dragonmont and the library," Daenerys commanded, her voice carrying over the clamor. She stood tall, clad in black and red armor, her presence radiating authority.

"Ensure the ships are ready for combat," Aelyx added, his matching armor gleaming under the sun. The two exchanged a nod, their silent understanding born of years of war and shared purpose.

They had known about the Ghiscari threat long before King's Landing had, thanks to their network of spies. But now, as the storm approached, they had more pressing concerns.

"Kepa! Muna!"

The voices of Aerion and elaena drew their attention. The children appeared, holding the small hands of Gaemon, Aemon, and Aemma. For a moment, Daenerys and Aelyx were struck by the innocence of their children in contrast to the horrors of war looming on the horizon.

It dawned on them that if they left Dragonstone unguarded, their children would be vulnerable targets. Aelyx frowned. "Only Grey Ghost remains unclaimed on Dragonstone. Silverwing and Dreamfyre are still in King's Landing.

---

[KING'S LANDING]

The skies above King's Landing roared with the arrival of dragons. Syrax, Vermax, and Caraxes soared toward the Dragonpit, their mighty shadows spreading across the city below. With the arrival of the "Blacks," the largest assembly of dragons in recent memory had gathered:

From adult dragons like Vermithor, Silverwing, Dreamfyre, Syrax, Sunfyre, Moondancer, and Sheepstealer, to younger ones like Stormcloud, Morghul, Shrykos, Tyraxes, Arrax, and Vermax. King's Landing had become a city under the guardianship of fire and wings.

---

[THE RED KEEP]

In the King's chambers, the tension was palpable. Rhaenyra, her children, and Daemon rushed in to find Viserys cradling his grandchildren, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, while Aemond, Aegon, and aera stood nearby. Alicent sat to the side, holding Helaena's hand, her expression wary.

Rhaenyra and Alicent exchanged brief looks of disdain before masking their emotions.

Daemon strode toward Viserys, his tone sharp. "Is it true?"

Viserys handed the twins to Aegon and Aemond, standing and nodding gravely. "Yes. We are at war. We've lost our advantage in the skies. While dragons are superior to wyverns, their numbers are formidable."

"We should strike now!" Daemon exclaimed.

"Don't be foolish," Viserys shot back. "Do you think they'll reveal their location so easily? They've hidden for years. We need to prepare and defend."

Daemon grumbled but couldn't refute the logic. "Then we must take precautions. I suggest one dragon rider guards the Dragonpit, while another patrols the skies over King's Landing."

Viserys nodded. "And what of Dragonstone?" Rhaenyra asked.

"Aelyx and Daenerys will defend it," Viserys replied. "They are more than capable."

Aegon, unusually sober, added, "And what of their children? If Dragonstone is left vulnerable, our ancestral seat and four young Targaryens will fall if they're lured away."

Viserys fell silent, fear creeping into his expression as the weight of his family's vulnerability hit him.

---

[DRAGONSTONE]

At the base of the Dragonmont, Aelyx and Daenerys led their young children—Aerion, Gaemon, Aemon, and Aemma—into a dark cave. In their hands, they carried a basket of fish.

From the shadows emerged a pale-grey dragon. Grey Ghost stepped hesitantly into the light, its form sleek and beautiful but clearly wary. It did not exude the menacing presence of other dragons but instead seemed... timid.

Aelyx gently pushed Aerion forward. The boy approached cautiously, but Grey Ghost shrank back, its body language defensive. Sighing, Aerion retreated, disappointment etched on his face.

Aelyx and Daenerys exchanged looks of concern. But suddenly, little Gaemon broke free from their hold, taking a fish from the basket. With wide eyes filled with wonder, he toddled toward Grey Ghost, holding the fish out with his tiny hands.

The dragon eyed the boy skeptically at first but eventually lowered its head, accepting the offering.

Daenerys moved to stop him, but Aelyx held her back. "Wait," he murmured. He could feel the dragon's emotions—a spark of curiosity and excitement.

To their amazement, Gaemon stepped closer, gently placing his hand on Grey Ghost's snout. The dragon let out a soft, happy shriek, its large eyes filled with newfound trust. The bond was complete.

Aelyx and Daenerys shared a look of pride and joy. Their quiet son, Gaemon, had claimed Grey Ghost.