Dragon's flame

Early 126 AC]

"Run! Please, don't kill me! I have a family!" The air was filled with cries of despair as chaos consumed Slaver's Bay. Every settlement, save for the three great cities of Yunkai, Meereen, and Astapor, was being ravaged by the ruthless armies of House Zarar. Blood painted the streets, and the wails of the dying echoed far and wide, a chilling testament to the brutal invasion.

House Zarar was a formidable force, comprised of eight sub-leaders, each with a contingent of troops, and one supreme leader commanding unparalleled power.

The elders of House Zarar were:

Shakhama Uak Zarar

Meznara Uri Zarar

Mozanzhe Oquo Zarar

Zolole Zarar

Gignek Na Zarar

Sronder Mo Zarar

Qiknas Zo Zarar

Zerrono Na Zarar

Each elder commanded 750 troops, divided under two seasoned commanders. Meanwhile, the supreme leader, Nazalar Zarar, held direct control over 2,000 elite warriors and most of the wyvern riders, whose mounts unleashed terror and destruction from the skies.

---

[King's Landing]

"Your Grace," Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, spoke with unease, his voice betraying his fear. "The barbarians have sacked nearly every settlement in Slaver's Bay. In their desperation to scare us, the High Masters of Yunkai, Meereen, and Astapor have offered them ships and gold to appease their fury."

King Viserys Targaryen sighed heavily, the weight of the realm pressing down on his weary shoulders. These days had been unkind to Westeros. Lords and their heirs flooded King's Landing, seeking protection, and even the smallfolk were migrating in masses to the capital. The overcrowding had plunged the city into disorder, making it increasingly lawless.

Before Viserys could respond, his brother Daemon interjected. "Brother, there's some news you'll find interesting. The son of Aelyx and Daenerys has claimed Grey Ghost."

Otto's ears perked up at this revelation. A wave of hope flickered within him. He had long hoped it would be Gaemon, his future grandson-in-law, but deep down, he feared it was Aerion, the eldest.

"Which one of my grandchildren?" Viserys asked, a trace of curiosity breaking through his exhaustion. "Was it Aerion?"

"No," Daemon said with a small grin. "It was one of the triplets... Gaemon."

A smile spread across Viserys's face, and Otto saw his opportunity. The news of Gaemon's feat could be the perfect excuse to propose a marriage alliance under the looming shadow of war. He knew Viserys would be more amenable now than ever.

"This is excellent news. It shows the strength of our bloodline, what about the state of the Velaryon fleet?" Viserys asked.

Corlys Velaryon, the Master of Driftmark, stood tall and confident. "The fleet is ready for war, Your Grace. With your permission, I would like to return to Driftmark and oversee the blockade of Blackwater Bay personally."

Viserys nodded in approval. "Do it." He then turned to Daemon. "Take Helaena to the Dragonpit. See if she can claim a dragon. We need every dragon and rider we can muster. And Daemon—take charge of the Gold Cloaks again. This time, don't let me down."

Daemon gave a firm nod, his face betraying no emotion, but the fire of determination burned within him. The meeting dispersed, leaving only Otto behind with the King.

"What is it, Otto?" Viserys asked, his patience thin but his curiosity piqued.

"Your Grace," Otto began carefully, his tone measured, "I wish to propose something for the good of the realm. A marriage between Princess Helaena and Prince Gaemon. Prince Aelyx and Princess Daenerys have already given their consent."

Viserys's eyes widened in surprise, his mind racing. Strengthening the bond between the branches of House Targaryen was an idea that had been on his mind for some time. Aelyx and Daenerys's line had stayed distant, which was not ideal for the unity of the family.

"It's a sound proposal, Otto," Viserys admitted after a moment of contemplation. "Once this war is behind us, I will announce their betrothal."

---

[A Vessel in the Summer Sea]

"My Emperor, where shall we strike the Targaryens first?" a servant asked, bowing low before Nazalar Zarar.

The leader of House Zarar smiled darkly, his grey eyes glinting with malice. "Evenfall Hall," he said, his voice cold and calculating. "The island in Shipbreaker Bay. Once we capture it, we'll use it as a forward base to launch our assault."

A man clad in battered brown armor stepped forward. "My Emperor, Elder Zorrano has successfully intimidated the Free Cities into staying out of the conflict. There were… a few killings in Volantis, but the matter is resolved."

Nazalar's expression darkened at the mention of Volantis. "I heard there was an exiled Targaryen princess living there?"

"She fled with two of her children to Westeros," the armored man replied. "They've sought protection under House Targaryen."

Nazalar's face twisted into a mask of rage. "Once I've wiped House Targaryen from existence, I'll burn Westeros to the ground," he snarled.

For hours, the commanders and leaders of House Zarar planned their next moves, their sinister ambition driving them forward.

--

[King's Landing]

The early morning calm was shattered as Ser Arryk burst into the King's chambers, his face pale and stricken with urgency. Behind him came Otto Hightower, Lyman Beesbury, Jasper Wylde, Larys Strong, Tyland Lannister, and Grand Maester Orwyle, all members of the Small Council, each looking equally grim.

"Your Grace," Otto began, his voice trembling, "the Zarars have landed in Westeros. They have sacked Lemonwood to the south of Sunspear and Ghost Hill to the north. Sunspear itself has been heavily damaged."

Viserys shot up from his chair, alarm spreading across his face. "Where are they now?!" he demanded, moving toward the chamber doors as though prepared to leave himself.

"We do not yet know, Your Grace," Lyman Beesbury admitted, his tone hesitant.

Viserys clenched his fists, his mind racing. "Inform all the dragonriders to remain near their dragons at all times. Bring all hatchlings and the youngest dragons into the Red Keep for safety. We cannot afford to lose them," he commanded, his voice firm despite the fear threatening to overwhelm him.

The council members nodded in unison, swiftly leaving the chamber to carry out his orders.

---

[Dragonstone]

At Dragonstone, Aelyx and Daenerys sat in their chambers, deep in discussion. War was no longer a distant threat; it was upon them. For moons, they had meticulously planned, analyzing every scenario, every weakness. Their five children remained on Dragonmont, often with Grey Ghost or with vhagar and vaxylis under the watchful eyes of increased guards. Aelyx and Daenerys had chosen protection over isolation, knowing being near a dragon was the greatest protection

Rhyun, their trusted advisor, entered the chamber, his face somber but determined. "My prince, why don't we attack the Zarars while they are still at sea?" he asked.

Daenerys fixed him with a sharp look. "It would be folly. Two dragons against their forty-six wyverns would be a death sentence." Her voice was calm, but her eyes burned with conviction.

"What of King's Landing?" Aelyx asked, shifting the conversation.

"The fortifications are progressing well," Rhyun reported. "The lords of the Crownlands have temporarily migrated to the capital with their armies and are assisting the Gold Cloaks in maintaining order. Prince Daemon has reclaimed command of the Gold Cloaks, and dragons patrol the skies day and night."

Aelyx nodded, satisfaction evident on his face. "Good. My father is taking this threat seriously, as he should. If King's Landing falls, the realm is lost."

Daenerys reached out, placing a hand on his. "And if we lose the Red Keep, we still have Dragonstone," she said softly. "We have the blood of Old Valyria and our dragons. They will not break us so easily."

Aelyx gave her a small smile, but the weight of their task ahead was heavy on them both.

---

[Evenfall Hall, Shipbreaker Bay]

"My Emperor," Meznar, one of the elders, knelt before Nazalar Zarar in the conquered hall. "We have killed the entire population and secured Evenfall Hall as ordered."

Nazalar's pale, scarred face twisted into a sadistic smile. "Good. Prepare the army. Our next target is King's Landing."

The elders in the room exchanged uneasy glances, their confidence faltering. One of them, Shakhama, stepped forward cautiously. "My Emperor, forgive me, but attacking King's Landing directly may be unwise. The Targaryens know we are coming. It will not be a surprise attack."

Nazalar's eyes narrowed dangerously, his voice dropping into a low growl. "Are you questioning me, Shakhama?"

The elder flinched under his gaze but held her ground. "No, my Emperor. I merely wish to ensure our victory."

Nazalar laughed, a cold, cruel sound. "Victory is certain. We will crush the Targaryens, raze their city to ash, and take revenge for the Old Empire of Ghis." His voice grew louder, more frenzied. "And we will take their knowledge! Their power! "

The room fell silent as Nazalar's laughter echoed through the hall. The bond between Nazalar and his wyvern, Umkut, was unparalleled, but it had come at a terrible cost. The side effects of their connection were madness, sadistic tendencies, an insatiable thirst for blood, and uncontrollable rage.

The elders bowed their heads, knowing any further protest would only provoke Nazalar's fury. Orders were given, and the Zarars began preparing their forces for the next stage of their campaign—a direct assault on the capital of Westeros.