Game of Thrones : True Dragon

read lotsstoryinpatre** : CaveLeather

Game of Thrones: Rune Bastard

Game of Thrones Wizard Dothraki

Game of Thrones: Knights Life

Viserys pushed open his window. Tyrosh stretched out below him.

He saw the city's proud walls and graceful houses. Farther out, sunlight flashed on deep blue water. Fishing boats crossed the bay, sails snapping in the wind. Tall ships crowded the harbor, masts rising like a forest.

The air smelled of spice and pear brandy. The Tyroshi were loud and alive again. With the fighting paused, the city was breathing once more.

In the courtyard, Sunblaze lounged in the sun. The golden dragon stirred at his king's call, scales catching the light like molten metal.

"Fly," Viserys said, swinging onto the dragon's back.

Sunblaze spread his wings. The span was already fifty feet, far wider than his body. Born in the ruins of Valyria and fed by the red comet and the heart-binding spell, he was stronger and faster than any ordinary dragon.

Only Balerion the Black Dread had been greater in his prime.

"I still have the old fire seeds," Viserys thought. "Dragonlord legacy. Use those and Sunblaze will grow even quicker."

The dragon launched skyward. Wind from his wings shook the garden trees. His roar rolled across the city like thunder.

Sunblaze gleamed like living gold. His scales were already harder than horn. At this size, speed and agility were his greatest weapons.

Balerion's fire could once melt stone and steel. Old dragons grew slow and heavy. Sunblaze was still young, still quick. With more work he could become the fastest dragon alive.

Valyrian Dragonlords had used binding horns and spells. Targaryens used words and whips. Whips barely hurt; they worked through rage and trust. With the heart spell, Viserys needed neither. Sunblaze answered perfectly.

The dragon soared over the sea, circling high.

He was always hungry and growing fast.

Sunblaze climbed until he was a golden speck, then folded his wings and dove screaming. A flying fish burst from the waves. Dragonfire flashed once. The dragon snatched the fish from the air and swallowed it whole.

Dragons needed war and hunting to stay sharp. Queen Rhaenyra's yellow dragon had grown soft from easy feeding and long captivity.

Sunblaze flew free. Now and then a merchant ship spotted the golden shadow. Sailors shaded their eyes and watched until he vanished.

After a while Viserys turned back toward Tyrosh.

"Someone wants to see you, Your Grace," Agos said.

"Who?"

These days favor-seekers came in waves. Viserys didn't meet most of them. He preferred craftsmen—shipwrights, smiths, brewers. Useful people. Tyroshi women looking for romance he turned away at the door.

Agos, Garin, and Rosor screened the rest, but Viserys stayed informed.

"A beautiful woman in red robes. She says she's a priestess of the Lord of Light. Melisandre. She carries real power."

"Send her in," Viserys said. So the red woman had come.

He waited in the courtyard near Sunblaze, sitting in a folding chair.

"Lady Melisandre, this way," Agos said.

She was striking. Tall, slender, with full breasts and a narrow waist. Heart-shaped face, skin like fresh cream. Her hair was deep copper-red and shone in the light. Her eyes were red too. Once a man looked at her, it was hard to look away.

When Agos's hand rested on his Valyrian steel arakh, the pull faded.

"Melisandre of Asshai greets you, great Dragon King," she said in a low, musical voice. "King Viserys Targaryen."

Viserys stayed seated. She wore red from head to toe—a bright silk gown slit at the bodice to show deeper blood-red beneath. A tight red-gold choker circled her throat, set with a large ruby. Viserys felt the fire magic moving through it.

"The true dragon," she murmured, eyes on Sunblaze. "Not stone. Blood and fire. Alive."

Her gaze shifted to the king.

"You came, Lady Melisandre."

Agos stepped back.

"The night is dark and full of terrors, Your Grace. You must be careful."

"It is," Viserys agreed. "My enemies hide everywhere. They all want me dead."

"Then accept the Lord of Light's help. Only His power can carry you through the long night."

"Why should I trust Him?"

"Ancient books from Asshai say that after the long summer the stars will weep blood. Cold darkness will swallow the world. In that hour a warrior will draw a burning sword from the flames—Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes. Whoever holds it is Azor Ahai reborn. He will break the darkness."

She pointed at the red comet hanging in the sky.

"The stars already weep. You hatched dragons in fire, in the land of smoke and salt. Azor Ahai, beloved of R'hllor. Warrior of Light. Son of holy flame. You are the one, King Viserys."

"Land of smoke and salt?"

"Andalos is that land. You were born in King's Landing, another place of smoke and salt. The lords sent gifts for your birth. The king burned them all."

She was twisting prophecy to fit him. Better than choosing Stannis, at least.

"You should have seen it, my king."

"Seen what?"

"You see the world's true nature. Truth surrounds you. One black, one white. One ice, one fire. Hate and love. Bitter and sweet. Woman and man. Pain and joy. Winter and summer. Evil and justice. Death or life. The war has never ended."

"Enough."

Viserys stood. Her words carried weight, almost hypnotic. He cut her off before she could finish.

"Join my cause. I believe in your skills."

She blinked, surprised. She still had small magics she hadn't shown.

"But understand this first. You swear loyalty to me before you swear it to R'hllor. Gods are only travelers in the sky. The gods belong to the gods. The king belongs to the king."

His pale violet eyes were cold and direct.

She froze. She had come to convert him, to burn every other god in his name. Instead he was setting terms.

"But—"

"No buts." He waved a hand. "My blood and fire come from Dragonlord blood. I don't beg gods. I use what's mine. If you can't accept that, you won't leave here today."

Sunblaze sensed the shift. The dragon spread his wings, molten eyes locked on the red woman. One word and golden-red fire would finish her.

Melisandre understood. Glamours and tricks would not save her here. Valyrian steel and dragonfire saw through lies. This king was not afraid of magic.

"As you command, Your Grace," she said quietly.

"I came seeking the prince of prophecy. I will serve the god, and I will serve the prince."

Obedience ran deep in her. She had a stubborn, loyal core.

"I, Melisandre, will serve you, King Viserys. The prince of prophecy. Azor Ahai."

"Good," Viserys said. "Shape me as the savior."