111 AC
King's Landing
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Rhaenyra I
- The sound of her feet was the only one to be heard, as all the birds, every creature, seemed to have gone into hiding.
She knew she was not at King's Landing because of the heavy clouds that covered the skies, making them so dark that barely could she see where she was stepping.
She was all alone in that unfamiliar forest that she knew not to be the Kingswood. It was cold and damp and the winds made her skin become covered with goosebumps. There was a scent of salt and brimstones in the air around her and the sudden sound of leathery wings, flapping in the distance, made Rhaenyra stretch out her head and look for it, for him.
Either she found him or he would her. Eventually.
Dragons could smell fear in a man, and they would make any creature their prey Anyone that was, save her.
She was a Targaryen The same blood that coursed through the dragon ran in her veins An ancient blood filled with magic and dreams, lost in time and existing only in them. Them, who were the last of their race The last memory there was of Old Valyria That fallen empire where men didn't pray to gods. Men became them women as well.
Rhaenyra knew not those secrets, but her blood did They sang inside her, even during sleep, and they were awakened every time she would take to the skies where mere men could only dream of being.
As the dragon searched for her, she in turn searched for him and at the heart of the trees she found him. He had bright scales the colour of blood, and his eyes were a deep crimson Pools of red, burning like a fire.
He opened his wings and let out a piercing shriek that broke through the skies, filling them with his cry.
Rhaenyra tried to cry as well but no sound came.
The dragon saw her then, turning his great neck towards her. Clumsy as he might be on land he ran to her faster than she thought possible His wings closed in on her, and any light of the day was gone Everything turned dark as if she had been covered with a great cloak. In that darkness there was pain.
She felt something hot beneath her skin growing hotter and hotter There was an itch there as well and her fingernails clawed at her arms, trying to relieve her She scratched and scratched but the feeling only worsened, and instead of relief, Rhaenyra felt her skin open and from there something came out.
Her mouth opened then yet it was the dragon who shrieked.
Within her something fought to escape, and as it did, Rhaenyra fell to the ground Her gown was torn as were her smallclothes, and she was left naked and vulnerable, all alone save for the dragon.
Her cries and pleas were still stuck in her throat as her skin was ripped open.
She looked towards the blood-red dragon watching as smoke left his nostrils Then, he opened his mouth again only this time it was to spit flame.
Rhaenyra wanted to scream when she was engulfed by flames Yet from the fire she felt herself changing.
She felt her limbs grow and wings sprouting from her back Her nails became hardened and longer as they turned into claws From her head horns sprung and her hair fell all around her until she became bald.
Her skin hardened as well and when she tried to touch it, it were thick scales she felt.
As the light of the moon hit her, she was no longer a princess. She was a dragon, and at the silver globe that floated in the dark skies she let out her scream. Her cry. Louder and more urgent than the one the red dragon had given.
She flew into the stream then and looked at herself. It's not her she saw. Not anymore. It is Syrax who looks back at her, yellow and magnificent.
Rhaenyra stretched her neck to look closer, believing her eyes to be deceiving her. As she does this, she smells the waters only to realise she is smelling blood. Fresh blood.
All around her she sees corpses. Some half burned, others not. Some with limbs missing and many with a look of terror to them. The silence breaks then and she hears men screaming. He screams as well, and she sees his black hair and the white of his cloak, but that is only until the red dragon silences, and the white becomes black as it catches flame and burns.
He burns as well, and calls for her but she stays where she is.
"Syrax never liked you." The thought surprised her. He has said it many times, she never has.
The Blood Wyrm then flies over to her, his red eyes piercing through her own, only now they are yellow instead of purple.
-This is a dream. she whispers.
The dragon's laugh is rich, deep. An all too familiar voice she has not heard in many years. He almost seems to be smiling when his great snout is turned to her.
-What do you think we are made from, if not dreams?
When her eyes open again, she looks around she found herself in her bed.