“You’d ought not to push yourself, my lord” Jedessa urged as she nervously watched the old man slowly walk down each step.

The old man gave off an airy laugh that wove its way down the staircase like wind. He knew his limits but he could not help but poke fun at the girl’s concern.

“If i were to despair at every staircase in this old place i wouldn't have made it past a hundred, my dear.”

Jedessa frowned, she had long since gotten used to her master’s impetuousness to his own safety yet it still worried her. Moving down every step, one by one she stayed in front of him whilst leaning against the railing in case he might fall forward.

“But you’re not a hundred anymore, my lord. You’re the last of the Targaryens to remain here at almost-” She paused, for not even she knew how old her lord was in truth.

The old man suddenly stopped, the steady clank of his staff meeting stone coming to a sudden end. He opened his eyes, what shone once like amethysts now were a milky color with but a trace of purple in them.

He looked at her, seeing her beautiful figure outlined by her dress almost seem to shimmer in the glow of candlelight around them. It had been many years now but he still remembered when he met her in the winding streets of Tyria. She had silver hair cut just above her shoulder, a slender figure and purple eyes like he once had.

“How many years have you served me now?” He asked.

“Fourteen my lord, approaching fifteen now.” She responded in a softened tone, seeming to look beyond him as she remembered. The day she had arrived at the great dragonkeep of the capital as an orphan at no more than ten years of age. From life as the daughter of a lowborn cook she had risen to personal servant of the patriarch of one of the great families of dragonriders.

“And in those years, have you known me to overestimate myself?”

She looked at him briefly, the gentle smile he wore nearly removed all worry as he hunched over his staff. The same smile he wore the day she met him. She had been starving and fearing for her life as a group of escaped slaves gathered around her, pushing her legs open as she screamed. Yet despite the terror of that day, it was a happy memory as what came afterward made it all worth it.

A figure had appeared and drew away the darkness of the alley like a fire, guards came rushing in and soon she was alone with him. She had been in pain, but now that pain was gone and she knew she was seeing the face of a dragonlord. She felt herself lifted up and she had thought that this was the end for her. And then the figure spoke to her. And she knew she was safe.

“No, my lord.” She said, then giving a wry grin as she switched to a hushed tone. “With the exception of your abilities to handle Lord Kelion’s firewines.”

The old man clicked his tongue in veiled amusement. “Insolent pup.” Straightening his back slightly, the old man extended his arm and gave way to his right.

“Very well, if it makes you feel better i'll let you help i suppose.”

Smiling, she walked up and reached around his back, allowing him to brace himself against her. He was every bit as light as the staff she now held in her right hand. Valyrian steel, dark, weeping with red rubies lining the top. She kissed the side of his head softly. “Thank you for indulging this servant girl.”

“You’re more than a servant, Jedessa.” He responded with a smile as they started working their way down the stairs, “Was my attendance at your wedding not proof of that?”

“Perhaps,” She responded, “But I also remember someone leaving early that day.”

He frowned grimly. “I did not wanna take away attention from the groom and bride.”

“We both know that isn’t true.” She said abruptly, glancing at him. “You changed. As did your family.”

His eyes closed again as he sighed. “You carry a gentle heart, Jedessa, you needn’t worry yourself over this.”

“Daenys, Aenar, Gaemon, Elaena, everyone but you left.” She continued nonetheless. “Is…”

Jedessa paused.

“Is it true what Daenys said? About the fall?”

There was silence, broken only by the sound of footfalls on stone.

“I don't know.” He responded, in an unusually grave tone. “I don’t know…”

The rest of the walk down continued in silence as Jedessa pondered over what might come. She had served her lord through fourteen long years and throughout all that time she had never seen him truly afraid.

For every moment she saw him he wore the veil of a sly wolf, using the cunning of his mind as a sword as his body failed him. Yet here in this moment, he was not Amisar the immortal dragonlord of house Targaryen, but an old man, afraid.

“Oh thank the gods, I thought these stairs would never end.” The silence was broken by the thankful words of Amisar seeing the light at the bottom of the stairs.

Pulling herself out of her thoughts, Jedessa almost instinctively responded.

“You and me both, my lord, I thought that I might have to carry you to the bottom with how you were trembling.”

The words came out of her mouth before she could even catch herself and she quickly placed a hand over her mouth. But just as she did, a hand quickly flicked her forehead.

“Quiet you.” Amisar chastised with a chuckle as his servant floundered in embarrassment at her quick tongue.

“Apologies, my lord.”

“It's fine, Jedessa, now give me my staff back.”

Blinking, the girl hadn’t realized she had now pulled back from her lord and was now grasping the staff at the bottom of the staircase. Now thoroughly flustered, she blushed and gave a shallow bow to cover her face as she gave back his staff.

Chuckling at her, he walked past her and ruffled her hair causing her to give off a squeak.

“My lord!” She pouted as she fixed her hair. “Not as we’re about to meet Gaemon.”

“Why? Still got a crush on the boy?”

Her face grew red as she responded indignantly. "I'm married!"

"I'm just teasing, Jedessa, I know you're loyal.” He said as he eyed her softly with a disarming smile.

With an exasperated sigh she went to stand at his side as they walked towards the exit.

“What did I ever do to deserve this?”

“Teasing me for my lack of alcohol tolerance?”

“Fair enough, my lord.”

Holding eye contact for a second, the pair soon both broke into laughter at their blatant lack of decorum. Wiping a tear from her eye, they soon both regained their senses as they straightened themselves.

“You ready, my lord?” Jedessa asked softly.

“Always.”

And they stepped through the doorway as the morning sun met their eyes.

Amisar glanced around at the surrounding dock workers as they milled around in a flurry of activity. Some of the slaves immediately dropped what they were doing to kneel before the lord and were met with a firm nod of acknowledgement to continue their task. Others merely continued what they were doing, too focused on barking orders and hauling goods by the barrel onto the half a dozen gallyons docked in the harbor.

The docked ships were massive, made for hauling goods rather than speed as their bulky frames were listing heavy in the water. The banners upon them all held the royal purple of the freehold, and underneath assigned were the colors of two families. Two of the vessels wore the red and black for Targaryens of dragonstone. Four the seagreen for their vassal house, the Valeryons of driftmark.

“Amisar!” A booming voice suddenly called out.

Who had dared to call him without his title? He wondered in a sudden burst of indignance. Opening his eyes, Amisar spotted the outline of a figure approaching from his right, he turned. Squinting he noticed the notable height of the figure as it approached as well as its slender frame. As they stopped in front of him he noted their seagreen surcoat and any confusion of their identity was removed as their knees bent to be at his level.

“Miss me, old boy?” She asked, her slender fingers cupping his cheek.

Amisar had not forgotten her despite her long absence. She was Elenia, the wild bastard of the late lord Valeryon. Known by her nickname “The Sea Drake”, she stood at a towering six feet tall. She had grown near Amisar’s height in his heyday but now all but shrouded him beneath her shadow. It appeared age had changed her as well however. Where long flowing locks of hair as black as sin flowed before, now rested a shoulder length cut of fraid gray hair.

“Elenia… is that truly you?” Amisar stammered, not nearly believing his aged mind. He lifted his hand to grasp hers and felt her warmth. He had not yet forgotten.

“Yes, father.” She responded, a lone tear flowing from her violet eyes and down her wrinkled face. “I’m here.”

The clanking of a staff hitting stone suddenly rang out amongst the commotion of the docks. Amisar wrapped his arms around Elenia, silently weeping into the nook of her neck.

“I missed you.” He whispered, his voice quivering with every word. “I missed you so much my little drake.”

“Hush now father, you'll make me cry.” She comforted, unaware of the tears already present on her own face as she brushed his back.

A silence filled the air between them as they both enjoyed their moment together. Holding one another, they then whispered to one another speaking words previously unspoken. As they did, Jedessa picked up the staff and held it close to her chest and watched on. Who was this woman? She wondered, partly in genuine curiosity and partly in veiled jealousy at the attention this stranger had suddenly received from her lord.

Where did she come from? Jedessa thought to herself, she hadn't heard of a Velaryon that was particularly close to Amisar, nevermind someone of such stature.

Looking at the two of them, she finally cleared her throat to signal them to part, yet it didn't appear as if they hadn't heard her. Harumphing, she turned her eyes to the world around her. Glancing to her hip, she touched the hilt of the blade confined to the sheath at her side. Dark sister, a sword who's worth more than outweighed her and all the ships in this harbor combined.

“Distracted are we?” And like clockwork she had been caught unawares once more. Emelia, despite her height and age, seemingly snuck up on her like a shadow. Flinching back, Jedessa grasped the staff and let out a yelp.

“Careful, Elenia. Not everyone is used to your tomfoolery.” Warned Amisar from behind her.

She scoffed. “Pfah! If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought half this castle has forgotten me with how poorly your slaves handled docking.”

Amisar’s grin let up for a moment at the mention of the slaves, yet returned soon after with a wolfish aesthetic. “Well your absence can be measured in their lifetimes, my dear.”

Their eyes met and Jedessa held her breath as she watched the pair. No one outside the inner circle of the Targaryens dared to speak in Amisar in this way, yet this lady continues to openly defy him.

The silence was lifted however as both suddenly burst out laughing. Elenia clutched her belly as Jedessa let out a breath and handed the staff back to wheezing Amisar.

“Still as sharp as ever then, hm?” Elenia asked through her laughter.

“More than you'll ever be, it seems.” Amisar answered in quick succession.

“Hah! So it does!”

Glancing over to Jedessa, Elenia pointed to her. “So would you introduce me? Your servant girl seems quite confused.”

Seemingly only now remembering her presence, Amisar regained some semblance of formality as he cleared his voice. “Apologies Jedessa, it appears I got caught up in the moment.”

“No need to apologize on my behalf, my lord.” She responded calmly, yet all the while trying not to overtly stare at the towering Elenia.

“Very well then.” He nodded to her and turned to Elenia. “Elenia, meet Jedessa, my servant and closest confidant. Jedessa, meet Elenia, my adopted daughter.”

Jedessa blinked. Then blinked again. Daughter? She had not heard of her even in reference from others within the keep. “I see… my pleasure Lady Elenia, i had not heard of you before.”

Amisar shook his head and let out a heavy sigh. “That would be because of me.”

Elenia suddenly looked forlorn, looking to the ground as she kicked a rock off the peer.

“50 years ago lady Elenia was brought to this very keep by the late lord Corwyn as a ward.” He gestured to her. “She was only 10 at the time, yet had caught the eye of Corwyn by virtue of-”

He paused.

“Me being his bastard?”

“Your intellect.” Amisar deadpanned. “At the time I thought nothing of it but as I tutored her, we grew close. She excelled in the ways of war and took to the seas like a fish to water.”

“You’re terrible.”

“I know.” He snickers. “Nonetheless eventually the good lord Corwyn remembered her.” He spat out his name like poison.

“Amisar-” Elenia began but was cut off.

“No. He took you away from me, I'll never forgive that. At least he had the good sense to escape to Volantis lest I had cut his throat.”

“My lord?” Jedessa offered meekly.

“Pardon. Corwyn had always been beset by greed and envy, so when the opportunity arose to steal Elenia back from under me, he took it. He recognized her as his bastard and then had Aenar’s father legitimize her.”

Amisar sighed. “By then it was too late, a patriarch may well have sway over his own family but that of their vassals?” He shook his head.

“I'm sorry if I brought up bad memories.” Jedessa stuttered, suddenly feeling a deep shame for having been jealous of the lady Valeryon. To think that someone would take advantage of Amisar kindness so blatantly was foreign to her, unthinkable even.

"It's alright, Jedessa.” Elenia responded. “However much I missed my REAL father,” She glanced at the smiling Amisar. “The position of lord admiral of driftmark didn't come without its perks.”

“So I’ve heard,” Amisar responded. “ironborn reavers to asshaii’ sorcerer captains. It's a wonder I didn't know you had arrived in the harbor by the amount of blood often left in your wake.”

Elenia formed a crooked smile, all the while tapping the hilt of the sword on her hip. “More than you know of, old boy.” She then grasped the hilt and let the blade loose from its sheath, holding it bear before the two of them. “Seafoam thirsted.”

In her hand was a curved arming sword with weeping gray tones roiling on its surface like mist. A cutlass, if Jedessas memory served her correctly and one made of valyrian steel no less.

“Seafoam…” Amisar whispered. “When did you-”

“Upon recognising me as his child, I took great pleasure in seducing his son to give me whatever I wished.” Elenia said proudly before leaning into whisper to Jedessa. “I told his father that the bruises left on him were from the training yard.”

Amisar gaped at his daughter’s openness as Jedessa blushed heavily. Who would openly admit that? She thought to herself.

“Elenia! For shame!” Amisar scolded lightly.

“What? He had none.” She responded joyfully.

He sighed at her nonchalant attitude. “I see you still haven't changed THAT part of you at least.”

“It's a step up from servant boys, you have to admit.”

“Shut up.”

“Oops, sorry.” Holding her hands up placatingly, it wasn't that convincing given her grin.

Turning to Jedessa, who was still trying to regain her composure, he slightly bowed his head. “Apologies for her behavior, she was dropped as a child.”

“I had a great teacher.” Elenia piped up but was then let out a yelp as Amisar used his staff to launch a pebble at her forehead.

“N-no worries, my lord.” Jedessa laughed awkwardly as she scratched the back of her head. “I had heard sailors have quite the foul mouth although I can't say I've had the privilege of a first hand experience.” She glanced at Elenia rubbing her forehead.

Sighing, Amisar turned back to Elenia. “So, would you happen to know where Gaemon is?” He pointed to the blade on Jedessa’s hip. “I have a blade of my own that needs to be given back to its rightful owner.”

Gaining some semblance of professionalism, Elenia stood up straight and grimaced. “He couldn't make the journey, unfortunately. Some spring sickness has crossed over from westeros. Lord Celtigar had already passed when I had left port and lady Eleana was not faring much better.”

Jedessa and Amisar both frowned. It had been a long time since she last saw Gaemon, he had always been kind to her and Daenys. She hoped they were both safe.

Amisar’s eyes turned to the ground. “Well, that's a shame. I had been looking forward to seeing him again.” He sighed and then looked up to Elenia. “I hope you'll give them my regards, and wish Eleana a speedy recovery.”

It was hard not to forget Eleana, Jedessa thought. The wife of lord Aenar had often beaten her as a child for even the smallest mistake. Although after being caught by Amisar, that had soon changed and she seldom saw her again.

“I will, don't worry.” Elenia replied.

“I suppose we’d ought to get the old thing shipside.”

Nodding, Elenia turned to the largest of the vessels there and gestured to them. “Step up then, welcome aboard the Irondeck.”

Morning turned to noon, and from noon to evening. All the while the trio had taken their conversation from the docks to inside the cabin of the flagship of the fleet. Ripping apart the leg of chicken Elenia was as uncouth with her table manners as she was about her nightly activities.

“So-” She began between her chewing, “are you gonna stay?”

“Hm?”

“In the freehold, Amisar. You know what Daenys had foretold. Dragon dreams seldom lie.”

The patriarch hummed to himself as he nursed a cup of wine.

“I'm aware. Not that I don't believe her. I do but…” He trailed off, sighing heavily. "I'm old Elenia. Too old. Even my dragon can't fly anymore and we were born under the same moon.”

“That's never stopped you before.” Elenia replied softly with a frown.

“Perhaps not, but I'm tired, Elenia. I'm tired of living under this marred system.” He looked into the cup as he gently swirled it. Thinking of his past, over 500 years…

“I’ve failed Elenia. So long I had tried to give reverence to the gods, to convince our fellow dragonlords to abandon this flesh peddling.” He sighed. “And yet, it remains. Since the slavelords of the slaver's bay got their hooks into the families of the freehold, it was too late.”

He looked up at her, sadness in his eyes. “If the freehold is to fall, I should fall with it.”

Silence filled the cabin. Elenia put down her cutlery and looked into his eyes.

“I see… You’ve already made your mind up.”

“I have.”

“And there’s nothing I can do to change it?”

“No, you can not.”

She sighed, breaking eye contact and falling back into her seat. “Very well.”

“WHAT?!” Jedessa exclaimed, red in the face with fury. “How are you okay with this?”

“Jedessa-” Amisar began.

“No! You just admitted to wanting to die! How are both of you okay with this?” Tears were running down her face as her eyes frantically looked between them.

Elenia, her face turned to the ceiling, merely sighed. “The old man is more than half a millennium old, I think he can decide when enough is enough.” She then lazily pointed in Amisar’s direction. “Besides, he's a stubborn old fool.”

“Thank you, little drake.”

“That wasn't a compliment.”

Hiccuping and throwing herself into his lap, Jedessa wept. She thought back to all the moments they’ve shared together. Every moment of happiness, every moment of comfort and one single thought at the end of each memory. It all coming to an end.

She felt a hand upon her head, petting it. Warm fingers combed through her hair and another hand stroked her back. Amisar hushed her softly. “There there, Jedessa.”

“No…” She murmured into his clothes. “Don't say it will be okay, it's not okay!”

“It will.” He whispered. “No future is set in stone, little one, but one thing is certain. We all have a beginning and an end.”

He pulled her face up to face him and they looked into each other's eyes.

“I am old, Jedessa, and in pain. But for the time you've been with me.” He looked up to Elenia, who had stray tears falling from her cheeks. “the time BOTH of you have been with me. You’ve given me such joy and happiness that I'll never be able to repay. But I ask you for this one final time to give this old man one last wish.”

They both slowly nodded in turn, and held their breath. Amisar turned to look at Elenia. “When the time comes for your departure, take Jedessa and her family with you.”

It had been a month since then, and Amisar was now looking upon the waving figures of Elenia and Jedessa slowly disappearing towards the horizon. What joys they had been, he thought. He had spent the majority of their time together after their conversation upon the Irondeck enjoying the luxuries of the freehold and reliving old memories. They walked amongst the streets of Tyria, visited orphanages, listened to music, and went drinking together with old friends.

And now they were gone, he thought to himself. He sighed, he knew the moment was inevitable but the inevitability of it made it no less bitter. Glancing to the now empty docks, and the setting sun, he wished he’d never went to Asshai.

“I shouldn't have lived this long.” He whispered to himself.

“My lord?” A voice uttered behind him.

He turned around and saw the figure of a young girl. A new servant, a new name. How long will this one last? How long before I come to love them, and how long before they leave me?

No more, he thought. The end is near, I shan't bear the weight of another love lost.

“Come, servant. Help me up the stairs.”

Servants walked past him through the halls in a flowing river of red and black, all bearing the silver hair of valyrians. For as the freehold mandated, no foreigners may enter dragonkeeps.

As if other families have the right to tell me who I can and can't let into my halls, Amisar thought to himself. He had traveled Westeros, Sothoryos and Essos and bar perhaps the most frivolous of Yi Tish nobility, no one matched his “equals” in the freehold in their arrogance.

But then again perhaps he should not judge, he was after all the very essence of hubris. In his youth he wanted to be Aerion, the legendary first dragon rider who brought the valyrian peninsula from a bunch of warring tribes to a freehold. One which in the beginning brought freedom for all men.

What a wretched thing they had turned it into, he thought. For as he had read more and more of the histories of the freehold, the more into a pit of despair he fell into. Ever since the gheskari had fallen to the freehold and the freehold had a taste of the sweet meat of slavery, it never let go. For the fourteen flames, the volcanoes dotting the peninsula, rich in rare minerals, were hungry. And their hunger was only slacked by the blood of hundreds of thousands of slaves.

He looked out from one of the many windows of the lower hall, even from the first floor he could see far away. For the mount on which the dragonkeep rested was one of the highest. From its perch Amisar could see the spires of the capital of Valyria in the distance. In that city he had debated, conspired and betrayed to achieve his goals. Yet for every lord he convinced of his cause, ten more were swayed by the luxuries born of their class.

“Fools…” He whispered to himself.

It had taken a decade until he realized he would not win but a foothold with his beliefs in the grand council. And thus he abandoned his place in the freehold to become an adventurer, trying to find a way to extend his life so he might one day win by simple attrition. His journey brought him across every known continent till he finally found the red sorcerers of Asshai, where he had branded a ruby into his heart. It did extend his life, but it did not make him truly ageless as was evident.

Not that it helped, he thought. Sighing dejectedly he turned to look upon the door to the vault, but a single light caught his eye in the distance.

A dragonfire? He thought, as the fire spread from the freehold. But the fire kept spreading, growing larger, until-

A giant tremor suddenly swept through the castle, screams rang out from the servants and Amisar gripped the window with its lists. His eyes never left the horizon as he looked on in horror at what was wrought upon the capital.

Plumes of fire were spewed out, toppling great spires, he could the shapes of dragons falling out of the sky for even they could not bear the onslaught. Giant stones were flung as each one of the volcanoes visible all burst open like dams, issuing forth a torrent of molten rock. Whole towns were swallowed and as he looked beneath his own walls, he saw that water was flooding in from the direction opposite the interior view.

“Oh gods!” Amisar cried. “Daenys doom is here! Oh Arrax have mercy on us all!”

He turned to the vault door, rushing to it as the servants were still panicking at the chaos that was unfolding. Pushing his entire weight against the door, he slowly moved it, inch by inch, all the while the screams of the people behind him could be heard.

Giving one final push, he finally saw that a crack had opened enough for him to squeeze his body through. Practically throwing himself through it, he let out a large breath to try to make himself smaller. Seconds passed and as soon as his chest had squeezed through, the rest of him toppled over to the other side. Thankfully it was easier to close the door again.

Looking through the crack though, one last horrible sight left him crying out in fear as he watched a wyrm with a human face crawl up the neck of one of the servant girls. The girl was screaming and clawing at it as it burned her skin, and as the vault closed itself off to the outside world, the wyrm slithered inside the mouth of its victim.

A thunk rang out. Darkness. All that was heard was the panicked breaths of Amisar

Thumbling for his staff, the patriarch was brought to his knees, his hands touching stone, stone, stone, metal. Grabbing ahold of it, he turned himself back to the doors and with his hands upon the handles, he stuck the staff between them.

“Fuck…” He exclaimed breathlessly. “What the fuck…”

What was that?! He thought to himself. Those weren't the servants of Arrax, those were- he searched for the word in his head.

Demons! Monsters of the hells of Sothoryos or the deepest caverns of the fourteen flames!

He wished to die, but to something like that? No. Not like that. Not peeling the skin from his flesh as he was boiled inside out.

Amisar went to stand, and turning around to the giant chamber, he calmed himself, although his breath was still uneven.

“I will not die today.” He whispered.

He took a deep breath.

“Awaken, Naqessa! Awaken, Drivessa! Awaken, Karessa!”

Silence. He knew they were there, he felt her, I felt THEM. His sisters.

A deep rumbling filled the hall, the sound reverberating through his very bones. In comparison to the terror-inducing rumble of the disaster outside, this one offered comfort, like the hum of a mother to her child.

One turned to two, two to three, and soon dust filled the chamber from all sides as something was moving. Suddenly, from the pitch black darkness, a light blue fire spewed into the air and made a noise akin to a roar. Shielding his eyes from the sudden blast of light, Amisar then looked on with a smile as two crystal blue eyes looked down at him. Golden scales, discolored by age, reflected as the blazing light danced upon the ceiling before coming to an end. Leaving him with but the glow of her eyes to stare into.

“Good morning, Naqessa.” He said lovingly, the dragon purring deeply in return, her singsong voice finally calming his nerves.

The moment was broken as another flame broke out to his left. This one was dyed a deep green and instead of a single burst, this one was spewed forth like a firestorm.

She loves to burn, Amisar thought to himself.

The fire eventually came to an end, and a good thing she spewed forth so much, for besides her eyes, her entire body was as black as sin. Rumored to be the ancestor of Balerion, the ashen dragon bonded to Daenys, the she-dragon was nothing if not fierce.

“You’re as beautiful as ever, Drivessa.” Amisar said, with not an ounce of fear in him. For he knew she would sooner burn herself than hurt him.

Staring down at him with her emerald eyes, she cooed lovingly at her brother.

Finally, the last of the dragons made themself known as a plume of violet and white fire rose and blended with the green fire of Drivessa. Throwing her head from side to side to get the dust off of her, this she-dragon was almost a carbon copy of himself.

She was pure white, with purple eyes and wings. The middle child of the three dragons, she was always the most clever, and always the most haughty. Making sure not an ounce of dust was left on her, she looked down at Amisar.

“The beauty rest did you good Karessa.” Amisar greeted her. “You shine like a thousand stars.”

The dragon preened at the compliment and cooed lovingly, her amethyst eyes looking down at Amisar.

The three of them, like him, had been too old to travel to Dragonstone and thus had nested within the dragonkeep as forgedrakes. Their fires gave the finest blades and armor of the freehold in the last 50 years.

“I'm sorry to disturb your rest, yet there is something urgent that has arisen.” He spoke to them. “You feel it dont you? Arrax judgment is here.”

They suddenly turned their heads to where the sky would be, their heads tilting in different directions. They let off distressed mewls as their mood shifted to fear.

“There there, little ones.” He approached, the three of the lowering their heads to his level. Although each of them could easily swallow a mammoth whole, they were still his little sisters. Amisar stroked each of their noses, feeling their hot breath wash over him made him feel safer, despite the growing darkness that surrounded them.

“It’ll be okay…” He looked to the side, the area marked off as his private armory. It was no more than a raised platform, but upon it rested a menagerie of items collected by him throughout his travels.

“Stay here, little ones.” Amisar spoke to them, nodding to Naqessa. Understanding what he meant, the eldest she-dragon shifted so both her younger siblings could rest against her, comforting them with her heat and bulk. After all, she was the largest of the three.

Stepping onto the platform, he quickly went to grab a dragonglass candle. The black oily stone felt heavy in his hand yet felt strangely… empty. Whispering an incantation, he held it aloft, yet no light came forth.

“Strange…” He said to himself. It was as if the magic within was just… gone.

Looking back into the darkness behind him he yelled aloud. “Drivessa, dracarys!" The sound of his voice echoed across the walls and soon thereafter, a torrent of flame spewed out across the ceiling and colored the chamber in a green hue.

Looking back at the armory, he sighed. Two rows of items stood on each side, and at the end a stone throne. “Right. Let's hope this works.”

…

Sitting on the throne, Amisar sat with a full set of scaled black armor, a size too big for him, for it was made during his youth. Upon his head rested a crown of weirwood from beyond the ice wall of westeros. In his left hand, a bottle of red liquid, blood from a king of the stormlands. In his right hand, a deep blue potion made by a shadowmancer of asshai. ‘Shade of the evening,’ they called it, as Amisar recalled.

Green magic, blood magic, shadow magic. Three of a whole, three elements to change fate and bind the world to your will.

Help me Arrax, grant me mercy upon this day of doom. The ceiling had begun collapsing in some places, his dragons now sat clustered around him, seeking his comfort. Water had begun rushing in through the door and the end was soon approaching.

“Drivessa, a light if you please.” He spoke softly.

She obliged him, fire slowly rising out of her mouth akin to a furnace. Breathing deeply, he concentrated. His mouth moved, speaking words of power, beseeching Arrax to grant him mercy, for Gaelithox to grant him the binding of fire, and finally for Vermax to grant him travel.

“Please.” He pleaded as he saw the fire snake around his hands, as if alive.

“Set us free.” The fire touched the bottles, breaking them.

Out of them, came light.

Amisar screamed, and all went black.

Author's Note

Thank you for reading.

Currently contemplating writing the rest of the story in first person instead of third. It'll probably go faster with updates if i switch to first person. Kindly let me know your thoughts.