A Dragon's Dream

It seems as though he had been falling for years.

‘Fly’ a voice had called, but he did not know how to. So he fell.

He remembered when had ridden Naqessa as a child and his mother had scolded him for not using his saddle. Her face was fuzzy, he could not remember it in detail.

What he could remember was the day when she had been flung from one of the spires of Valyria. Yet another blood feud, yet another death.

He had seen how her body moved like a falling tissue in that white dress she wore. She fell and fell and came to a sudden stop. His servant had shielded him from the worst of it, but he could still remember the noise. The sound cracking of bones mixed with wet flesh falling to pieces.

It haunted him for many years how she had laid there. His mother was reduced to a pile of flesh and bone beneath a blanket of silk.

He never flew without his saddle again.

The ground was closer now, yet still so far that he could barely see it through the mist that whirled around him. He knew though that even in his dreams, he could not fall forever.

‘And if you do?’ the voice asked again.

Then it is so, Amisar thought. He was not a little boy that needed comfort. He was a dragon, he assured himself, even if I am bereft of wings, fire is in my blood.

The ground was closer now, still a thousand miles away, but closer. He saw mountains, hills and fields. Stars around him and a moon four times the size of the one back home accompanied him in the sky.

He kept falling, it was just him, the ground, the stars, and the voice.

He was about to panic when he heard it again.

'Don't cry, fly.’

“I don't know how to.”

‘Have you ever tried?’

The voice was warm, akin to an older brother. He looked around himself, and a light shone from above him. Flying up next to him was the shape of a man, taller than himself and made entirely out of starlight. Upon the back of the man was a pair of dragonwings, each seeming massive in comparison to him. They did not move, he kept falling.

“Who are you?” Amisar asked.

“You know me.”

“Can you help me?”

“I already am.”

“... A-are you a god?”

“I am.”

“Are you really a god?” He asked in wonder.

“Are you really falling?” The figure smiled.

“This is just a dream.”

“Is it?”

Images flashed before him. Carnage. Volcanoes exploding. Cities being swallowed by the seas. A three headed dragon flew away, but it was left bleeding from the doom.

“Hit the ground, and you will die.”

He wept. The god reached to him, letting his hand whisk away Amisars tears.

“Crying is not the answer, child.”

He looked down, he could see snow now. Forests, seas, cities.

“I told you, flying is the answer, not crying.”

“You have wings, use them!”

“I do. But there are many sorts of wings.”

Amisar stared at him, then turned to himself. He saw his body, frail and weak. His arms, his legs, they were thinner now, weaker. He remembered his youth, he was not always this weak. He was not meant to be this weak, he knew.

A figure flew past them, wrapped in silk, covered in blood.

He screamed.

“Not that,” The figure waved, the vision disappearing. “you do not need that.” The figure then flicked his forehead, forcing Amisars eyes to turn to him.

“You said you’d help me!”

“I am. I'm teaching you to fly.”

The mists blew harder now, he forced himself from looking at the ground as it grew ever nearer. He felt it, he feared it.

“Your teachings are not working, make me fly!”

“You’re flying right now.”

"I'm falling!" Amisar cried in exasperation.

“Every flight begins with a fall, Amisar.”

The figure smiled, and he thought it was the end. But then the massive wings wrapped around him, into him, covering him in stars. He closed his eyes.

‘You’re not a dragon, Amisar. You’re so much more.’

He opened his eyes, the figure, the mist, all was gone. Just him and the ground. He looked south and saw seas and rolling deserts. He saw women and children starving in the streets, with men eating their corpses. He saw great beasts gathering into flying warships, and a kraken gathering a storm around him.

He looked west and saw a swarm of locusts covering the ground, swallowing towns in their wake. Women, men and children were torn asunder. And upon a hill, sat a queen dressed in blood. He saw vast emptiness as well, with lands undiscovered by men.

He looked north and saw frost and ice, roads of steel and wood jutted out of the drifts. All coalesced to a single point, a great city within the cold made out of crystal and rock. It shone like a beacon, but within the deep forests he saw that darkness ruled. A great stag king ruled within, wielding absolute authority.

Turning his eyes east, he saw a great empire rising anew, roads were being built and fields sown. Within a great tree, an eagle with a crown upon his head sat aloft with an idol in his talons. Further beyond however sat an island, connected to the land via a single land bridge, falling and rising from the sea. Upon it, volcanoes spewed forth and giant magma pools formed beneath. No smoke flowed from them however, the molten rock seeming somehow pure. About the flames, dragons flew in the hundreds, eventually coalescing around a single figure, a blue drake wielding a scepter and a crown.

His breathing had fallen silent in wonder, he had not seen a vision so vivid since the visit to Asshai. Catching himself, he gasped for air and looked to his hands, he was covered in stars.

“Where am I..."

He looked to the ground, he was floating just above a white tipped mountain, standing alone within a massive jungle.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over him. Turning around, the figure of a giant dragon wreathed in shadow and smoke rose over him. It turned to him, fangs flashing.

Before he could lift a finger, it opened its mouth and death reached out for him with fire. He screamed, and lifted his arms to cover his face.

All went black.

A trickle echoed through the darkness. Drop after drop hit the ground in a steady rhythm that made a ripple in the puddle beneath. Here, life was constrained to bioluminescent mosses, insects, bats and sightless reptiles. That is until now.

A gasp echoed through the cave, the sound bouncing off the walls and was quickly followed by a hacking noise. Amisar was in total darkness, on his knees and clutching his chest as he attempted to cough up a supper that did not exist.

The hacking soon quieted down, turning into a wheeze mixed with heavy breathing. Amisar’s mind was hazy as he could nearly not keep conscience in the stale air of the grotto.

“Oh gods…” He exclaimed in a whisper.

His voice sounded different somehow, he noted. It felt almost newer, although still beset by whatever the aftereffects of the spell was. The air did not make it any better, as every breath he took filled his lungs with the pungent stench of bat feces.

Feeling his armor graze across rock, and the echoes around him, Amisar grew concerned.

“Did the spell not work?” His voice was clearer now, he felt as if he had just been freed of a sore throat. Looking around himself he called out. “Naqessa?”

Silence, their bond was severed.

“Drivessa?”

Silence, he could not hear her roaring flames.

“... Karessa?”

Silence, her purr was nowhere to be found.

All that was heard was the slow dripping of water from the ceiling and the noise of Amisars breathing.

He was alone.

Falling onto his back, he looked up to the darkness and closed his eyes.

“Gods help me…” He whispered.

The smell of bat feces and the constant dripping of water made the rest short and weary. Although at the very least I'm able to stand on my own two feet, the lord Targaryen thought.

Pushing himself off his knees, Amisar rose slowly and rose further still. Even in the blinding darkness he felt taller, and the armor no longer constrained him as it once did.

He traced his chestplate with his gauntlet covered fingers.

“How strange…” He whispered to himself before focusing on his surroundings.

Since he could not rely on his sense of sight or smell, he thought, he must rely on touch and hearing.

Thus he began taking slow and cautious steps forward, his arms stretching out before him. The ground was uneven, so he had often needed to hesitantly feel out the space before him. He had walked around twenty paces before finally finding a wall.

“Right, let's see here.”

Using his feet, he felt out which direction felt lower and which felt higher.

“Left.”

Turning his head to his left side, he slowly began walking upwards through the snaking cave system.

Although this wasn't the first time he had spent in darkness, it was the first time he had felt truly alone. Throughout his whole life he had been bonded to Draqessa, and that bond extended to her sisters when Amisar’s siblings had died in the crib. Now, a small part of himself felt removed, and nothing took its place, just emptiness.

“Gods have mercy, don't leave me here alone, sisters.” He whispered.

“I can't do this on my own.”

Trudging slowly up and taking several breaks along the way, the better part of three hours had passed.

“For crying out loud!” Amisar panted. “How far beneath the earth am i?!”

The heat of the lower levels had by now dissipated and the smell of feces had wafted out, however that was now replaced by a cool chill. Being born of fire and blood freed him of discomfort of the cold, yet the wind blowing in his face made him wince at times.

He remembered a similar time, where without the help of his dragons, he tried scaling the great ice wall of westeros. This wasn't as cold nor as dangerous, but the constant strain and windchill made him reminisce.

Thinking about it however, just a couple months back he wouldn't dream of putting this much strain on himself. Yet now he had marched up what was sure to be hundreds of meters, only stopping for a few times.

Suddenly, he stopped.

“Is that? …”

He paused, halting his panting. For a while all he heard was the dripping of water, but further away still he then heard it. The distinct noise of rain.

“I swear, if that's another flock of bats taking the world’s foulest shit…” He muttered to himself, partly in exasperation, partly in relief.

Trudging slowly through the darkness, the patriarch repeated prayers to the gods.

“Oh Arrax, father above, grant me your strength, let me not fear my foe. Oh Aegerax, mother above, let my blood be strong and noble as you have willed.” He took ragged breaths between nearly every word, he could hear the rain clearly now.

“Oh Tyraxes, master of peace and war, grant me your mercy, help me in failure, and give me the will to forgive in victory. Oh Gaelithox, my fire within, grant the guiding light of your fire, your stars and moon.” He saw light finally and smiled, his legs regaining some strength and he walked faster with every step.

In his joy, he gave two final prayers, both born of the drive from a nearly dead man. Finally free to see, finally free from darkness. “Oh Belarion, lord of death, free me from these halls, and embrace me another day. Oh Meleys, lady love, guide me to my sisters, and I'll never let them go again.”

And with a final running step, Amisar crossed the threshold.

“Gods be praised.” He panted, his breath finally feeling fresh air. He was hunched over now, feeling like he’d keel over at any time. Time to find a wall to fall asleep on, he thought.

As he went to stand straight however, he looked to his hands.

“What in the…” He couldn't finish his sentence, his breath caught itself.

His hands, arms, legs, all were as if made anew. They looked healthy, and strong, he thought. Flexing his muscles under the tautness of his armor, it felt like he was young again. It looked like he was young again.

Looking beyond his hands, he saw a puddle in front of him. Cautiously he approached it, his movements careful despite the burning sensation from his legs. Slowly he got to his knees and looked into the water bound mirror.

Amisar bent forward, his visage reflecting off the surface. Just as he did however, he quickly darted back with a gasp. He touched his face tentatively, his gauntlet covered hands twitching slightly. He dragged his hand from chin, to brow, to his hair.

My hair, Amisar suddenly thought, and lightly grasped it. Where a short, wiry mess hung before now lay a silken shroud of white hair, running all the way to the middle of his back. He sat there for a moment, just playing with it mindlessly.

He smiled, he smiled the broadest smile he had ever had.

“Oh gods, thank you!” He shouted laughing gleefully, “Thank you for granting this pitiful lord life anew!” He threw his head up, looking to the ceiling of the cave. Only then realizing-

“My eyes! I can see!” Tears started to form as his laugh was mixed with a quiet sobbing. He did not know whether to laugh at the absurdity of it all, or to break down sobbing in joy.

“I cant- i cant be deserving of this- Oh gods so many died-” Anguish.

“I'm not worthy of this- My servants they- I've killed and maimed and-” Guilt.

“I… Thank you so much.” Acceptance.

Amisar broke down crying as thunder rang out outside, blanketing him in light and outlining him against the ground. He had grown taller, standing at little above six feet. He was of a tall yet lithe build, toned with muscle, with long elegant fingers. Amisar's face was beautiful, he had smooth features that gave him an aristocratic charm, mixing parts both masculine and feminine to seem almost angelic. His eyes, previously milky, had returned to an amethyst color with a sheen in them. Finally his hair was long and flowing with a silken smooth texture to them. Looking at him, one would not fault the slaves of the freehold for thinking him a god in his youth.

Eventually, after having thanked all fourteen gods of the freehold individually, the sobbing quieted down to a muted silence.

“Your will shall be done, Arrax, I will not disappoint you.”

Taking a deep breath, the dragonlord smiled. He felt more alive than ever, freer than ever, for even in servitude to his gods, without the responsibility of leading his house, he needn't be tied down any longer. Sitting there, he felt as if the air itself, humid as it was, felt not only fresher but somehow different. It reminded him of his journey to the wall, where magic flowed off its enchantments, but this time it was all around him, inside him even.

Standing up straight, he looked outside. It was raining hard, and the thunder was all around him. From what he could see, as the thunder lit up the sky, he was upon a great mountain. And beneath him was forest, although it was hard to make out from the small glimpses.

“Are you finally done?” A deep rumbling voice, speaking in westerosi common, spoke out, shaking Amisars very bones from the sheer volume.

Whirling around, with fists raised, he soon found himself faced with not a man, but a giant… drake. He was not sure what to call it. It bore scales, wings, claws and legs, but to call it a dragon would be an insult to his sisters, he thought. Its snout was far too long, its wings were too small to carry its big gut, and it bore four legs! It rested upon a massive hoard of gold. It was akin to the Westerosi legends of dragons stealing treasures of both coin and flesh.

His eyes peered over the fat wyrm, looking for the one who spoke out, yet he saw none. Curiously though, he did find his crown and staff in its hoard. Looking into the eyes of the drake, he spoke out.

“Qilōni issi ao? Māzigon hen!”
(Who’s there?! Come out!)

“Speak sense ape!” The drake replied harshly. “You stand before your doom.”

Amisar was amazed. That a beast like this could think, much less speak, was incomprehensible to him. Have I gone mad? He thought, first escaping the destruction of the greatest civilisation ever to be, talking with a god, getting stuck in a cave for hours, regaining his youth- and now a talking wyrm? Looking at the drake, the words out of his mouth were instinct, not choice.

“Iksin nyke iēdrosa ēdrure? … Skoros issi ao?” Amisar asked, still astonished from what he saw before him.
(Am i still dreaming? …what are you?)

The wyrm’s eyes gleamed with both anger and intelligence. “I know you understand me, ape, I see it in your eyes. I have not smelled your kind before,” His mouth turned to a cruel smile. “I wonder what they taste like.”

Amisar’s curious gaze turned cold at the threat. “I speak your tongue, drake. Although I can't for the life of me understand why you choose to speak westerosi.”

“I speak common, fool.” The drake answered, confused at the patriarch's words.

“‘Common fool?’ an odd name for a language.” The dragon snorted in anger at the small creature's quick wittedness. “Tell me, are you some sort of beast from the flesh pits of Gogossos?”

“Beast?” The drake rose, gold falling off its form as it extended its wings with its face a twisted sneer. “You stand before Gostir, king of the everfree! Greatest of all dragons!”

Looking down at him, this ‘dragon’ is akin to a tropical bird trying to show off to mate, Amisar thought to himself.

“And you are a feckless ape! I am curious though, most feel the inclination to bow or run before me, as they should before their death.” Gostir drew its head down to see Amisar better. “Tell me, wretch, why don't you fear me?” His voice seemed akin to a purr, despite the threat.

“My name is Amisar Targaryen, dragonlord of the freehold of Valyria, and I bow only before the gods. So tell me, king of thieves, where did you get those?” Amisar said harshly, glaring at Gostir, then pointing towards the staff and crown sitting on the edge of the hoard.

Glancing at where he was pointing, Gostir snorted. “Diamond dogs tribute, so what? Are they yours?” A deep rumbling laugh shook the chamber. “Well, no longer.”

The drake then advanced, slowly, like a shadowcat stalking its prey, causing Amisar back up to the edge of the cave, his back toward the storm outside. “Dragonlord, hm? I could burn you with but an ember of my flame.” He grinned a cruel smile, rows of sharp teeth gleaming in the light of the thunder. “I always did prefer my meat thoroughly cooked.”

Feeling the danger he was in, Amisar’s eyes glided to the cave he exited out of. Too far, he realized. Switching his gaze to his side, he looked outside but realized the cliff face was too steep to climb down. There’s no escape, he thought to himself, steeling his nerves. Slowly he took off the gauntlet on his off hand and tossed it to the side.

“Very well, if this is what you choose, Wyrm, I’ll give you what you want.” Amisar breathed deeply, lifting his hand to his mouth. “With fire and blood.” And bit down.

In a rush of smoke, bursting out of the wound came a rod of blood. Moving quicker than Gostir could react, the projectile hit him square in the eye, blinding him. The drake reared up and grasped its face, screaming in pain as it sought to get the sizzling liquid out of its eye.

Amisar bit deeper, throwing more of his blood magic toward the dragon as he turned toward the cave he exited from. Before he even took his first step however, a panicked swipe of Gostir’s tail brought the entire entrance crashing down in a heap of rubble and dust. Clicking his tongue, the lord turned back to the cliffedge.

Thousands of feet, it was like he was back at the bone mountains, trying to escape the wild men of the bones. Alas there were no great warrior women to save him here, he thought.

“Oh for fucks sake!” He sneered, trying to draw a plan in his mind.

“Pity.” Gostir rasped, his wild swiping coming to an end.

Turning around swiftly, Amisar bit his hand again, bringing forth another torrent against the dragon. This time though, the wyrm was quicker, letting his wing swipe away the rods as they came flying.

Chuckling at his efforts, the drake withdrew his wing as the torrent of blood came to a stop. Amisar panted, holding his hand as his skin became visibly paler and his body colder.

“So,” Gostir purred, “what will you do now? Blood ape?” He practically spat the last part out as if it was poison.

Gostir was scarred, a noticeable amount of its face had scales that had been damaged, flaking away. Weaker than my sisters, Amisar thought, finding his thoughts… drawn to them suddenly. Eying the cliffedge, the dragonlord pondered the risk.

“Careful, Ape, you might fall.” Gostir hissed cruelly. “You said you didn’t bow for anyone but the gods, well- here I am!” The dragon advanced.

Amisar’s mind was a whirl, images blinking in and out of his thoughts.

“You are filth!”

His mind went to Drivessa, black scales, green eyes and flame. He remembered when she was young. Back then she was a tiny little thing, thought to not last her first winter. She did this cute little thing where she’d drape herself over my neck, not even my mother could wrench her off her perch, Amisar thought to himself. Always first to defend him, she had defended him during blood feuds that would surely had brought an end to him otherwise. Sometimes for the simple fact that she’d kidnap him right before an ambush to carry him off to the sisters nest to cuddle together. This was especially the case during her pregnancy, where only he was allowed near her brood to tend to them whilst she ate.

“And I? I am fire!”

The images blended into one another, changing form and shape. Black changed to white, emeralds to amethysts. Karessa, ever the clever one. More slender than her siblings, she was often viewed as a freak in her youth, nicknamed ‘the pale wyrm’. As she grew however the voices were silenced as she came to be one of the most beautiful dragons the freehold had to offer. He was so proud of her, remembering how she had struggled in her youth, not having the brawn of her sisters, she had to use her wits to compensate. He would read out loud to her during his tutoring, the words seeming to have meaning to her, as her eyes stared into his, weighing his words. If anyone were to call his sisters simple ‘beasts’ around Amisar, they’d be cut down.

“I am death!”

Black to white, green to purple, but none more glorious than gold. Naqessa, my sister, he thought. The eldest of the three, the one two bring the two others to his crib as a babe, she was the light of his life. When Amisar’s brother and sister died, the two other dragons had been left alone in the world, that was until she brought them to him. His warmth calmed then, the gentle purring of Naqessa forged within each of them a new bond. He may have lost a brother and a sister, but he had gained so much more. And when he was alone, thought to be at his sanity’s edge after his mother’s death. It was Naqessa who brought him back, made him feel….

Whole.

The connection was back, stronger, he could feel her, each of them.

The rain had stopped hitting him, Gostir had stopped too, his face awash with a mixture of anger and fear.

And when Amisar looked up, there was gold.