Chapter One: 120 AC

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"Do not let up now, Sakaris." Aesira hissed through gritted teeth, "Home is on the horizon."

Her exhaustion was palpable, as if it were a living entity, battering against her body with relentless force. Despite the fatigue that threatened to consume her, she pushed through, her gaze scanning the clouds and the dragon beneath her. Sakaris, whose scales were a deep blue that blended seamlessly into the sky on a clear day, stood out starkly against the blackness of the night sky. The moonlight cast a brilliant glow over the dragon, turning her golden streaks into shining beacons in the dark. Although she was amazed by the beauty of the scene, the smell of smoke still lingered in Aesira's nose, a constant reminder of the battle they had just fought.

As Aesira's gaze scanned the horizon, she couldn't help but notice the island growing larger and larger in her field of vision. At first, it was just a small smudge on the horizon, but as she watched, it grew larger and larger, expanding until it was the size of a boat. And then, as they drew closer, the details began to emerge, revealing the island to be the generational stronghold and outpost of her family.

The high hills of the island rose up before her, and as they descended, she could see the lanterns of the city below, twinkling like stars in the night sky. The sight of the island filled Aesira with a sense of homecoming and familiarity, a comforting feeling after a long journey. She couldn't wait to set foot on the land, to see her family and friends, to be back in the place she called home.

Dragonstone.

Ten-year-old Aesira couldn't contain the hope that swelled within her as she gazed upon the island just off the coast of the mainland of Westeros. She held onto the prayer that her Targaryen kin still resided there, in the island that had been passed down through the generations. And if not her kin, then perhaps someone in the Dragonstone Castle, the stronghold of her family, who would take her to King Viserys.

Her mother had always spoken of him with such reverence, promising that he was the one person who would be able to help her if she ever made it to Westeros. And now, as she drew closer to the island, Aesira's hope grew stronger, a beacon of light in the darkness. She held onto the belief that she would find a way to reach King Viserys and that he would be her savior.

Aesira's body was wracked with pain as she shifted her position on the back of her dragon, Sakaris. The scales on the dragon's back were rough and jagged, digging into her skin and causing her immense discomfort. She gritted her teeth and tried to ignore the pain, freeing up a hand to wipe away the tears that threatened to freeze on her eyelids. She had already made the mistake of letting her tears freeze on her face too many times since they had left Volantis, and she didn't want to repeat it.

The cold in the clouds was bitter and unforgiving, biting at her skin and making her shiver uncontrollably. But Aesira pushed through the pain and the cold, determined to reach her destination.

Sakaris was a formidable flyer, far faster than Aesira had ever imagined. Her mother had downplayed the dragon's speed and as a result, Aesira had been caught off guard. The speed of Sakaris had left her unprepared, and the cuts on her face and frozen eyelids were a testament to that. The frozen droplets of water from the clouds had pelted her face, turning into icicles that sliced through her skin, leaving small cuts and bruises.

The wind had whipped through her hair, adding to the already intense cold, making her feel like she was in a never-ending storm. Aesira couldn't help but feel angry and betrayed by her mother's deception.

As Aesira and Sakaris drew closer to Dragonstone, she noticed an eerie silence on the city. Despite the burning lanterns that illuminated the streets, the city seemed abandoned, a ghost town. The absence of dragons in the sky and on the rocky shores below was particularly striking, as if the island itself was in a deep sleep.

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