𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐒𝐇
❝I would like to burn them to the ground and stand on their ashes.❞
in which the eldest child of viserys targaryen and aemma arryn is a little too violent, a little too wild, and a little too lost.
HOUSE OF THE DRAGON...
°. *₊ ° . ☆ ☾ CHAPTER ONE ☽ °: . *₊ ° . OF THE WILD
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SMOKE BELLOWED THROUGH THE HOT AIR as the young princess made her way through the stone forest. No green surrounded her; bent corpses of trees pushed forth from the ground like sharp teeth in a dark mouth. Bones were scattered as remnants of something that once had been alive—human and animal and dragon. Several auroch bodies strewn around the bones, burnt and broken, torn apart and partially devoured.
She stopped at the sight of an auroch body near the mouth of a smoking vent and pinched her nose to cover the scent of smoke and brimstone and rot. The auroch was burned. Parts of its open inside, the ones that were not burned, bled onto the ground, and the ground drank it like a parched man.
The young princess made a face of disgust as she took a step back, away from the vent and the auroch corpse.
The ground rumbled for a moment.
She had heard the stories from Maester Gerardys. Sat on the stone floor of the keep, watching the maester flutter through his herbs to heal a wounded knight and listening to the stories of wild dragons that roamed the island of Dragonstone. They made their homes in the vents of the Dragonmont, flesh and fire united into a beast. Her father, a man who became dragonless after his own died, would tell her no man could control the dragons.
She was no man. Even as a child of seven, she knew she could control the very creatures that could swallow her whole if they so desired. Open maws with sharp teeth that would rip through her skin and bones with a simple snap of its jaws, her blood coating its tongue and dripping down its throat.
No one would know if the very creatures her family revered were the ones to cause her end.
That did not stop her.
The beginnings of a slow and gentle lullaby left her mouth, a rough and steady rhythm on her tongue leaving alongside a hazy memory. She knew the song by heart, heard it every night from her mother's mouth as they both lay in bed. The song continued from her throat, a reminder of the power she held in her blood and her surname and her House.
Her grandfather had told her of such songs that could evoke the beasts, like a prayer to the gods. It was similar to the arcane arts that wove Dragonstone together, pulled together with fire and magic and blood.
From the mouth of the steaming vent, a great black beast flew to the skies, its roar making her bones rattle inside her skin. Pieces of rocks and sands flew around her, covering her in dust and soot and ashes. She shut her eyes tight and covered them with her arms. This was the great black beast the people of Dragonstone told their children stories about, a monster who would eat them in one bite if they strayed too far into the Dragonmont; a monster that would come for them if they were bad.
