House of the Dragon: The Green King

Ruin

"They often say a woman is delicate and fragile, but they miss the fact that every lioness has sharp claws".—Queen Adella Lannister

The night was calm. The moon shining its light upon the city its translucent light brought forth the depravity of the city men drinking till their grip on their consciousness became loose women selling themselves like meat and men feasting on one another all happening under the eye of the red keep all happening in the king's city for flea bottom was celebrating for their prince had returned and he too was feasting, ripping away the dress, ripping away the security, and almost ripping away her innocence.

In the keep, a single man lay tossing and turning in his grand bed. The man to whom everyone would kneel was kneeling to his nightmares, his silver hair a mess, his sleeping face switching from one emotion to the next: awe, fear, despair, and helplessness. The king was for once at the mercy of another, his power useless, his blood meaningless, and his fear evident.

King Viseryes Targaryen's POV

I was standing in an open field, the wet grass beneath my feet. The sky was grey as the cold wind pushed past me. I was alone, with no king's guard, no people, actually only a solitary field that stretched as far as the eye could see beyond the horizon even, occasionally I heard a whisper in the wind, the only noise that wasn't of my own making.

"Why," a delicate feminine voice whispered in my ear. Her voice was hollow soft but soulless. The despair within her was articulated. Her voice was familiar yet unrecognisable at the same time.

"Who are you? Where is this? What is this?" I screamed, my voice echoing in the field. I got no reply. I got no answer. I got nothing. All I got was the wind blowing faster and harder as if trying to take me with it.

I screamed louder as loud as I could. I was afraid my throat would bleed with so much intensity that I yelled, "I AM THE KING AND I COMMANDS IT ANSWER ME WHO ARE YOU WHERE AM I?"

"Any man who must say I am the king is not the true king." said a voice sounding as a disappointed mother would in her son. No malice, just disappointment with a tinge of exhaustion.

The wind blew again, and this time it was a hard, deep, and sombre voice that spoke, "You will bring ruin; stop now, boy." It spoke with the authority of a king, an authority that I must confess I couldn't match.

The wind started blowing harder, the grass started to ripple, and as far as I could see, clouds moved like swirling tides, but the sky remained covered in a grey blanket. I covered my eyes with an arm, my arm that had scars from my cuts on it from the throne I sat on. As I removed my arm, I saw three figures standing before me.

A man with broad shoulders who stood a head taller than me, had a muscular build, silver hair, violet eyes, and a valyrian steel and ruby crown on his head. If that wasn't enough to know who he was, the ancestral sword in his hand was a dead giveaway; he was the conqueror himself.

My eyes were then drawn to the woman standing next to him. She was slightly smaller, her frame feminine but muscular, her wild silver hair flowing in the wind, her violet eyes shining brightly. They were eyes I had seen often as a child and even now, the eyes of my grandsire and my son, but they were colder, harder, and deeper like an ocean. The more I looked into them, the more I felt I might be swallowed up by them.

Her face was unblemished; her high cheekbones and sharp jawline only added to her terrifying beauty; her features were delicate yet feminine yet not weak; she was an ethereal beauty. The sword at her left hip gave me an idea as to who she was. Queen Visenya Targaryen, mother of King Maegor and a conqueror.