Ānogar Ānograro | HOUSE OF THE DRAGON

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

The sound of blood sizzling on hot coals echoed in the small chamber. The man hissed slightly as he wrapped a spare cloth around his palm. He flexed his hand slightly before looking at the bowl before him. 

He reached for a small vial filled with the water of a doomed faraway land and poured it over the burning coals. In a second, a column of fire erupted in front of him. The man only looked at it with cold eyes. He set the vial down and raised his hands. 

"Rȳ se perzys. 

 Ivestragī nyke urnēbagon se ñuhoso. 

 Ivestragī nyke urnēbagon se ānogar ānograro. 

Rȳ se perzys. 

 Ivestragī nyke urnēbagon se ñuhoso. 

 Ivestragī nyke urnēbagon se ānogar ānograro. 

Rȳ se perzys. 

Ivestragī nyke urnēbagon se ñuhoso. 

 Ivestragī nyke urnēbagon se ānogar ānograro." 

Across the fire. Let me watch the way. Let me watch the blood of my blood. Across the fire. Let me watch the way. Let me watch the blood of my blood. Across the fire. Let me watch the way. Let me watch the blood of my blood.  

The fire died down as the man closed his eyes. At first, he could only see the darkness. Then he could see colour. The kind you see behind your eyelids when you close your eyes in the face of the sun. 

He saw fire and blood all around him. Beings of fire burning beings of ice. Statues built in his name, and the name of his child, and his child after him. Massive dragons converging on armies. Mountains of gold. The burning and looting of his keep. His descendants being slaughtered in their sleep. 

"Husband." He heard. 

The man opened his eyes, remnants of fire burning in his dark violet eyes for just a second more. The man inhaled sharply before turning to face his lady-wife. 

Her white hair used to be silver-gold in her youth, yet now it framed her face, dry as a bone. Her lively lilac eyes had since dimmed after the death of their family, yet were still filled with concern. 

"I thought we talked about we talked about this. No more rituals. Your mind is not what it once was." Her stern voice echoed. 

"My mind was one of the greatest in war-"

"We are not at war anymore." His wife reminded him, "We haven't been at war for a long time." 

The man exhaled stubbornly as he looked at the ground, "I know. I know, but I had to see what becomes of us. Whether all that we've built comes undone within a single generation." 

His wife stepped closer to him and took his hand, "We must believe the foundation of our house is strong and that we will overcome the trials and tribulations besides." 

"Belief is not enough!" The man roared as he tore his hand from her hold. "How can it be when both of our children are dead?"

"Because it is the only thing I have left!" The woman shouted back. 

"My parents are dead! Two of my brothers are dead because of your father! My brother and sister stole my throne! My firstborn died the most painful death in history without me by her side! My second daughter was taken from me and made a Septa! My third daughter died achieving the one thing she always wished for, and my son jumped off his dragon into the Narrow Sea!" 

"They were my children too, Rhaena! I have suffered the same losses as you have!" The man yelled. 

"Is that why you refuse to look at your granddaughter?" Rhaena thundered. 

The man huffed and turned away from his wife. 

"Daeneth?" Rhaena prompted. 

"I couldn't. I willed myself not to until I was sure." Daeneth spoke softly. 

"Sure of what?" Rhaena said, steely. 

"Her future. Whether she weakens or strengthens our house. The legacy she will leave. How our house fares in the next hundred years."

"She is a child, Daeneth. She has only been breathing for two years." Rhaena argued. 

"I needed to know! I needed to see!" Daeneth insisted as he turned to face her. 

Rhaena sighed, "And what was it that you saw?" 

"Greatness."