(A/N):
Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
-------------------------------------------------
DAY SIX OF WAR...
By the sixth day, the truth was undeniable.
The Crown was losing.
Not slowly. Not uncertainly. But inevitably.
Every push was met with a counter. Every victory turned out to be a carefully baited trap.
Every road the Crown took ended in losses that could not be replaced.
Leo Morningstar had appeared like a curse with a schedule—one crucial base per day, erased with surgical precision.
Supply depots. Forward command posts.
And Viserys Targaryen had been forced to watch.
To sit on the Iron Throne while reports piled up like gravestones.
That was the part he could no longer endure.
"...."
The chamber shook as Viserys rose from his seat.
-THUD.
"Enough!!!"
No more councils. No more waiting. No more being told when a king should act.
He was chosen. The gods themselves had spoken to him.
And if the world refused to bend—then it would burn.
Ignoring Catherine's pleas, ignoring Otto's caution, Viserys strode into the dragon yard with eyes blazing with a conviction that bordered on madness.
The beast answered his call.
-ROAR!
A massive shape stirred, scales the color of darkened crimson steel, teeth glowing like embers even when its jaws were closed.
Bloodjaws.
That was the name Viserys had given it— a name meant to inspire fear.
The dragon roared.
-ROOAAAARR!
Viserys mounted without hesitation.
"...."
And for the first time in years, the King of the Seven Kingdoms took to the sky himself.
THE STEPSTONES...
As Bloodjaws crossed into the contested skies of the Stepstones, the battlefield below came into view—scattered encampments, broken formations, banners no longer bearing the Crown's sigil.
Viserys saw them.
Men who had once sworn loyalty. Lords who had chosen Eldoria. Soldiers who had betrayed him.
Rage eclipsed reason.
"Burn them,"
Viserys commanded without a second thought.
Bloodjaws answered eagerly.
-ROOOAAAAARRR!!!
-BAM!!!
A roar split the sky, and a torrent of deep-red flame swept across the field—powerful, scorching, indiscriminate.
Lines broke instantly. Panic spread like wildfire as soldiers scattered, formations collapsing under sheer terror.
From above, Viserys laughed.
-HAHAHAHA!!!
Not with joy. With vindication as he shouted to the wind.
"This is what a king is, This is what the gods promised me!"
For the first time since the war began, the Crown had struck back directly.
And the sky itself bore witness.
ELDORIA...
Dawnfire Citadel Castle...
The flames on the screen painted the room in flickering red.
Viserys's face—twisted with zeal, eyes burning with a madness that no longer knew restraint—filled the projection as Bloodjaws tore through the skies of the Stepstones.
Rhaenyra sat frozen.
"...."
For a long moment, she said nothing.
Then, softly, almost to herself, she wondered whether she would have worn the same expression one day—whether that same madness would have claimed her too—If Leo hadn't severed the chains the Old and New Gods had wrapped around Targaryen blood for generations.
Her fingers tightened in her lap.
Slowly, she turned her head.
Leo was watching the battle with calm detachment, red eyes steady, unshaken—like a king who had already seen the ending and found it wanting.
Rhaenyra didn't speak.
She simply leaned in and pressed her lips to his.
It wasn't desperate. It wasn't hurried. It was grateful.
It was grounding. It said thank you in a way words never could.
Leo blinked in mild surprise—then his hand came up naturally, resting at her waist, holding her close as he returned the kiss just as gently.
Alicent gasped.
"...."
She had risen halfway from the couch, flustered and red-faced, unsure where to look—Only for Rhaenyra's hand to catch hers.
"A-Ah—!"
She lost her balance and tumbled back, landing awkwardly against Leo's other side.
Her breath hitched.
Too close. Far too close.
Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure both of them could hear it.
Rhaenyra laughed softly, the sound warm and unashamed, and leaned her forehead against Leo's as she whispered.
-Fufu
"Relax, You're safe."
Leo looked between them—one calm, one flustered, both bound to him in very different ways—and let out a quiet breath.
"...."
Her fingers, which had been gripping Alicent's hand, now stroked the back of it, a soothing, deliberate motion.
Then, she guided Alicent's hand to Leo's chest, pressing her palm flat against the firm muscle beneath his tunic. Alicent's eyes went wide, her fingers twitching.
"Touch him,"
Rhaenyra breathed, her own hands moving to the laces at Leo's collar.
She worked them open with a focused slowness, exposing the strong column of his throat, the top of his chest.
The air between them grew thick, charged.
Leo turned his head, capturing Alicent's parted lips in a soft, exploratory kiss. It was a stark contrast to Rhaenyra's firm gratitude—this was a question, an invitation.
Alicent whimpered into his mouth, a sound of pure surprise that quickly morphed into a sigh of surrender.
Her hand, still on his chest, curled, her nails lightly scraping the skin now bared by Rhaenyra's efforts.
Rhaenyra watched them kiss, a small, possessive smile playing on her lips.
She leaned in, her mouth finding the spot where Leo's neck met his shoulder.
Her kiss there was not gentle.
It was a hot, open-mouthed press of lips and tongue, a claiming.
Leo groaned, the vibration humming against Alicent's mouth.
His hands began to move, steering them as naturally as breathing.
One slid down Rhaenyra's back, pulling her tighter against his side, his fingers tracing the dip of her spine.
The other hand left Alicent's shoulder to cup her jaw, his thumb stroking her cheek as he deepened their kiss.
Alicent's hands became bolder, one tangling in the dark hair at the nape of his neck, the other fumbling with the hem of his tunic, desperate for more skin.
"Off,"
Rhaenyra commanded softly against his skin, and together, the women pulled the garment over his head.
The firelight danced over the defined planes of his chest and stomach.
Alicent's breath caught.
She'd seen him before, but never like this, never with Rhaenyra's hot gaze following her own, encouraging her.
"Go on,"
Rhaenyra urged, her own hands going to the fastenings of her gown.
"He likes to be touched. Don't you, Leo?"
He could only manage a low hum of agreement as Alicent's delicate fingers, trembling slightly, traced the line from his collarbone down to his navel.
Her touch was feather-light, inquisitive.
Rhaenyra's was not.
Shedding her own layers with efficient grace, she took Alicent's wandering hand and pressed it firmly, palm-down, over Leo's heart.
"Feel that,"
She whispered. His heartbeat was a rapid, strong drum under their joined hands.
Outside, war raged.
On the screen, The fight progressed.
But here, on the couch of Dawnfire Citadel, something else took root—something no body on battle field would have thought.
And far away, as Bloodjaws roared triumphantly over the Stepstones…
The man Viserys Targaryen believed to be his enemy wasn't watching him with hatred but with pity.
Meanwhile...
The air above the Stepstones screamed.
Flames still licked the broken isles below when two new shadows crossed the smoke-choked sky.
Viserys noticed it first. Two dragons. One familiar—sleek, crimson-scaled, fast.
"...."
Aemma and Rhaenys.
And the other—His breath hitched.
"...."
"...."
"...."
That dragon was wrong.
Its frame was similar to Bloodjaws—yes—but greater. Broader wings. Deeper chest.
Scales like polished obsidian washed in dark crimson veins, as if molten fire pulsed beneath them.
Its eyes burned with ancient intelligence, not feral rage.
And on its back—Aemma. Riding a dragon.
For a single frozen second, Viserys's mind refused reality.
"...."
Then rage drowned everything as he roared, voice breaking with fury.
"SO YOU DARE SHOW YOURSELF, RIDING A MOCKERY OF WHAT THE GODS GAVE ME?!"
Aemma did not shout back. She did not sneer.
"...."
She looked at him with calm, cold clarity—the gaze of someone who had already died once and refused to fear him again.
Her dragon let out a low, resonant roar that drowned out Bloodjaws' shriek.
-ROOOOAAAARRR!
Rhaenys moved instantly.
"Meleys—now!"
Meleys dove. Scarlet wings cut through smoke like blades as Rhaenys executed a sharp downward arc, skimming past Bloodjaws' flank.
-WHOOSH!
-BAM!!!
Flame erupted—but deliberately off-target, forcing Bloodjaws to twist defensively.
Viserys cursed, yanking the reins.
Rhaenys didn't linger. She never did.
Meleys surged upward again, circling wide, striking from blind angles—a veteran's rhythm, perfected over decades.
Distract. Pressure. Withdraw.
She wasn't here to win as if she knew whats her role was.
She was here to create openings.
Aemma advanced straight ahead. No evasive maneuvers.
-FLAP!
No tricks. Her dragon beat its wings once—once—and the shockwave alone disrupted the airspace, forcing Bloodjaws back.
Viserys laughed harshly and sneered.
-HAHAHA!!!
"You always were reckless, You think dying once made you stronger?"
Aemma finally spoke. Her voice carried across the wind, steady and unafraid.
"No, Viserys."
Her dragon's eyes flared as she raised her hand.
"Living again did."
Not to cast. Not to command.
But to trust. Her dragon answered.
Bloodjaws charged, jaws glowing red as hellfire gathered.
Aemma's dragon did not counter with flame. It collided.
-BOOM!!!
The impact shook the sky.
Scale met scale. Claws locked.
Wings tangled as both dragons spiraled downward in a violent grapple.
Viserys shouted orders—too fast, too frantic.
Bloodjaws fought like a beast.
Aemma's dragon fought like a king.
It twisted mid-fall, using its greater mass to roll Bloodjaws beneath it, jaws snapping shut inches from Viserys as the air tore past them.
Then—Aemma's dragon unleashed its fire.
Not wild. Not rage-filled.
"...."
A focused torrent, dark crimson edged with black, slamming into Bloodjaws' side and forcing a shrill, pained roar from the creature.
BAM!!!
Viserys screamed—not in pain—But in denial.
"No!!!"
Rhaenys struck again.
Meleys dove, raking Bloodjaws' wing with talons before pulling away, never overcommitting, never slowing.
The battle lines were clear now:
Rhaenys — control and pressure
Aemma — confrontation and dominance
Viserys — raw power and unraveling madness
The Stepstones burned below.
But the sky belonged to the queens.
The sky shuddered.
At first, Aemma felt it through her dragon—a wrongness, like cold fingers pressing against its spine.
Then Bloodjaws changed.
Its roar deepened unnaturally, splitting into layered echoes that did not belong to a single throat.
Crimson scales expanded, overlapping and reforging themselves midair, growing thicker, darker, etched with glowing sigils that pulsed like veins.
Its wingspan doubled. Then tripled.
The heat around it intensified, warping the air, bending light.
The dragon's shadow swallowed entire sections of the Stepstones below.
Rhaenys pulled Meleys back instinctively, eyes wide as she muttered.
"That's not natural, That's not dragon's power."
Aemma's gaze hardened. She knew that feeling.
"...."
THE THRONE REALM...
Far beyond the mortal sky, in a realm of fractured thrones and ancient hunger, eyes opened.
The Old Gods. The New Gods.
They watched Viserys burn and rage and refuse to break.
And they smiled.
"He still serves."
"He still believes."
"Feed him."
Power flowed—not gently, not evenly—but forcefully, like chains being driven through flesh.
Bloodjaws howled as divine essence was poured into it.
Not a blessing.
An infusion.
A weapon being overcharged.
Meanwhile...
Stepstones...
Viserys threw his head back and laughed.
A loud, broken sound—half triumph, half hysteria as he roared, voice carrying across the battlefield.
"DO YOU SEE? THE GODS HAVE NOT ABANDONED ME!"
His eyes were bloodshot now, veins crawling across his temples like cracks in porcelain.
"...."
"I am their chosen! I am the TRUE king! I WILL ERASE YOU ALL!"
Bloodjaws' jaws opened—and the fire within was no longer simple flame.
It was divine corruption, burning red-black, heavy with wrath.
Even Meleys recoiled.
Aemma's dragon did not.
But Aemma finally understood.
This was no longer Viserys fighting for a throne.
This was Viserys being used by the old and new gods.
"Aemma, that thing—if it keeps growing—"
Rhaenys called sharply, steadying Meleys,
"I know,"
Aemma replied calmly. Her grip tightened—not in fear, but in resolve.
She leaned forward, pressing her palm against her dragon's neck as she whispered.
"I won't let them take another life, Not mine. Not hers. Not this world's."
Her dragon answered—not with rage—
But with defiance.
Its eyes glowed—not red, not black—But deep violet, ancient and steady.
Below, the Stepstones trembled as two forces prepared to collide:
A dragon stuffed with divinity.
ELDORIA...
In Eldoria, Leo's eyes snapped open.
Threads he had severed twitched—not reconnecting, but screaming.
"So, They interfered."
He said quietly, voice colder than the void.
The shadows around him stirred—uneasy, alert.
Leo rose. Red eyes burned—not with anger—But with decision as he spoke calmly getting up from the bed.
Where still Rhaenyra and Alicent were laying down.
"That was their move, Now comes mine."
Back over the Stepstones, thunder rolled as Bloodjaws lunged—now a towering avatar of borrowed godhood.
Aemma raised her chin.
Rhaenys tightened her reins.
"...."
"...."
"...."
And the sky itself seemed to hold its breath—Because the next moment would decide more than a battle.
It would decide whether gods still ruled this world—Or whether they had overreached.
One heartbeat—Aemma was alone in the sky, locked against a dragon swollen with stolen divinity.
The next—Leo appeared.
He stood calmly beside her atop her dragon's back, boots planted as if the raging winds were nothing more than a summer breeze.
His presence alone made the air heavier, denser—like the world had just acknowledged a higher authority.
"...."
He looked ahead.
At Bloodjaws. At Viserys.
Unimpressed. Then Leo raised two fingers to his lips and whistled.
-WHISTLE
The sound was soft.
The response was apocalyptic.
-FLASH
The climate collapsed into chaos.
Dark clouds spiraled inward from every horizon, compressing the heavens into a vast, rotating dome.
Thunder boomed—not randomly, but rhythmically, like a drumbeat announcing a king.
Yellow lightning split the sky.
Once. Twice.
Then again, branching like veins across the clouds.
The sea below churned violently.
The Stepstones shook as if the earth itself was trying to flee.
Viserys's laughter faltered.
"What—what is this…?"
Then the shadow appeared.
Not a dragon. A presence.
Something so large its silhouette swallowed the storm itself.
A roar rolled across the sky—Not loud. Absolute.
-ROOOOAAARRR!!!
Clouds were torn apart as a colossal three-headed form descended through the storm, scales gleaming gold beneath arcs of crackling lightning.
Each wingbeat displaced miles of air.
Each head moved with terrifying intelligence.
This was no beast. This was Gildhōra.
The sky bent around it.
Dragons—every dragon present—froze.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Meleys instinctively lowered her head.
Aemma's dragon growled—not in fear, but in recognition.
Bloodjaws screamed.
-ROAR!!!
Not in challenge. In terror.
-THRONE REALM...
Far beyond mortal sight, in the throne realm, the Old and New Gods leaned forward.
This was the moment.
They had fed Viserys power. They had overcharged Bloodjaws. They had bet everything on crushing Leo's mount.
"Dominate him."
"Consume."
"Prove who rules."
Their will poured into Bloodjaws like molten iron.
The dragon roared, forcing itself forward, scales blazing red-black as corrupted divinity surged through its veins. It lunged.
Leo reappeared—not in the air, not on Aemma's dragon—But standing effortlessly atop the middle head of Gildhōra.
No reins. No harness. Just presence.
Wind tore at his cloak, lightning framing him like a crown.
He looked at Viserys. Really looked.
"...."
And for the first time—Viserys Targaryen felt small.
"...."
The mad certainty in his eyes cracked as he whispered hoarsely.
"You… You're just a man—"
Leo tilted his head slightly.
"No."
The middle head of Gildhōra leaned forward, all three sets of eyes locking onto Bloodjaws at once.
"I am the line you were never meant to cross."
Viserys stared. Jaw slack. Eyes wide.
Like an idiot who had finally realized he was never part of the game—only a piece.
The storm raged.
**********************************************************************************************************************************************************
(Author's POV)
(A/N)I hope you guys are enjoying the story.
Thanks for reading the chapter!
Please give areview
And power stone!!!
It will Motivate Me.