After bathing in the fire of the great fish, Rhaegar soon grew drowsy.
He was still a child and could only digest the flame's energy slowly.
Drowsiness swept over him; dreams carried away his excitement, confusion, and weariness.
Moments later, Rhaegar had entered a strange dreamland.
A mighty river, its waves surging.
The air was thick with moist, fish-tinged vapor—humid and brimming with life.
In Rhaegar's sight appeared a small hill-town by the riverbank, already shrouded in blood and fire.
Houses burned; people were slaughtered.
The victims were slender, black-haired and dark-eyed, with smooth olive complexions.
Clearly, they were the Rhoynar, children of the Rhoyne River.
Near the town's edge, Valyrian ships prowled; behind one vessel a giant fish was towed. The black-scaled creature bled from several cruel hooks, leaving a crimson wake. Valyrians swaggered, flaunting their great victory.
Purple banners snapped in the wind; only the true dragon reigned.
Soldiers in obsidian-like armor moved through the town, looting and burning.
Rhaegar saw it all—the Rhoynar's grief and hatred, the Valyrian troops' savagery.
Yet their armor was neither stone nor iron; it looked like obsidian fused by Dragonflame.
Above the town, dozens of dragons soared; two purple wyrms led them.
Wings beat, stirring ripples of wind.
Every dragon bore a bright sigil on its brow—the Baelarys rune. Dragonriders mirrored the mark. Dragon and rider danced as one, interdependent.
The Purple Dragon's scales glittered like amethysts; all who saw it praised its rare majesty. Its wing-shadow could swallow a thriving town, its maw gulp down Mammoths.
One Purple Dragon landed slowly. From it leapt a silver-haired, violet-eyed youth, sword at hip—so handsome he seemed a banished immortal.
A second purple wyrm spiraled down, depositing an equally silver-haired, violet-eyed, statuesque woman.
The young Dragonriders looked alike, circlets of valyrian steel upon their heads, set with huge purple crystals.
Neither wore armor; instead they were draped in resplendent purple robes patterned with dragons and flames that shimmered like celestial raiment. Every fold displayed the Baelarys sigil of Purple Dragons and fire.
"Base Rhoynar, come greet us—chief Dragonlords of the Freehold of Valyria, the Purple-Robed Dragonlords, the glorious twins of House Baelarys. I, Augo Baelarys, and my sister and wife, Aulis Baelarys." His voice rang like steel, cruelly charismatic.
But the town was silent, save for crackling flames and collapsing roofs.
The Rhoynar had not submitted; Baelarys soldiers had merely herded the survivors into the tiny central square.
Only a dozen remained—old and very young.
At their head stood a white-haired Rhoynar elder. He stared at the young dragonlord, wordless with hatred.
"Bring forth the false gods these vile Rhoynar worship." Augo Baelarys clapped; Valyrian soldiers in obsidian-like armor hauled a black-scaled, six-whiskered fish from the river shallows.
The ten-meter creature gleamed, gasping its last; the Valyrians felt no reverence for a River-God.
"O River-God, how can the Valyrians blaspheme you so?" the Rhoynar wept.
Augo laughed. "Wretched Rhoynar, you are fit only to be slaves. Greatest joy is shattering foes' faith, razing their temples, sleeping with their women."
The Rhoynar cursed without cease; they revered the river as mother, their gods mostly turtles and great fish.
Ever since a Valyrian host slew a Rhoynar turtle-god, war between Valyria and the Rhoynar had burned unending.
A cruel smile curved Augo's lips again. "Watch my little trick."
Dragonlord Aulis watched her brother's show and did not stop him.
Valyria and the Rhoynar were now mortal foes.
A wisp of purple flame sprang from the silver-haired Dragonlord's fingertip; with a flick, the fire coiled around the great fish.
This was fire of life; a single spark began to swirl slowly between the black fish's brows.
The black fish bellowed in pain, like a calf.
What had been a mere ember now threatened to become a wildfire.
The blaze surged, devouring every living thing.
Where the flames touched, the black fish's flesh was consumed.
The River-God's body withered; skin, flesh, and blood melted in the glow, and even the bones crumbled into dust.
The black fish faded away while the fire burned fiercer.
Only the flame remained, now shaped like a black fish, flying back into Dragonlord Augo's palm.
To kill is to shatter the soul as well!
The rhoynar people trembled in terror yet cursed without end. "Cursed Valyrians, may you die a thousand deaths."
Dragonlord Augo's face turned a shade paler.
The great magic of Life-Plunder took its toll on the mind; his own talent could handle only such simple creatures.
Only when he could plunder the life of a mighty dragon would the other Dragonlords take notice.
"I call it Life-Plunder. This great fish's breath, blood, and flesh are now fused into this flame. Once I consume it, my true dragon body will burn even brighter." Dragonlord Augo toyed with the fish's life-spark—life-fire, a supreme tonic.
"You fiends, beasts who wed your own sisters—Mother Rhoyne, send down your wrath!" the elder of the rhoynar shouted, voice shaking.
Those words were like kicking a hornet's nest.
No matter how the Valyrian Dragonlords argued, their custom of taking their own sisters to wife was infamous, mocked by every people.
Most who dared speak of it to a Dragonlord's face were burned alive.
"Dragonflame!" Dragonlord Augo roared; the Purple Dragon's molten eyes were cold, and from his jaws poured furious fire that turned the rhoynar before him into char.
Aulis Baelarys shook her head, offering no rebuke to her husband. She felt no pity for the rhoynar; she simply thought her brother's slaughter too cruel—better to burn fish and folk together, sparing them prolonged pain.
Born proud and glorious, they deemed themselves the world-ruling Dragonlords; only the Dragonlord family stood supreme—other men and races were but low, near-beast rabble.
"Water has its tides, and so does fire. Most Dragonlords know only ruin; we can also seize life." Dragonlord Augo spoke to his wife.
Alyss nodded. Life-Plunder was their clan's secret: steal the spark of life to feed their own Blood of Fire.
"This Dragonlord Council has decreed three hundred dragons take wing. As Chief Dragonlord, our father has granted you and me command of the family's true dragon host to join the war against Prince Gaelen. This time we shall seize rich spoils." Dragonlord Augo's eyes gleamed with wildfire and greed; the black-fish spark vanished into his bronze ring.
Twenty adult dragons launching at once was the might and majesty belonging only to a Chief Dragonlord.
"I will forge the strongest Blood of Fire in the world, not merely the Chief Dragonlord of Valyria. We worship no gods; we make ourselves divine. If our child tempers his body with such life-fire from birth, his Blood of Fire will know no equal." Augo spoke to his wife, gazing into a bright future.
"Yet the plunder rune harms heaven's balance and burdens the body. We can seize life only from dull creatures—Mammoths, great fish—never from mighty dragons, let alone humans," Alyss said worriedly.
"We are still young; we shall breed stronger Dragonriders. Then lesser houses like the Targaryens will become our finest test subjects," Augo declared boldly.
The bronze ring on Augo's hand flashed, and a horn appeared in his grasp.
A bronze horn, mottled with verdigris.
Dragonlord Augo soared skyward upon his dragon and sounded the dragon horn; every wyrm began to wheel above.
"true dragon Host—march!"
Twenty dragons turned and sped toward Prince Gaelen.
The main force lay ahead; three hundred dragons would soon show the terror of fire and shatter the pitiful faith of the rhoynar.