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Game of Thrones: Rune Bastard
Game of Thrones Wizard Dothraki
Game of Thrones: Knights Life
The black egg—the biggest one Viserys called his Black Dread, Balerion—cracked like someone striking flint.
Sparks leapt from the long-dead hearth and caught instantly.
Maybe the egg just wanted warmth. But the flames shot up too fast, too eager. Embers jumped onto the velvet carpet and spread like they had been waiting for this moment.
"Fire!"
"Father! The palace is on fire!"
Nine-Thousand-Years had stayed logged in for once, sorting reports in his room. He already smelled smoke when his little eunuch "son" burst in yelling.
"What?!"
He shot to his feet. "Where's His Grace?"
The boy froze, then shook his head. "I… I don't know!"
Nine-Thousand-Years kicked him hard enough to send him sprawling. "You stupid little shit! You come running to me instead of finding the King?!"
If Viserys burned to death, all his ass-kissing would have been for nothing.
He sprinted toward Viserys's chambers, then changed direction halfway and headed for Daenerys's room instead. The fire was thickest there.
At the same time, Jorah Mormont and Roland were already shouting orders, pulling White Cloaks and servants into a bucket line.
It didn't matter. The flames only grew. Water seemed to feed them.
Players and soldiers got pushed back again and again, coughing and cursing.
"The King's dead! The great work isn't even finished and the Emperor's already gone!"
One of the redneck White Cloaks looked ready to cry, face streaked with soot.
Jorah stood there in half-burned armor, staring at the burning palace like he'd been hit in the head.
The fire burned through the night. By dawn it finally died down.
When the survivors rushed in, they found Viserys and Daenerys standing in the middle of the ruined hall. Both were covered in soot but completely unharmed. Even their clothes were intact.
Jorah had seen a lot in his life. He had never seen anyone walk out of a fire like that.
Nine-Thousand-Years, who had burned to death six times trying to reach them, just stood there with his mouth open. He had wasted a fortune in Kingdom Coins for nothing. But at least the King was alive. That was all that mattered to the White Cloaks and the eunuch players who had thrown themselves into the flames over and over.
Now that Viserys was safe, everyone who had been waiting outside rushed forward to show how loyal they were.
Daenerys stayed pressed against Viserys's side, confused. The clothes she was wearing didn't feel like the ones she had gone to sleep in. And where the hell was the palace?
Viserys had swapped their burned clothes while she was still unconscious, pulling new ones straight from the system shop. The fire hadn't hurt either of them. Fire immunity was turning out to be extremely useful.
There was something else.
Four small shapes moved behind Viserys.
Three of them were no bigger than hand-sized figurines. One black, one green-bronze, one milky white with gold along the horns, wing bones, and spine crest. They hissed and puffed black smoke, clearly warning everyone to stay back.
Dragons.
The fourth one was bigger—lamb-sized, covered in black scales. Balerion.
It opened its mouth and breathed a thin stream of real dragonfire. Bloodbeard's prized beard almost went up in smoke.
Jorah dropped to one knee, staring like he had seen a miracle.
The players who had mocked wyverns and fire wyrms as "not real dragons" were losing their minds. Especially the new ones who had joined last night—the ones obsessed with actual dragons. One old player reached out to touch Balerion. The lamb-sized dragon torched him on the spot and sent him straight back to the respawn screen.
The palace was gone. Viserys moved everyone to the Iron Bank vaults for now. At least the gold had already been moved underground, so that was safe.
Once the well-wishers finally left them alone, Viserys and Daenerys got their first real look at the four hatchlings.
Three tiny dragons. One black-scaled, one green-bronze, and one white with gold accents on its horns and wing bones.
And behind them, the black one already big enough to be dangerous.