(A/N):
Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
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The sea darkened as the wind rose.
A towering tornado spun ahead of the fleet—
Vast, roaring, alive.
Rhaenys' grip tightened on Meleys' reins.
"...."
"...."
Daemon's Caraxes snarled instinctively.
Yet the moment the ships of Eldoria drew close, the storm parted.
The funnel slowed… then bent away,
As though an invisible will had judged them.
Not hostility.
Not mercy.
Permission.
The clouds split like curtains drawn by unseen hands.
And Eldoria revealed itself.
Daemon went still.
Rhaenys forgot to breathe.
Before them stretched an island that should not exist.
To the west,
Golden desert dunes shimmered beneath a warm sun.To the north,
Snow-crowned mountains pierced storm-heavy skies, lightning crawling between peaks.
To the east, emerald forests rolled endlessly, rivers cutting silver veins through green.
To the south, rocky coasts met violent seas, waves crashing against black stone.
And at the heart of it all—
Cities.
Layered, terraced, rising like carved mountains of stone and crystal.
Massive gates glowed faintly with runes.
Roads of pale stone ran smooth and straight, connecting districts and fortresses.
Bridges arced over valleys, lit by soft golden light even in daylight.
The ships docked soundlessly.
Not a single wave struck the hulls.
As Leo stepped onto the pier,
Eldorian soldiers moved with practiced precision—
No panic, no awe, no hesitation.
This was home.
Signals were raised.
Daemon and Rhaenys circled once before descending,
Guided by banners and hand signs to a wide landing terrace carved into the cliffside.
Meleys landed gracefully.
Caraxes followed, his massive form tensing—
Then relaxing.
The dragons felt it.
-ROOOOARR
A thunderous roar rolled across the sky.
Daemon's head snapped up.
"...."
Two dragons passed overhead—
One emerald green, scales gleaming,
The other pure white, wings vast and serene, trailing frost-like mist.
They did not challenge.
They patrolled.
Moments later...
A flight of griffins swept across the horizon,
Splitting into formations before vanishing toward the mountains.
No alarms sounded.
"...."
"...."
"...."
No soldiers reacted.
To them, this was simply another day.
Rhaenys whispered, stunned.
"…This isn't exaggeration."
Daemon exhaled slowly.
-Sigh
"This is a world pretending to be an island."
Rhaenyra glanced at them, a small, knowing smile on her lips.
"...."
Alicent nodded.
-Nod
"We told you."
Daemon looked at Leo—
"...."
Really looked this time.
Not a king clinging to power.
Not a conqueror.
But the axis around which this land turned.
A realm where storms obeyed borders.
Where dragons were not weapons—
But citizens lives in this land.
Where soldiers stood calm beneath flying titans.
Rhaenys felt it then.
"...."
A truth she could not unsee.
'If Eldoria wished… Westeros would not survive a season.'
And yet—
It welcomed them.
The gates ahead opened slowly, light spilling outward.
Eldoria had accepted them.
Rhaenys' gaze lingered on the griffin as it circled overhead—
Powerful wings, leonine body, eagle's head crowned with sharp intelligence.
Leo noticed.
"...."
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"Do you want to pet it?"
Rhaenys blinked and turned to him, surprised.
"…Pet it?"
She glanced back at the creature, then at Leo.
"What is that creature?"
Leo chuckled softly.
-Chuckle
"A griffin. Half eagle, half lion. Proud, loyal, and smarter than most knights I've met."
Daemon snorted under his breath.
-Snort
"That sets a low bar."
Rhaenys ignored him, eyes still on the griffin.
"They let strangers touch them?"
Leo shrugged lightly.
"...."
"They let me decide."
Then, casually—
"Do you want to travel on one?"
That made her pause.
The Queen Who Never Was—
Rider of Meleys, veteran of skies and war—
Actually hesitated.
"...."
She looked at the vast kingdom stretching before her…
The dragons patrolling like sentries…
The calm soldiers…
The impossible order of it all.
Then she nodded.
-Nod
"…Yes."
Leo turned toward the sky and gave a sharp, clear whistle.
The sound cut through the wind—
Clean, commanding, unmistakable.
The griffins reacted instantly.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Few of them peeled away from their patrol and descended in a smooth spiral,
Landing before them with powerful wingbeats.
Stone cracked faintly beneath their talons.
One stepped forward, lowering its head.
Leo placed a hand on its feathers.
"Guide them,"
He said calmly.
"Somewhere they'll like."
The griffin let out a deep, satisfied chirr—
-Chirr!!!
Almost a purr—
And nudged Leo's palm before spreading its wings.
Rhaenys watched, genuinely stunned.
"...."
"…It understands you."
Leo glanced back at her.
"Of course it does."
She exhaled, then turned to Meleys.
"Follow it,"
She said softly.
Daemon smirked and descended from Caraxes' saddle.
-Smirk
"Guess we're being shown around."
The griffin leapt into the air, powerful wings beating once, twice—
Then it soared forward toward the inner valleys of Eldoria.
Meleys and Caraxes followed.
For the first time since she had mounted a dragon as a girl,
She wasn't thinking about war, politics, or prophecy.
She was simply… curious.
Leo watched the dragons depart, hands clasped behind his back.
The moment Meleys and Caraxes disappeared beyond the cliffs,
Leo stepped forward.
A griffin lowered itself before him, wings folding with disciplined grace.
Its golden eyes watched him closely—
Not submissive, but respectful.
Leo mounted smoothly.
At his signal, several more griffins descended, landing in a semicircle.
Rhaenyra hesitated only a heartbeat before climbing onto one,
Fingers tightening instinctively as the creature shifted beneath her weight.
Alicent followed, eyes wide but steady,
Surprising even herself as the griffin let out a soft, reassuring trill.
Hagoromo Gitsune moved last—
Light, effortless—
Settling onto her mount as if she had done this a thousand times before.
Daemon watched them, then snorted.
-Snort
"Well… can't be worse than a dragon with a temper."
He mounted, pausing mid-motion as the griffin adjusted its balance instantly to his weight.
His brows rose.
"…It listens."
Rhaenys mounted beside him,
"...."
Her expression unreadable—
But there was something new there.
Not caution.
Wonder.
Leo turned to the Eldorian knights below.
"Return to your posts."
"Resume your duties."
The knights saluted as one—
"...."
"...."
"...."
No ceremony, no delay—
And dispersed smoothly back into the city,
As if escorting dragons and gods alike was simply another task completed.
Leo looked forward.
"Take us home."
The griffins leapt.
With a powerful beat of wings, they launched skyward together.
The world fell away beneath them.
Wind rushed past as they soared over terraced cities, emerald valleys,
And glowing roads that pulsed faintly like living veins.
Dragons passed them at a respectful distance.
Pegasus flights crossed the airways below.
Farmland, forests, and mountains blended into a single, impossible harmony.
Rhaenyra stared openly now,
No longer trying to hide her awe.
Alicent forgot to be afraid.
Rhaenys said nothing—
"...."
Nut her eyes missed nothing.
Daemon leaned forward slightly,
Letting the wind hit his face, a quiet laugh escaping him.
-Hahaha
"So this,"
He said,
"is what freedom feels like."
Ahead, Dawnfire Citadel drew closer—
Its gates already opening.
The griffins angled their wings and descended.
KING'S LANDING...
THE RED KEEP...
The throne room of the Red Keep was full.
Not with laughter.
Not with celebration.
But with loyalists.
Lords who had chosen to stay.
Lords who had not gone north.
Lords who had not dared to meet the King of Eldoria.
Viserys sat upon the Iron Throne,
Fingers clenched around the armrests, his face pale but set with grim resolve.
"...."
When the doors closed, silence fell.
Then Viserys spoke.
"Enough."
His voice echoed through the chamber.
"Enough defiance. Enough whispers. Enough foreign kings meddling in the affairs of Westeros."
Some lords nodded immediately.
-Nod
"...."
"...."
"...."
Others exchanged uncertain glances.
Viserys rose slowly from the throne.
"For generations, House Targaryen ruled by fire and blood."
"Not because we desired cruelty—"
A pause.
"—but because the realm understood strength."
He swept his gaze across them.
"Now lords forget their place."
"They speak of alliances without the crown."
"They trade without permission."
His jaw tightened.
"They shelter a king who dares defy dragons."
A low murmur spread through the hall.
Viserys raised a hand.
"We will remind them."
Otto Hightower stepped forward, unrolling a large map across the council table.
Ports.
Roads.
Granaries.
Trade routes.
"Rebellion does not begin with swords,"
Otto said calmly.
"It begins with supplies."
He tapped the map.
"Food."
"Salt."
"Iron."
"Coin."
A lord from the Reach leaned in.
"Cut the rivers, and the North starves."
Another added.
"Block the ports, and their trade collapses."
Otto nodded.
"No direct war."
Viserys listened intently.
"We squeeze them,"
Otto continued.
"Until they beg."
A Westerlands lord smirked.
"And Eldoria?"
The room stilled.
"...."
Otto's eyes hardened.
"A foreign kingdom survives only as long as others tolerate it."
He turned to Viserys.
"Once the North suffers… their faith in Eldoria will crack."
Viserys considered this.
Slowly.
Dangerously.
"Make it subtle,"
He ordered.
"No open declarations."
"Let hunger speak for us."
Several lords nodded.
-Nod
This was war—
Without banners.
Without honor.
Without warning.
As the meeting drew to a close, Viserys returned to the throne.
His voice softened—
Almost to himself.
"They think dragons are all I have. Without it I am nothing."
His hand rested on the cold steel.
"They forget… a kingdom can bleed without a single flame."
Otto bowed deeply.
"They will remember, Your Grace."
Yet as the lords departed—
Viserys remained seated.
Alone.
"...."
A faint pressure throbbed behind his eyes.
A whisper stirred at the edge of thought.
'Fire… blood… order…'
He clenched his fists.
THREE MONTHS LATER...
And Westeros changed.
Not with one great battle—
But with pressure.
Slow.
Relentless.
Calculated.
The Iron Throne moved like a coiled serpent.
Through the Iron Bank, debts were called in.
Loans tightened.
Coin vanished from treasuries overnight.
Lords who had once thought themselves secure suddenly found the Iron Bank's letters arriving like sharks scenting blood.
Ports were delayed.
Caravans were "inspected."
Warehouses burned mysteriously in the night.
Supplies thinned.
Grain prices rose.
Salt became scarce.
Iron shipments slowed.
The crown never declared war—
But the realm felt it all the same.
Westeros was no longer one realm.
It had split cleanly into two sides:
The North and its allies.
The Iron Throne and its loyalists.
Borders hardened.
Roads were watched.
Rivers patrolled.
Passes fortified.
Small skirmishes broke out along disputed lands—
A patrol ambushed here,
A supply chain seized there.
Nothing large enough to spark open war.
Yet.
The soldiers were already in position.
In the North, the response was swift.
Not loud.
Not reckless.
Measured.
Rickon Stark stood before his banner-men.
"We hold."
And they did.
Granaries were sealed.
Winter stores guarded.
Militias called up quietly.
Eldorian steel flowed where needed—
Never too much, never too fast.
Trade shifted inland.
Smugglers vanished.
Black-market routes collapsed as Eldoria's logistics replaced them with something better.
When pressure came—
The North did not break.
ELDORIA...
DAWNFIRE CITADEL CASTLE...
In Eldoria, Leo stood atop Dawnfire Citadel's balcony, watching lines of light move across a floating map of Westeros.
One by one—
Thoughts reached him.
Not prayers.
Not pleas.
Messages.
["The Iron Bank is circling."]
["Supplies have been rerouted."]
["Border forces are deployed."]
Leo listened.
Then answered—
"...."
Not aloud,
But directly.
['Deploy your own forces. Hold your ground. Do not strike first.']
The replies came back almost instantly.
['We already have.']
Leo smiled faintly.
"...."
Viserys believed hunger would break them.
Otto believed fear would fracture alliances.
Neither understood what Eldoria had changed.
The Iron Throne could squeeze supply.
But Eldoria had replaced dependence with resilience.
Farmers now knew how to increase yields.
Smiths no longer waited on crown-approved shipments.
Healers saved lives that would once have been lost.
GOD THRONE REALM...
Somewhere beyond the world—
Eyes watched.
The Old Gods and the New felt it.
The pressure they applied no longer fed them as it once had.
"...."
"...."
Fear was duller.
Desperation thinner.
They whispered harder.
Pushed king toward anger.
Toward rash decisions.
Toward fire.
OLDTOWN...
In Oldtown, beneath the towering spire of the Citadel, ravens flew day and night.
Scroll after scroll was dispatched—
Sealed, stamped, urgent.
Orders.
Maesters across Westeros received the same instruction, written in careful, soothing words.
'Convince your lord to abandon this folly.'
'Appeal for peace.'
'Apologize to the Iron Throne.'
'Prevent unnecessary bloodshed.'
On the surface, it sounded noble.
Beneath it—
It was fear.
The Citadel felt it clearly now.
The voice of Eldoria was rising.
Not through conquest.
Not through threats.
But through education.
And that struck at the very root of the Citadel's existence.
For centuries, the Citadel had been the gatekeeper.
Who learned to read.
Who learned to heal.
Who learned history.
Who learned just enough—and no more.
Now—
Eldorian healers walked Northern halls and border keeps.
They asked no vows.
They demanded no chains.
They taught openly.
Farmers learned sanitation.
Midwives learned anatomy.
Soldiers learned trauma care.
And people lived.
That alone was dangerous.
A senior archmaester slammed his hand against the obsidian table.
-SLAM
"If knowledge spreads freely—"
Another finished bitterly.
"—then we are no longer necessary."
Whispers followed.
"They call it education."
"They call it healing."
A third spat the word.
"Sorcery. Evil Sorcery..."
That was the angle the Citadel chose.
New ravens were sent.
This time, the message changed.
'The healers from Eldoria use unnatural arts.'
'Their methods are not sanctioned.'
'Magic disguised as medicine is still magic.'
Some maesters obeyed.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Others hesitated.
And a few—
Did something unthinkable.
They refused.
Because they had seen it themselves.
A lord whose son should have died—
Lived.
A woman whose childbirth would have been fatal—
Walked again.
No chanting.
No blood rituals.
No gods invoked.
Just knowledge.
And results.
Across Northern keeps and allied lands,
Something subtle changed.
Lords began watching their maesters.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Listening more carefully.
Questioning more often.
When a maester urged submission—
They asked why.
When a maester dismissed Eldorian methods—
They asked for proof.
And when none came—
Trust fractured.
One lord said quietly to his brother.
"They fear losing control."
His brother replied.
"They always did."
The Citadel's pressure backfired.
WHITE HARBOR...
At White Harbor, the captured dragons remained.
Not chained.
Not mistreated.
They were watched.
Fed.
Respected.
Eldorian handlers—
Trained, calm—
Approached them without fear.
The dragons did not rage.
They waited.
Even the dragons seemed to understand.
This was not a cage.
This was a pause.
They were all invited to Eldoria to live with their kind there.
But they were hesitant because they were confused.
So they were given time to choose they would not be forced if they don't want to go.
ELDORIA...
DAWNFIRE CITADEL CASTLE...
The one chamber of Dawnfire Citadel rang with voices.
Not raised in anger—
But sharp, barbed, deliberate.
Leo stood at the head of the hall, arms folded,
"...."
Watching with mild amusement as the two men before him snapped at each other like rival predators forced into the same den.
On the left—
General Ōuki.
Broad-shouldered, relaxed, an infuriating grin carved permanently into his face.
He leaned on his glaive as if this were a tavern, not the war chamber of a god-king.
On the right—
Ri Boku.
Calm.
Composed.
Eyes sharp with calculation, hands tucked neatly behind his back.
Ōuki laughed loudly.
-Fufu
"Hah! So this is the great Ri Boku!"
"You look thinner than I thought—guess dying didn't help your appetite."
Ri Boku smiled thinly.
"...."
"Still loud as I heared stories about, I see."
"And still relying on brute force instead of foresight after his strategy fails."
Ōuki's grin widened—
-Grin
"...."
Dangerously.
"Oh? Says the man who won only by hiding behind tactics and sacrificial pawns."
Ri Boku's eyes narrowed just a fraction.
"...."
"You charged into my net willingly."
"That wasn't my cruelty."
"That was your arrogance."
The temperature in the room dropped.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Ōuki straightened.
"Careful, strategist."
"You're speaking to the man whose death still haunts your victories."
Ri Boku met his gaze evenly.
"And you're speaking to the man who designed your death..."
Silence.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Then Ōuki burst out laughing.
-HAHAHAHA!!!
A deep, thunderous sound that echoed through the chamber.
"HAH! Good!"
"At least you're honest."
He stepped closer, eyes blazing with battle hunger.
"Tell me, Ri Boku—did it taste bitter?"
Ri Boku replied calmly.
"Every victory does."
That answer gave Ōuki pause.
"...."
Then—
Another grin.
-Grin
"Maybe you're not as boring as you look."
Leo raised one hand.
The air itself responded—
Pressure settling like an unseen hand on both generals' shoulders.
Not forceful.
Absolute.
Both men turned toward him instantly.
"Enough,"
Leo said calmly.
"You weren't summoned to settle old grudges."
Ōuki chuckled, rolling his shoulders.
"...."
-Chuckle
"Shame. I was just getting warmed up."
Ri Boku inclined his head slightly.
"...."
"Then allow me to ask,"
He said, eyes sharp.
"What kind of war is this world facing? My King."
Leo's gaze hardened.
"...."
A projection unfolded above the table—
Westeros, divided, supply lines marked, borders glowing faintly.
"A slow war,"
Leo replied.
"Political strangulation. Economic pressure..."
Leo explained to them about this world.
Ōuki's grin sharpened.
-Grin
"Dragons, huh?"
"Now that's more like it."
Ri Boku studied the map intently.
"Their strength lies not in armies,"
He said quietly.
"But in belief."
Leo nodded.
-Nod
"Exactly."
Ri Boku continued.
"Break the supply routes, and you weaken bodies."
"Break belief, and you collapse kingdoms."
Ōuki slammed the butt of his glaive lightly against the floor.
-Thud.
"Then we crush them where they think they're strongest."
Leo's eyes gleamed faintly.
"...."
"That's why you're both here."
Ōuki folded his arms, smirking at Ri Boku.
"Guess we're on the same side now, eh?"
Ri Boku allowed himself a small smile.
"Yeah."
Leo turned toward the map again.
"Westeros believes war must be slow."
"They believe pressure will break the North."
His red eyes flared faintly.
-Glint
"...."
"We will teach them otherwise."
Ōuki laughed, eyes burning with anticipation.
-Fufu
"Ahhh… it's been too long since I fought a war worth remembering."
Ri Boku's voice was colder—
"...."
But no less eager.
"Then let us rewrite their expectations."
Leo looked at both men.
Two legends from an Anime Kingdom.
Two philosophies.
One battlefield.
"Welcome to my world,"
He said with a evil grin on his face.
Already thinking the faces of Viserys and others when they find out all their plans were just a pawn for these two who entered the picture.
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(Author's POV)
(A/N)I hope you guys are enjoying the story.
War is Inevitable! Guys...
I hope you guys could give me charecters for summoning for war type fighting generals for example.
--> Any thought drop a comment here.
Thanks for reading the chapter!
Please give areview
And power stone!!!
It will Motivate Me.