The chamber's glow deepened as the orange flames began pulsing red as the ritual reached its crescendo.
The older looking red priestess walked forward first. Her amber eyes gleamed like molten gold as she approached the two kneeling men. Gregor Clegane froze at the sight of her as he recognized her face but not her form.
Elia Martel stood before her would be assaulter no longer the fragile princess he remembered. Now a woman renewed, rounder hips, almost hourglass shape beneath her crimson robes, her once-flat chest now full and plump. Her black eyes were now a radiant golden amber. Her olive skin was now sun-kissed and radiant. She was beautiful, and Gregor felt a powerful mysterious presence from her… and it terrified him.
"Your...Martell?" Gregor rasped. "You were flat as a board before… what devilry..."
Elia ignored Gregor completely and knelt before Maron and Seris. "Lady Drakon. High Keeper," She said meaning Seris. Her voice was rich, with a melodic tone that was nothing like the timid princess who was almost brutalized. "We are ready for the ceremony."
Viserys's eyes darted wildly as he finally noticed the new presence walking into view...a woman in a long black dress, silver hair falling down her back.
"Mother!" he cried, relief breaking into his voice. "These savages have kept me prisoner, tell them to release me!"
But instead Rhaella dropped to her knees before her son. Her eyes were red and puffy, She was crying. She kissed each of Viserys's cheeks softly, hands trembling.
"I am sorry, my son…"
Viserys's expression cracked.
"M-mother…? What are you sorry for, just tell them to let me go!"
"But I have seen what awaits you," Rhaella whispered, tears falling freely. "You will hinder your sister. You will bring destruction to her, and all of us for your own sake and greed. I will not allow it. Not again."
Viserys's face twisted, not understanding what she meant. "What madness is this? I am your son! Your rightful king! Release me! You need me to take the Iron throne and restore our lives."
Rhaella's teared filled eyes narrowed as she brought Daenerys in close by her side. "I never want that life again," she whispered, standing. "Never again will I be powerless and will I be bent to the will of mad and power hungry men. The age of the Targaryen ends with me, your sister and niece and nephew."
Her words devastated him more than any blade ever could. He felt the hope slip from him, as it set in that he was gonna die. "Mother... NO MOTHER PLEASE!" Viserys screamed, thrashing against his bindings as fear and Panic overtook him. "I swear I will be better please...just don't let them kill me..." He said with tears in his eyes.
Seris stepped forward with a massive black metal vessel, thick with a viscous red liquid. She set it beside the stone bed where a body laid draped in dark red cloth. Then she went and knelt before Maran.
"Lady Drakon," Seris intoned. "The Ceremony of Rebirth is ready. The last of the Blood of Life has been prepared. The chosen sacrifices and the ascended are ready. We may proceed at your command."
Maran's violet eyes glowed faintly as she turned to Rhaella and Daenerys. "Do you two offer this sacrifice in the name of House Targaryen?"
Rhaella bowed her head. "I do, Lady Drakon." Daenerys nervously looked at her brother who had a sad look of pleading on his face. Then she steeled herself. "I… I do. Lady Drakon."
Then Maran's gaze shifted to Elia.
"Red Priestess Martell. You were the wronged party. Do you offer this man's life?"
Elia's amber eyes narrowed with calm fury.
"I do. Lady Drakon"
"You damn bitches and whores think you can kill me." Gregor cursed trying to stand up, but Elia merely raised her hand, and using the Flow crushed his windpipe. His choking was wet, desperate, and helpless.
"And Viserys," Maran continued. "He would have wronged your line further by weakness, by madness, by endangering your futures and the Drakons."
Rhaella and Daenerys both extended their hands and reached out into the Flow. Viserys lifted from the ground, the Flow choking the life from him as he screamed, flailed and begged.
"M-mother...PLEASE! DAENERYS...STOP... I'm your FAMILY...!"
Daenerys looked away, tears spilling. But Maran raised her head and spoke. Remember little one. You are training to protect my son and there will be more like him. In and out of the Drakon family will covet our power. You will protect him from what again."
Daenerys looked up, her face was tearful but stoic, her hand did not tremble. "I will protect him from all his enemies as a dragon scale."
Maron smirked with nod. "Good little one."
Then the chanting began. Low, ancient, and powerful...an old tongue older than Valyria, and older than Asshai. Elia and the younger priestess chanted in perfect unison. Then red mist appeared and glowed. The more life that bled from Gregor and Viserys, the more mist appeared and the brighter it became. The scarlet mist swirled through the chamber like it was alive As the two men died.
Maran then extended her hand. The red liquid in the vase lifted, and shimmered with violent golden veins of energy...until Maran poured it over the body wrapped entirely in dark red cloth. Which submerged it in a sphere of scarlet blood.
Only two drops of the sacred blood remained suspended in the air. "Daenerys. Rhaella, kneel" Maran commanded. The two knelt instantly.
"Will you two now and forever in this life and the Next's promise to serve House Drakon, and Samar Drakon" Maran said, "as loyal servants, in whatever is required of you?"
Rhaella bowed her head without hesitation.
"Yes Lady Drakon."
Daenerys swallowed hard.
"Yes… Lady Drakon."
"Then accept the Blood of Life."
Maran whispered a final phrase.
The suspended drops shot into their mouths. Daenerys screamed first, her small frame arching unnaturally. Rhaella convulsed violently beside her, gripping the floor as the Flow surged through her veins. The two's bodies burned hot like a fire was lit inside of them but hotter then any dragon fire.
Seris joined the chant, the sound echoing like a hundred voices layered together. The wrapping Absorb the blood and the body under the red wrappings began to jerk and stir with movement. Again and Again.
Then...BOOM.
A pulse blasted outward from underneath the Drakon Estate. It was felt across continents.
Beyond the Wall, the White Walkers paused. His Blue eyes gazing into the distance. In the far North, the Three-Eyed Crow stirred. "Not again. The Drakons are on the move." Brynden Rivers, the Targaryen bastard muttered.
In Winterfell, the Starks Eddark, John, Rob and Sansa. Even Aria in Catlins stomach kicked as they all shivered from the pulse. The Weirwood tree bled blood sap and whispered warnings. Kings landing at the red keep.
Barristan Selmy stood with his hand on his sword. A smile on his face "I haven't felt this feeling in so long. So your back old friend. I don't know how but I missed you. Maybe you will give this old man the death he seeks, should the Flow allow it."
On the kingsroad, Samar head laid on Soria's lap. His body resting but his mind was elsewhere. While Samir and Storia felt their chests tighten. They looked at each other with a smile knowing what Maran just did.
A long, shuddering breath echoed beneath the cloth. Seris raised her hand, and the wrapped figure floated gently to the floor. The bindings unraveled themselves.
A man collapsed onto his knees. Naked, drenched in blood but his fair skin still radiated through. He was tall with a lean muscular build.
His black hair had specks of silver hairs on his head. His eyes opened to flare bright crimson for a moment before settling to a glowing violet. It was none other then Ser Arthur Dayne who drew a breath as if waking from a long dream.
"Where… am I... What's going on?" He tried to rise, but Maran placed two fingers to his forehead. "Awaken the new strongest Blade of the Drakons."
Instantly, Marans memories flowed into Arthur's mind along with her will and influence. The Drakon's will flooded into him. History. Purpose. His rebirth and his new duty.
Silence followed.
Then the former Sword of the Morning lowered his head. "My lady… Lady Drakon…" he whispered, voice steady, resolute. "I await your orders."
Maran smiled.
While the ritual chamber still pulsed with the last echoes of ancient magic and the Flow, the crimson mist thinning, curling along the floor like dying embers. As the chanting faded, silence filled.
Only the sound of soft breathing broke it. Arthur Dayne, reborn, knelt perfectly still. His black hair with silver specks clung to his head, wet and darkened by the blood of his resurrection. His violet eyes...bright, fierce, impossibly alive...remained lowered in reverence to Maran Drakon.
But Maran… her gaze had shifted elsewhere. She turned first to Rhaella.
The former queen was still on her knees, chest rising and falling rapidly from the convulsions of the ritual, her silver-white hair spilling around her like living moonlight. Except...now it literally shimmered.
It gleamed as if renewed by fire and youth.
Her skin, once lined from stress and grief, glowed with warmth and vitality. Her breasts and hips, once worn from childbearing and royal burden, were full and lifted again, firmer and shapelier. Her posture, once timid and shrunken from years of fear and abuse, straightened with rediscovered strength.
Her presence in the Flow surged...radiant, and more powerful then before. Like a noble phoenix whose flame had been rekindled. Rhaella gasped softly as she examined her own hands, her breath trembling.
"I… I feel…" She couldn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to, she was renewed. Then Maran turned her gaze to the little girl beside her.
Little Daenerys. The child's chest rose and fell as she recovered, her face pink from the intensity of the ritual. But unlike Rhaella, her transformation was gentler, more subtle, yet undeniable. Her silver hair hung longer, brighter, silky like woven light. Her violet eyes shimmered with a soft glow, as if someone had lit a spark inside her soul. And she was taller. By at least two inches, not much to an adult, but to a six-year-old, it was staggering. Enough to be noticeable. Enough to mark her as changed.
The Flow radiated from her small frame like a raging fire. It was more then Rhaella's but different in a sense.. More gentle but a hidden potent side to it.
Both mother and daughter had been touched by the blood of life and were reborn.
Soon when my son and husband return from Westeros with the Dragon bones, we shall continue Samar's training. Then when he is ready he will be enhanced by the True blood of Life and Ascended to greater heights.
Maran admired the ladies with the satisfaction of a craftsman appraising newly forged weapons. Her lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk.
"Three more weapons have been added to House Drakon Arsenal," she whispered, her voice rich with pride. "The Flow and blood and fire of the dragons bends to us again."
Then Elia and the other red priestess bowed before Maran. Elia spoke. " Is more required of me Lady Drakon?"
"No Elia, you have fulfilled your role. Now return to your children until we call you again for Samar's baptism."
"Yes Lady Drakon."
Then a powerful pressure from the Flow was released in the chamber. Everyone felt it and No one dared move. It was Maran who was releasing it. Then her violet eyes gained a draconic slit in them.
"Remember Elia. Your children will not now or in the future seek to covet the throne. And if they do you will keep your promise and surrender them to me. Or I shall retrieve every last drop of the blood of life from your body and fill that vase up again. Do you understand me?"
While the other were scared. Elia and the younger priestess only smiled earnestly. "Lady Drakon I would not dare betray the Drakons after all you have done for me. My son , Aegon will be in the next group of recruits since he show signs of the flow in him like his father. While my daughter Rhaenys I hope to offer as a marriage candidate to your son when they are both older."
Maran released the pressure. "You two are dismissed and don't think about visiting my son when he returns. Only he may see you of his own accord. And when you do meet him do not lay a finger on him you red fire witches.
The younger priestess only giggled.
"You two are dismissed. Thank you for your service."
"No we thank you Lady Drakon for giving birth to R'hllor" The two red priestesses said as they took their leave. Then Maran turned her violet eyes now normal toward the far end of the chamber, toward the darkness beyond the pillars, where no light touched.
An empty space to most but she felt the presence. She spoke to it as if to someone standing right there. Her cold voice was now soft.
"I hope you enjoyed the show… my son I miss you." she said with a wink. "Know this everything I do, I do for you and the sake of our family."
Maran continued, a whisper of devotion threading her voice. "When you return… you shall ascend as well but so much higher my little dragon."
Meanwhile, Far Across the Narrow Sea
A carriage rolled steadily along the king's road toward the capital. Inside, Samar laid with his eyes closed, body resting on Storia's lap as the man in the child's body rested. But he wasn't asleep, but walking through the Flow.
He found himself thrust into the ritual and saw every detail. The words Maran spoke: "I hope you enjoyed the show, my son."
Samar gasped.
His eyes snapped open.
Cold sweat soaked his shirt. His heart slammed against his chest so violently it almost hurt. The carriage lantern flickered as if reacting to his sudden surge of energy.
For a moment he simply stared forward, breathing hard, trying to process the overwhelming ritual he saw. This really wasn't the Games of thrones story he knew. Elia Martell was there, she was gorgeous and powerful. They killed Gregor and Viserys. Daenerys and Rhaella were now more powerful.
Then... They revived Ser Arthur Dayne. Like fully resurrected the Man. He seemed like he was more powerful then before. What on Earth are the Drakons thinking?
"What the hell…"
He grabbed his head, overwhelmed.
"…is going on?"
His voice trembled with shock.
With fear.
And with the unmistakable sense that something enormous—something world-changing...had just begun, and he was tied to it in ways he didn't yet understand.
Storia grabbed my head and caressed it softly. I looked up with surprise. "Don't worry Samar. Your parents love you dearly and want you to thrive so believe in them like I believe in you." She said with a soft smile.
As I looked at Storia's warm smile. I calmed down a little. She always knew how to calm me down. "Yes ma'am, and thank you Storia."
"Any time my little lord." She said placing her forehead against mine in a warm embrace.