Chapter 34 – The Terror and Wickedness of the Supreme Dragonlord
After bathing in the fire of the great black fish, Rhaegar soon grew drowsy.
He was still a child, and the power of the flame could only be digested slowly.
Sleep claimed him, carrying away excitement, confusion, and exhaustion alike.
Soon, Rhaegar drifted into a strange dream.
A vast river surged before him, its waters rolling endlessly. The air was thick with damp mist, heavy with the scent of fish and living things.
Along the riverbank stood a small hill-town—already drowning in blood and fire.
Houses burned. People screamed and were cut down.
They were slender folk with black hair, dark eyes, and olive skin.
The Rhoynar—children of the River Rhoyne.
At the town's edge, Valyrian warships prowled the waters. Behind one ship, a massive black-scaled fish was dragged through the river, pierced by cruel hooks, its blood staining the current red. Valyrian soldiers laughed and boasted, celebrating their victory.
Purple banners snapped in the wind.
Only the true dragon reigned here.
Soldiers clad in dark, obsidian-like armor stalked the streets, looting and burning without mercy. Their armor was neither stone nor metal, but something fused and shaped by dragonflame itself.
Rhaegar saw everything—the Rhoynar's grief and hatred, the Valyrian soldiers' cold savagery.
Above the town, dozens of dragons circled the sky.
At their head flew two enormous purple wyrms.
Their wings beat the air like thunder, casting vast shadows over the land.
Each dragon bore a glowing sigil upon its brow—the Baelarys rune. The riders bore the same mark. Dragon and rider moved as one, bound utterly.
The scales of the Purple Dragons shimmered like amethyst. Their wing-shadows could swallow entire towns; their maws could devour mammoths whole.
One purple wyrm descended.
From its back leapt a silver-haired, violet-eyed youth, a sword at his hip—so beautiful and radiant he seemed like a fallen immortal.
A second purple dragon spiraled down, setting upon the ground a woman much like him—silver-haired, violet-eyed, tall and statuesque.
They wore circlets of Valyrian steel, each set with massive purple crystals.
Neither wore armor. Instead, they were draped in flowing purple robes embroidered with dragons and flame, shimmering like celestial garments. Every fold proclaimed the sigil of House Baelarys.
"Base Rhoynar," the young man declared, his voice sharp and commanding.
"Come and greet us—the Chief Dragonlords of the Valyrian Freehold, the Purple-Robed Dragonlords, the glorious twins of House Baelarys. I am Augo Baelarys, and this is my sister and wife, Aulis Baelarys."
Silence answered him.
Only the crackle of fire and collapsing rooftops remained.
The Rhoynar had not surrendered. The Valyrian soldiers had herded the survivors into the central square.
Barely a dozen remained—elderly folk and small children.
At their head stood an aged Rhoynar elder with white hair. He stared at Augo Baelarys, hatred blazing in his eyes.
"Bring forth the false gods these vermin worship," Augo said lightly.
At his gesture, Valyrian soldiers dragged a massive, black-scaled fish from the river shallows. Six whiskers trailed from its face. It thrashed weakly, dying.
A River-God.
"O Mother Rhoyne," the Rhoynar wailed. "How can the Valyrians defile you so?"
Augo laughed.
"Wretched Rhoynar. You are fit only to be slaves. There is no greater pleasure than crushing an enemy's faith, burning their temples, and taking their women."
The Rhoynar cursed endlessly.
They revered the river as their mother. Their gods were turtles, great fish, and the living water itself.
Ever since Valyrian Dragonlords had slain one of their turtle-gods, war between Valyria and the Rhoynar had burned without end.
Augo smiled cruelly.
"Watch closely. I will show you a little trick."
Aulis Baelarys watched without intervening.
Valyria and the Rhoynar were mortal enemies.
A spark of purple flame ignited at Augo's fingertip. With a flick, the fire wrapped around the great fish.
This was no ordinary flame.
A spark formed between the fish's brows—slow, swirling, alive.
The River-God screamed like a calf.
The ember grew.
Fire devoured flesh, blood, and bone alike.
The black fish withered. Its body collapsed into ash and dust, consumed utterly.
Only the flame remained—now shaped like a black fish.
It flew back into Augo Baelarys's palm.
To kill was to shatter the soul itself.
The Rhoynar trembled, screaming curses.
"Cursed Valyrians! May you die a thousand deaths!"
Augo's face paled slightly.
Life-Plunder exacted a toll on the mind. His talent could only handle lesser creatures.
Only when he plundered the life of a mighty dragon would the other Dragonlords truly acknowledge him.
"I call it Life-Plunder," Augo said calmly.
"The breath, blood, and flesh of this creature are now fused into this flame. When I consume it, my Blood of Fire will burn brighter still."
The life-flame pulsed softly in his grasp—a supreme tonic.
"You monsters—beasts who wed your own sisters!" the Rhoynar elder screamed.
"Mother Rhoyne, unleash your wrath!"
Those words sealed their fate.
No insult angered Dragonlords more than mockery of their blood-purity.
"Dragonflame," Augo commanded.
The Purple Dragon's eyes burned molten gold.
Fire poured forth, turning the remaining Rhoynar into ash.
Aulis Baelarys shook her head slightly—not in pity, but irritation. She merely thought the killing inelegant. Better to burn fish and people together and spare them fear.
Born supreme, the Dragonlords believed only their blood worthy of rule.
All others were cattle.
"Fire has tides, just as water does," Augo said to his wife.
"Most Dragonlords know only destruction. We seize life itself."
Aulis nodded.
Life-Plunder was House Baelarys's greatest secret—feeding the Blood of Fire with stolen vitality.
"The Dragonlord Council has decreed that three hundred dragons take wing," Augo continued.
"As Chief Dragonlord's children, Father grants us command of our house's true dragon host. We march against Prince Gaelen."
Greed burned in his eyes as the black-fish flame vanished into his bronze ring.
Twenty adult dragons launching together was power known only to a Chief Dragonlord.
"I will forge the strongest Blood of Fire in the world," Augo declared.
"Not merely rule Valyria—I will surpass it. 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 be unmatched."
Aulis hesitated.
"The plunder rune burdens the body and disrupts balance. We can only seize life from dull beasts—great fish, mammoths—not dragons, much less men."
Augo laughed softly.
"Then we will breed stronger Dragonriders. Lesser houses—like the Targaryens—will serve as our test subjects."
The bronze ring on his hand flared.
A dragon horn, ancient and verdigris-stained, appeared in his grasp.
Augo mounted his dragon and rose into the sky.
The horn sounded.
The dragons answered.
"True Dragon Host—march!"
Twenty dragons turned as one, flying toward Prince Gaelen.
Ahead lay the main force.
Three hundred dragons would soon descend, and the terror of fire would once again drown the faith of the Rhoynar.
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