(A/N):
Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
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After Three Months...
Three months passed like a drawn blade.
The realm no longer whispered—it buzzed.
News spread across Westeros like wildfire.
King Viserys I Targaryen had a dragon.
Not merely a dragon—but a monstrosity.
Born unnaturally fast. Growing at a terrifying rate.
Its wings already casting shadows large enough to darken courtyards.
At court, Viserys stood taller than he had in years, eyes burning with zeal as he declared before nobles and banners alike.
"The gods have chosen me. I will uproot evil—root and stem."
And he named it plainly.
Eldoria and its King Leo Morningstar.
Lords loyal to the Iron Throne rejoiced. Cups were raised. Confidence returned.
A dragon meant supremacy.
Or so they believed.
Meanwhile...
In the North and other houses who supported them—and in Eldoria—the reaction was very different.
No panic. No scrambling. No fear.
Because the lords who had stood in Dawnfire Citadel knew.
They had seen the red egg placed on Leo's table. They had heard the laughter.
They had watched a god's weapon turn into a joke wrapped in ribbon.
The dragon Viserys now rode?
A gift born of desperation and deception.
Powerful—yes. But incomplete. Unanchored. And still bound to gods who treated kings as tools.
Rickon Stark had said it plainly during council.
"A dragon does not decide a war. The mind behind it does. Don't forget who was backing us..."
And Eldoria had minds that had won wars long before dragons ruled the sky.
DRIFTMARK...
The final meeting was set.
Driftmark Castle....
Neutral ground—at least in name.
On one side arrived Viserys, flanked by his council and loyal lords, the weight of divine favor heavy in his gaze.
"...."
"...."
On the other came Leo. Not alone.
With him walked,
Ri Boku, calm eyes already reading tides, winds, and angles.
Ōuki, laughing openly, utterly unimpressed by threats of dragons.
Hagoromo Gitsune, serene, ancient, dangerous beneath her smile.
Rickon Stark, steady as winter stone, Northern and allied lords who had chosen a future over fear
Behind them followed:
Rhaenys, watchful and wary,
Rhaenyra, unbowed, unbroken,
Aemma, no longer queen of Westeros—something far more dangerous now, Only one was absent Alicent Hightower, who had chosen to remain in Eldoria—learning archery under an elf instructor, choosing skill and clarity over crowns and blood.
To stand with them she wanted to gain her strength.
Not just some pretty face.
As Driftmark's gates closed behind them, the air itself felt tense—like the sea before a storm breaks.
This was no negotiation for peace.
This was a measurement. Of resolve. Of belief. Of whose gods truly mattered.
By tomorrow, banners would burn. Dragons would scream. And the world would learn—That faith borrowed from gods was no match for power claimed.
The war was no longer approaching. It had arrived.
MEETING HALL...
The meeting hall of Driftmark Castle was heavy with salt air and tension.
A long table divided the chamber like a blade laid flat between two sides.
On one side sat Viserys and the lords of the Iron Throne—stiff-backed, armored in pride and divine certainty.
On the other sat Leo, flanked by minds sharpened by war and women bound not by blood alone, but by choice.
"...."
Viserys did not look at Leo at first, his gaze burned past him, First—Rhaenys. Then—Rhaenyra, sitting straight, unflinching. And finally— Aemma.
Alive and laughing.
Sitting far too close to Leo—close enough that her shoulder brushed his arm, close enough that she leaned in to whisper something that made him chuckle.
-Chuckle
Poor man if he knows Aemma rided Leo when ever they got together. Well he might die in a heart attack.
Hagoromo Gitsune, black hair like spilled night, joined in with a soft laugh, while Rhaenys shook her head fondly and Rhaenyra smirked as if this were a family gathering.
A family Viserys was no longer part of.
"...."
His hands tightened on the armrests of his chair while his veins stood out along his neck.
His eyes were bloodshot—not from lack of sleep alone, but from a fury that had fermented for months.
'They should be mourning.They should be afraid. GOD IS WITH ME... DAME IT...'
The doors creaked open as every head turned.
-Creak
Boots echoed against stone—unhurried, confident.
-Thud. -Thud.
Daemon Targaryen stepped into the hall.
His silver hair was tied back, his expression relaxed, almost amused.
He spared his brother one long look—measuring, disappointed, satisfied all at once—then walked to the opposite side of the table and sat.
Only then did he speak. Loudly. Clearly. Which banged the ears of Viserys to the point his face turned ugly.
"Daemon of House Drakonis Noctis."
The name struck like a thrown dagger.
A murmur rippled through the room.
Viserys shot to his feet, chair scraping violently against stone.
-SCREEEECH!
"You dare—"
Daemon leaned back, resting an arm along the chair, smirk widening.
"I dared long before today, brother. I simply stopped pretending otherwise."
Viserys' breath came hard even through he already knew hearing it in person is a other thing.
"...."
The name echoed in his mind—Drakonis Noctis—a dragon of night, severed from the bloodline he thought unbreakable.
Otto Hightower stiffened, fingers curling.
"...."
Leo said nothing as he merely watched and smiled.
Because this was no longer a war between kingdoms instead it was a war between truth and delusion.
And Viserys, standing alone at his side of the table, was only just beginning to realize—That the throne behind him was empty he had no blood behind him except his wife Cathrine Hightower and his unborn child.
Finally the meeting began...
The hall erupted into voices.
Lords loyal to the North and Eldoria spoke first—controlled, but heavy with resentment.
"The crown abandoned us when winter tightened its grip. Supplies were withheld. Letters unanswered."
Others followed, anger sharpening their tone.
"You threatened us with dragons instead of aid. You called us traitors for choosing to feed our people."
Across the table, the crown's supporters answered just as fiercely.
"You defied royal decree."
"You invited a foreign power into Westeros."
"You undermined the throne itself."
The clash of words filled the chamber, echoing off stone like steel on steel.
Through it all, Otto Hightower sat quietly. Listening. Calculating.
"...."
His hands were folded neatly before him, eyes half-lidded as if weary of the chaos—but inside, his mind worked relentlessly, weaving threads, searching for the moment to tighten the noose.
He waited and when the voices peaked, he rose.
"Let us speak plainly,"
Otto said, voice calm, measured, authoritative as the room slowly quieted.
"...."
"...."
"...."
"This conflict exists for one reason. Defiance."
His gaze swept across the table.
"The crown issued warnings. Trade with Eldoria was forbidden."
A ripple of discontent followed, but Otto pressed on.
"And yet—You ignored us."
He gestured lightly with one hand.
"We ask for only one thing. End your ties with Eldoria."
Murmurs spread as Otto raised his voice just enough to command attention.
"Do this, and the crown will stand down. Trade will resume. Resources will flow. No further moves will be made against your lands."
A calculated pause.
"...."
"Peace… in exchange for obedience."
His eyes flicked briefly toward Leo—cool, dismissive.
"There is no need to antagonize the Citadel. No need to threaten the foundations of the realm."
It was a clean offer. Too clean.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Before anyone else could respond, a calm voice cut through the tension.
Ri Boku stood. Not abruptly. Not theatrically. Simply… when it was time.
"Lord Hightower,"
He said politely,
"your offer answers the wrong question."
Every eye turned.
Otto frowned slightly.
-Frown
"...."
While Ri Boku continued,
"The question, is not why the lords traded with Eldoria."
He gestured toward the northern lords.
"It is why they chose it."
Ri Boku's gaze was steady, analytical.
"Eldoria possesses resources your capital cannot provide. Food that does not spoil. Medicine that does not discriminate. Knowledge that is not rationed by lineage."
A murmur swept the hall as the atmosphere shifted.
"Eldoria did not threaten. It supplied."
Ri Boku turned slightly, including both sides.
"The crown offered fear. Eldoria offered stability."
Otto's fingers tightened imperceptibly.
"...."
Ri Boku's tone remained gentle.
"Eldoria seeks peace."
A pause.
"...."
Then—
"But if its allies are threatened…"
The air seemed to grow colder.
"…then the response will not be war."
Ri Boku's eyes sharpened.
"It will be instruction. For one cannot defeat an abyss. One only learns how deep it truly is."
Silence fell.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Heavy. Absolute as Viserys stared, jaw clenched.
The silence after Ri Boku's words stretched too long.
Then it snapped.
Viserys surged to his feet, both palms slamming down on the table with a crack that echoed through the hall.
Cups rattled. Chairs scraped.
His face was twisted with fury—no longer a king weighing outcomes, but a man drowning in conviction.
"Enough!"
He roared as his bloodshot eyes locked onto Leo.
"You stand against the will of the gods! You poison my realm, steal my people, and mock divine order!"
He straightened, chest heaving, voice rising with manic certainty.
"The gods stand with me. I fear no man. No land. No so-called king hiding behind tricks and traitors."
His finger stabbed toward the opposite side of the table.
"I will see you all perish—your allies, your cities, your very soil burned to ash. The gods will cleanse this blight."
A murmur of unease rippled among the crown's lords.
Across the table—Leo didn't rise. He didn't answer.
He simply sneered—a small, unmistakable curve of the lips that carried more contempt than any shouted insult.
-Sneer
"...."
That expression cut deeper than words.
Viserys' breath hitched.
And then—A chair scraped softly.
Aemma stood all this time she had waited. Patient. Watching.
Now she stepped forward, eyes bright with amusement rather than anger.
"Gods?"
She said lightly, tilting her head.
"Oh, Viserys… you always did like hiding behind larger things."
A few lords stiffened.
"...."
"...."
"...."
She circled the table slowly, gaze never leaving him as she continued, voice honey-smooth,
"Tell me, do the gods also make you taller?"
A few gasps. A sharp intake of breath.
Aemma smiled sweetly.
"Because you seem smaller than I remember. Smaller in spirit. Smaller in spine."
She stopped just short of him, eyes flicking pointedly downward.
"And certainly smaller in every way that matters."
For a heartbeat, the hall froze.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Then Viserys' face flushed a furious red.
"You—!"
He choked on the word, fists clenched, unable to find anything that didn't sound pathetic in the face of her calm mockery.
Without another word, he turned and stormed out, boots pounding against stone, doors slamming open so hard the walls trembled.
Otto Hightower hesitated—then followed, jaw tight, expression dark.
As the lords who were on their sides too left.
The doors boomed shut behind them.
-THUD.
Silence reclaimed the hall.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Not the awkward kind. The final kind.
Rhaenys exhaled slowly.
Rickon Stark closed his eyes for a brief moment.
Daemon leaned back, grinning like a man watching an old bridge finally collapse.
Leo glanced at Aemma even he felt uncomfortable.
"You didn't have to—"
She waved a hand dismissively.
"I very much did."
He could only let out a chuckled.
-Chuckle
"...."
Ri Boku spoke calmly into the quiet.
"Then it is decided."
Ōuki laughed outright.
-Fufu
"Hah! So much for talking."
Leo rose at last, eyes cold, voice steady.
"Peace was offered. It was refused."
He looked around the table—at the lords who had chosen their side.
"Prepare your people. This war will not be long."
Outside, the sea winds battered Driftmark's towers.
The war was no longer inevitable.
It was declared.
Meanwhile...
Viserys entered the carriage alone.
The doors slammed shut behind him, sealing him inside the narrow, suffocating space.
His face was pale, twisted—no longer the mask of a king, but the raw expression of a man humiliated before the world.
Aemma's words echoed again and again in his mind.
Mocking. Laughing. Dismissing him.
"...."
His hands trembled as he braced himself against the seat, breath coming sharp and uneven.
Rage coursed through him like poison, vibrating through his limbs, clouding reason as he thought darkly.
'So this is her true face, This is what she always was.'
He failed to notice what others might have—how his temper had grown shorter, his thoughts more erratic, his impulses more violent ever since the dragon had hatched.
The influence was subtle, insidious, feeding his worst instincts while convincing him they were righteous.
The gods had chosen him.
That belief burned hotter than reason.
His eyes hardened as he whispered.
"They will regret this, All of them."
Without hesitation, he began issuing orders.
Messengers were dispatched at once—ravens and riders fanning out across Westeros.
Garrisons were alerted.
Armies were commanded to assemble.
Supplies were seized.
There would be no more delay.
No more parley. No more restraint.
The Iron Throne had spoken.
The war had begun.
Though the banners would be raised at sunrise, the war had already begun.
Skirmishes flared along borders.
Supply convoys vanished.
Outposts went silent.
The realm fractured into three fronts—each chosen deliberately.
LAND...
In the North, Rickon Stark stood over maps spread across a long table, torches flickering against inked lines of rivers and passes.
Beside him stood Ri Boku—calm, unreadable.
"They will push here first,"
Ri Boku said, tapping a narrow valley.
"Not because it is strong… but because they believe you will hesitate."
Rickon's jaw tightened hearing the comment.
"We won't."
Ri Boku nodded with a serious look.
"Good. Then let them advance. Every step they take will cost them twice."
Signals were sent. Forces repositioned quietly. Traps were laid not to kill—but to break momentum.
Meanwhile, far to the south, the earth itself seemed to tremble.
Ōuki rode at the head of Eldoria's land forces, laughter echoing across the hills.
"Hah! Dragons or not, war is still war!"
His troops marched with terrifying morale—beastkin, elves, humans, ogres—moving as one.
"Let them come! I'll crush their courage before their bodies!"
Ōuki roared with a huge grin onhis face.
"I'll crush their courage before their bodies!"
SEA...
No fleets moved toward Eldoria.
Not because they feared ships—But because the sea refused them.
Currents shifted unnaturally. Storms rose without warning. Winds tore sails apart as if offended by intrusion.
And when hostile vessels strayed too close to allied ports—They met the merpeople legions.
Silent. Efficient. Relentless.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Ships vanished beneath calm waves.
Harbors were defended without a single flame lighting the night.
Leo did not need to command this front for Eldoria.
Nature already had.
SKY...
Viserys had one dragon.
A massive one. A fast-growing one. A corrupted one.
But one all the same.
Against it stood.
Multiple Eldorian dragons, Aerial griffin squadrons, Pegasi formations, Spellcasters who could fight in three dimensions and above them all—Gildora.
Not yet unleashed. Not yet needed. A shadow held in reserve.
"Let despair ripen, Only then does the lesson stick."
Leo was laying on his bed hugging Hagoromo Gitsune.
As night fell, reports flowed into Dawnfire Citadel.
Borders of allied lands holding. Sea routes secured. Enemy morale unstable.
Leo stood on a high balcony, cloak stirring in the wind, red eyes reflecting distant fires that were not his.
Hagoromo Gitsune shifted beside him, arms folded as she said softly.
"They think this is a war,"
Leo nodded calmly.
-Nod
"It's an education."
Far away, Viserys prepared his armies under the belief that gods marched with him.
He did not yet understand—That the war had been planned long before his rage ignited.
And when the final piece moved, when hope finally cracked—That was when Gildora would descend.
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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.