"Five against three…" Rayder muttered under his breath, a cold arc curling at the corner of his mouth.On the surface, the numbers were against him. Five Targaryen dragons, each steeped in years of war and blood, against his own three. A lesser man might have faltered at such odds, but Rayder knew well that numbers were not always the deciding factor.Black Dragon Im, with scales as dark as obsidian, towered like a moving mountain. Red Dragon Yigen was equally colossal, a living inferno with muscles coiled in barely restrained strength. They might be large, but with size came a certain ponderousness. Their wings beat the air like thunder, and even the simplest motion sent tremors rippling through the sky.And then there was Kidora. The smallest of his dragons, still young and untested, with three heads that bickered even as they roared. On the surface, she seemed his weakness — inexperienced, reckless. Yet Rayder knew better. She carried in her very blood a wild potential that none could measure. Her three shrieking throats could unnerve even the boldest rider, and in combat, that unseen deterrent was as sharp a weapon as any flame.Each of his dragons had been forged through fire and slaughter. They were no pampered mounts of royalty; they were beasts honed by hardship, tempered by a master who demanded of them only survival and victory. Their instincts were sharp, their coordination almost supernatural, bound by the silent language of shared bloodshed.Rayder had absolute faith in them.And he had faith in himself. He was not a man who sat idle waiting for others to strike. Especially not here, in a foreign land, adrift in a storm of schemes and enemies, with only his three dragons as his banner and his shield.He knew too well what became of those who appeared weak. A "soft persimmon," ripe to be crushed at the first squeeze. The Seven Kingdoms were a quagmire of ambition and treachery, and if he sought even the smallest foothold, he would have to prove himself in fire and blood.The thought of toppling the entire Targaryen dynasty amused him, but he was not blind. Such a task would be nearly impossible — too costly, too consuming, certain to summon the united fury of every scion bearing the dragon sigil. No, that was a dream for fools.But carving out a corner of Westeros for himself, raising his own banner, his own house, his own power? That was within reach.And to do that, he must make a statement."Strength," Rayder murmured, his eyes narrowing to slits. "It must be shown."Negotiations could wait. Words could be spoken later. But first, he would speak the only tongue that all men and all dragons respected. Fire.His decision made, he lifted his voice in a command that rang like a hammer upon steel."Attack!"The word cracked across the sky.His three dragons answered as one. From deep within their cavernous chests burst roars so deafening that the heavens themselves seemed to shudder. No longer mere warning cries, these were challenges, dripping with provocation and bloodlust.Black Dragon Im exhaled, a curl of oily black smoke seeping from his fanged maw. Red Dragon Yigen stretched his neck skyward, bared fangs glinting in the sun like a row of polished daggers. And Kidora — ever eager, ever frenzied — unleashed a shriek unlike any natural beast, a discordant cry as if three creatures wailed at once, clashing in eerie harmony. The sound made even Rayder's bones hum with the taste of chaos.The five Targaryen dragons bristled at once.They too were no tame mounts. Each was steeped in its own cruel savagery, proud and warlike.Vermithor, great bronze behemoth, answered with a thunderous bellow, his scales gleaming like hammered metal beneath the sun. Silverwing turned sideways, wings slicing the air into a violent gale as she loosed a cry as clear and sharp as a silver bell. Meleys, the Red Queen, roared in fury, her crimson scales flashing like molten flame.And then came Vhagar — old, immense, scarred by centuries. Her hiss was a thing of nightmares, the rasp of a serpent crawling from the pits of the underworld. Age had not dulled her cruelty; it had sharpened it into something venomous.The two groups closed the distance swiftly, the sky between them narrowing to nothing. No words were exchanged; they were unnecessary. The very air was thick with the stink of sulfur and the iron taste of violence.The battle was inevitable.Yet not all present desired it.King Jaehaerys, astride Vermithor, had prayed for another outcome. He had hoped, however faintly, that this strange rider who appeared with three dragons might be an ally, even a chance to mend the bloody cracks within House Targaryen. Perhaps, he thought, Rayder could be swayed to a cause greater than his own ambition.But hope is frail when weighed against fear.The king tried to raise his voice, straining against the rushing wind. "Peace!" he called. "We need not fight!"His words dissolved instantly into the gale, lost amid the wingbeats and roars. Even the riders nearest him would barely have heard, much less the grim-faced man astride the black dragon.Rayder's eyes were cold, his intent clear: distrust, suspicion, and the hard creed of survival. He had chosen war."Wait! Hold!" Jaehaerys tried again, his voice raw, but his cry was swallowed by the tumult.Already, the balance slipped beyond his control.His gaze flicked desperately to the youngest rider among them: Princess Lannael. Barely more than a child, she had bonded with Vhagar only hours past. The dragon, though cowed by her presence, was not yet truly tamed.And now, faced with the jeers and roars of Rayder's beasts, Vhagar's temper erupted like wildfire. The dragon's colossal frame quivered with the need to kill. With a roar that split the heavens, she ignored her rider's small, trembling commands and hurled herself forward like a boulder loosed from a catapult.Her mouth gaped wide, rows of teeth gleaming. She charged headlong, a missile of fury."Vhagar, no!" Lannael's voice cracked with fear. She tugged desperately at the reins, her small hands raw from the leather straps, but her dragon did not yield. The saddle beneath her bucked like a storm-tossed ship, and her slight frame whipped dangerously. Only the safety harness strapped across her chest kept her from being flung into the empty sky.Terror gripped her, but still she clung, pale lips bitten bloody. Below, Dragonstone's jagged cliffs jutted like spears, and ahead, the black-winged enemy loomed larger and larger.Rayder saw all this, and a thin smile ghosted across his lips. An old beast, mighty beyond measure, but led by a child too weak to rein in its hunger. A perfect flaw.He wasted not a moment. Leaning close to Im's ear, he whispered in High Valyrian, each syllable weighted with command."Dracarys."The word was a spark.Black Dragon Im rumbled, a sound like a mountain breaking. From deep within his cavernous chest surged fire, not red or gold, but tar-black, thick and sulfurous, a flame born of nightmare. His massive head snapped up, and he vomited forth a torrent of ink-dark flame that seemed to swallow the very light of the sun.The blast shot straight toward Vhagar.But the ancient she-dragon was no dull beast. Instinct honed across centuries snapped her into motion. At the very brink of death, she twisted her titanic frame with a grace that belied her size, wings folding tight as she dropped like a stone. The black flame screamed past her, scorching empty air.And then she turned.With no prompting from her rider, Vhagar snapped back upward, her jaws yawning wide. A jet of white-hot flame, brighter than sunlight, surged forth, a vengeful answer to Im's challenge.The sky itself seemed to ignite.For Princess Lannael, it was torment. Vhagar's maneuvers were brutal, her body whipping through the air with crushing force. The girl slammed against the saddle, her vision blurred with tears. Were it not for the straps binding her, she would already have been dashed to pieces against the rocks below.Yet even in fear, something within her hardened. Looking past her terror, past the smoke and fire, she saw the enemy closing, her kin circling, and Dragonstone beneath — her home, her birthright.She bit down hard, forcing the scream back into her chest. Her small hands clutched the reins tighter. For the first time, her eyes blazed with the steel of a true dragonrider.The battle had begun.---
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