章 2: Into The ruins (1)
As I awoke, memories of what had transpired began to flood my mind. I looked around, ensuring that what I remembered wasn't a figment of my imagination, a wild fancy born from lingering in the void. The room I found myself in was the kind one might expect of a medieval king's chamber, luxurious and grand. As my gaze wandered, I was suddenly besieged by memories of the room—where and why I had placed my belongings. It was only when I snapped out of this trance-like state that I realized these memories were not my own; they belonged to the body I now inhabited.
Then came another headache, feeling as if someone was forcefully embedding memories into my head that were not my own. I now understand whose body I inhabit. This body's name, or rather my new name, is Daeranyx Drakonar. Daeranyx is the heir to the Drakonar family, one of the five most influential families in the Valyrian Freehold. The family head was Daeranyx's late father, Raegarys Drakonar, a powerful sorcerer and a formidable dragon rider. His late mother belonged to the Ignarion family; her name was Vaenera Drakonar nee Ignarion, and she was as formidable as his father. As I contemplate them, memories surge to the forefront of my mind, and suddenly my cheek grows slightly wet. I start to realize that aspects of Daeranyx's personality have merged with mine, and I can't help but feel sorrow for the parents he lost, parents I never knew.
As I stood up, I began to search for something, and there it was—a mirror. I was curious to see my appearance because my height and physique suggested I was in my teenage years. The reflection that greeted me was astonishing, to say the least. I've read numerous fiction works, including the Fire and Blood series, where every Targaryen, by extension a Dragon Lord, is described as inhumanly attractive, regardless of gender. Yet, nothing could have prepared me for the sight before me. My appearance could rival any male model from my world.
My visage is a symphony of sharp, noble contours and flawless skin that radiates an inner luminescence. The pronounced cheekbones and sculpted jawline bestow upon me a distinguished air, while my eyes, a hypnotic royal purple, flicker as if echoing the void where I once dwelled. These eyes hold a gaze so deep and compelling; it can enchant or daunt. Crowned with lustrous silver hair, I embody the majestic essence of the dragon lord I am.
After examining the room for various items and considering what might be useful, I contemplated leaving this room to venture out. I recalled from Daeranyx's memories that this was his room, where he was hidden by his parents during a severe earthquake in Freehold. The final words they imparted to him were to live his life to the fullest. However, they failed to notice his injuries as they cast a spell that rendered him unconscious, causing him to bleed to death. Due to another spell cast on the room to preserve it, his body remained intact, but the spell's power is gradually diminishing.
To escape, I knew I had to anoint the door with my blood, breaking the spell and freeing myself from the room. I used a knife found within the room to cut my hand, and as my blood touched the door, a dark red light enveloped it. After a moment, the door cracked open with a shrieking sound. As I began to push the door open, I was reminded of Daeranyx's memories, where the red light was much brighter before Valyria's fall. It seemed the theories that the world's magic diminished after the doom of Mother Valyria held some truth. Pushing these thoughts aside, I stepped through the door into smoke-filled, rubble-strewn, and deserted hallways of the castle.
This castle has clearly seen better days. In my memories, it was adorned with all types of luxurious items from the known world. It seems my memories and Daeranyx's are merging. Regardless, I don't mind, as I had nothing significant to recall from my previous world, except for the times spent with my grandmother. As I wandered through what was once my family's castle, now solely mine, I came across a window. Looking out, I saw nothing but smoke, ash, and lava. I let out a sigh; what was once the greatest civilization known to man is now nothing more than rubble—a clear testament to the downfall of man through hubris.
As I wandered through the castle, I concluded that a magical spell protecting the entire structure allowed me to breathe. Otherwise, I would have perished by now. This is to be expected from the highest-ranking members of the "Sorcerers' Order" (Vysaroon Vōr). Indeed, it appears the Valyrian Freehold harbors many orders and guilds. Given Valyria's reputation for sacrificial magic, I suspect what has been sacrificed to sustain this spell for so long, especially since the castle once housed numerous servants. Yet, no human bones are to be found within these walls, while skeletons abound outside. I cannot fault them, for they were raised in a society that taught them to disregard the lives of their servants. And it is Daeranyx's memories that prevent me from overreacting to such a massacre, as well as the fact that my survival hinges on their sacrifice.
As I descended into the vault of my family, which holds the valuable and most prized treasure of the Dragon Lords—the dragon eggs—I should note that I possess a living dragon. I sense him in a comatose-like state below. How do I feel his presence? The answer lies in my heritage; the Drakonar family is among the founding Dragon Lord families of Old Valyria and is one of the prominent houses. To provide a brief history, Valyria is home to five major houses. Although the Valyrian Freehold does not adhere to the concept of houses, these five were the first to tame dragons and become Dragon Lords. The Valyrians, in recognition of their contributions to the Freehold and their sacrifices in the Ghiscari wars, refer to these families as the five major houses of Valyria. These families possess extensive knowledge in magic, dragon breeding, and dragon husbandry.
Over time, with the aid of magic, they infused their greatest affinity into their bloodline, an ability that made these five houses renowned. The descendants of Drakonar House have always possessed the strongest affinity for ferocious war dragons. While all Dragon Lords share a connection with dragons, none match the extent of my house. The Drakonar House can tame any dragon, whether fierce or wild; they heed our every command. This is why the Drakonar House is feared by many, as we can wield the greatest force in this world like no other.
However, that is merely the surface. Indeed, the Drakonar House are renowned tamers, but our abilities extend far beyond that. Each member of the Drakonar House, upon bonding with their dragon, receives numerous gifts from their new companion. We inherit their magic-resistant hide, which provides us with a defense against low-level spells, enhanced vitality, and immunity to many illnesses and diseases. Essentially, once the bonding ritual is complete, we become slightly enhanced humans. With this increased vitality comes a longer lifespan; members of the Drakonar House live longer than typical dragon lords. The longest lifespan recorded in our house was that of my ancestor, Baesenarr Drakonar, who lived to be 130 years old and died of natural causes. The other four houses also possess great abilities, but those tales are for another time.
My dragon had a previous rider, my uncle, who was once the High General (Zaldrīzes Ōrelios) of the Valyrian army. His dragon, Anarion (The Starfire), was battle-hardened. Unfortunately, he perished in an internal conflict among the major houses. He valiantly fought against two dragon riders from those houses and emerged victorious, though both he and Anarion were gravely injured. Anarion recovered from his wounds, but my uncle did not survive. Nine years later, Daeranyx, at the tender age of six, tamed Anarion. Since then, our bond has only grown stronger, and I can still sense his presence in the back of my mind.
As I approached my family's underground vault, I noticed that the corridor leading to it was littered with rubble from the earthquakes that had shaken Valyria. I began clearing the debris, which revealed a passageway to the other side. Upon entering, I was confronted with the sight of the vault door. I smeared blood from an already open cut on my palm onto the door. Recognizing my magic and blood, the door began to open, albeit more slowly than any I had opened before. With a heavy thud, it swung open, and torches ignited by themselves, illuminating the entire vault. Mountains of gold and silver stretched before me, a sight to make anyone envious. However, it was what lay beyond these mountains that captured my full attention.
There, in all their splendor, lay the dragon eggs. At least fifteen dragon eggs are present here. Another hatchery resides in the vault of my uncle's castle, but this collection alone is more than sufficient for me. As the sole survivor of my house, I lack additional riders for these future hatchlings. Approaching the hatchery, I sensed that only a minimal amount of magic had been bestowed upon them to prevent their petrification. Nevertheless, this poses no issue, for I am versed in the ritual to awaken them from stone, one of the many skills my parents imparted to me.
I walk past the eggs to the alleyway that leads to the pit-like structure where dragons are treated for their injuries. This is because when a dragon is wounded, it presents an opportunity for enemies to quickly finish them off. This structure is designed for their safety; it leads directly to the dragon's den, and no man would enter here without facing at least ten dragons.
As I enter the structure after opening another spell cast door. There lay sight that can made anyone who see it overcame with terror and awe.
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