A dragon's roar above the clouds
This morning at Dawn, Dragon's Roost Port was hidden behind a thick layer of clouds over Crab Claw Peninsula.
However, before the first rays of dawn pierced through the mist, the world was still filled with the unique crispness and tranquility that comes before daybreak.
As Daemon rose at dawn and mounted the Glutton's dragon saddle, the dragon scales his fingertips touched were slightly cool with the night dew. However, this was also thanks to his innate superhuman strength, which was described by the world as that of a "warrior descended to earth."
The Grey Ghost had fallen asleep beside his legs last night was now quietly curled up in his arms. This cowardly, light gray-white dragon was still sleepy from waking up, its nose gently rubbing against Daemon's arm that was holding it, making soft purring sounds.
"Let's go," Daemon said in a low voice, his voice carrying a lingering gloom from the previous night, yet also revealing a burning, burgeoning energy.
The Glutton beneath him seemed to sense his intentions, and suddenly spread its wings. The jet-black dragon wings cut through the morning mist, creating a powerful airflow that swept up the grass and water vapor on the ground, and soared straight into the sky.
As he ascended, the wind whistled past Daemon's ears, making his black cloak flutter loudly.
The Dragon's Roost Port below gradually shrinks, the newly built houses look like scattered building blocks, the terraced fields look like green ripples, and the ships at the dock shrink into dark shadows. Apart from Dragon's Roost Port, the outline of the entire Crab Claw Peninsula seems to be faintly visible in the clouds and mist.
As the altitude continued to climb, the morning mist was left far behind Daemon, and the view gradually opened up until the last layer of clouds was broken, and the world suddenly became clear.
Beneath the clouds, milky white waves surged, and the sun broke free from its restraints on the eastern horizon, its golden rays piercing through the clouds and scattering its myriad golden beams upon the sea of mist.
Above the clouds was a clear, almost transparent blue sky, the air thin and pure, as if you could touch the end of the sky at any moment.
Daemon raised his hand, quietly feeling the warmth of the sunlight falling on his palm.
After the prophetic dream of last night, when he awoke, Alys Rivers' comforting whispers echoed in his ear once more, "Besides the current trajectory of the world, the very people around you have already had their destinies altered by your arrival."
Yes, Daemon himself has already changed the fate of many people.
Gael Targaryen, his "little aunt," and now his wife.
In the original historical year, the ninety-ninth year of the Conquest calendar, this little princess, known to the world as the "Child of Winter," was supposed to be tricked by a wandering singer, give birth to a stillborn child, and then, in grief, walk alone to the Blackwater Rush on a winter night, drowning in the cold waves of Blackwater Bay, her short life filled with loneliness and despair.
Now, she rides the Dreamfyre that was originally destined to be out of her reach, stepping into the vast sky she had never seen in her previous life, and her personality has gradually changed from the timid "Child of Winter" to cheerful and outgoing.
Today, he is able to take charge of the people's livelihood in Dragon's Roost Port, and can stand shoulder to shoulder with him to see all the mountains and rivers. He has long since broken free from the fate of being the "Child of Winter" and sailed from the cold Blackwater Bay in the last winter night to a warm harbor.
Alysanne Targaryen, his "grandmother," the "Good Queen."
In the original history, the death of her young daughter Gael broke her heart. Unable to bear the grief in King's Landing and the Red Keep any longer, she retreated alone to her childhood home, Dragonstone, and died at the age of sixty-four. She ultimately did not live to see her grandfather, Aegon the the Conqueror, conquer the Westeros at the turn of the century.
Now, with her youngest Gael, safe and sound, and her granddaughter, Rhaenys, and her family back at the Red Keep, the royal family's conflicts have eased, and the old woman's face is beaming with smiles. The series of tragedies have been quietly rewritten, and she no longer has to bear the heart-wrenching pain of outliving her children alone. Perhaps she can enjoy a peaceful and long old age.
Rhaenys Targaryen, his "sister," the "The Queen Who Never Was" of history.
In the ninety-second year of the Conquest calendar, after her father, Prince Aemon, died, her grandfather, King Jaehaerys, bypassed her and named her uncle, Baelon, as his successor, making her a victim of the power struggle. Her husband, Corlys, resigned from his important position, and the couple returned to Tidehead Island in disappointment, carrying the regret of being "disqualified from succession" for the rest of their lives.
Now, his arrival has temporarily eased the conflict over male and female succession rights. Corlys was able to return to the court ahead of schedule, and Rhaenys no longer had to fight for her and her children's succession rights. The family was reunited under Jaehaerys and Alysanne's care, the connection between Tidehead Island and the Red Keep became even closer, and her dignity and honor were preserved.
Jocelyn Baratheon, the mother he acknowledged in this life, and the widow of Prince Aemon, his "father".
In the same year 92 of the Conquest calendar, her husband, Prince Aemon, was murdered on the Tarth, leaving her a widow with no one to rely on.
The decision of her half-brother, who was also her husband's father, King Jaehaerys, chilled her to the bone. Her husband's Targaryen kingdom was located in Crownlands's King's Landing's Red Keep and Dragonstone, while her maternal home Stormlands's End Storm's End of Baratheon.
Both places became "unsuitable places" for her, and neither was her final destination. In the end, she became a lonely ghost who died in a corner of history.
Now, although she has also lost her husband, Prince Aemon, she has the companionship of her half-brother and sister, and her husband's parents, Jaehaerys and Alysanne, after their reconciliation.
Moreover, at this moment, the Red Keep was filled with her daughter Rhaenys, who was with her husband Prince Aemon, as well as her granddaughter Laena and grandson Laenor, all gathered around her.
At this moment, the Red Keep was no longer a cold palace for her, but a true home. She no longer had to lick her wounds alone in a corner, and could spend the rest of her life in her "new home" and in the warmth of her family.
And those who followed him, those whom he rescued from bandits, pirates, and refugees, who should have been struggling to survive in the chaos of history, now have land, homes, and hope in their own Dragon's Roost Port.
These changes had been drowned in his confusion and fear of the future, but a single sentence from Alys Rivers last night was like a ray of light, illuminating his path forward once again.
He was not passively pushed along by fate; he had the ability to rewrite tragedy, the ability to protect those he cherished, and the ability to pursue a wider world.
"Roar--!"
Daemon abruptly drew his Blackfyre. The Valyrian steel sword gleamed with a cold light in the morning glow, and the dark gold patterns flowing across the blade intertwined with the sunlight, as if flames were leaping across the blade.
The confusion, repression, and unease that had been building up inside him erupted at this moment, like a true dragon. Daemon, facing the vast sky, the surging clouds, and the rising sun, let out a roar that shook the universe.
This roar contains a release from regrets of the past life, a commitment to responsibilities in this life, and a declaration of ambition for the future.
However, the timing of this roar seemed somewhat delicate. Even the Glutton beneath Daemon was startled by the sudden roar. Its massive dragon head tilted slightly, and then, as if sensing the emotions surging forth from the rider on its back, it raised its head and let out a deafening dragon roar.
This dragon's roar was no longer merely the frenzy of a wild dragon as it once was as the "King of the Wild Dragons," but a regal majesty now uniquely its own as the "King of the Wild Dragons," a resonance of hearts between it and its dragon rider Daemon Blackfyre, at this moment.
The jet-black dragon wings spread out above the clouds, blotting out the sun. The dragon scales gleamed with a dark golden luster in the sunlight, each scale exuding the domineering aura of its "King of the Wild Dragons".
But at this moment, the Grey Ghost, still nestled in Daemon's arms, was startled by the man and dragon beside him and sprang up instantly, leaping into the clouds beside him and disappearing into the mist under the morning sun.
This pale gray-white cowardly dragon made perfect use of its talent, blending into the milky white mist and leaving only a fleeting afterimage. This caused a hint of a smile to flash in Daemon's eyes, but he did not retract his roar.
The roars of humans and dragons intertwined, piercing through the clouds and echoing throughout the entire Crab Claw Peninsula.
The patrolling private soldiers at Dragon's Roost Port stopped in their tracks, looked up at the clouds, their eyes filled with awe for the true dragon they followed and the giant dragon beneath them;
The displaced people, who were working in the fields, put down their tools and prayed with their hands clasped together to the heavens above, to the king who had granted them this peaceful life.
At the medical station, Alys Rivers looked up, the hood of her green cloak slipping down, a knowing glint in her eyes;
Gael stood on the high platform of the temporary castle, her light purple eyes gazing intently at the dark shadow above the clouds, a gentle yet firm smile on her lips.
Daemon gripped the Blackfyre tighter, his knuckles turning white. The sword danced in his hand, drawing sharp arcs in the air, splitting and then closing the surrounding clouds.
He could clearly feel that the connection between himself and the Glutton at this moment had long since transcended the constraints of the black three-headed dragon brand on his shoulder.
Once, this mark was a bridge and chain between them, but now it is more like a blessing, a resonance of souls and strength.
He no longer needed the brand to communicate with the Glutton; their hearts were already in sync. His anger was the Glutton ' anger, and his ambition was the Glutton ' ambition. The man and the dragon seemed to have become an inseparable whole, freely releasing the kingly pressure above the clouds.
The Blackfyre's cold light drew one last sharp arc across the clouds. As Daemon sheathed the sword, he could still feel the lingering heat on the blade through his fingertips.
The Glutton murmured as it circled, seemingly echoing the tranquility that followed its ecstasy.
The swirling air from the Black Dragon wings tore open the clouds, allowing golden sunlight to pour down and perfectly illuminate his tall figure.
As Daemon gazed at the gradually clearing Dragon's Roost Port and the vast peninsula below, the confusion in his eyes completely vanished, replaced by a light more intense than the rising sun.
That was the sharp edge of ambition breaking through the soil, a blazing aspiration, foreshadowing a great undertaking that would sweep across the world, about to unfold in the morning light.