"Setting goals is the secret to a great future," Daenerys Targaryen mused as she looked into the distance, envisioning the Iron Throne as the inevitable destination of her journey.
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294 AC — Eleven years have passed since the beginning of the reign of Robert I Baratheon of House Baratheon.
Across the Narrow Sea, on the western coast of Essos, lies one of the Nine Free Cities: Pentos.
After years of failed attempts to gain support for their claim to the Iron Throne, Visenya Targaryen and her younger sister found refuge under the protection of Magister Illyrio Mopatis.
It has been nearly five months since their arrival.
Daenerys leaned against the marble balcony, letting the salty breeze caress her face as her eyes wandered out to the vastness of the sea. The waves, tinted by the golden glow of the sunset, swayed hypnotically back and forth, stretching as far as the eye could see. All around her, the heady scent of jasmine and lilac hung in the air, coming from a lush garden that surrounded the terrace she was standing on.
Her gaze shifted to her hands: small, pale, and fragile, like those of a porcelain doll. They were the hands of a child... but her mind belonged to someone much older.
For as long as she could remember, she had been different. Inside her she held memories that shouldn't exist, fragments of another life, of another person. She had been born with the memories of another life, of a nineteen-year-old girl, of someone who had spent her existence trapped in a sick body, condemned to be bedridden in a hospital.
She had known the world only through the pages of books and the images on a screen, while her body withered away. Her last memory in that life was darkness… until she woke up as Daenerys Targaryen.
She let out a deep sigh, one she didn't know she had been holding until that moment.
Remembering her former self gave her a strange feeling.
"Drötningu skulblaka" (Greetings, Dragon Princess)
Suddenly, a small, majestic creature gracefully descended, spreading its wings and greeting her, before landing delicately on her shoulder.
Its scales, deep blue like polished sapphires, refracted the sunlight and its eyes, the same hypnotic hue, watched her intently. A collar of bone-sharp spikes ran along its neck, back and tail, giving it a regal and lethal air.
Beneath its membranous wings, four strong, shapely legs rested firmly on Daenerys' skin, a detail that made her frown slightly.
The descriptions of dragons in the books Magister Illyrio Mopatis had given her spoke of creatures with only two hind legs and large wings.
However, her little Saphira was different. More beastly, more primitive… perhaps more perfect.
Daenerys looked at her with a mixture of wonder and affection. It had not been easy to hide her existence from her older sister, always vigilant, always ready to detect any danger that could threaten her. That was how protective she was of her.
But now, feeling the warmth of her small body and the pressure of her claws on her skin, she knew that it had all been worth it.
"I have told you countless times to stop calling me that, Shapira. We are family." Daenerys spoke softly, but with the firmness of someone who has repeated the same request many times.
Her violet eyes fell on the creature that, despite how different they were, she considered her a sister.
She clearly remembered the day Shapira's egg hatched. The instant the bright blue shell cracked, a strange sensation blossomed in her chest, an invisible force that brought her closer.
And then, as her skin first touched the dragon's still-damp scales, a searing heat coursed through her right hand along with a blinding glow. In that moment, a chill ran down her spine, enveloping her in an impossible duality of heat and cold.
It was in that moment that she was granted the Gedwëy Ignasia, the mark of a Dragon Rider.
The bond between them was forged in an instant, unbreakable as Valyrian steel. From one moment to the next, her mind no longer belonged to her. Something else, someone else, was there, a powerful and wild presence.
At first there were no words, only a torrent of raw, primal emotions: the exhilaration of flight, the ravenous hunger of a newborn creature, the instinctive need for mutual protection...
And then, images. Fragments of thoughts that did not belong to her flooded her mind, like the reflection of her own face seen through Shapira's eyes.
The Gedwëy Ignasia, also called Argetlam, "silver hand," appeared as proof of that unbreakable bond. In the center of her right palm was a blurred, spiraling oval mark, bright silver in color.
Shapira was not just her dragon. It was part of her.
"I wish you to grow up healthy, Shapira, and that soon we can fly together above the clouds," Daenerys sighed, her voice barely a murmur filled with longing. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting her mind transport her to the future she so desired.
Shapira tilted her head, her sapphire eyes reflecting the same desire.
Soon, Daenerys thought. Very soon.
Suddenly, she felt a gaze fixed on them. A chill ran through her skin and her body tensed instinctively.
Daenerys was startled for a moment, turning her head quickly. Her eyes scanned the surroundings cautiously, looking for the person responsible for that disturbing sensation. But there was no one. Only silence enveloping everything.
Even with her heart beating hard, she decided to make sure.
She took a deep breath and, her voice steady, she chanted,
"Atra nosu waíse vardo fra eld hórnya" (May we be protected from listeners).
Daenerys felt magic intertwine with her words.
A faint vibration ran through the air around her, as if the world itself was responding to her call. She couldn't see the spell working, but she felt it, an invisible barrier erecting itself around them, silencing their voices from any ears that tried to hear them.
"It is time."
Daenerys' voice was firm, but inside, expectation and uncertainty intertwined.
Shapira tilted her head and rubbed her snout against Daenerys' cheek, her touch warm and comforting. It was a gesture of happiness, but also of concern. Their bond was so strong that the dragoness didn't need words to express what she felt.
"You don't have to worry about me, Shapira. I've prepared for this moment."
Daenerys smiled and placed a hand on her sister's blue scales. She knew the little dragoness could sense the truth in her words, but that didn't stop her from worrying about her.
Shapira exhaled loudly, letting a small wisp of smoke escape from her nose, a silent but eloquent protest.
Laughing tenderly, Daenerys corrected her words.
"We've both prepared for this moment."
Shapira blinked, her sapphire eyes shining with satisfaction. Daenerys gently stroked the dragon's head, letting her fingers run over the smooth, cool scales.
Suddenly, Shapira projected images through their bond, a succession of sharp memories that flooded into Daenerys's mind without warning.
In them appeared Magister Illyrio Mopatis, his corpulent figure swathed in robes of rich Myrian fabrics and gold trim. His voice, though distant, echoed in her mind with its honeyed, calculating tone.
She saw his complacent smile, that ambiguous smile that never quite revealed his intentions. His chubby hands rose delicately as he received three petrified dragon eggs on the deck of a ship. Moonlight reflected off the cracked surfaces of the eggs, each a different color.
"Finally." Daenerys opened her eyes. We waited a long time before you bought the dragon eggs...
Her fingers instinctively brushed the silver mark on her palm, the Gedwëy Ignasia, as if the connection to Shapira could give her more clarity on what was to come.
Soon, Shapira would not be alone. She would have new companions… or perhaps they would both have new siblings.
The thought filled her with excitement and uncertainty. Would they be like Shapira? Would they forge a bond similar to hers?
Or would they be what they were originally meant to be?