"May luck and happiness be with you, and may the Lord of Light protect you from all misfortune." Daenerys Targaryen — placing a kiss on the forehead of a newborn, blessing him in the Temple of the Lord of Light.
From that day on, her people began to call her the Saint of R'hllor.
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"Are you ready, my princess?" Kinvara asked, her gaze fixed on the towering funeral pyre before them.
Beside her, Visenya stood rigid, her face impassive, but her brow furrowed in concern. As much as she trusted her sister, the thought of watching her enter the flames still seemed madness to her.
Daenerys did not respond immediately. Instead, she turned her violet eyes to the three men bound in the center of the pyre. She felt no pity for them. They were murderers and rapists, brought by the Fire Hand to serve a greater purpose, her words said.
Then, her attention slid to the chest containing the three dragon eggs.
The first of the eggs was black with reddish scales, the second was yellowish gold, and the third was bronze in color.
Daenerys leaned down and took the three eggs into her arms carefully. It was time.
"High Priestess Kinvara, begin."
Visenya stared at her, a silent plea in her eyes. She had tried to convince her, but Daenerys had been adamant. She told her of her visions, of how, every time she touched the eggs, she saw her own rebirth in the flames alongside the dragons.
It was no lie. From the moment she held them in her hands, she had seen herself reborn in the flames, and alongside her, three dragonets.
Kinvara, excited, held out her hands. With a simple movement, the flames of the nearby torches rose into the air and rushed towards the pyre. The prisoners struggled violently, trying to scream through their gags, but only the roar of the fire answered them.
The crowd watched with fanatical devotion.
Benerro stood among them, his robes stained with blood, though he was inconspicuous considering his attire. She didn't take her eyes off the fire.
Daenerys stepped forward.
Just inches from the flames, she felt its embrace, warm and familiar, but not the pain. Fire had never burned her.
She turned one last time to her sister. Visenya's fists were clenched and her lips pressed together, but Daenerys gave her a calm smile. There was nothing to fear.
Without hesitation, she stepped forward and dove into the fire.
Visenya felt the air drain out of her.
"Will she really be okay?" Her nails dug into the palm of her hand as she directed her question to Kinvara, her voice barely a whisper.
The priestess, her eyes bright with fervor, didn't take her eyes off the fire.
"The Daughter of Fire will be reborn... and with her, the dragons of House Targaryen."
...
It was a long wait. The flames danced as if alive, embracing the pyre with blinding brilliance, fed and controlled by the Red Priestesses of R'hllor. But slowly, the fire began to subside. The flames receded, until only glowing embers and ashes remained.
And in the midst of them, a figure still stood.
Daenerys emerged from the ashes, her naked body covered in soot, unharmed. But she was not alone.
Three small winged reptiles clung to her body, shielding her from prying eyes with their tiny claws. A black dragon with reddish scales roared from her chest and perched on her shoulder, puffing out its tiny body as if challenging all present.
To Daenerys, its roar was nothing more than an adorable sound, a childish attempt to command respect.
A strangled gasp escaped Visenya's lips. All this time, she had fought back fear, wishing for her sister to come out unscathed, but seeing it with her own eyes still seemed impossible. Her sister had walked through the flames... and been reborn.
Without a second thought, she ran to her, a blanket in her hands to cover her nakedness.
When she was close enough, she heard her whisper with a calm smile,
"I told you that you didn't have to worry."
Visenya let out a shaky laugh and wrapped the blanket around her before hugging her tightly.
"One of these days you're going to manage to give me a heart attack..." she murmured, closing her eyes in relief.
But, even as she held her, her gaze couldn't tear itself away from the three little dragons.
They would be the weapons with which House Targaryen would rise from the ashes. They would be reborn, just as they had been.
It was then that Visenya's eyes fell on the small, golden-yellow scaled dragon. The creature was watching her with an intense gaze, as if it were analyzing her, recognizing something in her that she herself did not understand.
"He..." she tried to say, but the words caught in her throat.
Suddenly, she felt something coursing through her body, an unfamiliar sensation, warm and powerful, as if an invisible current were enveloping her. It was not simple admiration or fear... it was something deeper. A connection.
Above their heads, Saphira, who had been circling the great funeral pyre, gracefully descended and landed in front of them. Her sapphire eyes fell on Visenya and the small golden dragon with intensity.
"It is not like our bond," Saphira told Daenerys, her voice echoing in her mind. "But I can feel it. They have formed a connection... one of mutual respect."
Daenerys blinked, surprised by her words. Then, amused, she mentally replied:
"Did he just steal one of my children? Is that what you're saying?"
Saphira didn't answer, but her look said it all.
Then, before everyone's stunned gazes, the golden-yellow dragon clumsily flapped its small wings and separated from Daenerys. With a hesitant flight, it crossed the scant space that separated them and landed in Visenya's arms, who held it with the gentleness of someone who has just received a priceless treasure.
There was absolute silence.
Finally, Daenerys broke the silence with a smile. "Congratulations, sister. He has chosen you as his rider."
Visenya looked up, unsure. "Dany, I... I didn't mean to." There was fear in her voice, as if she expected reproach or anger.
"No." Daenerys interrupted her gently. "This is good. Another dragonrider has just been born."
Visenya let out a sigh of relief, though her heart was still pounding.
After a moment, she asked, "What are you going to name him?" She didn't want to make that decision. After all, the dragon belonged to Daenerys… at least until a few moments ago.
"I was thinking of Viserion."
Visenya blinked. His name. She had named him after him. A warm feeling coiled in her chest.
Before she could answer, Daenerys tilted her head thoughtfully, a playful smile on her face. "Though I had considered Sunfyre as well…"
Visenya rolled her eyes and let out a soft laugh. "You've already decided, Dany. There's no turning back."
Daenerys smiled back. "Yes, Viserion."
"And the others?" Visenya asked, looking curiously at the two remaining hatchlings Daenerys still held in her arms.
"This one will be called Rhaegal, after our older brother Rhaegar…" Daenerys replied softly, petting the bronze-scaled dragon. The creature made a low, almost purring sound as it snuggled up to her.
Visenya nodded in approval. Rhaegar, the prince who was to have been king, was her older brother.
Her sister then pointed to the most restless of the three, a small one with black scales with reddish hues that was trying to devour the blanket that wrapped her, biting it with its tiny, needle-sharp teeth.
"And as for this little troublemaker…" Daenerys smiled, amused. She was thinking of Meleys, as the mount of the Queen Who Never Was, Princess Rhaenys.
Visenya blinked in surprise.
"Meleys will be a symbol," Daenerys continued, unwavering conviction in her voice. "We will honor Princess Rhaenys, who was removed from the Iron Throne simply because she was a woman. Once we take the Seven Kingdoms, the people will know that a woman can reign, too."
Visenya seemed excited, delighted with the choice.
When the hatchlings were finally named, High Priestess Kinvara strode forward with a solemn gait. Behind her, the Fire Hand and the other Priests and Priestesses were still kneeling in absolute devotion from the moment Daenerys emerged from the flames.
"Congratulations, Princess," Kinvara said, her tone reverent and her eyes filled with even more intense devotion than before, if that was possible. "This moment will be remembered for generations. It will spread across the world, to the farthest corners of Essos and Westeros."
The priests murmured prayers under their breath, intoning praises to the Lord of Light and proclaiming Daenerys as their chosen one, the flame that would guide the faithful through the darkness.
"All will know what has happened here," Kinvara continued, her voice rising in fervor.
"All will know your name, Daenerys Targaryen… Mother of Dragons."