3,716A/N: EDIT: Made a few errors, went back and fixed them. Sorry about that!
Well, House of the Dragon was a blast to watch. Even if I did see it a little bit later than most...
Plenty of people wanted this and here we are. Slifer and I worked hard on this bad boy. It will remain rated T for now, we'll test the waters a bit then upgrade it to M later depending on feedback.
Has it really been almost fifteen years since I first set foot on this site? Here I am, another year older, wiser, and with even more grey hairs.
Makes a man feel proper old. Really old indeed. Hard to believe I've been on this site for almost fifteen years…
Speaking of which!
You've probably heard me harping on in one story or another about the email opt-in situation that has been causing me a few sleepless nights since its introduction in November. To avoid taking up too much of your time I'll TLDR it. Things that would usually send notification via email (PM, chapter updates, reviews etc.) now require you to opt into it at the bottom of your account settings page with it auto resetting to no every six months.
Now I am fully aware that a lot of you readers out there keep up with stories without the aid of email notifications, be that through the app or just manually searching up my account and taking a gander at what's been updated. It's something I honestly appreciate but for the sake of peace of mind I feel I must remind those that do rely on email notifications to make sure theirs is up to date as it is legit depressing to know the stories are not reaching as many people as possible so I'm just trying to cover my bases here.
Every once in a while just check your account settings are up to date (and remember to actually hit save!), it will set an old man's mind at ease.
Onto more happy topics, House of the Dragon, or as Slifer likes to call it, "How the fandom learned to stop hating Danny and acknowledge that Vizzy T -Viserys Targaryen, first of his name- is the best!"
I was a little dubious going into the show given the steaming turd that was GoT season 8 and even more so when I found out that the first season only really adapts roughly three chapters of the book on which its based, but with GRRM on staff I was willing to stick my toe back into the waters of the Narrow Sea and was pleasantly surprised; and you guys seemed ravenous to see me take a crack at it.
So here we go. The fate of this story depends on you, the reader. Your feedback determines the fate of this story, and all others.
No questions this time. Only story. Alright then, I've kept you long enough. Lets get back to it.
Once more, I own no quotes, references, or memes. Not a wit or a one. NOT! A! THING!
They're all tributes to legends far greater than little 'ol me.
At present, we're about a month out from episode one.
"Never seen a dragon before, one not made of water anyway."
"Have you been living under a rock?"
"Let's just say...I'm not from these parts, and leave it at that."
~?
Foxfire
Blackwater Bay lived up to its name for once, on a surprisingly fresh summer morning of 129AC.
A slate grey bank of clouds hung over King's Landing, lending the churning waters of the capital's principal port the look of tar as the sun struggled to punch through the gloom. The obscured solar disc lent out just enough light for a distinctly draconic shadow to trace silently across the stirring waves. For far above the waters at the mouth of the Narrow Sea flew a mighty beast, its scales quite xanthic while its triangular head, adorned with a plethora of dull spikes, leaned from side to side in a gesture that evoked a man rolling their shoulders in morning exercise after weeks of lethargy.
But this was not a man, no, this great reptile was so much greater than the lesser races of Westeros, a descendant of long-doomed Valyria.
It was the symbol all in the land knew to be the zenith of absolute, total, unshakeable power.
Her name was Syrax, and she was a dragon. Naturally, she was not without her rider.
Rhaenyra Targaryen sighed atop Syrax's back, reveling in the torrent of fresh air blustering against her Dragon Rider's raiment, its scaled pauldrons a darker black compared to the coat's dull mauve. The Princess of the Targaryen dynasty eased herself back into her saddle's warm, well-worn leather and pulled lightly on the reins to get Syrax to bank gently to the right, giant leather wings beating gently amidst the tussle of wind.
The whispering dance of air currents took the pair over King's Landing in no time at all, the distant forms of the Red Keep and the Dragonpit rendered to nothing but toys upon a game board by her great height. Riding her dragon had always given Rhaenyra a feeling of freedom that cleared her mind. Up here in the clouds, riding banished all her worries for a fleeting moment, and goodness, had there been some issues as of late.
The Crab Feeder causing issues in the stepstones and her Daemon Targaryan's recent bouts of seemingly state-sanctioned brutality aside, the entirety of Kings Landing was abuzz at the slowly approaching birth of what would become the Princess's younger sibling. And the wait was slowly but surely killing the King and Queen. Not in the literal sense but rather the amount of stress that it was putting on their marriage, King Viserys had visibly aged perhaps a decade in these last eight months since the Maesters, and Septa's had confirmed beyond all reasonable doubt that the Queen was with child.
And by the seven, was it grating on the young Princess! Eight months of being forced to watch her father flit hither and thither like a moth dancing between candles in anticipation of the birth and her mother, always so radiant, slowly dimming to a shadow of a former self, afraid of once again facing the worst fear of any parent.
"And father has already planned a tourney for next month," Rhaenyra breathed out through gritted teeth.
Syrax gave a rumbling hiss in response, inclining her head to look back at her in curiosity.
Violet eyes warmed at the dragon's concerns; she patted the xanthic drake on its flank and flashed a smile, "Not you, girl, just talking to myself." she assured the multiple-tonne dragon. Syrax huffed indignantly before turning its head back to the sky ahead, prompting the silver-haired rider to grin. "Well, if you're going to be grumpy, I suppose we won't be taking the plunge," that instantly got the dragon's attention, "Aha, still a thrill seeker, aren't you? I'd a feeling you'd be gagging for it after the storm!"
A few days ago, on an otherwise serene summer's day, King's Landing residents had looked up into the blue afternoon sky only to see a torrent of roiling black clouds seemingly boiling from nowhere and in scant hours, the capital was rocked by a cataclysmic freak storm. The clouds blocked out the sun, and for three days and three nights, the only light in the capital had been delivered by forking bolts of cerulean sky fire as booms of thunder shook the meagre shacks of Flea Bottom to their splintered and rotting foundations. The winds had been so extreme that none of the Dragon Riders, bar a quite inebriated Daemon, had even considered attempting a flight amidst the lightning that would have made the most headstrong Baratheon sweat.
And then last night in the dead of night, while the Small Council schemed and solicited ideas and the faithful had offered their prayers to the old gods and the new, the storm had simply broken, bleeding away silently into the night.
Already a borderline brigade of Maesters had sent raven's from Oldtown to inform the King of a field expedition to King's Landing to document the aftermath of this miraculous event, begging for lodging, less than half of them wanting to be put up near the pleasure district. The faith chalked the event, quickly gaining the name 'the furious three' as evidence of Divinity, the incredible power of the heavens breaking into the mortal world to grace them and herald the arrival of the royal birth.
Rhaenyra, on the other hand, had simply thought that it had been a bloody big storm that had prevented her and Syrax from flying, something she had rectified the moment dawn broke.
Urging Syrax to fly straight, she gave her partner a series of subtle adjustments with her legs and the reigns to slowly but surely come to a complete standstill in the air, held aloft by a tremendous banding thermal updraft that only a skilled dragon rider could perceive. Tension and excitement built in the female dragon as it hung there, its yellow scales clicking together noisily as its neck tensed. She could feel the thermal beginning to decay beneath them, once it had degraded beyond a specific point, gravity would win out, and the duo would simply drop out of the sky.
Yet Syrax remained as still as she could, waiting with wrapped anticipation until her partner gave her the order they both wanted to attend. The sound of wind bled away until all either heard was the sound of one another's breathing, hearts beating as one.
The sun broke through the cloud bank, bathing the duo in the light of the long summer, and Raenyra dug her heels into her mount's flanks with a grin.
"Now, girl!" she called, throwing herself flat against the saddle and holding on for dear life.
Syrax raised her long neck back and answered with a pleased roar before letting her body slope forwards and began to plummet for the Blackwater many thousands of feet below.
The sound of wind filled the young woman's ears as she looked ahead, thankful that the crest atop her mount's head so perfectly created a shield against the worst of the wind, allowing her to look straight down at the glassy black water they were currently plummeting toward. They were an arrow loosed from the greatest bow, the drake's wings-pulled in for more outstanding aerodynamics- were their fletchings and her sprawling silver hair a whoop of exhilarated will that spurred them on towards the earth.
Your average dragon could maintain a maximum speed of about one hundred and twenty-five miles per hour on the straight and flat, but Syrax was built for speed; her svelte body and swan-like neck cutting through the air with a sharp whistle until they were falling at a hair's breadth under three hundred miles per hour.
Leaving it to the last possible second, Rhaenyra waited until she could make out the glimmer of their reflection on the water below before yanking back on the reins as hard as she could.
Leathery wings sprang out like coiled vipers on either side of her, and the tremendous organic canvas took the strain, a beat of the tail providing just enough shift in inertia to let Syrax pull up in a graceful arc. Her rider gritted her teeth as she felt the edges of her vision start to grey and made an effort to push her thighs inward, the unique grooves built into the seat pinching her legs in such a way as to prevent her blood from flowing into her feet. Syrax pulled up from her dive, and Rhaenyra felt her body experience a brief pressure before it eased, and she could relax into the back of her saddle, her grimace lightening to a smile. The yellow dragon streaked across the coast not ten metres above the surface of the water, kicking up a spray of water in her wake from the displaced air.
"Not bad, Syrax, not bad at all," the Targaryen commended her mount, patting the dragon's neck, who growled appreciatively. The both of them had a need for speed, and while the manoeuvre was taxing on the body, it meant that for a few miles at least before their gathered speed ablated away to wind resistance, the duo were quite literally the fastest things on the planet.
Soaring through the air so close to the water, Syrax banked lightly, allowinf one of her wingtips to dip into the water, kicking up a sheet of water that refracted the light of the sun through its spray in prismatic fashion. The dragon seemed enjoyed the simple act, flying with such intense velocity that she would not have to worry about beating her wings for at least another two miles.
While her dragon was having her moment of catharsis after days spent underground to wait out the storm, Rhaenyra busied herself looking along the coastline and surveying all the detritus that had been kicked up or washed ashore by the violent weather. She spotted much muck and silt that had coated the rocks and a few unfortunate fishing boats and merchant ships that had been smashed against the rocks like toys in a bath. Looking closer, she could already see the sticklike figures of men making their way down the rocks to salvage what they could.
Little did she know they were the Hand's men who had been dispatched from King's Landing the moment the storm had broken to start assessing the damages and seeing what could be salvaged. Doubtless, some contraband loot would soon make its way into the crown's coffers. Otto Hightower was nothing if not expedient.
But for now she knew naught of such things.
Her flight continued uninterrupted for the next twenty minutes until her eye caught a glint of something metallic along the shore. Rhaenyra blinked and leaning forward, saw that it persisted. Curious. She banked her dragon in a slow winding circle over the coastline to get a better look until she was able to make out just what it was, a body sprawled across the beach amongst a heap of seaweed.
Syrax came in to land with a light thump before Raenyra dismounted and jogged towards the figure. The pungent stench of brine and seaweed permeated her sense of smell, leaving her unsure if what she had come across was a shipwrecked survivor or just carrion tossed up by the storm.
Rhaenyra wasn't quite sure.
In truth, she wouldn't have seen him at all if it weren't for his clothes; for they were so garishly bright that only being covered entirely by seaweed would have hidden him from her eyes. Bending over and wrinkling her nose at the smell, the young Princess began the simple, if unpleasant, task of peeling back the layers of seaweed to reveal the figure that lay beneath.
Many would think that a princess would be repulsed by the very notion of potentially unwrapping a corpse, but there was a level of excitement as she worked at this current mystery that had presented itself to her. Life in King's Landing had grown so terribly dull as of late, and a distraction was most welcome. Strand by strand she pulled away and tossed aside, revealing what surprised her to be a young man near of an age with her, perhaps just shy of or recently passed his seventeenth name day.
He was of average height with hair so blonde he could have been a Lannister, but it was arranged in a ticket of spikes so thick she had never seen the like. His complexion was a peach tan that spoke of someone who spent much time outside but not ruddy and worn like a sailor. If so, it begged the question of what he was doing washed up on the shore like a common bilge rat. Thoughts of rodents brought her attention to the odd whisker marks adhered to his cheeks like tattoos.
'From the free cities? The Sea Snake once said that the people of Volantis marked their slaves' faces with tattoos…' she mused curiously, pressing her fingers to his neck and felt a steady pulse. Well, he was alive if nothing else. Luck it, seemed, was on his side.
Leaning back she took another look at him as a whole and felt her mouth crease in a thoughtful frown.
He certainly wasn't dressed as a slave, clad in orange and black clothes he was, a strange amalgamation of torn rags. The vividness of that orange struck her as something too rich for any slave, save one who might work for the pleasure of their master...or mistress. She quashed that ugly of thought as soon as it came, turning her attention to the object that had caught the light in the first place.
He clutched a strange metal plate of some sort in one hand; she couldn't be sure what it was, only that it had seen better days. Dings and scratches pitted its burnished steel surface with traces of black fabric having frayed to near nothingness at its ends.
Any attempts to pry it free and get a good look at it were rendered moot when he jolted upright.
Five firm fingers locked around her wrist, and yanked, hard enough to bruise. Rhaenyra let out an exclamation of discomfort but found focused instead on the blonde who's eyes flitted in all directions, pupils dilated and unsure before locking onto her. His eyes were a bright blue, a shade of blue that looked to be carved from liquid gemstone. The blond opened his mouth to speak only for a terrible gurgling sound to emerge deep from within his chest.
His eyes bugged in their sockets before doubling over and starting to hack desperately against the sand as Rhaenyra watched on in worry, foam begging to build at the blonde's mouth. For a moment she found herself paralysed by choice, this was such an alien situation to her that for a few seconds, all she could do was watch as the blood vessels in those sea blue eyes began to grow red. It was such a banal observation, the fact that she did not like to see the whites of his eyes so red, yet it was enough impetus to make her act.
"Shh, shh," she encouraged. "You're alright. Here." Her palm thumped into the centre of his back between his shoulder blades, the shock was just enough to make him void his lungs.
"Ack!" The blond turned and coughed up a frankly grotesque amount of seawater onto the sands. He panted for a few seconds more, foam at the edges of his lips as color returned to his face before finally speaking in a hoarse voice. "Don't feel alright…."
His was a simple proclamation but it served its purpose. It sparked a pang of sympathy in Rhaenyra that she usually reserved only for her close knit group of family and personal confidants. She wasn't much used to dealing with strangers, but the sight of him stirred some small semblance of pity in her. She stroked the small of his back once more as he heaved into the sands.
"Are you alright?" she finally asked after his shoulders had ceased heaving.
Pursing his lips, a pair cracked from the sun and caked in a fine layer of crystalline salt, the blond sat back on his haunches, running the back of his hand over his mouth. "Gonna be real, I feel like death…"
Despite the sincerity in his words at his self-assessment, the Princess couldn't help but pick out the nascent dregs of wry amusement buried in his voice. She could either be direct and no-nonsense in her response as her station expected or she could show a modicum of mercy for a half drowned man. "You're in luck that I'm not the Stranger then, friend, for I doubt my visage could pass for a skull." she jested grimly, picking the latter.
The blond looked at her as though she had grown a second head before a decidedly wet chuckle ripped from his throat, triggering another fit. "Well, he coughed, "You're a stranger to me, but you're no Shinigami, I'll give ya that. I get the feeling it's a similar thing?" he asked rhetorically, pushing his sodden hair back on his head.
Curiosity bloomed anew, in her mind. Shinigami? There was a term she had never heard of, but if this blonde truly did not know of the light of the seven then he must have come from very far indeed. She snorted in a way that her Septa would have cuffed her around the ear for, "then from one stranger to another, may I have your name?"
"Naruto, Naruto Uzumaki," the now-named Naruto introduced with a lazy wave, a sharp juxtaposition from the drowned rat he had been shortly before.
Quirking a silver eyebrow in interest at the name, Rhaenyra extended her hand, palm facing down in the traditional gesture of offering a hand to be kissed. A common gesture from royalty to a stranger. She mused idly about his name, it sounded similar to tales that the Sea Snake had once told her of distant Yi Ti, perhaps that was where he hailed from. "I am Princess Rhaenyra Targaryan, daughter of King Viserys Targaryan, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Naruto stared at the offered hand before raising his own and bumping his fist against Rhaenyra's, causing her violet eyes to widen in confusion before amused interest bled in, perhaps this was the standard greeting in Yi Ti?
"Nice to meetcha, Princess, if it's not much trouble could you do me a favour?" he began, tucking the metal plate away quickly in what remained of his jacket. "Where the hell am I?"
Hell, singular, another odd twist. "About forty miles northeast of King's Landing, surely you've heard of King's Landing all the way off in Yi Ti?" she posited, drawing an utterly stupefied look from Naruto.
"Where the proverbial heck is Yi Ti? Or King's Landing for that matter…?" the blond tilted with a bead of sweat racing down the back of his head, but soon enough a growl from behind Rhaenyra drew his attention and banished his current train of thoughts to the wind.
As did something else.
He looked past her. That frown became a curious smile as his eyes locked onto the large form of Syrax, even now watching the pair curiously as she enjoyed basking in the sun.
Rhaenyra watched him in turn. How odd. He acted like he'd never seen a dragon before; perhaps he'd hit his head harder than she thought?
Naruto leapt to his feet with a speed no man should have possessed, let alone one Rhaenyra thought recently shipwrecked.
"What is that?" He asked, eyes gleaming with an excitement that his still hoarse voice couldn't convey.
"I beg your pardon?" Rhaenyra felt her right temple begin to twitch, he must have been having her on at this point. He had to be. "Have you been living under a rock before that storm tossed you onto the beach? There's no one from the North to Ulthos that doesn't know a dragon by sight!" she said, annoyance mixing with pride.
Syrax trilled questioningly at the young man who looked between the rider and dragon.
Shooting the Princess an askance look, Naruto asked, "That's a dragon?" He stroked his chin in thought, eyes crinkling and cheeks dimpling til his face looked like a puzzled fox. It was a surprisingly childish face and the Princess found she quite liked it. "Doesn't look like any dragon I've ever seen."
"Oh really, and here I was starting to think you'd bumped your-"
"This thing has wings and no moustache!" Naruto concluded, thumping his fist into his palm before smiling cheesily. "But to be honest, this thing looks cooler than anything a Shinobi ever conjured up and called a Dragon. Mind if I go say hello?"
He did not wait for her reply, instead jogging towards the xanthic dragon while Rhaenyra was left sputtering in the sand. His words had succeeded in utterly throwing her for a loop.
"Hey, there." Naruto approached it with raised hand.
Syrax didn't take kindly to that. She reared back from him -a stranger to her- with a startled noise.
Snapping back to reality, Rhaenyra attempted to call out a warning to Naruto, dreading what was about to transpire. "Syrax, no!"
"Ha...?
Naruto cocked his head to one side in confusion at her exclamation before looking back at the dragon. He found himself staring into an open fanged maw with a quickly building orange glow emanating from its gullet.
"Oh…" He quipped glibly, an exasperated sigh on his lips.
The young man found consumed in a haze of molten death not a heartbeat later. A jet of concentrated orange fire sprayed over his entire body in the time it took Raenyra to open her mouth and give the counter command to avert a very stupid way to die...
.
..
...and then, quite suddenly, things took a turn for the bizarre.
From the heart of the fire, which should have been little more than kindling in the shape of a man, came the distinct sound of someone tutting in annoyance. A shape blurred from the flame, sending out a gust of wind that blew through Syrax's Dragon Fire, all but snuffing it out. Raenyra stood, transfixed at the figure that now stood at the centre of a heath of blackened glassy sand. Naruto stood unbothered by the heat, a hand extended in a chopping motion; he was still aflame, but it was not Syrax's vermilion tongues with which he burned.
His very body burned like a golden flame.
"Oi." Slitted red eyes glowered at her friend. "That wasn't very nice."
Syrax hissed reared back for another blast.
Naruto snarled, and something snarled with him. The golden flame surged around him, emerging from him in a plume of flickering light that bloomed around his body, quickly twisting and shifting until it was the unmistakable shape of a fox's head. The beastly spectre let out a roar that thundered out over the bay, far louder than Syrax's challenging growls, so intense that even in distant Tarth, fishermen looked up from their work to gaze across the sea.
Syrax coiled in on herself and made to rise to the challenge before the magnitude of the situation hit home for her. For the first time since her precious partner had hatched...Syrax hesitated. Then, In a show of deference that the Princess had never seen shown to a non-Targaryen, Syrax bowed her head.
The demonic fox-skull persisted for a few more seconds before being sucked back into Naruto's still incandescent body. Having said, his peace, he approaching the dragon and gently ran a hand over Syrax's nose.
Rhaenyra stood aghast, was this magic? She had thought the likes had died with Old Valyria yet here stood a being wreathed in fire, petting a dragon as if it were a common housecat. She flinched when Naruto looked over his shoulder, slitted red eyes a far cry from the blue depths she had seen when he'd woken.
"Don't be afraid." he smiled at her. "I'm not trying to start any trouble."
Afraid? Her? Nonsense. The blood of the dragon flowed through her veins. But that begged the question. What flowed through his? In this form he was fire incarnate. He could not be burned. She'd seen it with her own eye and something quickened in her chest, a strange feeling she'd never felt before. Excitement tinged with trepidation.
A word came to mind, one last tale the old Sea Snake had told her of distant Yi Ti.
Foxfire.
A/N: There we go.
Time will tell if this becomes a story.
As stated, this'll be upgraded to M later down the line.
As ever, the Embers Rule persists. So? Should this continue? Or fall into oblivion?
By all means, speak up! Make yourselves heard!
So in the Immortal Words of Atlas…
...Review...Would You Kindly?
And enjoy the Previews!
As ever:
SPOILERS! SPOILERS! SPOILERS!
PLOT DETAILS AHOY!
YE BE WARNED!
Read at your own risk!
As ever, these are from the far flung future...or are they~?!
(Previews!)
Viserys looked up from the table. "Who is this you've brought into our home?"
Daemon chuckled. "You're a stubborn one. Perhaps that's why my dear niece favours you."
Rhaenyra tried not to laugh. She truly did. She failed spectacularly.
"I've never been one for schemers. Take your plots elsewhere."
"Preposterous." Otto scoffed. "The boy cannot stand up to a dragon. What the princess saw was merely a trick of the light."
"Oh?" Said boy quirked a brow and spread his arms wide. "For having the name Hightower you have an awfully low opinion of me. Would you care for another demonstration?"
Daemon stopped leaning against the wall. "Why not? It would be entertaining, if nothing else."
Rhaenyra rounded on him. "Uncle, that is-
-just fine." Naruto's smile had never wavered, not once, but now it had an edge to match Daemon's challenge. "I'm a bit curious about dragons myself. I wonder what yours looks like."
Daemon stepped forward to meet his gaze. "You would not be so eager to meet Caraxes if you knew him."
Naruto tilted his head a fraction of an inch. "I've seen worse. Much worse."
It was like watching two beasts square up to one another.
Rhaenyra couldn't look away.
"...you want to help me?"
"You're holding the realm together, Viserys. I think that's admirable." Naruto smiled wistfully, "I'd like to see you smile more before you work yourself to death. The hardest thing any leader can be is a good man."
"Wise words for one so young,"
"Oi, cut that out, I know you're only Thirty-Nine."
R&R~!