Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

"Dong dong." Two muffled thuds echoed as two shining knights in silver armor and golden cloaks leapt onto the brown earth, kicking up a choking cloud of dust.

All the demons huddled at the edge of the large muddy square, cowering and kneeling on the ground.

"Who is the mayor? The priest?" Dany stepped forward and asked in a clear voice.

Hmm, after a year of commanding on the battlefield and countless "great speeches," her voice had been well-trained.

"I am the priest of Blackwater Town. May I ask which family's Dragon King you are?"

The first to speak was an elderly man who carefully crawled to his feet. He stopped five meters away from Dany, as if afraid of startling the guests—or perhaps wary of the two dragons whose nostrils were exhaling white smoke?

Dany did not answer his question but instead asked in perfect Valyrian, "Are you the remnants of Valyria?"

"Indeed, we bear the noble bloodline of Valyria, but now..." The old man touched his twisted nose and mouth, lowering his head in sorrow.

"Daenerys Targaryen, I am a Targaryen," Dany said.

"Targaryen?" A trace of confusion flickered in the old man's blue eyes.

"The Targaryen family that moved away from Valyria on the eve of the Doom—descendants of Aenar Targaryen." Dany reminded him somewhat awkwardly.

The Targaryens were highly esteemed in Westeros, practically the most noble royal family.

But in Valyria, they didn't even qualify to be close to the center of power, their bloodline inferior to most Volantene nobles.

Those families, though lacking dragons, were branches of the Fourteen Flames families.

"Apologies, I am too old..." The ghastly-faced old man looked embarrassed.

He took a few steps back and instructed a three-armed young man beside him. The youth quickly ran towards a small two-story building on the opposite side of the square.

After an awkward silence with hundreds of grotesque mutants, the youth, with an extra arm under his ribs, returned carrying a large stack of yellowed parchment scrolls.

The ghastly-faced old man searched through the scrolls for a while before realizing, "Ah, the exile Aenar."

Dany said, "My ancestor did not exile himself to escape trial by the court. 'Dreamer' Daenys foresaw the Doom of Valyria in her dreams. Clearly, she was right."

"Indeed!" The old priest rolled up the scroll and sighed. "Valyria was destroyed in the Doom, and only the Targaryens have survived to this day. What a pity... what a pity..."

"What is the pity?" Dany asked curiously.

"It's a pity that you are not the one we are waiting for," the old man said.

"Who are you waiting for? Who are you?"

"All cursed Valyrians in the Land of the Long Summer are waiting for a noble Dragon King who can break the cage."

Dany didn't like hearing that—was she not noble enough?

Besides, did they think there were many dragons left in the world?

"Why not me? And what is this cage? As far as I know, the Land of the Long Summer is open and free to enter and leave."

The ghastly-faced old man observed her expression and explained, "Dragon King, it is not my intention to insult you. In fact, as a Dragon King, even in the Valyrian era, you would be among the most respected individuals.

However, the Targaryen bloodline is not pure enough—not noble enough. Sigh, I don't know how to explain it... Perhaps you should go to Oros and seek out the High Priestess.

She would be delighted to see you and your dragons. She can also tell you about the cage."

"Oros still exists?" Barristan asked, speaking for the first time.

The ghastly-faced old man glanced at the powerful black dragon behind him and asked, "Dragon King, are you also from the Targaryen family?"

Before the white knight could answer, Dany ambiguously replied, "He is one of my knights."

"Ah, the Targaryens are truly prosperous," the old man remarked with a complex expression. He explained, "Oros is very close to the First Peak but was fortunately preserved.

Over the centuries... well, you have seen our appearance.

It is all due to the curse.

To break the curse, the High Priestess devised a method—dispersing the clanspeople into the wilderness at varying distances from the city, based on the severity of the curse on newborns."

As he spoke, he beckoned to a woman with two heads growing from her neck.

"My lord," the woman stepped forward, revealing she was holding a baby.

The old man lifted the brown beastskin covering the infant, revealing a chubby white baby girl kicking her legs.

Wait, not a boy—it was a girl.

The appendage in the middle was not what it seemed, but a fleshy tail.

"The less cursed one is, the closer they can live to Oros. Little Na here only has a small tail, so she can live in Oros. Her children might even break free from the curse," the old man said, his grotesque face showing a rare smile.

Dany pondered, beginning to understand the rumors about demons.

They were the most deformed outcasts driven away from villages and towns.

"What about Maetarís? They can still interact with the outside world, but Oros is extremely isolated."

"Maetarís? I am not sure."

Dany asked several more questions about the Doom, but the priest's answers were vague. He kept flipping through the scrolls, often replying, "I don't know."

Disappointed by the old man's lack of knowledge, Dany left behind ten cans of white sugar and two packets of Eastern spices. Amid the old man's profuse gratitude, she mounted her dragon and flew away.

The straight stone road between Oros and Matalis was so distinct that even a blind person wouldn't lose their way. Matalis lay to the north, while Oros stood at the southern end.

After passing through four or five more villages, a dark city suddenly emerged on the plain ahead.

A towering, roofless sky-piercing tower stood out among the stone buildings, belonging to the Valyrian Dragonlords. Dragons could land directly on the platform at the top of the Black Tower.

Like Valyria, Oros had no city walls. Its black stone towers, warehouses, streets, gardens, and plazas spread in all directions with unrestrained grandeur, exuding vitality and dominance.

At this moment, traces of that dominance still remained, but the vitality had nearly disappeared.

In this city, with a diameter of more than ten kilometers, most of the buildings had been reduced to ruins.

The streets were in disarray, with piles of rubble, dung, and unidentified animal bones in the corners. The walls of the towering buildings were peeling, leaving them mottled and unsightly. The fountains that once offered citizens cool relief during the sweltering summer had dried up—their spouts rusted, and the water pipes clogged with silt. The once-vibrant city gardens had lost all their color, leaving only gray-green weeds, among which a few goats—some missing ears or noses, others with extra nostrils or even an additional head—bleated as they nibbled on the grass. A few gray-robed figures drove ox carts past the city hall, their wheels creaking and echoing eerily across the vast, fifty-thousand-square-meter plaza.

This was a ghost city, buried in its grave for four hundred years!

—Though the degree of deformity among its citizens was relatively low.

"Give the people of Oros a greeting."

"Hiss—Gaaah!"

"Hiss—Gaaah!"

A dragon's rough, grating roar, like a blade scraping across glass, echoed through the city's center, accompanied by occasional bursts of small dragon flames from its nostrils.

"A dragon?"

"A dragon—it's really a dragon!"

"A dragon has come! The Dragonlord has arrived!"

In the span of a tea break, the city below had… well, not exactly erupted into chaos. Compared to the vastness of Oros, the number of people on its streets, balconies, plazas, and rooftops was far too few.

Dany even doubted whether there were five thousand people here.

"Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!"

About a quarter of an hour later, at the top of the 150-meter-high sky-piercing tower, fourteen thick tallow torches were lit—an invitation, a signal welcoming the Dragonlord's arrival.

Dany also saw several figures in black cloaks standing at the center of the rooftop platform.

On the back of their black silk cloaks was a golden embroidery of fourteen flaming peaks, with dragons soaring above the flames.

"Let's go meet the High Priest." She called out, leading her two dragons into a dive.

"Whoosh! Whoosh!"

One black, one white—the two dragons flapped their wings, stirring up strong gusts of wind that sent the cloaked figures' garments fluttering wildly.

"Welcome, Your Highnesses, Dragonlords."

A crisp, melodious female voice came from the central cloaked figure.

It was a young girl.

"Thud! Thud!"

The heavy sound of iron boots landing echoed through the rooftop.

Dany removed her bucket-shaped helmet, revealing a head of silver-gold hair and a delicate face with violet eyes.

—A true Valyrian Dragonlord.

All the Oros citizens nearby thought the same thing at that moment.

"I am a descendant of Aenar Targaryen, Daenerys." Dany then gestured toward the tall, armored figure behind her. "And he is my sworn protector, Barristan."

"So, a princess of Westeros."

The girl pulled back her hood, revealing a stunningly beautiful face that could rival Dany's, brightening the gloomy sky with her presence.

"I am the Lord of Oros and also its High Priestess—Jaine Velaryon."

Her silver hair cascaded over her shoulders, with a dragon-shaped red crystal hairpin securing her long bangs at the back of her head, exposing her smooth, flawless forehead.

This girl seemed utterly without blemish.

Dany swept her gaze over the girl with appreciation, then smiled and bowed. "I didn't expect the High Priestess to be a Velaryon. My apologies!"

Barristan was momentarily startled by her gesture, but he quickly followed the Queen's lead with a knight's salute.

Even the Queen of Slaver's Bay had to show respect to a Velaryon, for the Velaryons were First Lords of the Fourteen Flames—the true royal bloodline of Valyria.

It was like encountering Liu Bei during the Three Kingdoms era—no matter how Cao Cao or Yuan Shao truly felt, they still had to offer him the proper courtesy.

"High Priestess, do you know that the Targaryens have unified Westeros? Has an outsider visited this place?" Dany asked curiously.

"Yes, we have contact with Matalis to the north."

"I see." Dany sighed and said, "The Targaryen dynasty fell nearly sixteen years ago. The ruler of Westeros is now someone else."

"I know. But you have dragons, Unsullied, and countless soldiers willing to fight for you. One day, you will reclaim the Iron Throne that belongs to you." Jaine smiled.

Dany's heart sank.

It seemed she had been mistaken—Oros was far from an isolated city.

This could be troublesome.

Sharing Valyrian noble blood did not guarantee harmony and mutual affection.

Among those now calling for the death of the 'Mother of Dragons,' more than thirty percent possessed noble Valyrian Dragonlord ancestry. Another forty percent were mixed-blood, but their ancestors were still among the most orthodox of Valyrian aristocrats.

The remaining thirty percent were composed of newly risen merchants, lords, and foreign kings from the past four centuries.

Oros might be no different from Matalis or Volantis—utterly indifferent to the last true Dragonlord.

Perhaps even hostile, seeing her as a disruptor of the established order.

(End of Chapter)

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