THE HEARTFLAME'S WRATH
Night settled over the Dothraki camp, fires glowing like scattered stars across the endless plains.
Daenerys slept peacefully inside her tent.
Leo, as always, stayed alert.
He could feel the red dragon egg — the Heartflame Egg — pulsing faintly from where it rested among Daenerys' belongings.
Its life was subtle… but always aware of him.
He felt it like a heartbeat.
Then something shifted.
A whisper of movement.
A shadow crossing torchlight.
Leo's eyes snapped open.
A Dothraki thief slipped into Daenerys' tent.
He moved silently, practiced, knowing exactly what he wanted:
the strange red egg the khaleesi treasured.
The man wrapped both hands around the glowing shell—
And the world exploded.
THE EGG AWAKENS
A blast of heat rippled through the tent.
The thief screamed as the egg burned through his palms, searing flesh instantly.
Red cracks of molten light split across the shell like veins of lava.
The egg had never reacted like this before.
Because it knew:
This blood is not Pendragon.
Not worthy. Not mine.
The thief stumbled back, howling, as fire burst from his sleeves.
The tent began to melt around the edges from the heat.
Leo arrived in a blur.
He grabbed the egg—
And the fire died instantly.
The cracks cooled.
The glow softened.
The egg hummed like a purring beast finally soothed.
Daenerys jolted awake, terrified.
"Leo… what happened?!"
Leo set the egg down gently.
"It didn't want to be taken," he said calmly.
Daenerys looked from the charred tent, to the thief writhing in the dirt, to the egg resting peacefully in Leo's hands.
"That… that heat—why didn't it burn you?"
Leo looked into the firelight, expression unreadable.
"Maybe it knows its master."
Daenerys stared at him with a mixture of fear—and awe.
AFTERMATH
The Dothraki spoke in hushed voices:
"The egg breathes fire."
"The khaleesi's child hates thieves."
"The shadow man touched it unharmed…"
Jorah watched Leo more carefully now.
He had seen many things across Essos.
But never an egg that tried to kill someone.
And certainly never a man it refused to burn.
THE HEARTFLAME IS WAKING
Later that night, when the camp returned to uneasy silence, Leo finally stepped away from the Dothraki.
He moved far from the fires, out to an empty stretch of grass under the moon.
Only then did he hear it:
A faint mechanical hum.
A cold vibration in his skull.
—SYSTEM ALERT—
DRAGON HEARTFLAME REACTIVITY: 62%
STATUS: WAKING
WARNING: HATCHING MAY OCCUR PREMATURELY.
RISKS:
— Uncontrolled fire surge
— Mental imprint instability
— Rogue bonding attempt
— Detection by magical entities
Leo's eyes widened.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
Not yet.
The Heartflame Egg was meant to hatch months from now — after Daenerys hatched hers, after the funeral pyre, after the timeline stabilized.
But now…
The system continued:
CAUSE OF ACCELERATION:
— Host contact
— Host Pendragon bloodline resonance
— Host emotional instability
— External threat detected
— Egg reacted in defense of chosen blood
Leo muttered under his breath:
"Great. So saving one thief-immolated idiot woke up a dragon early."
The system pulsed again:
WARNING:
If the egg hatches now,
the dragon will bond only with the Pendragon bloodline.
Daenerys will not be able to claim it.
Leo's chest tightened.
He had never intended to steal a dragon from her.
She deserved them.
They were her birthright.
But the system was absolute.
Pendragon blood. Pendragon bond. Pendragon fire.
No Targaryen — not even Daenerys — could override this.
He clenched his fist.
"Not good… not good."
The system delivered the last message slowly, as if weighing it:
HOST LEO PENDRAGON, YOUR DESTINY BRANCH HAS SHIFTED.
THE RED DRAGON WILL BE YOUR GUARDIAN.
THE MOTHER OF DRAGONS WILL REACT STRONGLY.
PREPARE FOR CONSEQUENCES.
Leo closed his eyes.
A dragon was waking.
A real dragon.
And it was waking for him.
THE NIGHT THE SKY CHANGED
Daenerys had sensed it before she even reached Leo's tent.
A pressure.
A heat.
A heartbeat that was not hers.
She pushed open the flap—
And stopped.
The Red Egg on Leo's table was glowing like molten steel, the shell pulsing with light.
Leo stood over it, knife in hand, a fresh cut across his palm.
She whispered, breathless:
"It's hatching…"
Leo glanced at her—
not surprised she came, only surprised she came alone.
"Not yet," he said softly. "But soon. And if we do this… we do it together."
Her violet eyes widened.
"Together?"
He held out his bleeding palm.
"Pendragon blood is waking this one.
But I won't leave your dragons behind.
If we bond them now… all four will hatch.
At once."
Daenerys felt her heart slam against her ribs.
"All… four?"
Leo nodded.
"You want to be Mother of Dragons?
Tonight you become it."
She stepped closer without thinking.
Her hand trembled, but her voice didn't.
"What must I do?"
THE RITUAL OF BLOOD AND FIRE
Leo pressed his cut hand to the Red Egg.
Immediately, the shell drank his blood like parched earth.
A shockwave of heat blasted through the tent.
Cracks spidered across the surface.
Daenerys gasped.
The egg wasn't breaking open—
it was breathing.
Leo whispered:
"Your turn."
Daenerys swallowed, drew her dagger, and sliced her palm.
The pain meant nothing.
She pressed her blood to her three eggs—green, gold, and black.
The reaction was instant.
All three erupted in light.
Four hearts beat as one.
A bond older than Valyria.
A rite older than dragons.
Leo spoke the words the system whispered into his mind:
"Blood to flame…
Flame to life…
Life to rider…
Rider to dragon."
The eggs glowed brighter—so bright Daenerys had to shut her eyes.
When she opened them again—
Leo's eyes were burning gold.
Pendragon blood fully awakened.
She whispered, awed:
"You… look like a dragon."
He didn't deny it.
THE FUNERAL PYRE BECOMES A BIRTHPLACE
At dawn they had the traitors, slavers, and the backstabbers bound on the pyre—just as Daenerys had ordered.
Jorah watched silently, noticing one thing:
Leo and Daenerys were not afraid of the flames.
They placed the four eggs atop the pyre—
nestled in wood, oil, bone, and blood.
Daenerys took Leo's hand.
"Walk with me."
"Until the end."
The pyre was lit.
Fire roared upward like a living beast.
The Dothraki fell to their knees.
No mortal could step into that inferno.
But Daenerys Targaryen walked forward.
And Leo Pendragon walked beside her.
THE SYSTEM SPEAKS
—SYSTEM: FIRE IMMUNITY ACTIVATED—
Cause: Dragon-Hatching Protocol
Duration: Permanent
Note: Pendragon bloodline recognized by Draconic Core
—WARNING: FOUR HEARTS ARE ABOUT TO AWAKEN—
PREPARE FOR SOUL IMPRINTING
Leo barely heard the words.
The fire was too loud.
Alive.
Hungry.
Joyful.
The eggs began to scream—
not in pain, but in birthsong.
Daenerys held Leo's hand tighter.
"Is it happening?"
He smiled through the flames:
"Yes."
THE BIRTH OF FOUR DRAGONS
The eggs split.
Not like fragile shells—
but like stone breaking under divine force.
Four hatchlings emerged:
A red dragon, wings shimmering like fireglass.
It screamed, locked eyes with Leo—
and imprinted instantly.
A green one, sharp and sleek.
A gold one, proud and loud.
A black one, silent and ancient-looking.
They crawled toward Daenerys, curling at her feet, chirping like newborns seeking their mother.
The Dothraki screamed in terror.
Jorah dropped to one knee.
But Leo and Daenerys stood unmoving.
The flames died around them.
The smoke parted.
And the world saw—
A red dragon perched on Leo's shoulder.
Three dragons curling around Daenerys like living shadows.
The true beginning of legends.
The Mother of Dragons.
And the Pendragon Reborn.
THE DOTHRAKI KNEEL TO FIRE-MADE GODS
One of the bloodriders, Kohollo, fell to his knees.
"Vezhof."
A god.
Another rider followed.
Then another.
Soon hundreds of Dothraki were kneeling—
not to a Khal…
but to Daenerys and Leo standing unburned inside a dead fire, dragons wrapped around them like children around their parents.
"Khaleesi!" they roared.
"Zaldrīzes!"
Dragons.
Then their eyes shifted to Leo.
To the red dragon on his shoulder—
a creature that hissed at anyone who drew too close.
"Vezhof Anha!"
A male god.
The Dragon-Blooded.
Daenerys glanced at Leo, almost shyly.
"They're kneeling to you."
"They're kneeling to you too."
"No," she whispered. "They kneel to us."
For the first time, together, they looked like the future.
Not conquerors.
Not rulers.
A King and Queen forged in fire.
JORAH MORMONT CONFRONTS HIM
When the chanting faded and the khalasar dispersed to set up camp, Jorah approached carefully.
The red dragon lifted its head and growled low.
Leo raised a calming hand.
"He's protective. Still new to the world."
Jorah exhaled shakily.
"I… I watched you walk into fire. With my own eyes. Flames hotter than a forge."
Leo said nothing.
"You didn't burn," Jorah whispered. "Your clothes didn't burn. The fire bent around you like it feared to touch you."
Still Leo stayed silent.
"And the egg," Jorah stepped closer, voice low.
"I saw it… drink your blood."
The red dragon bared its teeth.
Jorah swallowed hard, but refused to back away.
"Leo… I followed Daenerys because I believed in her destiny. But you—"
He shook his head.
"You are something different."
Finally, Leo answered quietly.
"I am Daenerys' protector.
Not her rival.
Not her enemy."
Jorah studied him—
the metal arm, the unburned skin, the dragon's possessive loyalty.
"And what are you?" he whispered.
Leo met his gaze.
"A Pendragon."
Jorah froze.
The name hit him like a hammer.
"That… bloodline is myth.
Older than Valyria.
Older than the Freehold.
They were the first dragon riders, before the Targaryens ever dreamed of fire."
Leo simply lifted his hand.
The red dragon nuzzled its head into his palm like a newborn.
Jorah took a step back, breath caught in his throat.
"Gods…" he whispered.
"A true dragonlord."
Leo corrected him gently:
"Two dragonlords.
Daenerys is the other."
Jorah bowed his head—not in worship, but in respect.
"I only hope," he murmured, "you both use this power to save the world, not burn it."
Leo smiled faintly.
"Why not both?"