The black dragon skeleton loomed like a hill, commanding instant attention.
Its jaws were the most prominent feature, lined with teeth like black swords, capable of swallowing an aurochs whole, or perhaps even a mammoth from the frozen wastes beyond the Wall.
Over two hundred meters long with a wingspan exceeding six hundred, this dragon was a leviathan, a living fossil of the dragon race—truly one that blotted out the sun.
If it was a she-dragon, she must have been the mother of dragons.
Male or female, a dragon of this size was undoubtedly a legendary engine of war.
The skeleton lay sprawled across the ruin hill and the tower, frozen in a posture of flight, now one with the debris of Valyria.
It seemed a Dragonlord had attempted to fly away during the Doom, only to perish in the cataclysm.
Viserys had only seen Balerion's skull as a child; now he stood before the complete skeleton of a colossal ancient dragon.
"How could a dragon this old even fly?" It was his only thought.
Dragons grew larger and older until they no longer had the strength to lift themselves.
A year before the Black Dread died, he stopped growing. He became sluggish, heavy, difficult to wake.
When the first Viserys Targaryen claimed him, Balerion struggled into the air, circled King's Landing thrice, and landed.
The Prince believed the dragon no longer had the strength to fly even to Dragonstone.
Looking at this awe-inspiring skeleton, Viserys suspected only one possibility: blood magic.
"A miracle," Viserys murmured.
The flower of flame still flickered in the dragon's eye socket.
Viserys noticed an incongruity immediately: there was no sign of the dragonrider's remains. Very strange.
It was unlikely the rider had simply turned to dust while the dragon remained.
Viserys guided Sunfyre to circle carefully above the tower and the ruin hill, surveying the desolation below.
After several passes around the skeleton, Viserys concluded there wasn't much to scavenge from the dragon itself.
The flame flower was eerie; he left it alone for now.
The only remaining value lay in the tower.
Viserys examined the ruined Tower of the Blood Faction. Dragonlord towers were built of fused black stone, enduring even when lava once flowed beneath them.
The black stone was shaped into dragon forms everywhere, the tower narrowing as it rose.
It looked as if a titan had snapped the tower with a mighty hand, leaving a jagged scar where the topless crown should have been.
The black tower was coated inside and out with a layer of dark, oily substance, like a skin.
This oily pigment dripped from the scattered stones into the barrier lake and flowed down the stream.
This was the barrier agent of the Blood Faction laboratory, preventing any pets from escaping.
After some thought, Viserys decided to enter the laboratory.
As a precaution, he coated his armor with some of the barrier mud.
Just as he finished, a figure appeared abruptly at the tower's entrance.
Viserys saw the "person"—or humanoid monster—clad in magnificent armor.
The knight was covered from head to toe in ornate but functional golden plate armor. Valyrian steel—light as silk, hard as diamond.
On each shoulder pauldron roared a golden dragon with exquisite ruby eyes.
Each dragon bore a blood-drop gem on its forehead, seeming to have survived the storms of time.
Golden discs protected the joints at the elbows and shoulders, painted with red and gold dancing dragons.
A lobstered skirt of gold protected the waist and thighs, and a sturdy gorget guarded the neck.
Viserys saw a golden helmet discarded nearby. It had dragon wings on the sides and a visor shaped like a roaring dragon's snout, leaving only a slit for vision.
The crest was a proud, fierce golden dragon, wings spread in a roar.
The unexpected guest wore no helmet, revealing a refined, elegant face.
He looked about twenty, with silver-gold hair and inhuman beauty.
He was thin as a sword, and just as dangerous.
Viserys rarely admitted anyone was better looking than himself—his own looks were top-tier—but he had to acknowledge this young man possessed the noble bearing of an ancient Dragonlord family.
Shockingly, a small red gem dagger was deeply embedded in the young man's jaw.
A teardrop-shaped blood-ruby on his forehead glittered with his movements.
"A Blood Faction Dragonlord?" Viserys surmised.
Only the Blood Faction was obsessed with blood-rubies, and this Dragonlord had modified his own body.
Stabbing a dagger into his jaw might have been an emergency measure during a fatal injury, the cost being an eternity as a blood wight in the ruins.
One of the young man's eyes was purple, the other an unnatural, eerie red that burned to look at.
Viserys suspected the red eye was a side effect of excessive magic use, like the albino skin and red eye of Bloodraven, a greenseer.
Or the blue lips of the Warlocks of Qarth from drinking shade of the evening.
Viserys gripped True Dragon. He felt he couldn't leave; the ancient Dragonlord, unaged by dust, had noticed him.
"Daerys Dacarys." The Blood Faction Dragonlord spoke his name, drew his longsword, and strode toward Viserys.
The crossguard of his sword was formed by two back-to-back roaring blood-red dragons, their tails knotted around a central blood-drop ruby.
The dragons' eyes were rubies, their wings forming the guard.
The blade bore a strange blood-red ripple pattern, a weeping sword.
Viserys was speechless. He hadn't provoked this ancient Dragonlord, yet he was under attack.
Daerys struck, his speed astonishing.
The weeping sword glowed with an eerie red light, bringing a wind of blood.
Viserys wanted to call Sunfyre, but there was no time. He drew True Dragon.
The battle ignited instantly. No one watched but Sunfyre, circling anxiously in the sky, afraid to spew fire and hurt Viserys.
Daerys's sword moved like a living thing.
Viserys leaped back, wielding True Dragon.
Purple blade aura clashed with blood-red blade aura.
Viserys saw the swords kiss, part, kiss, and part again.
A battle between dragons: silver armor against gold, purple sword against red.
Black dragon against gold dragon, ancient Valyrian bloodlines clashing.
Viserys had never faced such a terrifying opponent. It was like fighting a man burning with fevered blood.
Viserys relied on the magic of blood and fire and his talents.
Daerys relied on the power of blood magic.
"Daenys."
"Daenys."
As Daerys attacked, he called out a name. A woman's name.
Like Lady Stoneheart, the young Dragonlord seemed driven by a single obsession after the horror of the Doom.
Lady Stoneheart's obsession was vengeance; she had lost her former kindness, consumed by the desire to punish those who betrayed her and Robb.
Daerys's obsession was Daenys.