Rhaenys Targaryen had grown up surrounded by dragons. She had seen countless of them—majestic, ferocious, and awe-inspiring—whether in the Dragonpit at King's Landing or soaring above the cliffs of Dragonstone. She thought she knew every form a dragon could take.But this… this was unlike anything she had ever witnessed.A three-headed dragon.Not in song, nor story, nor the annals of her family's long history had she encountered such a thing. It defied her understanding. The sight alone unsettled her, and yet it sparked an intense curiosity within her heart.And the boy—no, the young man—upon its back?He was not just any rider. To command not one, but two dragons the size of the Black Dread himself was rare enough. But to possess this monstrous, exotic beast unlike any in Valyrian lore? This was unprecedented. There was a story here, buried deep, one she had to uncover.Her caution warred with her intrigue. In the end, curiosity won.Rhaenys inhaled slowly, steadying herself. She leaned forward and whispered an order to her crimson dragon.> "Melyrias, approach them."To make her presence known—and perhaps to test their reaction—she commanded the Red Queen to unleash her voice.The roar that followed was like a clap of thunder splitting the heavens. It rolled through the air with the weight of a queen's decree, vibrating through the very bones of the earth.Far above, Black Dragon Im and Red Dragon Yigen were gliding in steady arcs, their massive wings cutting through the sky. The roar hit them like a challenge flung across a battlefield. Their heads snapped upward in unison, eyes flashing, and they responded with roars of their own—deep, deafening, and edged with menace.The sound tore through the clouds and shattered the peace of the moment.It also tore Rayder from his slumber.He woke with a start, silver-violet eyes snapping open, his drowsiness vanishing in an instant. For a moment he was disoriented, struggling to make sense of the echoing dragon cries. Then he turned and saw her—the figure in the distance upon a dragon entirely crimson, its vast wings tinged with pale rose. The woman sat tall and composed, her eyes fixed on him with naked curiosity.Rayder blinked, rubbed his eyes, and blinked again. Still there. A stranger on dragonback, her presence cutting through the haze of his waking mind.She was no mere wanderer. Her bearing spoke of high birth, her clothing fine and rich in detail, and the dragon beneath her a beast of no common stock.A Targaryen.The thought slid into his mind as naturally as breathing, and his heart gave a small, wary squeeze.She was watching him closely but made no move to attack. Her dragon kept a measured distance, neither advancing nor retreating. He, too, chose not to provoke.Rayder was not the sort to seek needless battles. If no one raised a sword—or claw—against him, he would keep the peace. Still, he kept his gaze sharp, studying her dragon with care. Slightly smaller than Im, perhaps, but there was a strength in it that could not be ignored. The Red Queen was no fledgling.Seeing his restraint, Rhaenys relaxed by a degree. Her hand on Melyrias's neck eased. She gave a soft command, and the Red Queen angled her wings, closing the distance between them in a slow, deliberate glide.At last, when they were near enough for expressions to be read and words to carry, Rhaenys called out. Her voice was cool and clear, but tinged with the warmth of curiosity.> "Greetings, Dragon Rider from afar. Would you descend so we may speak face-to-face?"Rayder considered her invitation. His mind weighed the risk against the opportunity. In these fractured times, with cities in turmoil and powers shifting daily, information was a currency more valuable than gold. Perhaps she could tell him more about the Targaryens' stance, about the state of the realm beyond the borders he had roamed.After a moment's thought, he inclined his head in agreement.Rhaenys did not hesitate. She guided Melyrias into a gentle descent, the great beast rumbling softly as she lowered toward the open ground below.Rayder turned to Im and gave a simple order.> "Land."The black dragon obeyed, wings folding slightly as he began to spiral downward. Yigen followed without protest, and Kidora, the three-headed colossus, dipped after them in perfect formation.They touched down on a wide, flat stretch near the grassland's edge. Yet even on solid ground, neither side moved in close. A respectful distance was kept, each weighing the other in the silence between them.Rhaenys's eyes fixed on Rayder. The silver hair. The violet eyes.Ancient signs of the Dragonlords.Surprise mingled with suspicion within her. Could he be one of their own—perhaps a long-lost scion of House Targaryen? Or a remnant of another Valyrian bloodline, one thought to be erased by the Doom?She decided to strip away the dance of pleasantries.> "What is your name?"Her directness came from certainty. To command dragons of this size, especially two rivaling the Black Dread himself, was no feat for an outsider. Only the blood of Old Valyria, and perhaps the very blood of her house, could account for it.In her mind, she gave it odds. Seventy percent he was a bastard son of the Targaryen line. Thirty percent he was the descendant of another Dragonlord family, one that had somehow survived the centuries. After all, history recorded the extinction of nearly all such houses when the Doom fell.Rayder was caught off guard.Her blunt question landed like a thrown dagger. What could he say? The truth was tangled, stained with shame. His family's name—stripped from them, cast out—was a wound he had no wish to open before her.Worse still, when he searched himself for a proper answer, he realized something unsettling: he no longer had a surname worth speaking. Just "Rayder." Plain, unimpressive.In this moment, standing before a woman whose heritage gleamed with gold and fire, his own name felt pitiful.His mind began to race. He needed something better—something that would not only hide his past but command respect. A name with weight, with the echo of legend.He cursed his parents inwardly for leaving him nothing. Then he began to sift through the scattered memories of his other life, searching for anything that might serve.A spark came to him.Milasith.In the days of Old Valyria, that name belonged to a god worshiped by thousands. The sound of it was heavy with age, draped in mystery. Surely borrowing a god's name would be harmless. Surely such a being would not begrudge a mortal using it for a little posturing.He tested it in his thoughts—Rayder Milasith. No thunder smote him, no voice spoke in warning.Good enough..He straightened, took a slow breath, and spoke aloud with as much poise as he could muster.> "Rayder Milasith."The reaction was immediate.Rhaenys froze. Her lips parted, her pale-violet eyes widening a fraction. She searched her memory, certain she had never once heard of a Dragonlord family bearing that name.For the first time, uncertainty flickered in her gaze.And Rayder, watching closely, wondered if perhaps he had chosen better than he realized.---
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