Visenya sat atop Vhagar, her dragon’s massive wings cutting through the sky like the sweep of a great blade. The wind howled around her, but Visenya’s focus was unshakable, her violet eyes set on the distant lands below—lands she had once burned and conquered. Now they lay quiet, a kingdom built from the ashes of rebellion, yet still in need of strength.

Vhagar’s roar echoed through the clouds, the dragon’s presence a constant reminder of the power she wielded, not just as a Conquer but as a woman who had never shied away from the battlefield.

Her hand tightened on the reins as they soared higher, the sun dipping low on the horizon. Below, the world seemed small, insignificant, and Visenya allowed herself a rare moment of peace as she felt the pulse of her dragon beneath her. It was a bond few could understand—a bond forged in fire, in blood, and in war.

“You think too much, sister,” came a voice behind her, familiar, a playful tone that didn’t quite fit the situation.

Visenya did not turn, but she knew Aegon was close. “Perhaps. But in the sky, there are no shadows. Only the truth of what we are.”

Aegon landed beside her, his dragon, the mighty Sunfyre, settling with a graceful ease. “And what is that?”

Visenya’s gaze remained fixed on the horizon, her voice cold and steady. “We are the storm that never ends. The conquerors who will shape the world in our image.”

Aegon smirked, though his eyes darkened. “And the world is yours to command.”

Visenya’s lips curled into a thin smile. “It is. But remember, Aegon, even the mightiest of dragons must sometimes bow to the flame they create.”

And with that, she urged Vhagar onward, her figure a silhouette against the blood-red sky, as untamable as the dragon she rode.