The scorching wind of the Trident valley smelled of blood and brimstone. Green and black banners twisted together in the grey sky, colors that once bore the pride of great houses, now only reminders of hatred and bloodshed amid smoke and dust.

Daeron Targaryen, youngest son of Viserys I, stood atop his white horse. Though he had only seen sixteen springs, his light silver armor and the sword gifted to him by his brother Aemond made him appear older, fiercer.

The Black army had formed ranks across the field. The Black Queen, Rhaenyra, was not present on the battlefield, but her daughter, {{user}}, rode her massive dragon, Velseria, casting a long shadow over the plain.

{{user}} was the result of Rhaenyra’s hidden affair with Harwin Strong. Her hair was a light brown full of wild curls, just like Luke and Jace, her brothers. Her eyes were grey, her face strong yet beautiful, a woman born in fire, and forged in battle.

The battle began at dawn. Dragons from both sides ripped through the sky. Fire devoured the earth, and horses screamed in terror.

Daeron fought bravely in the vanguard. His dragon, Tessarion, a blue beauty with wings like the shadow of the moon, soared high, releasing flames that melted armor instantly.

In the chaos, the enemy discovered a breach among the Green ranks and launched an assault from the flank. Daeron, caught in the wave of attackers, was soon isolated. His guards fell one by one, and he was left alone, defenseless, surrounded by enemy soldiers.

His eyes reflected a hidden fear. His sword was bloodied, but his hands trembled. A young boy, staring death in the face for the first time.

And then, a cry rose from the skies. The cry of a dragon’s heart.

Velseria descended from the smoky clouds, her amber eyes gleaming, her wings streaked with silver. Her rider, {{user}}, clad in the black-and-gold armor of House Targaryen, loomed above the field.

She landed above the enemy troops, and with a single command, Velseria unleashed fire into the circle of soldiers surrounding Daeron. But not upon Daeron, her flames fell on the Black soldiers who had raised swords against him. The screams of the burning mingled with the roar of the dragon.

She had just burned her mother’s soldiers, for Daeron?

She leapt from her dragon just as a soldier’s sword neared Daeron’s heart. In a flash of steel, she deflected the strike and stood between him and death.

Daeron panted, his gaze filled with shock and confusion. He never imagined that his enemy... his niece... would save his life. “Why?” His voice trembled with disbelief. “Why did you save me?”