Larazorno Baerrar

Tyrosh was burning thanks to the renewed might of the Alchemists of Westeros... or perhaps it was less them and more their patron. And who knows were that one discovered such lore of fire and steel. Even in their decline, they could create wildfire, and so was it any surprise that now revitalized that they were capable of so much more. Such as however they were getting a ship made of metal, one that was seemingly burning, to remaining floating as it launched barrels of something more than oil but thankfully less than wildfire into the city. The barrels still exploded, but water could fight it.

But that was merely one good thing in the ten hours since the attack began. In part, it felt less as if they had been trying to burn down the city, so much as keep them occupied, to keep them pinned while they did... something. He was not sure what, even as some of his men had brought him examples of plate armor, armor that they had claimed had been fighting them, even as it had been filled with nothing but ash. Such sorcery, such power was both tempting and terrifying, as it brought to mind whispers of what some of the red priests could do.

But these acts were greater and more potent by far, even as the ground began to dance, cracks in the wall as the land heaved, fingers of flame stretching from the earth as if seeking prey. And then the sky roared as pillars of flame raced into it, his head swerving as he caught sight of multiple pillars. Sea fire danced between them, wreathing bolts of lightning, men screaming and casting down their arms as they tried to flee, women and children shrieking as animals fought with maddened strength to escape.

There was something beyond the fires, something inside of the space those dreadful pillars marked as the world heaved once more, and then went still. Bones erupted from a wall, from a building near him, a clawed forelimb as something was pulling itself back together, fire compressing and solidifying in place of missing bones as dragons roared, as they were dragged or fought back from the lands of the dead! The dragons his ancestors had slain after dragon riders took refuge in Tyrosh after the doom. Dragons who had been slain as they slept and were not roused from what should have been eternal slumber.

He opened his mouth to give orders... even as jaws and fangs closed around him and he knew no more.

Corlys Velaryon

He sailed into ruin, into the ashen remains of what had once been a powerful city, and was now nothing more than a burned and gutted shell of itself. Oh, it was hardly totally destroyed, even as it displayed all the signs of being subjected to flames. Flames that has suddenly been doused or quenched, or, if he was reading things correctly, pulled away elsewhere as if they were nothing more than thread on a loom.

More and more he was seeing the proof of Baleon's power. A part of him was curious why the boy was hiding it, even as the sane part of him wanted to recoil at the forces on display, on the fact that this was not something that mortal men could touch. He was a proud man, but he had earned his pride with his deeds, carving a legend that would be remembered. And yet, what was his name in the face of... this?

His boots crunched on the ashes, as he walked towards the center of activity, where alchemists and flame marked soldiers, as well as knights enclosed entirely in metal, gathered. There, on a throne, surrounded by dragons, sat the prince on a throne of ash and iron, embers still burning. But that was not the most impressive thing of this court, as he felt his mouth go dry. No, it was the dragons. Several dragons, more than he had thought had been alive in the world, none of which he recognized. His could not show weakness, even as his palms had drops of sweat, as he schooled his face into a mask. "How is this possible my prince?"

Because the dragons were surrounding him like loyal courtiers, not the mighty beasts that he knew them to be, even as one of them spoke. "Ah, our little lord is full of surprises, is he not?" The surrounding dragons chuckled, the gleams in their eyes now sending swords of ice along his spine, as the greatest predators looked at him, weighed him. "Death is so cold, so still. Better to be alive, even as he makes us..." It was disturbing to see a dragon almost try tasting the words. "More than we were."

Baleon chuckled, the sounds echoing strangely. "Lord Velaryon, you know me to be a sorcerer. Would you be surprised if I told you that..." The boy seemed to think of something. "Ah, perhaps a metaphor. Most see time proceeding at exactly the same pace. However, it is more accurate to say that time is a current in the ocean of existence. It is possible to slip away to other currents that can move faster or slower, and then back to the same current that most are on. However, doing so without an anchor can make it hard to find ones way back."

The boy smiled warmly. "Which is to say, I'm a bit older than I look, and I can truthfully say that much of my magical success comes from navigating other worlds and studying." He waved to several humanoid shapes close at hand (easy to overlook in the presence of dragons). "After all, I am able to teach some of these secrets and even..." His lips quirked in amusement. "Improve on the works of my ancestors."

There was something unspoken, and one of the dragons leaned down, its head on level with him, as he reached out, fingers scratching the mighty beasts head, both sets of eyes looking into his own as he was forced to rethink... everything.

Saera Targaryen

It was a ghastly thing to grow old. At fifty and nine years old, she still commanded fabulous wealth and a great deal of influence, to say nothing of the influence that her sons brought her... and yet while she still retained some of her beauty... alas, it was but a shadow of what it was in her youth. No, she would have to be content to see herself in her daughters and that boys, the silly creatures that they were, yet vied for her favor and ear, if no longer her bed.

It was enough to make a girl pout, but she only drank her wine off the most delightful boys and girls of her pleasure houses, and they were not at hand. No, she was meeting with her adorable little nephew and discussing, along with the rather minor details of what it would take for Lys to be spared the flame and the sack given all the dragons at his command and the pyromancers that could show up the Red Priests, what it would take for the dear boy to restore her youth.

"Oh, and of course, I would place myself at your disposal." She winked at him. "After all, a sorcerer prince such as yourself should have at least one mistress and while Volantis does not bend?" She waved a hand, and giggled. "Well, Lys knows who its queen is." She fluttered her eyelashes, as while it was rather different from her youth, alas, needs must. Oh. "And I am curious, what would you require to design a saddle so that I could ride a dragons belly, their maleness sheathed inside of me?"

As her son and two of her daughters (along with Nephew and several of the dragons) just looked flatly at her, she snorted. "Please, what member of our bloodline hasn't wanted to fuck a dragon?"