Bathed In Fire

Eight: Dreams & Stones

3rd Pov

Flames. It all circles back to the flames. It all could be seen in the flames. The sound of the dragon's roar is within the raging fire, with colors of orange and red. Dragons, flames made flesh, stretch their mighty wings. They're preparing, preparing for the dance.

As the dragons soar off, one black and the other green, they fly circling the lands of the west. Pillars of light leave their throats, and they struck the earth like thunder. And like a ravenous beast, the maw of the flames devoured the land.

Blood. Blood poured from the skies, for the dragons are wounded. And as the blood fell it crashed into the sea, and the ocean did boil from its heat. Once blue like the sky above, the waters now ran red with death. And as the sea boiled, both dragons, green and black, fell to the earth below.

For the dragons that once soared high above all, now fell beneath all others. And with the end of these two great beasts did come the end of an era. Stags, lions, wolves, and Roses. They all wished to possess the power to sore above all, to be like the dragon. And with cunning and lies, the last of the dragons seemed to die. An end of an era. Fire and Blood reigned down on all, with only the sound of bells ringing in the air.

The Dance of Dragons, too great for any to bear.

Dracarys

Dracarys awoke, sweat covered his form. That dream. Ever since his time unconscious a year ago, that same dream continued to plague him every night. The prince looked around his room within the keep of High Tide. Sometimes being in this room hurt the boy. The last time he spoke to his father, that was all he could think of at times.

With a deep and heavy sigh, Dracarys cast aside his blankets and rose from his bed. In his nude form, the boy went over to his closet to clothe himself. Ever since that night, his body seemed to burn like a furnace and because of it, he couldn't do with clothes at night. The sweat from his dragon dreams combined with his natural body heat made for clothes to be far too uncomfortable, especially when they stuck to his form.

Looking through the closet, the young prince pulled out a white shirt, black breeches, a thick leather belt, and a grey vest. He then prepared a steaming hot bath for himself. Whilst bathing the prince became lost in his thoughts. He hadn't seen his family in a year, and Dracarys began to wonder how his younger brothers were faring. He truly did miss his bronze dragons. The prince dragged a hand through his loose, now wet, curls. The Valyrian boy's hair grew back fast and long, more so than when he had to have it cut. He now had hair that fell to his shoulders, a curly side part guiding his platinum blonde hair from his scalp.

Dracarys gave a light hiss as his nails grazed the scar on the back of his head. It couldn't be seen, but there wasn't a day that went by that the boy didn't feel the effects of that scar. Dracarys at times now struggled with the common tongue, he had to re-learn bits of the speech. And of course, there were his seizures. They're not often, but every once in a while, the boy would suddenly spasm and in some cases lose consciousness. However, Dracarys was strong, and with that strength, he's done his best to overcome these new hurdles.

Dracarys leaned back in his bath as he looked up towards the ceiling. He wish his mind couldn't help but wonder, not while the boy left such an ever-present mark on him. He wondered how the green prince healed, if at all. Though in his mind he knew he should hate the boy, Dracarys couldn't help but still care for him to some degree. But as he thought of these things, he didn't realize his hand clasped around the sapphire that hang on his neck. He didn't realize the strength at which he gripped it until he noticed a single drop of blood.

Quickly cleaning his hand, Dracarys thought it best to keep the Hightower prince off his mind. Having finished his bath, Dracarys quickly dried and then dressed.