Chapter 264
The throne room had never felt this heavy before.
It wasn’t the gold-trimmed walls or the towering windows—it was the eyes. Watching. Waiting. Judging.
I stood at the foot of the raised platform, not seated on the throne yet, though it was clearly meant for me now. The dragons had chosen me. The people had started whispering my name like it carried weight. But not everyone believed. Not yet.
The council was gathered in full this morning. Twelve men and women of power, legacy, and varying degrees of skepticism. Some had ruled Westeroz in the shadows for decades. Others were new, fresh blood, trying not to get drowned by the tides of change.
My Alpha stood beside me, arms crossed, expression carved from stone. His presence was a warning to them all. I didn’t need to look at him to know I had his full backing.
I didn’t need a savior.
But I wasn’t naive enough to think I didn’t need strength behind me.
“Let’s begin,” I said, my voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.
A few flinched. Good.
Lord Vellan, gray-bearded and sharp-eyed, stepped forward. “Your Grace,” he said, not quite bowing. “There’s much we need to address. Reports have come from the northern outposts—three villages abandoned. Burned.”
I felt the shift in the room. My stomach turned.
“Survivors?” I asked.
“None found. Only scorched earth.” He paused. “Some believe it was dragon fire.”
A flicker of fear rippled through the council. I could taste it.
I didn’t glance at him—but I felt the Alpha step closer, protective. Calm.
“They were still chained when I saw them,” I said. “They wouldn’t have done this. Not yet.”
“Not unless something—or someone—woke one prematurely,” said Lady Arlen from the southern isles. Her gown was blood-red silk, her eyes darker. “Can you be certain it wasn’t one of yours, Queen?”
The accusation was barely veiled.
I straightened my shoulders. “They are not weapons to be feared. They are protectors.”
“And what happens when protectors forget who they serve?” Arlen snapped back. “Dragons are not loyal by nature.”
Before I could answer, the Alpha’s voice cut in—low and firm.
“She didn’t ask for your permission. She’s telling you what’s already begun.”
Silence.
A long one.
He didn’t often speak in these meetings, but when he did, it quieted even the boldest voices.
I let the silence breathe before speaking. “Westeroz is changing. You all feel it. You can’t pray it away or debate it into submission. The dragons are waking. Magic is shifting. The old order is gone.”
“And what replaces it?” someone muttered.
I stepped up the stairs and sat down on the throne—not slowly, not dramatically. Just decisively.
“I do.”
The room held its breath.
I leaned forward. “The dragons are mine. That means their wrath, their loyalty, and their protection are mine to command. But if one of them has broken free... then I will find out who woke it—and I’ll handle it.”
Murmurs.
Vellan cleared his throat. “Forgive the bluntness, Your Grace, but… how do you intend to handle such a beast?”
I smiled, just slightly. “You let me worry about the fire. You worry about keeping this court from tearing itself apart before we even get to battle.”
The Alpha smirked beside me—just a twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth. It felt like approval.
I rose again. “I’ll ride east tonight. I want scouts ready. I want the old records on dragon tamers brought to my chamber. We’re done dancing in circles.”
As I turned to leave, Arlen called after me. “And if the people fear you? What if they begin to see you as the monster, not the savior?”
I stopped at the door. Glanced over my shoulder.
“Then they’ll learn that monsters bleed too. But I don’t die easy.”
\---
Later, in my chambers, the light was dim. The scrolls had already arrived—centuries-old parchment detailing bloodlines and forgotten rites. I was scanning them for anything—any clue on the connection between me and the dragons—when I felt it.
His presence. Again. Silent as ever.
“You didn’t need to step in,” I said, not turning around.
“I know,” he replied. “But I wanted to watch them squirm.”
I turned then. He was leaning against the wall like he’d been there for hours, arms folded, still in battle leathers.
“They don’t fear me yet,” I said. “Not really.”
“They will,” he said simply. “But that’s not what matters.”
“What does?”
“That they respect you. That you give them no room to pretend you’re weak. You did that today.”
I nodded, then sat back down. “Something’s coming. That fire wasn’t random. Someone’s stirring the dragons.”
He moved closer, stopping behind me. His fingers brushed the edge of the scroll, then my wrist.
I didn’t flinch.
“You think it’s from inside?” he asked.
“Maybe.” I hesitated. “Maybe someone from the old bloodlines.”
He stepped around me, his hand still touching mine. “Then we find them.”
I looked up at him. “Together?”
He held my gaze. “Always.”
No flowery words. No sweet promises. Just that quiet certainty I was learning to lean on.
He turned to leave, but paused at the door. “Rest tonight. You’ll need all your strength when we face what’s coming.”
I nodded, but sleep felt far away. My mind was fire and storm and shadow.
Still—I felt stronger with him on my side.
Not because he carried me.
But because he reminded me I could carry myself.
In the dead of night, I found myself in the ancient library. Lantern in hand, I descended the stone steps to the lower levels—where the old scrolls were kept, sealed by magic. Only those with dragon blood could open them.
I needed answers.
As I reached the bottom, the room hummed faintly. I held out my palm, focusing on the heat inside me. The silent roar that had grown ever since I first saw them.
A blue flame sparked from my skin, and the seal on the stone door cracked open.
The scroll inside was wrapped in velvet, brittle with age. I carefully unrolled it, scanning the symbols.
Then I saw it.
A crest—one that matched the birthmark on my lower back. A coiled dragon around a crescent moon. Next to it, the words:
"Only the Moon-Blooded shall command the true fire."
My throat went dry.
Moon-Blooded.
What did that even mean? Was it a bloodline? A chosen one? I needed more context—but I knew enough to feel the burn of truth settle in my bones.
I was more than a vessel.
I was the fire.
And someone out there feared that enough to wake a dragon before its time.
I rolled the scroll up, heart pounding. The war hadn't started yet.
But I had just heard its first whisper.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
