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THEA'S ANCESTORSDIDN'T burn or drown with the rest of their race. Centuries before the destruction, a handful of maegys abandoned the capital with their families. Among the bunch was Aeron Valaryen. He and his descendants slinked away to a fertile, habitable yet remote island with their dragons and the Ember. With arts now lost to the world, they transformed a tiny outpost into a fortress named Dragonfort. Aeron's descendants settled into it like a tomb for their lost homeland.
Until Rhaenar came of age. When he looked east, he saw old and dead. But west and the heavens above were a whole new world, a new stronghold, and a golden legacy of blood and fyre.
Theadora clung to her cultural and familial history with a vice-like grasp. When times got tough, and she needed motivation to keep moving forward, she imagined her ancestors looking down at her, their spirits filling her up. It was the strength that like their dragons, the Valaryens didn't answer to gods or who they perceived were lesser men— pretty holier-than-thou she had to admit at times. But history was important.
Nobody stole from dragons. They would remember and their fire would only grow hotter as time abided. Thea had everything taken away from her, most of which she couldn't even remember. As of seven hours ago, she had just lost her image, her confidence in herself, and the trust of the most influential man on the planet.
Now, Thea stared at the empty cedar chest, her teeth clenched so hard, that they were going to shatter in her mouth. Her fingertips clutched the velvet damasks and for a second, she could feel the warmth of the eggs once again. Only for a second.
"Holy shit," Bex murmured. She looked around the room that was perfectly intact— save for the window. Even the delicate string of lights draping from her ceiling didn't budge. Any of the Valoqar-dressed people would've not minded making a mess. They only wrecked the glass to prove their presence. To make a statement, a show of ruthlessness to whoever bought their service.
And Thea was ready to make hers.
"Hey," her best friend called softly, catching the brooding anger on the girl's face. When she didn't answer, Bex tried again, "Hey, look, I know this is bad, okay? We-we can fix this."
Thea couldn't comprehend what she was saying. Her mind was abuzz with details and the voices speaking them. It was Sera's first, remarking the theft of all the dragon eggs left in Dragonfort during the aftermath of its siege. So many eggs except two— two that were entrusted to her. It may have been the last living legacy of her family. Now they've slipped through her fingers.
"The Allfather did this," Thea remarked lowly. Silence hung between them and Thea looked up, fire burning in her ice eyes. "I'm gonna kill him."
Bex's eyes widened and she made hasty steps away from Thea who was controlling tendrils of fire that manifested her uniform in a glimmer of light. "Whoa, wait? You're gonna go to space to kill a god?"
