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𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒,dragons have enslaved the lands,basking in the warmth of the earth,conquering the skies and all those who fought against their dominion. They were a powerful force,an impenetrable species-the looming shadows of their gilded scales and colossal wings impinged dread upon those who watched from below,helpless and awaiting their doomed fate.
For as long as there were dragons,there were dragon riders-ones of similar descent,the blood of the dragon running cold in their veins,and breaching their hearts.
The Targaryen dynasty conquered the land that would become known as old Valyria,they carried the traits of the dragon-warriors of man. Hair white as snow,eyes a blustery,blood-thirsty violet. They were a force to be reckoned with-just as their dragons were.They rose above the lands,scorched their enemies,and claimed the iron throne for utility. First Aegon the conquerer and his sister wives,and now king Viserys I.
The Targaryen line defined everything that the small folk of Westeros feared. They ruled the land given to them for centuries with the power of their domineering contiguity.They were terrifying,beautiful,aristocratic.Their haunting existence loomed over the land-first Valyria,and then Westeros on the dawn of the doom of its extant.
