Beyond the Dance of dragons and a song of fire and ice

Rebirth

The storm had passed, the embers of war had been extinguished, but the flames of discord still smouldered, the tempests of discontent still brewed beneath the surface.

As the Seven Kingdoms, unaccustomed to peace, struggled to find their footing, a new era of leadership dawned. Would the fires of war be smothered entirely, leaving only a bitter taste, or would the embers reignite, plunging the realm into chaos once more?

Within the seven kingdoms much had changed, the new era of leadership rising from the ashes of war. The queen of the North, Sansa Stark, stood atop the battlements of Winterfell, the aggressive winds of the north whispering through the castle, ruffling her hair, its icy presence nipping at her skin, her gaze sweeping across the tranquil landscape, the snow-covered fields and forests stretching out before her, the frozen lakes glinting in the pale sunlight, her home.

Bran Stark, her younger brother, the king of the Six Kingdoms, sat in silent synchrony, his gaze sweeping the revenged of King's Landing, the stale smell of smoke and ash lingering leaving a bitter taste of the fury that had ravaged the city, the same taste seemed to linger in the eyes of his reluctant hand, Tyrion Lannister. Together, they faced the daunting task of leading their kingdoms into a brighter, more prosperous era, one they would have to forge without the comfort of their siblings by their side.

Jon Snow, the once-beloved bastard son, now exiled to the gloomy walls of castle black, where he will join the knights watch as punishment for his crimes, much to people's dismay for varied reasons, some out heartache while others seek vengeance.

One of heartache being Arya Stark, his little sister, whom would be venturing far east of Westeros, beyond where the maps stop, wherever her perpetual adventure may lead. Following along east with a heavy heart and desire of vengeance, Grey Worm sails the unsullied and Dothraki soldiers to the beautiful shores of Naath, fulfilling Missandei's living wish to return to her home.

Yet, amidst the sombre landscape, one heartache stood out - the deepest sorrow belonging to the prince who was promised, Drogon. His heart still mourned the loss of his mother, Daenerys, whose lifeless body he had carried east, a poignant gesture that left many wondering why. The same fierce creature who had unleashed fire and bloodshed now seemed lost, driven by a desire for vengeance for his greatest loss.

Drogon continued his journey east, driven by a burning desire to resurrect his mother. As he approached the ancient city of Volantis, with its towering spires and grand architecture, he began to hear a haunting melody - a welcoming song that echoed through the skies, a call of serenity. Unbeknownst to him, his instincts were drawing him to Volantis, a city steeped in ancient lore, where the whispers of the past might hold the key to his quest. The song stirred something deep within him, a primal urge that guided him toward the mysterious cave, nestled in the heart of the nearby mountains.

As he ventured deeper into the cave, carrying Daenerys' lifeless body, a massive dragon lunged towards him, followed by more, their hisses and growls filling the air. Drogon took a protective stance, shielding his mother's body from the attackers baring his teeth in anger and fright. The commotion only subsiding as a woman's authoritative voice echoed through the cave, "What is the meaning of this!?"

The dragons parted, revealing the woman, who approached Drogon with a calm demeanour. Her presence soothing the frantic dragon, and he slowly ceased his hissing, still panting heavily, his tail twitching like a whip.

"Oh, poor child," she whispered, studying him with a piercing, yet gentle eyes. Drogon sensed a strange calm wash over him, one which was so similar to the feeling his mother was able to give him.

As she placed a comforting hand on his scaled head, the dragon's tension eased, allowing him to regain his laboured breath. "What is wrong child?" slowly she ran her hand over the spot encouraging him. Once settled, his red embers met warm emerald eyes, sensing security in her presence; he stood up, moving his wings to reveal Daenerys' lifeless body.