[Sweet Lotus Vale, Jhala - 187 AD / 85 AC]
The scent of blooming lotuses drifted on the morning breeze as the sunbathed the waters around Ebonhead in golden light. In the open hall atop the Sweet Lotus Vale, morning conversation resumed. Princess Nalla Qhara sat poised across from the Prince of Valyria, her light robes woven with bright orchid thread, her posture straight, yet uncertain.
She watched him closely. "Your presence unsettles me, Prince Balthagar," she said, careful but firm.
Vaelys Belaerys shifted beside him, his violet eyes narrowing, tone hardening. "Choose your words with care, Princess."
Balthagar lifted a hand, calm and still. "Let her speak, uncle." His voice carried no heat, only finality.
Princess Nalla exhaled slowly. "You are said to be eighteen name days old... but you stand taller than any islander warrior, built like a man twice your age. Your face bears the youth of one barely into his second decade, yet your eyes-" she hesitated, then said plainly, "-they devour. They burn. Like a flame held back by skin."
Balthagar's lips turned faintly upward. "And yet you sit across from me, unburned."
"I see a man carved by fire and shadow," she said. "It is not natural."
"Nor is Valyria," he replied.
She said nothing more. Silence fell, thick and hot like the summer air.
At last, she leaned forward and declared, "I will swear my oath. My house shall bend the knee to Draceryos."
Balthagar inclined his head. "Then let it be known that House Qhara of Jhala now stands beneath the Wings of Valyria. Your people may keep their traditions, their songs, their spirits... but know this, all matters of military, foreign trade, and the higher arts, magic, belong to Valyria. And Valyria answers to me."
She nodded. "Understood."
Balthagar stood then. "Sworn oaths, however, are wind without blood. They fade when men die."
Her daughter, seated beside her, tensed. Young, proud, fierce. "And what do you mean by that?"
"Zama," Princess Nalla warned.
But Balthagar had already answered. "I speak of blood oaths, Princess. Your mother's blood, offered in ritual, so her line remains bound. Not by trust... but by magic and blood. I may trust her. I do not know what grows in her grandchildren's hearts. This ensures they never grow traitorous."
Zama Qhara stood abruptly, but her mother raised a hand, silencing her without a word. After a long breath, Princess Nalla rose as well. "Then let it be done."
The ritual was simple but absolute. A shallow cut across her palm. Balthagar's own blood offered in return. The ancient tongue spoke through him, Valyrian twisted by sorcery, and the air grew still, charged, humming with unseen power.
The blood ran down the black steel basin etched with Draceryos runes. A soft red glow pulsed. A hiss escaped the stone beneath their feet. The pact was sealed. Not with ink, but magic.
[Palace of Qhara, Sweet Lotus Vale - 187 AD / 85 AC]
The court of House Qhara gathered the next day beneath a sky layered in pearl-white clouds, unaware of what shadows moved beneath them.
The palace was modest by Valyrian standards, but tall and ornate for Summer Islander nobility. Drapes of dyed barkcloth hung along the wide archways, vibrant purples and greens rippling in the wind. The court chamber was carved from smooth stone.
Balthagar Draceryos now sat on the highest dais of the hall, his armor forged black and grey with glimmers of crimson veins, Valyrian steel reforged by his own hand. His cloak flowed behind him, dark-stitched. On his left stood Lord Vaelys Belaerys, armored in golden steel traced with Valyrian glyphs, his violet eyes sharp beneath his highbrow. On Balthagar's right sat Princess Nalla, her throne lower by one step, by design.
In the distant shadows, veiled and still, stood the Dark Mistress. Cloaked in black, she remained unseen by all but one. Her presence did not breathe. It simply watched.
Above the palace flew two shadows vast and ancient. One was golden and robust, Aegovax, roaring once to stir the wind. The other, Azantyos, flew higher and wider still, his scales shining like darkened metal under the sun.
The gathered nobles and chieftains of the Sweet Lotus Vale, those loyal to House Qhara, stood in uneasy silence. They were proud men and women, but they were not fools. Valyria had returned, and it stared them in the face.
Princess Nalla rose to address them. "People of the Sweet Lotus Vale. I have sworn my house to Valyria. House Draceryos rules Valyria's rebirth. I have done this not in weakness, but in wisdom. Our traditions shall live on. Our songs shall still be sung. But the world shifts, and we must not be washed away with it."
She turned her gaze on the hall. "We shall maintain our local guard, and our warriors shall defend our lands. But we will no longer hoard spears. There will be no private armies. Foreign trade will henceforth pass through Valyria's hands. Our goods will enrich our island, but no longer feed enemies of Valyria."
A low rumble of discomfort rolled through the court.
Then came the roar. Not from man, but beast.
The court shuddered as Aegovax cried again, fire flaring from his nostrils above the roof.
Balthagar stood.
When he spoke, it was like iron dragged over embers, quiet, slow, but burning. "This is an opportunity," he said. "Not a collar. Jhala may rise with us, or be crushed by the world's turning. You speak of legacy? Then build one worth remembering. For your children. For your children's children. Let them inherit strength, not ruins."
He sat again. The room held its breath.
[Private Council Room, Palace of Qhara - That Night]
The candlelight danced gently in the private council chamber, its polished wood walls lined with Summer Island tapestries and maps. Balthagar sat at the head of the table, Vaelys to his right, and across from him, Princess Nalla, her daughter Yaya, and an aged advisor named Kofano, bent-backed and white-bearded, but sharp of mind and tongue. Beside the table, veiled and shadow-bound, the Dark Mistress stood quiet.
Balthagar's tone was measured, commanding. "Your house has always honored ours. Even when the Freehold fractured. Your trade with my grandfather and father is remembered. But understand, our next steps are already in motion."
He turned to Toboro and Nalla. "You remember Walano. Tall Trees Town."
Nalla nodded. "The Mad Dragon's battle."
"My grandfather, Daekar Draceryos, on his voyage to the east, came upon a pirate fleet poised to sack the harbor. With Azantyos in the skies, he burned their ships and left their bones for the gulls. Since then, House Xhar of Walano has welcomed us openly. Gems, incense, fruit, and above all, ebonywood, our ships have been built with their bounty."
"I will go to Walano next," he said. "And I believe Prince Daba Xhar will greet me with eagerness, not hesitation."
His words turned colder. "As for the Red Flower Vale, House Xho, I will deal with them personally. Before all. Before your people. Before the world. They will know what it means to defy."
The Dark Mistress shifted slightly but said nothing.
Vaelys's face darkened. He remained silent.
When the hall had emptied, and only shadows remained, Vaelys spoke. "Have you gone mad?"
Balthagar, half-armored and facing a glass candle burning red on the table, did not turn.
"You mean to face them alone?"
"I mean to show them."
Vaelys slammed his gauntlet on the stone table. "You are no god of war. Even if they are not an army, you are not immortal!"
Balthagar turned slowly, shadows licking his face. "Then they'll see what I am."
Before words became fire, the Dark Mistress spoke, her voice a velvet blade. "Peace, both of you. My prince, your plan will hold. My shadows will be nearby. As will the mages, and so will your uncle, and the dragons. You are not alone."
Balthagar nodded once, silently.
[Chamber of Glass, Palace of Qhara, Moments Later]
The room is dark as all candles were doused, save one. A glass candle, flickering with a red flame, stood tall at the center of a runed table. Balthagar closed his eyes and reached out.
A moment passed.
Then the fire flared. A voice answered.
"Lord Kostagar," Balthagar said, eyes still closed. "I know the moons have been hard. But harder still is the work yet to come. Soon, Jhala will fall into place. When I finish with House Xho, I will sail for Walano and speak with Prince Daba. We will bring the isles into the fold."
He paused. "But Omboru… we have no ties to them. They will not bend. We will break them."
"I will need ships. A fleet. Mages, soldiers, and fire enough to tame the Summer Sea."
The flame pulsed once more.
And the connection ended.