REBORN OF DARGON QUEEN53Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6RX0HEPhA4
STORY TELL BY ADAM53Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡW7MeFpnbuf
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Title: From Ashes, Fire The Knife Twisted.
Cold became fire. Jon Snow’s face blurred above her—eyes glazed with tears, lips trembling with unspoken words. Daenerys Targaryen felt the warmth pooling beneath her ribs, staining the snow-dusted stones of the Red Keep’s throne room. So this is how the dragon dies, she thought, not in flame, but betrayal. Darkness swallowed her. Yet death was not silent. Voices hummed in the void—ancient, hissing tongues that vibrated in her marrow. …blood of our blood…fire made flesh… She felt weightless, adrift in a starless night until— Dracarys. A roar split the darkness. Golden flames erupted, searing yet painless, and Dany saw. Visions cascaded—a black dragon circling a skeletal city, his wings casting shadows over charred banners…a red priestess chanting over a pyre where blue roses withered…a pale boy with violet eyes placing a bloodied crown on a weirwood stump… The flames dimmed. Cold returned. Dany gasped, icy air stinging her lungs. She lay naked on stone, ash clinging to her skin. Above, the moon hung low—a pale eye watching from a star-streaked sky. The scent of burnt flesh lingered, but her body bore no wounds. “Vōrida.” The voice rumbled like distant thunder. She turned. Drogon loomed over her, his obsidian scales glinting, molten gold dripping from his jaws. His slit-pupiled eyes burned with intelligence deeper than she’d ever seen. Behind him, the ruins of King’s Landing stretched silently, and the Iron Throne melted into a twisted metal river. “You…spoke?” Her voice cracked. The dragon lowered his massive head. “Āeksia ossēnātās.” (The queen remembers.) Memories surged—flames consuming the innocent, Jon’s kiss colder than the blade, the throne room collapsing as Drogon carried her away. Shame and fury warred within her. “Why am I here? Why did you bring me back?” Drogon’s wing brushed her shoulder, surprisingly gently. “Ziry iksos daor syt sȳndrorro.” (It is not for death.) Three Nights Later, The Dothraki Sea The khalasar rode at dawn. Daenerys watched from a sandstone ridge, Drogon circling high above. Fifty thousand riders flowed across the grasslands like a bronze river, their bells clinking—a sound she’d once found thrilling. Now it chilled her. They follow strength, not mercy. She’d avoided their scouts for days, surviving on stolen water and raw lizard-lion meat. Her silver-gold hair, now singed black at the ends, hung matted. The ragged cloak torn from a dead farmer’s hut did little to mask her identity, yet none recognized the broken woman crouching in the dirt as the Breaker of Chains. Until the child came. A girl no older than six approached at twilight, barefoot and clutching a straw dragon. “M’athchomaroon, Khaleesi,” she lisped, pressing the toy into Dany’s blistered hands. “Anha vada athdavrazar.” (I saw your dream.) Before Dany could speak, the girl’s eyes rolled white. A rasping voice, old and male, tore from her throat: “The dragon has three heads, but the wolf howls with a hundred. Seek the priestess who drowned in smoke, she who walks the path of night.” The child collapsed. By the time Dany reached her, the tiny chest stilled. That night, she built her first pyre. The Smoking Sea, Two Moons Later Valyria’s ruins loomed—shattered spires clawing at the sulfurous sky. Dany’s stolen horse died at the shore, its lungs rotting from the poisoned air. Drogon refused to fly further, snarling at the oily waters. “You fear this place,” she accused, wading through ankle-deep sludge. “Nyke gūrēnir.” (I remember.) The dragon’s growl shook the ground. “Zālagon nykeā urnēptre.” (Fire birthed a monster here.) The ruins whispered. Phantom screams echoed as Dany passed half-melted statues—faces stretched in eternal agony. Her bare feet bled, yet the pain anchored her. This is justice, she thought. A queen who burned cities deserves no comfort. At the crater’s heart stood a temple. Its blackened doors bore the Targaryen sigil…but reversed, the dragon impaled by a sword. Inside, the air shimmered. A woman waited—pale as milk, her hair crimson coils snaking across bare shoulders. Not Melisandre. Younger. Crueler. “You took long enough, dārilaros.” The priestess smiled, revealing filed teeth. “I am Kinvara. Or what’s left of her.” She gestured to her torso—rotting flesh visible beneath translucent skin. “The Lord’s gift grows…unstable. But he promised you’d come. The true Azor Ahai.” Dany recoiled. “I’m no savior.” “No.” Kinvara’s nail traced Dany’s collarbone, leaving a smoking welt. “You’re the spark. The ignition.” From the shadows, she produced a blade—smoldering black glass. “The dragons of old bonded riders through blood. Let us remake that bond…deeper. Truer.” Drogon’s roar shook the temple. Kinvara laughed. “He resists. Wise. This will hurt.” The Binding The dagger plunged. Dany screamed as dragon glass carved her palm. Kinvara chanted in High Valyrian, her decaying hands pressing Dany’s bleeding fist against Drogon’s snout. The dragon thrashed, chains of fire erupting from the priestess’s wrists to bind him. “Perzys ānogār!” (Fire consumes!) Flames engulfed them. Dany’s skin blackened, peeled, regrew. Drogon’s scales liquefied, revealing muscle, then bone, scales anew—darker, gleaming with rubies. Their minds fused—she felt his centuries-old rage, his grief for dead brothers, his shame at failing her… “Dany…” Her eyes snapped open. Not the dragon’s voice. Jon’s. In the flames, she saw him—kneeling in a frozen courtyard, Longclaw piercing his own heart as blue-eyed shadows closed in. “I’m sorry,” he wept. “I loved you.” “No!” She reached into the vision, her burning hand gripping Longclaw’s hilt. Jon’s eyes met hers—terrified, hop
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重生的龍女王 故事由亞當講述
標題：從灰燼中燃起
刀刃扭曲。冷變成了火。瓊恩·雪諾的臉在她上方變得模糊——眼中噙滿淚水，嘴唇因未說出的話語而顫抖。丹妮莉絲·坦格利安感覺到一股暖流在她肋骨下湧動，染紅了紅堡王座室覆滿雪塵的石頭。所以龍的死法就是這樣的，她想，不是死於火焰，而是死於背叛。黑暗吞噬了她。然而死亡並不是悄無聲息的。虛空中傳來嗡嗡的聲音——古老的、嘶嘶的舌頭在她的骨髓裡震動。 ....我們的血液...火化為肉體...她覺得自己毫無重量，在沒有星星的夜晚漂浮著，直到－－ 龍之卡利。一聲咆哮劃破黑暗。金色的火焰爆發出來，灼熱卻無痛，丹妮看見了。幻象接踵而至——一條黑龍盤旋在一座骷髏城市上，它的翅膀在燒焦的旗幟上投下陰影……一位紅衣女祭司在藍玫瑰枯萎的柴堆上吟唱……一個臉色蒼白、有著紫羅蘭色眼睛的男孩將一頂沾滿鮮血的王冠放在魚樑木樹樁上……火焰漸漸暗淡了。寒冷再次襲來。丹妮喘著氣，冰冷的空氣刺痛著她的肺部。她赤裸裸地躺在石頭上，灰燼黏在她的皮膚上。頭頂上，月亮低垂著，像是一隻蒼白的眼睛，注視著繁星點點的天空。焦肉的味道縈繞在她的身上，但她的身上卻沒有任何傷口。 “沃里達。”那聲音如同遠處的雷聲般隆隆作響。她轉過身。卓耿聳立在她面前，黑曜石般的鱗片閃閃發光，熔化的金子從他的嘴裡滴落。他那雙細長的眼眸中燃燒著比她所見過的任何眼睛更深的智慧。他的身後，君臨城的廢墟無聲無息地延伸著，鐵王座融化成了一條扭曲的金屬河。 “你…說話了？”她的聲音嘶啞了。龍低下了它巨大的頭。 “Āeksia ossēnātās。” （女王記得起來了。）記憶湧上心頭──火焰吞噬著無辜者，瓊恩的吻比刀刃還要冷，卓耿把她帶走時，王座室轟然倒塌。羞恥和憤怒在她心中交戰。 “我為什麼在這裡？你把我帶回來幹什麼？卓耿的翅膀拂過她的肩膀，出奇的溫柔。 “Ziry iksos daor syt sndrorro.” （它不是為了死亡。） 三天后，多斯拉克海 卡拉薩在黎明時分馳騁。丹妮莉絲在一座砂岩山脊上看著，卓耿在高空盤旋。五萬名騎兵如青銅色的河流穿過草原，他們的鈴鐺叮噹作響——這種聲音曾經讓她興奮不已。這下她就心寒了。他們追求力量，而不是仁慈。她已經躲避他們的童軍好幾天了，靠著偷來的水和生蜥蜴獅肉生存。她那銀金色的頭髮現在髮梢已燒焦成黑色，亂蓬蓬地垂著。從一個死去農民的小屋裡撕下來的破爛斗篷幾乎無法掩蓋她的身份，然而沒有人認出這個蹲在泥土中的殘破女人就是打破鎖鏈的人。直到孩子出生。黃昏時分，一個不超過六歲的女孩赤腳走近，手裡抓著一條草龍。 「M’athchomaroon，卡麗熙，」她口齒不清地說道，把玩具塞到了丹妮佈滿水泡的手中。 “你沒有想到會發生這種事。” （我看到你的夢了。）丹妮還來不及說話，女孩的眼珠就翻了個白。一個嘶啞的、蒼老的、男人的聲音從她喉嚨裡響起：「龍有三個頭，但狼有一百個頭。尋找那位在煙霧中溺亡、行走在黑夜之路上的女祭司。小孩暈倒了。當丹妮來到她身邊時，那小小的箱子靜止了。那天晚上，她燃起了自己第一個柴堆。 煙海，兩個月後，瓦雷利亞的廢墟隱約可見──破碎的尖塔直指硫磺般的天空。丹妮被偷的馬死在岸邊，其肺因有毒空氣而腐爛。卓耿拒絕繼續飛，對著油膩的海水咆哮。 「你害怕這個地方，」她一邊指責，一邊趟過齊腳踝深的泥漿。 “Nyke gūrēnir.” （我記得。）龍的咆哮聲震動了地面。 “Zālagon nykeā urnēptre.” （大火在這裡孕育了怪物。）廢墟低語著。當丹妮經過半融化的雕像時，幽靈的尖叫聲迴盪——臉上寫滿了永恆的痛苦。她的赤腳流血，但疼痛讓她堅定不移。這就是正義，她想。一位焚燒城市的女王不值得任何安慰。隕石坑的中心有一座寺廟。其黑色的大門上刻有坦格利安家族的徽章……但卻是反過來的，上面畫著一條被劍刺穿的龍。室內，空氣閃爍。一位女人在等待──臉色蒼白如牛奶，深紅色的頭髮蜿蜒披散在裸露的肩膀上。不是梅麗珊卓。更年輕。更加殘忍。 “你花的時間夠長了，dārilaros。”女祭司微笑，露出整齊的牙齒。 “我是金瓦拉。或者說她還剩下什麼。她指了指自己的軀幹──半透明的皮膚下可見腐爛的肉。 「上帝的禮物不斷增長……變得不穩定。但他答應你會來。真正的亞梭爾·亞亥。丹妮退縮了。 “我不是救世主。” “不。”金瓦拉的指甲劃過丹妮的鎖骨，留下一道冒煙的傷痕。 「你就是火花。點火。她從陰影中拿出一把刀——冒煙的黑色玻璃。 「古代龍騎士透過血緣關係結下了深厚的友誼。讓我們重塑這種紐帶……更加深厚。更真實。卓耿的咆哮震動了神殿。金瓦拉大笑。 “他反抗。明智的。這會很痛。 束縛 匕首刺入。龍晶刻進了丹妮的手掌，她尖叫起來。金瓦拉用高等瓦雷利亞語吟唱，她腐爛的手再次按住丹妮流血的拳頭。53Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPq1TUAegIW
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