Vaes Zaldri - The Tale of the Storm
The Crimson Council had reconvened within the hour, the chamber now feeling noticeably smaller with Angelus's new form occupying far more space than before. Her western dragon body dominated the room, the glow from her chest casting crimson light across the walls and illuminating the faces of her council members with an otherworldly radiance.
"Tell us everything," Daenerys said, settling into her customary position beside Angelus's massive forelimb. "What did you face out there?"
Angelus began with the storm.
"Three days out from the Stepstones, I felt something pulling at me—a presence in the deep water, ancient and powerful. When I found it, the sky had already turned black, and lightning was striking the sea in sheets." Her golden eyes grew distant, remembering. "The creature that rose from those waters was unlike anything I've faced since leaving Drakengard. A Kraken, but not merely a beast—it was enhanced and empowered by a divine connection."
"Divine?" Jorah leaned forward, his black Draconian scales catching the light from Angelus's chest. "You mean the Drowned God? The deity the Ironborn worship?"
"Exactly. I could see the threads of power flowing into it—energy drawn from something vast and ancient sleeping beneath the ocean floor. This creature wasn't just a monster; it was an Apostle, a servant empowered by its patron god." Angelus's tail swept slowly across the floor, the motion contemplative. "The battle lasted ten days. It could summon storms, direct lightning with precision, and regenerate wounds faster than I could inflict them. On the fifth day, it broke my wing."
A murmur ran through the assembled council. The idea that something could injure Angelus—their seemingly invincible dragon—was deeply unsettling.
"But you killed it," Drogo said. It wasn't a question.
"I severed its connection to the Drowned God first—burned through the spiritual link that fed it power. Once that was done, it became merely formidable rather than seemingly immortal." A dark smile crossed Angelus's features. "Then I used the breath weapon I developed in Drakengard. The one I used when I was released from the World Seal. Everything within a mile radius ceased to exist."
Silence fell over the council as they processed this.
"There are implications," Angelus continued, her voice growing more serious. "First, the Drowned God may take action for the death of its Apostle. I've essentially killed one of its favored servants, and divine entities rarely appreciate that kind of thing."
"Should we be concerned?" Jhogo asked, his hand moving unconsciously toward the hilt of his Chaos-Forged blade.
"If the Drowned God decides to retaliate, I will handle it personally. Whatever form that retaliation takes—storms, monsters, direct divine intervention—I've faced worse in my existence." Angelus's voice carried absolute certainty. "But there's a second implication that may actually benefit us: if the Drowned God had an Apostle, there may be others. Other divine entities with their own empowered servants, lurking in various corners of this world."
Balerion's volcanic form shifted, his dark eyes gleaming with sudden interest. "Other Apostles... other powerful enemies to face."
"Potential catalysts," Mikhail added, her mental voice carrying a note of hunger that surprised even herself. "For further evolution."
Angelus noted the reactions of her children—the way Balerion's tail twitched with barely contained eagerness, how Mikhail's golden eyes had sharpened with predatory calculation, even the contemplative expression that crossed Enoch's massive face. They were thinking what she had thought: that these divine servants represented opportunities for growth.
"You share my bloodline," Angelus said, addressing the three wyverns directly. "True draconic heritage, enhanced by my own essence when I transformed your eggs. If you were to face and consume creatures of sufficient power—Apostles, for instance—you might be able to evolve further. Perhaps even achieve a form similar to mine."
The implication hung in the air like electricity before a storm.
Jorah spoke carefully into the silence. "So we should... hunt these Apostles?"
"In time, perhaps. For now, we focus on our immediate goals—Meereen, Astapor, and eventually Valyria. But the knowledge that such creatures exist, and that they could serve as stepping stones to greater power, is valuable." Angelus's eyes swept the room. "I suspect several of you are already considering seeking them out."
No one denied it.
After the Council
The evening had grown late by the time the formal discussions concluded.
Angelus had found a suitable resting spot—a reinforced terrace that could support her new, considerably heavier form—and had settled into a position that allowed her to watch the stars emerge over her empire. The glow from her chest had dimmed to a comfortable warmth, and for the first time since her evolution, she allowed herself to simply exist without purpose or planning.
Daenerys found her first.
The white-scaled queen approached in her Dragonborn form—a shape she had only recently discovered she could assume, a gift of her deepening bond with Angelus and her own evolving draconic nature.
The form was striking: an elongated dragon-like head with white scales and purple eyes that glowed faintly in the darkness, framed by a mane of white scale-protrusions that flowed backward like frozen flames. Her body was humanoid but unmistakably draconic, covered in the same pristine white scales that marked her partial transformation. She wore her Chaos-Forged armor even in this shape—the dark plates with their red accents and sashes complementing her pale scales perfectly, as if the equipment had been designed with this form in mind.
She didn't speak—simply climbed up Angelus's foreleg and nestled against the warm scales of her chest, where the internal glow pulsed like a second heartbeat.
Mikhail arrived moments later, her white-and-black form descending from the night sky with a grace that had only improved since her own evolution. She landed beside Angelus and immediately pressed close, her golden-spiked head finding a position against Angelus's neck.
"<
"<
Angelus's massive wings folded around both of them, drawing them closer in a gesture both possessive and affectionate. "<>"
"<
"<>"
They lay together in comfortable silence for a long time, the three of them forming a tableau of crimson, white, and starlight. Whatever challenges tomorrow would bring, this moment was theirs alone.
Five Days Later - The Pact's Gift
Daenerys had noticed the changes gradually at first.
It had started with small things—a training session where she moved faster than she ever had before, a sparring match where her strikes carried force that surprised even her Dragonborn opponents, a moment of concentration where magic flowed through her with an ease that bordered on effortless.
"Your bond with me has deepened," Angelus explained as they stood together in the training grounds, Daenerys testing her enhanced capabilities against a series of increasingly difficult targets. "When I evolved, the power flowing through our Pact increased proportionally. You're receiving more of my strength, my speed, my magical affinity."
"How much more?"
"Significantly. You were already formidable, but now..." Angelus watched as Daenerys's hand extended and a bolt of white fire erupted toward a distant target, incinerating it instantly. "Now you're approaching what most would consider superhuman even by Dragonborn standards."
Daenerys examined her clawed hands, feeling the power thrumming beneath her scales. "It feels... natural. Like this is what I was always meant to be."
"It is. The Pact doesn't give you anything that wasn't already potential within you—it simply unlocks that potential and amplifies it." Angelus's golden eyes held approval. "Try the energy manipulation. Focus on the ambient power around you and draw it inward."
Daenerys closed her eyes, reaching out with senses she hadn't possessed a week ago. She could feel it now—the life force of the plants in the training ground, the magical currents flowing through the earth, even the residual power left behind by the various creatures and mages who had used this space. With careful concentration, she pulled at those threads, drawing energy into herself.
The sensation was indescribable—warmth and strength flooding through her body, filling reserves she hadn't known she possessed.
"Excellent," Angelus said. "You're learning faster than I expected. A few more weeks of practice, and you'll be able to sustain yourself on ambient energy alone if necessary."
Later that day, Daenerys stood before the armor stand in her quarters, examining the equipment that Angelus had forged for her. The Chaos-Forged Steel gleamed with inner light, the crimson veins pulsing gently as if acknowledging her presence.
"They need names," she decided. "If they're going to grow with me, if they're going to become legendary in their own right, they deserve proper names."
She touched the armor first—the dark plates with their red accents, the horned helmet with its glowing eyes. "Draconis Imperium," she said. "The Dragon's Command. Armor fit for the ruler of an empire of dragons."
The bastard sword came next, its black blade etched with crimson runes that seemed to writhe in the light. "Soulfire," she named it. "For the flames that burn not just flesh, but the essence of those who oppose us."
The dagger received the name "Whisper"—small but deadly, perfect for the killing stroke that came without warning.
The spear-glaive was perhaps the most beautiful piece, its white shaft and flame-like blade creating an aesthetic that spoke of both elegance and destruction. "Phoenixbane," she called it. "A weapon to slay even that which rises from its own ashes."
And finally, the heavy crossbow, enhanced with Chaos-Forged components that allowed it to punch through magical defenses. "Dragonsting."
As she spoke each name, she felt the weapons respond—a subtle pulse of acknowledgment, a deepening of the bond between equipment and wielder. They were hers now, truly and completely, and they would grow alongside her until they became artifacts worthy of legend.
Daily Life - The Crimson God's Shadow
News of Angelus's evolution spread through the Wyrmborne territories like wildfire.
In Vaes Zaldri, the citizens spoke of it in reverent whispers. The guards who had seen her return told stories of a creature so magnificent that even the setting sun seemed dim in comparison. The glow from her chest, they said, was like looking at the heart of a star. Her wings could shadow entire city blocks. Her roar had shaken buildings for miles around.
"I saw her with my own eyes," a Dragonborn merchant told his customers, his bronze scales gleaming with pride. "She's not just a dragon anymore—she's beyond dragons now. The priests are calling her the Crimson God, and after seeing her, I believe it."
"Do you think she'll keep evolving?" a young Draconian asked, her partial scales marking her as a recent convert. "Keep getting bigger, stronger?"
"Lady Angelus mentioned a fifth form," the merchant replied. "A form she called 'perfection.' If what we've seen is just the fourth stage, I can't imagine what she'll become when she reaches the final one."
In Vaes Zaldrizes, the smiths incorporated the news into their work. Talya, the fire-element Dragonborn who had become one of the most respected craftsmen in the city, began etching new designs into her blades—patterns inspired by the descriptions of Angelus's glowing chest and elaborate horn crown.
"If our weapons are going to be worthy of the Crimson God's army," she told her apprentices, "they need to reflect her glory. Every blade that leaves this forge should remind whoever sees it of what we serve."
In Vaes Drakarys, the sailors and dock workers debated the implications over drinks at the harbor taverns.
"Did you hear she killed something called an Apostle?" a Draconian sailor asked his companions. "Some kind of divine servant—a creature empowered by the Drowned God himself."
"The Drowned God's a myth," another sailor scoffed, though his voice lacked conviction.
"Maybe. But Lady Angelus said it was real, and I'll take her word over any doubter's. If gods exist, and if they have servants powerful enough to fight her for ten days... well, I'm glad she's on our side."
"What if the Drowned God retaliates?"
"Then the Crimson God will handle it. That's what she said, isn't it? And I believe her. Whatever comes, she'll protect us."
Westeros - The Small Council
The reports had arrived three days ago, and Tywin Lannister still hadn't fully processed them.
He sat in the Small Council chamber, the various documents spread before him like evidence of an impossible crime. Drawings from artists who had witnessed the creature's return—rough sketches that tried to capture something that defied conventional depiction. Written accounts from merchants and travelers who had seen it pass overhead. And most disturbing of all, the reports from his remaining agents in Essos describing what had supposedly happened.
"A western dragon," Tyrion said, examining one of the sketches with the resigned expression of someone whose worst predictions had been validated. "Four legs, massive wings, apparently glowing from the inside. And significantly larger than the wyvern-type creature we saw at King's Landing."
"Evolved," Varys added quietly. "That's the word the reports keep using. The dragon has 'evolved' into a more powerful form."
"Dragons don't evolve," Cersei snapped. "They grow larger, certainly, but they don't... change shape. This is obviously exaggeration, propaganda designed to frighten us."
"Is it?" Tyrion's mismatched eyes met his sister's. "We saw the creature with our own eyes, Cersei. We saw scorpion bolts shatter against its scales. We heard it speak into our minds. Is it really so hard to believe that something that impossible might become more impossible still?"
Tywin remained silent, his cold eyes fixed on the reports. The implications were deeply troubling. If the dragon had grown more powerful—if it continued to grow more powerful—then the comfortable assumption that Daenerys Targaryen would exhaust herself in Essos became increasingly untenable.
"There are also reports of new creatures," Varys continued. "Massive armored beasts, some large enough to carry fortifications on their backs. The Targaryen girl's army has grown substantially, and their equipment has apparently been upgraded to something called 'Chaos-Forged Steel'—a metal that supposedly grows stronger with its wielder."
"Fairy tales," Cersei insisted, though her voice had lost its earlier conviction.
"Perhaps. But fairy tales don't conquer cities. And the cities she's taken are very real—Vaes Dothrak, Yunkai, Qarth. If she continues her expansion, she'll control all of Slaver's Bay within the year."
Tywin finally spoke. "What do they want?"
"According to all available intelligence and what they told us last they were here, she and Angelus has no interest in Westeros so far. She's continuing to build her empire in Essos, and her stated goal appears to be the reclamation of Old Valyria." Varys paused. "But stated goals and actual intentions don't always align, and a dragon powerful enough to destroy cities might eventually decide that one continent isn't enough."
The room fell silent as each member contemplated their own mortality at the hands of something they couldn't fight, couldn't reason with, and couldn't escape.
The Crimson Council - Canon Events
One Week Later
"Joffrey Baratheon will die soon."
Angelus's statement dropped into the council meeting like a stone into still water, sending ripples of confusion through the assembled members.
"Best good news of my day." Elira said while reading a report. Then she paused. "Wait, who's Joffrey?"
"The one Angelus often refers to as "little king" Elira." Daario replied dryly without glancing at Elira.
"Oh! The arrogant little fucker? Thought someone would've killed him by now. I can't stand his whining of, "I am the King!" Elira said while imitating Joffrey, making Daario laugh out loud.
Jorah rolls his eyes at their conversation and then turns to Angelus. "How do you know this?" Jorah asked carefully.
"You're all already aware of my knowledge of the canon timeline. Well it also includes details about events as that would have unfolded without my interference, as Dany certainly knows. In that timeline, Joffrey dies at his own wedding feast, poisoned by conspirators who find his cruelty intolerable." Angelus's golden eyes swept the room. "Based on my calculations, comparing our current date to the canon timeline's progression, this event should occur within the next few months."
"Should we intervene?" Daenerys asked, though her tone suggested she wasn't particularly invested in the answer.
"To what end? Joffrey's death benefits us—it throws the Lannisters into chaos and weakens their position in the ongoing civil war. Let the little bastard die. The real question is whether we should care about the other events happening in Westeros."
"Other events?"
Angelus explained the Red Wedding.
She described how Robb Stark, the young King in the North who had been winning battles against Tywin Lannister's forces, would be betrayed and murdered at a wedding feast. How his mother, his wife, his unborn child, and most of his army would be slaughtered by the Freys and Boltons in violation of sacred guest right. How the Stark cause would be effectively destroyed in a single night of treachery.
"And all because Robb Stark couldn't keep his word," Angelus concluded, her voice carrying a note of contempt. "He was betrothed to a Frey girl—a political marriage that secured his army's passage through the Twins. But then he met a woman from a foreign house who tended his wounds after a battle, and he decided that love was more important than honor."
"That seems... unwise," Drogo observed.
"Monumentally so. What makes it worse is that the woman—Talisa, in the version I remember—her mother was a friend of Catelyn Stark. There are suggestions that she may have been deliberately placed in his path, that his 'love' was manufactured to create exactly this situation." Angelus shook her head. "He threw away his alliance, his honor, and eventually his life for a woman he barely knew. Naive doesn't begin to describe it."
Daenerys snorted, recognizing the parallel. "You're comparing him to me."
"To what you were before I found you. Yes. You had the same potential for that kind of foolishness—trusting the wrong people, making decisions based on emotion rather than strategy, believing that good intentions would protect you from those who had none." Angelus's tail curled around Daenerys possessively. "I'm grateful I was able to remove that weakness before it cost you everything."
"As am I." Daenerys leaned into Angelus's touch, then turned and pressed a kiss to the dragon's scaled jaw. "Whatever I might have become in another timeline, this is who I am now. And I prefer this version."
"So do I."
Angelus and Daenerys gaze into each other's eyes, a warm atmosphere emitting around them. Making the Council feel a little awkward.
Daario rolls his eyes and mutters. "Oh brother."
Elira bumps his shoulder with her elbow, causing him to look at her in confusion until he sees Angelus and Daenerys glaring at him. Making him shrink into himself a little.
Jhogo cleared his throat. "Do we intervene in the Red Wedding? Warn the Starks?"
Angelus considered the question. "I'm... uncertain. Robb Stark had qualities I respected—tactical intelligence, courage, the loyalty of his men. He was doing well against Tywin Lannister, which serves our interests by keeping Westeros divided and weak."
"But?"
"But he's also naive, impulsive, and has already made the mistakes that will lead to his death. Even if we warned him, would he listen? Would he be capable of navigating the political treachery that awaits him?" She paused. "I think not. His character flaws are too deeply ingrained."
"Then we do nothing?"
"For now, we observe. I'll reconsider if circumstances change, but my current inclination is to let events unfold as they will. Westeros's problems are not our problems, and every resource we spend interfering there is a resource we don't spend building our own empire."
The council accepted this reasoning, and the discussion moved on to more immediate matters.
One Month Later - The Sea Dragon
The ritual took place at the harbor of Vaes Drakarys, where the deep water could accommodate what Angelus intended to create.
She had gathered the materials over the preceding weeks: the preserved remains of the Lightning Kraken, particularly its electrical organs and the scales that had channeled its power; bones from great sea serpents that the fleet had killed during their patrols; magical essences harvested from the depths; and of course, her own blood and scales, which formed the foundation of all her creations.
"<
She began the ritual as the sun set over the harbor.
The Kraken's materials were essential—not just for the raw power they contained, but for the lightning element that she needed to replicate. In her first life, she had played Monster Hunter extensively, and one creature had always held a special place in her estimation: the Lagiacrus, the Lord of the Seas, a leviathan that combined aquatic grace with devastating electrical attacks.
She had been too weak to attempt this creation earlier—the complexity of the design required more power than she had possessed at Level 3. But now, with her enhanced form and the Kraken's essence to draw upon, it was finally possible.
CRACK! RUMBLE!
Power surged through the ritual circle as Angelus channeled her energy into the forming flesh. The water of the harbor began to glow, and something vast took shape beneath the surface—a body designed for both the crushing depths and the open seas, armored scales that could withstand immense pressure, limbs adapted for swimming, and most importantly, organs capable of generating and channeling bioelectricity.
The creature that emerged was magnificent.
A massive serpentine head rose from the water, its jaws lined with rows of teeth designed for crushing and tearing. The head was armored with blue-grey scales that shifted to teal in the light, and a crown of orange-red spines swept backward from its skull like a royal crest. Its body was enormous—longer than their largest warship—with a powerful serpentine form built for both aquatic hunting and terrestrial assault. Ridged scales ran along its spine and flanks in patterns that crackled with visible bioelectricity, the lightning arcing between the prominent spines that jutted from its back. Four powerful limbs ended in webbed claws capable of propelling it through water at terrifying speeds or hauling its massive bulk onto land to pursue prey that thought the shore meant safety.
SKREEEEEEE!
The roar echoed across the harbor, accompanied by arcs of lightning that danced between its dorsal spines and leaped across the water's surface.
"<
"It's... incredible," one of the naval officers breathed, staring at the sea dragon with something approaching religious awe.
"<
The implications rippled through the assembled crowd. Another element, another type of power, another weapon in their growing arsenal.
Training the Lord of the Seas
Three Weeks Later
The Lagiacrus—which the sailors had taken to calling "Tempest's Bane" in honor of the Kraken whose essence had contributed to its creation—proved to be an exceptional addition to the Wyrmborne forces.
Its serpentine body moved through water with a grace that belied its enormous size, and its lightning attacks could arc through the waves to strike ships hundreds of meters away. Its armored hide shrugged off harpoons and even magical attacks with equal contempt. Most terrifying of all, it could haul itself onto land and continue fighting—enemies who fled to the shore found no safety there.
SKREEEEEEE! CRACK-BOOM!
Lightning erupted across the training waters as Tempest's Bane demonstrated its combat capabilities against target vessels. The bolts leaped from its dorsal spines to strike the wooden hulls with devastating precision, leaving smoking holes where they struck and occasionally igniting fires that the creature then extinguished with contemptuous waves of its massive tail.
"It's learning," Daenerys observed, watching from the deck of the Crimson Tide. "Each demonstration is more precise than the last."
"It's developing tactical awareness," Angelus agreed, her new form perched on the cliffs overlooking the harbor. "Its hunting instincts are adapting to naval warfare—learning to identify weak points in ship construction, timing its attacks for maximum effect. Give it another month, and it will be capable of independent naval operations."
The creature's hunting instincts proved equally impressive. When released to patrol the deeper waters, it returned with kills that expanded their understanding of what lurked in the seas around Essos—great sharks, giant squids, and on one memorable occasion, a sea serpent nearly as large as itself. Each kill was hauled to shore for processing, its materials added to the stockpiles that fueled future creations.
"The fleet captains are requesting permanent Lagiacrus escort for major operations," Jorah reported during a council meeting. "They say having it visible near their ships has completely eliminated pirate activity in our shipping lanes. No one wants to attack a convoy protected by something that can sink ships with lightning."
"Reasonable. We'll assign it to the Meereen assault fleet—its presence will ensure naval superiority from the first moment of the engagement."
The Eve of Conquest
Two Weeks Later
The war council assembled for what would be the final planning session before the assault on Meereen.
Maps covered every surface, intelligence reports stacked in organized piles, and the air hummed with the tension of imminent action. This would be the largest operation the Wyrmborne had undertaken since Qarth—a full-scale amphibious assault on one of the largest cities in Slaver's Bay.
"The fleet is ready," Jorah reported. "Forty-two vessels, fully crewed and supplied, with Tempest's Bane providing escort. The naval approach will cut off Meereen's access to the sea and prevent any evacuation or reinforcement."
"Ground forces?" Drogo asked.
"Four thousand Dragonborn, eight thousand Draconians, and ten thousand auxiliaries for the main assault. Aegis, Bastion, and Rampart will lead the approach—their defensive capabilities will absorb the initial resistance. Colossus and Leviathan will follow with archer platforms and siege equipment already mounted."
"The Z-Rexes?"
"Held in reserve for shock assault once the walls are breached. Fire Rex and Frost Rex will target fortifications; Poison Rex will clear interior positions."
"Aerial support?"
Balerion's deep voice resonated through the chamber. "<
Angelus listened to the reports with satisfaction. Her forces had grown into a well-coordinated military machine, capable of operating without her direct involvement. This was what she had been building toward—an army that could conquer not because she was there to do the heavy lifting, but because every component worked together in devastating harmony.
"I won't be accompanying this assault," she announced.
The council members exchanged glances, surprise evident on several faces.
"Not because I doubt your capabilities," she continued. "Precisely the opposite. You've proven yourselves in Yunkai and Qarth. The siege beasts are trained, the fleet is ready, and our forces are the most powerful military in Essos. You don't need me to take Meereen."
"Then why stay behind?" Daenerys asked, though her expression suggested she already understood.
"Defense. While our main forces are committed to the assault, our cities are vulnerable. Vaes Zaldri, Vaes Zaldrizes, Vaes Drakarys—they all contain resources and people that enemies might target while our attention is elsewhere." Angelus's golden eyes swept the council. "I'll remain here as the ultimate deterrent. Anyone foolish enough to attack our holdings while the army is away will discover that the Crimson God protects what belongs to her."
"And you trust us to handle Meereen without you?"
"Completely." The word carried absolute conviction. "Go. Conquer. Show the world what the Wyrmborne can do without their dragon leading the charge. And when you return victorious, we'll begin planning for Astapor."
The council dispersed to make final preparations, each member carrying the weight of Angelus's trust on their shoulders.
Two days later, the fleet set sail.
---
End of Chapter Sixteen
Author's Note: Is the way <