Chapter 35

As the weeks passed, the town and his future home began to take shape. A small harbour was dug out of the ground, with three long wooden jetties for the ships to dock at. It was annoying and tedious to send the small boats back and forth, and they didn't have enough room to store materials like stone, metal, or livestock.

Not to mention the crews, who were tired of lying on the boats for weeks on end. Nothing they would say to his face, they were too afraid, but something he noticed nonetheless.

Even if he didn't do the job himself, he didn't waste his time. He dabbled in architecture, drawing rough outlines of what would become a vast city. But he didn't want another King's Landing. 

That's why he needed a plan. To make his city and his home as perfect as possible, he needed a structure, a sewer system, street plans, everything.

He was never very good at sketching. He wasn't a natural artist with the creativity to do it, but he did his best. As for the finer details, he had a sufficient number of "assistants" to do them for him.

Stone by stone, the first houses were built in the same architectural style as Valyrier's houses. They were stylish, luxurious and had something about them that he could not describe.

But the main focus was on the palace, everything else came with time. At the end of the construction period, the palace was to be in no way inferior to the God-Emperor's in YiTi.

And so the years went by, the coming and going of the seasons, the passing of time. By the age of 15, Kaelarys had grown to 1.93m, but it seemed as if his growth had stopped. He suspected that all of his potential had been force-fed into his body and that this was how tall he was supposed to be at 21.

He spent his time constantly moving between the capital, where his family lived, and Azorath, the city and palace he had built there.

In Vaylria, he spent much time with his future wife, who was also his sister. And no matter how often he says it, it always feels wrong. But it was meant to be. The good news was that his sister was already considered the most beautiful woman in Vaylria, and some even whispered that she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

Other noble children of his age had often asked him what was wrong with him and why he didn't want to marry her right away. One of them was very bold and thought it would be a good idea to make a lecherous joke about his sister.

He grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall while he kicked his feet like a baby in a tantrum.

He told him in very plain words that if such a thing ever came out of his mouth again, or anybody else's for that matter, they would be the object of his wrath, and his wrath was unrelenting.

The word got around, and many have been wary of opening their mouths in his presence ever since. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, said many of the Lords Freeholders he spoke to. Like father, like son. But they meant well, for his father also showed at an early age that he not only rode a dragon, but was one as well.

And the more beautiful his sister became, the easier it was for him to marry her. She grew up, but she was still his little fiery dragon.

When he wasn't spending his time in Vaylria with his friends or family, he was in Azorath overseeing the construction. But not only that, he also made sure that the runes he himself had carved into the walls of the harbour were working and fulfilling their purpose.

The entire palace was made of smooth, black obsidian, which glistens in the sun and shimmers in the moonlight. The material gave the palace a sombre yet majestic appearance.

The main gate of the palace was huge and imposing, flanked by enormous dragon statues carved from the same obsidian. The gates themselves were decorated with intricate patterns and dragon reliefs that told stories of past conquests and glories. Wide, magnificent staircases lead to the main entrance of the palace. These staircases were lined with dragon statues that seemed to breathe fire and symbolized the path to power.

Inside the palace there were large halls with high vaulted ceilings and chandeliers to light the rooms.

And because he wanted to fulfill a small dream, he also built a throne room. The throne room was the centerpiece of the palace, a huge room with a raised throne made of obsidian and decorated with gold and ruby dragon heads. The throne stood on a platform with a wide staircase lined with red velvet leading up to it. A bit theatrical, but that's the way it is.

The palace had many balconies and towers that overlooked the growing city and the surrounding jungle. The towers were manned by dragon guards who, from a distance, looked like real dragons and guarded the palace.

They were golems he had built. If everything went as he had planned, they would never be able to do their job, but that was for the best.

But as a wise man once said, those who are prepared for war are best able to keep the peace. And he took those words to heart.

At that moment he was in Azorath. He held a brush in his right hand and a palette of colours in his left. The paints were from Tyrosh and were perfect for clothing, but also for painting.

Over the years it became a hobby. An escape from everyday life, something in which he could express all his feelings without anyone noticing. It took a lot of pressure off him.

He picked up his brush and painted. What he painted was something that nobody around him could understand. It was abstract art and therefore something that even he could create with his limited abilities.

"What is this supposed to be?" came the question from over his shoulder.

It was his sister, visiting him in Azorath. She was fascinated when he told her about the palace and her parents finally allowed her to come here with Ruby.

"Art, if your eyes deceive you." He joked, not letting her distract him.

"Funny," she replied dryly, sitting down in an armchair that gave her a good view of the painting, but also allowed him to get a quick sideways glance at her in front of him." I meant what it's supposed to represent, it looks so... gloomy." 

"It's supposed to be a representation of real life and some of the philosophies of life I have," he replied, drawing a dark circle that encompassed everything around him. Like a black hole. Once you go in, you can't get out.

"And what would that philosophy be?" she asked as she took his head in her hands and studied his image even more closely. He smiled slightly when he saw it.

"Is it evil to take what one wants to satisfy one's hunger, even if it causes another to suffer? " he asked.

"Um, no, or yes....No, I guess? I mean, isn't that what we've been doing for thousands of years?" she tilted her head slightly as she answered.

"What some would call evil, I believe to be an appropriate response to an harsh and unfair world" he voiced his own opinion.

And that was the truth. Mankind was, is and always will be greedy. The black hole in his painting stood for humanity and all the rest for everything that is given to humanity. But was it so wrong to be the way you are? To do what you were made to do by nature or the gods?

Questions he asked himself at the beginning of his rebirth. But, nature or God has given him everything, seen everything and done nothing, so does it really matter? Shouldn't you strive with all your might for what you are meant to do? With all the powers you were born with.

If even the gods don't care what you do with your life and whether you ever existed at all, then you should strive with everything you have to at least be remembered by the people of this world.

And he expressed all these thoughts and feelings in this painting, and when he had finished, he put down the brush and felt relieved of all his inner sorrows.

"Come on," said his sister with a smile and took his hand, "let's go to the gardens. I haven't had an adventure like this since I was a child. "

He let his sister lead the way and didn't protest as they strolled hand in hand through the gardens, enjoying the sun on their skin. 

In the distance, they could hear the roar of their dragons, who were getting along just as well as they were.

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and if they haven't died ...

Wait a minute, wrong story.

Hopefully halfway bearable, I died inside while writing it.