"In a world of battles and bloodshed, even a dragon must choose her alliances wisely. But loyalty, once given, is a bond unbroken, as strong as the mountains themselves."

🐉 ⛰️👑

Sylvestra, the mighty dragoness, stretched out atop her vast treasure hoard, a sprawling mountain of gold, jewels, and priceless artifacts that shimmered in the dim light of her cavern. The cool, polished stones beneath her were nothing but a surface to lounge on—comfortable, yes, but lacking any spark of excitement. Her long, silvery scales glinted in the flickering torchlight, but even the brilliant reflection from her treasures failed to hold her attention. She ran a claw lazily over a golden statue, the once captivating touch now feeling dull and repetitive. Her sharp, silver eyes flicked over the room, restless and bored. Nothing to play with, nothing to conquer—just the never-ending silence of her solitude. The very treasures that once gave her pride now felt like a burden, their glimmering faces mocking her sense of purpose. It was getting utterly, painfully boring.

A sudden, searing pain coursed through Sylvestra's chest, sharp and unbidden, like a forgotten wound reopening. She stilled, her silver eyes narrowing in response to the sting, her gaze lifting instinctively. There, in the swirling shadows of her cave, something—or someone—was different. A figure stood just beyond the entrance, silhouetted by the faint light of a distant fire, his presence a stark contrast to the tranquil emptiness she had grown accustomed to. The moment their eyes locked, a strange ripple of recognition surged through her. It was him—the clone.

She had heard of them, the clones, bred for war and scattered across the galaxy like weapons in the hands of fate. The tales of the Clone Wars had reached her ears even in this forsaken place, as the great volcano and its treasures became her prison—her kingdom, yes, but still a prison. Bound here by the remnants of her father, King Smaug's empire, she could do little more than guard the treasure and linger in isolation. But now, as she stared into the amber eyes of the clone, her chest tightened. For a fleeting moment, she felt something stir—something more than just the faint echo of her father's legacy.

Her breath caught, and the weight of the moment settled heavily upon her. Was this the world beyond her borders, finally creeping in? Would this stranger be a key to something more, or another shadow lost in time?

With a low, rumbling growl, Sylvestra rose from her treasure hoard, her massive form casting a formidable shadow across the cavern floor. Her scales rippled as she moved, each step a quiet thunder as she advanced toward the intruder. Her eyes, blazing like molten silver, bore down on him with the intensity of a predator cornering its prey. Her wings unfurled slightly, sending a gust of air that rattled the precious trinkets around her, and her long, razor-sharp claws scraped across the stone, echoing through the silence.

"What are you doing here, intruder?" Her voice was a growl, deep and threatening, vibrating through the cave as if the very walls could feel her wrath. Her fangs gleamed as she bared them, each one a weapon capable of rending the mightiest of foes.

The clone, visibly taken aback, stumbled backward, his hand instinctively going to the blaster at his side but faltering in hesitation. The harshness in Sylvestra's tone clearly caught him off guard, but his military training had him quickly recovering. He straightened, though his voice wavered as he tried to explain himself.

"It was an accident, really," he stammered, his eyes darting nervously over her towering form. His words seemed to tumble out in a rush as he realized how far he had overstepped. "I wasn't expecting... well, I wasn't expecting to find you here."

Sylvestra's eyes narrowed, her gaze never leaving him. His stammer only heightened her suspicion. This clone—this intruder—was no fool, but something in his stance and his tone made her wonder if he was as out of place as he seemed. An accident? she thought, but the amusement of such an excuse didn't soften the tension in the air. Her power, her reign over this cave and its treasures, was absolute—yet here was a being who had found his way to the very heart of her domain, whether by chance or design.

"Hmm," Sylvestra hummed, her voice laced with a mixture of curiosity and disdain as she dipped her head, her long silver mane flowing like liquid mercury. Her piercing eyes never left the clone as she began to circle him, her movements fluid and predatory, her massive tail swishing through the air behind her like a whip.

"Call me Silver," she spoke again, her voice now smoother, but still carrying the weight of authority. "The Queen under the Mount, protector of the treasures and the bloodline of King Smaug." She accentuated her words, her gaze heavy with the reminder of her legacy as she closed the distance between them, her claws clicking against the stone floor. She stopped just behind him, watching intently, and then circled back around to face him once more, her eyes gleaming with the sharpness of a hunting hawk.

She leaned closer, her breath a soft wind against his skin, as she inquired with a low, inquisitive growl, "What brings you so far from the battlelines, clone?" Her silver eyes gleamed, watching him closely for any sign of weakness, any hint of deception. She could feel the weight of his presence—he wasn't like the others who had ventured too close to her mountain, and this was more than just an accidental trespass. His purpose here wasn't as simple as it seemed.

The way he held himself, the way his armor glinted in the low light, told her he was no ordinary soldier, no random wanderer. There was something more behind his eyes, something that whispered of secrets and missions beyond her understanding.

"I-I'm Commander Fox," he stammered, standing straighter as he attempted to regain his composure. His tone was firm, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed his unease. With a sharp salute, he added, "Honored to see you, Majesty."

Sylvestra huffed, a deep, rumbling sound escaping her chest as she flicked her tail dismissively. Her eyes, once molten silver, began to shift, the golden hue creeping into them like a storm rising on the horizon. "You better be," she replied, her voice low and dangerously calm, as if daring him to challenge her. She took a slow step forward, the power of her presence making the very air seem heavier.

Her gaze narrowed, her golden eyes piercing through him with the intensity of a predator sensing another threat in the distance. "Is any more of your brothers here?" she asked, her words deliberate, carrying a hint of curiosity mixed with suspicion. Her sharp claws dug into the stone beneath her feet as she awaited his response, her posture regal and commanding. She had learned the ways of the world, of the hidden threats that lingered even in places like these. And if there were more of his kind, it was best to know before they made their move.

The man shook his head quickly, his posture straightening as he responded, "No, Majesty, they're outside. Fighting the war." His voice was steady, though there was a hint of urgency beneath it, as if he feared her reaction. He pointed upward, as though the weight of the battlefield beyond the volcano loomed over them both.

Sylvestra studied him, her golden eyes flicking to where he indicated, as if the war itself could somehow seep into the very walls of her cave. Her expression remained unreadable for a long moment, her sharp mind calculating, weighing his words against the tension in the air.

"So, you stand here... alone, far from your brethren," she said slowly, her voice carrying the weight of her own thoughts. Her claws scraped lightly against the stone as she shifted her position, the air around her charged with an almost palpable energy. "Tell me, Commander Fox," she continued, her tone softer but no less dangerous, "what brings a soldier so deep into the heart of a dragon's lair, when your brothers are out there risking their lives for a cause I have no stake in?" Her eyes bore into his, searching for the truth beneath his armor and words.

Fox blinked, his thoughts scrambling at the dragon's unexpected offer. "I don't know," he stammered, his words fumbling. "I... I mean, can you help us? With the war?" The question felt ridiculous as it left his mouth. The mere idea of this immense, ancient creature involving herself in a galactic conflict seemed absurd. Yet here he was, asking. He couldn't believe himself.

Sylvestra—Silver, as she had called herself—smiled faintly, a glimmer of mischief lighting her golden eyes. "I can," she said, her voice carrying a smooth confidence that made Fox's heart race. "But you need to give me something in return, Commander Fox." She tilted her head, her serpentine neck curving gracefully as she considered him. "Now, tell me—what would you give a dragon who has everything?"

Fox let out a long, weary sigh. "I don't know. I don't have anything to give you. All I can offer is my loyalty—and that's not something I give lightly." His voice steadied as he spoke, his resolve clear despite the ridiculousness of the situation.

Silver's smile grew, revealing sharp fangs that gleamed in the faint light of the cave. "I like you," she said simply, her tone carrying the weight of a decision made. "All right. It's time for me to leave this treasure hoard anyway. My father always said no one would dare to enter the Lonely Mountain again, and I know he was right." She nudged him forward with the tip of her snout, a surprisingly gentle gesture for a creature of her size. "Go. I'll follow."

Fox stumbled forward, his head spinning as he processed what was happening. He glanced back to see Silver's immense form moving behind him, her steps causing the ground to tremble beneath them. Each shift of her weight sent a soft vibration through the stone, the sheer power of her presence making his heart pound. He wasn't sure if he liked the feeling, but he pressed on, heading toward the wreck of his fighter outside the mountain.

When they reached it, Silver lowered her head, sniffing the broken craft with mild interest. Her claw, sharp enough to rend metal, delicately touched the fuselage. In an instant, the ship lit up, glowing like a festival of lights. Every panel and system flared to life, the hum of energy filling the air.

Fox's jaw dropped beneath his helmet. "What are you doing?" he asked, unable to mask the shock in his voice.

Silver turned to him, a smug glint in her eyes. "I'm helping you," she said simply, her tone carrying a note of amusement. She paused, her expression turning thoughtful as she added, "I could carry you myself, but I doubt you're qualified to ride me."

Fox's eyebrows shot up beneath his visor, his hands twitching instinctively toward his hips. "Excuse me? Do you even know who I am?" he shot back, incredulity coloring his words.

Silver's smile widened, her fangs gleaming in the sunlight. "No," she said, her voice rich with mockery, "and I don't care." She nudged him again, this time toward the now-functional fighter. "Now, saddle up, Commander. We're going top speed."

Before Fox could protest further, Silver's massive wings unfurled, creating a gust of wind that sent nearby rocks tumbling. She shot into the air, her massive frame cutting through the sky with startling speed and grace. The ground shook beneath her as she took off, and for a moment, Fox simply stood there, staring in awe. Then, snapping himself out of it, he scrambled into his fighter, muttering under his breath. "By the stars, what have I gotten myself into?"

He powered up the ship, following her as best he could, her gleaming silver form a beacon against the chaos of the battlefield overhead. Whatever madness this was, it seemed Fox had a new ally—one that could turn the tide of the war.

SCENEBREAK

Anakin, aboard the ship's bridge, stared in sheer, unfiltered horror as a massive silver dragon tore through the sky with unimaginable ferocity. Her wings cut through the clouds, her claws shredded apart the hull of a Separatist flagship like paper, and flames rained down as she bellowed with triumphant laughter. His jaw fell open as the realization hit him. "What in the—what the—" he stammered, his words stumbling over themselves. "What is that?!"

Before anyone could answer, Commander Fox's voice crackled through the comms. His tone was tense, but there was an undeniable thread of exhaustion and resignation in it. "Sorry, Commanders," Fox began. "She just... helped me." There was a pause as his fighter darted past and shot down a droid fighter. "Don't worry. She's... uh... kind. Sort of."

Above, the dragon—Silver, as Fox had called her—twirled through the chaos with surprising grace, her laugh echoing like thunder. "I haven't had this much fun in ages!" she roared before unleashing another torrent of fire, reducing yet another Separatist frigate to smoldering ruin.

When the battle finally settled and the droids ceased their attack, one lone frigate remained drifting aimlessly—a broken shell of what it had been. Silver circled back, her eyes glinting as the battlefield quieted. With a triumphant roar, she angled herself toward the Republic ships and descended. Her massive form landed with a quake that made the starship beneath her groan in protest. The hangar doors opened hesitantly, and she stepped inside, her claws clicking against the floor.

The clones stationed in the hangar froze, their helmets tilting upward as the dragon's immense form filled the space. For a moment, there was utter silence—then someone let out a strangled yell, and a ripple of panic swept through the soldiers. Blasters were raised, though none fired, their fear outweighing their instincts.

Anakin and Obi-Wan, accompanied by Ahsoka and Captain Rex, arrived via elevator just in time to see the dragon's sinuous neck arch down, her head swiveling as she sniffed the air. She inspected the hangar like it was her new domain, her sharp, gleaming eyes lingering on every clone she passed.

Commander Fox's fighter landed behind her, and the man practically stumbled out, his helmet slightly askew. "Hey! Easy, brothers!" he called, waving his arms to lower their weapons. "Silver, don't attack them."

Silver's laughter echoed again, rich and amused. "If I had attacked, Commander Fox, you'd all already be dead." Her voice was smooth, but the way she bared her fangs as she smiled sent a shiver through the clones. She turned her gaze to the newcomers—Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka—and tilted her head curiously. "You must be Jedi. My father told me about your kind, said you would come one day to save the galaxy and all that nonsense."

Anakin crossed his arms, his sharp blue eyes narrowing. "Excuse me, how old are you exactly?" he demanded, his tone laced with suspicion. Before he could say more, Obi-Wan jabbed him lightly in the side with his elbow, shooting him a warning look.

Silver chuckled deeply, a rumble that vibrated the air. "No, no, no," she said, lowering her massive head and placing a single claw between the two Jedi before curling it around Anakin. She lifted him off the ground with ease, holding him like a child holds a toy. Her voice dropped into a teasing purr. "Do you really want to know, boy, how old I am?" She brought him closer, her golden eyes gleaming. "My father lived to be three thousand years old before his death. I've been living ever since."

Anakin, to his credit, didn't flinch as she set him back down, though he brushed himself off with a huff. Obi-Wan, always the diplomat, took a step forward, his tone calm and curious. "Who was your father?"

Silver's expression shifted, her playful demeanor replaced with something more solemn. "Smaug the Terrible," she said, her voice reverberating through the hangar. "The King under the Mountain." Her gaze grew sharp and proud as she straightened herself to her full height. "And I am the Queen under the Mountain. Sylvestra, but you may call me Silver."