The cold winds of the Narrow Sea swept across the deck of the ship, carrying the scent of salt and distant storms.
To fight off the chill, Anguy moved around the deck with a wooden tray in hand, serving steaming cups of hot clove-infused wine to everyone present. The warm aroma spread quickly through the air, easing some of the cold that had settled into their bones during the voyage.
But despite the warmth of the drinks, no one paid much attention to the freezing sea breeze anymore.
Because all eyes were fixed on the dragons.
The black dragon, Balerion, descended first.
With a powerful flap of his wings, the young dragon landed proudly on Gendry's raised arm. Though still young, Balerion already carried the imposing aura of a king. His black scales gleamed like polished obsidian under the fading sunlight, while his crimson eyes burned with fierce intelligence.
The dragon clearly enjoyed being the center of attention.
After all, he was perched beside the strongest warrior of the age.
Gendry chuckled softly and scratched beneath the dragon's chin. Even through his calloused fingers, he could feel the heat radiating from Balerion's scales. They were almost too hot to touch, like armor left beneath the blazing summer sun.
Balerion let out a satisfied growl.
Meanwhile, the green dragon, Vhagar, flew toward Daenerys.
Unlike Balerion's domineering presence, Vhagar seemed gentler and calmer. The green dragon curled comfortably into Daenerys's arms as though she belonged there.
A gust of sea wind swept across the deck, causing Daenerys's silver-gold hair to dance wildly around her face. Beneath the fading sunlight, her beauty appeared almost unreal—more like a figure from ancient Valyrian legends than an ordinary woman.
As for the white dragon, Viserion, he circled lazily overhead before finally landing on Gendry's shoulder.
The moment Balerion saw this, his blood-red eyes narrowed dangerously.
The black dragon clearly disliked sharing attention.
He shifted slightly, looking ready to knock Viserion away, but Gendry immediately rubbed the side of his head.
"Quiet, Balerion," Gendry said firmly. "You are brothers. Companions."
The dragon huffed irritably but eventually settled down.
Daenerys couldn't help laughing softly at the sight.
"Even dragons behave like children," she teased.
"They need guidance," Gendry replied. "Especially while they're young."
Fortunately, the three dragons had hatched together, and because of that, their relationship remained relatively harmonious. They fought together, played together, and even hunted together.
More importantly, they had already begun developing coordinated attack instincts.
When threatened, the three dragons naturally moved as a group.
The dragon trio tactic had already begun taking shape.
Currently, Vhagar and Viserion were only slightly larger than puppies, while Balerion was noticeably bigger than both of them. However, despite their size, they were surprisingly light.
Most of a dragon's body consisted of wings, tails, and elongated necks, making them much lighter than ordinary beasts of similar dimensions.
Daenerys gently stroked Vhagar's scales and smiled proudly.
"They'll continue growing larger and larger," she said softly. "One day, they'll carry us through the skies."
There was excitement in her voice.
Ever since the dragons hatched, she had dreamed of flying once again beneath the banner of House Targaryen.
The return of dragons meant the return of power.
The return of destiny.
Nearby, the Red Priestess Melisandre observed the dragons quietly.
Her crimson robes fluttered in the sea wind, while the ruby hanging around her throat shimmered faintly with an unnatural light.
"Sulfur," she murmured softly. "The scent of flame."
Her red eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"The flesh and blood of dragons are born from blood and fire. Fire itself is life."
Maester Qyburn folded his hands behind his back and spoke calmly.
"Many people will covet that power."
"That is why we need your assistance, Lady Melisandre of Asshai."
Only magic could counter magic.
Ordinary assassins and soldiers were dangerous, but compared to creatures empowered by supernatural forces, mortal threats were far less terrifying.
The return of dragons would inevitably attract enemies from every corner of the world.
Melisandre turned toward Gendry.
"What troubles you?" she asked quietly.
The large ruby on her chest glowed faintly as she spoke, making her appear even more mysterious and enchanting. Yet there was always something unsettling about her—like the dark and ancient magic of Asshai itself lingered around her presence.
Nearby, Stannis Baratheon took a sip of hot wine.
Warmth spread through his chest, but his expression remained as stern as ever.
"Blasphemers," Gendry said calmly. "Sorcerers. Skinchangers. Wights."
"The world is changing too quickly."
"The greatest threat may not even be armies anymore."
Stannis nodded slowly.
"In the past, I refused to believe in gods or magic," he admitted.
His voice was low and heavy.
"When I was young, I watched my parents die at sea with my own eyes."
A brief silence settled over the deck.
"From that day onward," Stannis continued, "I stopped believing in the mercy of gods."
"When Lord and Lady Steffon returned from across the Narrow Sea, their ship sank in Shipbreaker Bay."
"I was thirteen years old."
"They died before my eyes."
His expression darkened slightly.
"The Seven Gods never answered my prayers."
"Since then, I trusted only duty."
Stannis had always been serious, even as a child. The tragedy only hardened him further, turning him into the cold and uncompromising man he was today.
"But now," he continued, "the dead walk, magic spreads, and monsters awaken."
"We no longer have the luxury of disbelief."
Gendry leaned against the railing thoughtfully.
"I have too many responsibilities," he said. "Preparing armies. Securing food for winter. Strengthening alliances."
"I cannot personally handle every supernatural threat."
His gaze shifted toward Qyburn and Melisandre.
"That is why I need both of you."
Melisandre lowered her head slightly.
"I will obey the will of the storm and the true dragon."
"I will help you."
Then her tone became more serious.
"But understand this…"
"Magic always requires sacrifice."
The words caused several people nearby to tense slightly.
"I can only perform what is within my power," she continued. "And power always demands a price."
Ser Barristan Selmy frowned.
"And what exactly does your magic require?"
"Fire," Melisandre answered immediately.
"Only death can purchase life."
"To awaken greater miracles, sacrifices must be offered to the Lord of Light."
"Burning idols of false gods…"
"Or perhaps using king's blood."
Daenerys's expression darkened slightly.
She understood those words better than anyone.
She had already witnessed life exchanged for death.
Her brother's death.
Her unborn child.
Khal Drogo.
Those memories still haunted her.
Dacey Mormont crossed her arms and spoke bluntly.
"Your god sounds greedy."
Unlike the southern kingdoms, the North worshipped the old gods—silent spirits believed to dwell within trees, rivers, stones, and forests.
The old gods demanded no burning sacrifices.
Melisandre's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Bear woman," she replied coolly, "all gods are greedy."
"The Lord of Light simply possesses the greatest power."
"And power is never gentle."
Ser Barristan sighed heavily.
"Lady Melisandre, your methods are dangerous."
"If statues of the Seven are burned, or sacred weirwoods are destroyed, the realm will erupt into chaos."
He paused before continuing.
"King Baelor once attempted to force conversions throughout the kingdom."
"It nearly caused war with the North and the Iron Islands."
"If your faith spreads through fire and blood, the consequences could be catastrophic."
Stannis remained silent.
Truthfully, he did not care much about religion itself.
What mattered to him was usefulness.
Melisandre was valuable because her magic worked.
For a lord with limited lands and troops, such power was invaluable.
But Gendry's situation was different.
He possessed armies, wealth, territory, and allies.
He would never depend entirely upon a priestess.
Melisandre spoke again.
"The footprints of the gods are already appearing in this world."
"The old gods."
"The Lord of Light."
"And perhaps even the Drowned God."
"If I weaken my devotion, my power will weaken as well."
Gendry nodded calmly.
"Then let us agree to disagree."
"You may keep your faith."
"But if we wish to avoid religious war, you must restrain your desire to convert everyone."
"Our enemies are arriving far too quickly for internal conflict."
Qyburn stepped forward thoughtfully.
"The White Walkers beyond the Wall."
"The Ironborn in the west."
"Qarth in the east."
"And even Braavos."
"None of them can be underestimated."
"The moment word spreads about dragons, the balance of power across the world will change."
Stannis scoffed slightly.
"The Ironborn do not concern me."
"I defeated them once already."
Compared to the great kingdoms, the Iron Islands were small and sparsely populated.
Dacey Mormont glanced toward him.
"You mean the Greyjoy Rebellion?"
Stannis nodded.
"In the Battle of Fair Isle, the royal fleet shattered the Iron Fleet."
"That was Victarion Greyjoy's first defeat."
But Gendry shook his head.
"I am not worried about Balon Greyjoy."
"I am worried about his brother."
"Euron Greyjoy."
Stannis frowned slightly.
"That madman?"
He remembered Euron only vaguely.
Compared to Balon, Euron had rarely attracted attention during the rebellion.
But Qyburn's expression turned grim.
"What makes him dangerous is not merely his ambition."
"It is magic."
"He may already have stepped deeply into forbidden powers."
Melisandre fell silent for several moments.
Then she whispered softly:
"The age of magic is returning."
"If the powers of storm, wolf, and flame awaken…"
"Then naturally, the Drowned God may answer as well."
A heavy silence settled over the ship.
Finally, Gendry spoke again.
"That is why the dragons must be protected."
"And why we must prepare a trap."
Melisandre looked at him curiously.
"A trap?"
Gendry nodded slowly.
"The dragons are treasures."
"But they are also bait."
Everyone on the deck focused on him immediately.
"As long as dragons exist," Gendry explained, "people will come seeking them."
"Dragon horns."
"Dragon eggs."
"Valyrian blood."
"Ancient magic."
"Ambitious fools will gather like moths drawn to flame."
He paused briefly.
"That is why Dragonstone is the ideal location."
At the mention of Dragonstone, Daenerys instinctively tightened her grip around Gendry's hand.
Though she barely remembered the island, she still knew it was the ancestral seat of House Targaryen.
Her true home.
"We need to return there," Gendry told her gently.
Melisandre nodded thoughtfully.
"Storm's End possesses ancient magic as well," she admitted. "But Dragonstone's volcanic fires are far more suitable for dragons."
"I will use flame as both shield and weapon."
"I can help ensure their safety."
Stannis agreed.
"Dragonstone is defensible."
"But once word spreads, countless enemies will come."
"There is no avoiding it."
"So instead of hiding the bait…"
"We prepare for those who try to seize it."
Qyburn smiled faintly.
"I have already begun compiling a list."
"House Hightower."
"The Black Swans of Braavos."
"Various dragon-blooded descendants."
"Merchants, mages, and assassins."
His eyes gleamed with excitement.
"From Oldtown to Braavos, we will establish watchers everywhere."
"Anyone who moves against the dragons will be discovered."
Melisandre looked toward the old maester carefully.
"I hope we may cooperate well together."
"And perhaps one day, you may open your heart to the Lord of Light."
Qyburn chuckled softly.
"My lady, I study knowledge—not faith."
"I have already wasted too much of my life."
"Now I dedicate myself only to science…"
"And to serving the storm and the true dragon."
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