Gendry and Daenerys walked side by side along the rugged mountain paths of Dragonstone. The eastern slopes of the island were especially dangerous, filled with steep cliffs, volcanic cracks, and jagged black stone. Long ago, this part of Dragonstone had housed the greatest number of dragons, and even now the air still carried the scent of ash and sulfur.
Gendry wore a black studded leather vest beneath a gold-trimmed surcoat. Hanging at his waist was his warhammer, the orphan-maker. Beside him, Daenerys wore black and crimson velvet clothing suited for travel. Her white Hrakkar lion fur cloak had been left behind, since it was too heavy and impractical for climbing the volcanic terrain.
Following behind them were Ser Barristan Selmy, Brienne of Tarth, Anguy, Jon Snow, Dacey Mormont, and several trusted guards.
Leading the group was a young fishing girl named Jannie, one of the few people on Dragonstone who knew the mountain trails better than anyone else.
Jannie was an orphan. Years ago, Ser Davos Seaworth had helped her survive during difficult times, saving her from being forced into tavern work or prostitution. She had black hair, brown eyes, sun-darkened skin, and a slim figure hardened by labor and harsh weather.
Though rough around the edges and foul-mouthed at times, she was fearless.
"Ser Davos always said I was tougher than most men," Jannie declared proudly while leading them upward. "I mend my own fishing nets, catch my own fish, and drink stronger ale than half the sailors at the docks."
She grinned confidently.
"And nobody knows Dragonstone better than me."
When Jannie first saw Daenerys and the dragons, she had nearly cried with joy. Like many people born on Dragonstone, she still remembered the glory of House Targaryen. To the islanders, dragons were not simply beasts—they were sacred creatures, symbols of an age when Dragonstone stood at the center of the world.
Daenerys had tried offering her gold dragons as payment, but Jannie refused every coin.
"Hissss!"
Above them, the three young dragons circled excitedly through the smoky skies. Their long necks stretched like serpents while their wings beat powerfully against the wind. Smoke curled from their mouths as they flew low over the volcanic cliffs.
The dragons were clearly excited.
Daenerys smiled softly as she watched them.
"This used to be their home," she said quietly. "The children have finally returned home."
Gendry nodded.
"Fire and smoke. Dragons love this place more than anywhere else."
As they continued climbing, Gendry occasionally glanced toward Daenerys.
Though she looked delicate, she endured the harsh climb without complaint. The sharp rocks, hot winds, and difficult paths didn't slow her down in the slightest.
He couldn't help thinking back to the strange changes that had happened to her after the dragons hatched.
Before that night, Daenerys had been physically weaker.
Afterward, it was as though fire itself had reshaped her.
She once told him about her dragon dreams—visions where dragons watched her from the darkness while flames purified her body.
Perhaps those dreams were more than simple fantasies.
"Are there any other volcanic places like this in the Seven Kingdoms?" Gendry asked as they climbed.
Ser Barristan shook his head.
"Not that I know of, Your Highness. Volcanoes are extremely rare. Aside from the Fourteen Flames of Valyria, Dragonstone may be the only place like this in the known world."
Gendry frowned thoughtfully.
Dragons were already unimaginably rare creatures.
Yet even their natural habitats were nearly extinct.
For thousands of years, only the Fourteen Flames and Dragonstone had been capable of sustaining dragonkind.
That alone felt suspicious.
"It's because of this volcanic land that the Valyrian Dragonlords chose Dragonstone as their western outpost," Gendry said quietly. "But strangely enough, they never invaded Westeros immediately."
He paused for a moment.
"Perhaps even the Dragonlords feared the ancient magic hidden beneath this continent."
Westeros possessed powers older and stranger than Valyria.
The old gods of the forests.
The drowned god of the Iron Islands.
The legends of the Storm God.
And worst of all—
The White Walkers.
If ancient Valyria truly knew about such things, then even dragonlords would think twice before marching deeper into Westeros.
As they continued climbing, Jannie suddenly spoke again.
"Before the Dance of the Dragons, six dragons lived on Dragonstone."
She began counting them on her fingers.
"There were three riderless dragons—Vermithor, Silverwing, and Seasmoke."
"And there were three wild dragons—Sheepstealer, Grey Ghost…"
Her voice lowered slightly.
"And The Cannibal."
Daenerys immediately recognized the names.
"Vermithor was King Jaehaerys' dragon," she said thoughtfully. "Silverwing belonged to Queen Alysanne."
Despite her years of exile and wandering, her education as a Targaryen princess had remained surprisingly thorough.
The higher they climbed, the harsher the environment became.
Eventually, they discovered several smoking caves hidden within the mountainside.
Some caves stretched deep underground, their interiors blackened by ancient fire. The heat pouring from them was intense, and thick sulfurous smoke drifted through the air.
These were clearly ancient dragon lairs.
Humans could only venture a short distance inside before the heat became unbearable.
The dragons, however, reacted very differently.
They became wildly excited.
Balerion screeched happily while Vhagar and Viserion circled around the entrances.
The smell of smoke and burning stone seemed to awaken something ancient within them.
Gendry examined the cave walls carefully.
"Dragon glass…"
Embedded within several tunnels were veins of black obsidian.
Jannie nodded.
"There's plenty of it beneath Dragonstone. Lord Stannis knows about the old volcanic tunnels filled with dragon glass."
Gendry picked up a shard of obsidian and turned it over in his hand.
The black stone gleamed strangely beneath the light.
He knew this material was no ordinary rock.
Obsidian could kill White Walkers.
It carried ancient magic within it.
A trace of regret crossed his face.
"I should've sent some north with Renly," he muttered.
Unfortunately, it was already too late for that now.
They eventually reached the highest part of Dragonstone.
The environment there was brutal.
The cliffs were dangerously steep, the ground cracked with volcanic heat, and smoke drifted endlessly through the air.
Jannie pointed toward a dark cave hidden near the mountainside.
"This is the highest and most dangerous empty dragon lair on Dragonstone."
The cave was enormous.
Its entrance resembled the jaws of a giant beast, and white smoke drifted continuously from within.
The inside extended deep toward the volcanic heart of the island itself.
Only the oldest and strongest dragons could have survived in such a place.
"Whose lair was it?" Gendry asked.
Jannie swallowed nervously before answering.
"I think it belonged to The Cannibal."
Even the name carried unease.
Daenerys narrowed her eyes toward the cave.
"The Cannibal…"
"I heard stories about him."
Jannie nodded quickly.
"He was the oldest and most violent wild dragon alive during the Dance of the Dragons."
"They called him The Cannibal because he ate other dragons."
The group fell silent.
"He devoured dragon eggs," Jannie continued quietly. "Newborn hatchlings too. Sometimes he attacked other dragon nests directly."
"He was pitch black, with glowing green eyes."
"And he hated humans more than anything."
"No one ever tamed him."
Even Ser Barristan looked disturbed by the story.
Meanwhile, the young dragons continued circling excitedly around the volcanic cliffs.
Balerion especially seemed fascinated by the smell of fire and molten stone.
But Gendry knew the dragons were still too small to live there permanently.
"Let's head back," he finally said.
"We've stayed long enough."
Daenerys nodded in agreement.
"The dragons can remain in the castle courtyard for now. Once they grow larger, they can move here."
Before leaving, Gendry took one final look at the ancient lair of The Cannibal.
The cave felt ancient.
Hungry.
Almost alive.
Then the group began descending the mountain.
As they traveled downward, the dragons returned to their masters.
Balerion and Viserion wrapped their tails around Gendry's arms and shoulders like warm living chains. Their bodies radiated heat like heated stones left beside a fire.
Daenerys carried Vhagar around her shoulders like a living green scarf.
After a while, Daenerys turned toward Jannie.
"What happened to The Cannibal later?"
Jannie shrugged helplessly.
"No one knows for sure, Princess."
"After the Dance of the Dragons, only a few dragons survived."
"Sheepstealer vanished alongside the girl Nettles."
"Silverwing supposedly nested somewhere in The Reach."
"As for The Cannibal…"
She glanced back toward the volcanic peaks.
"People said he still roamed Dragonstone for years afterward."
"Then one day, he simply disappeared."
"Most likely, he died somewhere alone."
Daenerys grew quiet.
"The Dance of the Dragons…"
The words carried a painful weight.
The Targaryens once possessed countless dragons.
Then they destroyed themselves through civil war.
"Kinslaying," Ser Barristan said sadly. "Brother fighting sister. Dragons killing dragons."
"It marked the beginning of House Targaryen's decline."
Gendry remained silent, though his thoughts turned elsewhere.
In his mind, many of the old conflicts traced back toward House Hightower and their ancient ambitions.
That family had survived every dynasty through wealth, patience, and political manipulation.
Such enemies were far more dangerous than open warriors.
As they neared the castle again, Gendry noticed several ships sailing in the distance across the sea.
There were fewer vessels than before, but trade around Dragonstone had slowly begun recovering.
At the castle entrance, Daenerys turned toward Jannie warmly.
"You've helped us greatly today."
"You deserve a reward."
But Jannie immediately dropped to one knee.
"Princess… I don't want gold."
Daenerys blinked in surprise.
"Then what do you want?"
Jannie raised her head, eyes filled with determination.
"I want to serve you."
"I want to witness the return of dragons to the world."
Daenerys smiled gently and helped her stand.
"I would be happy to have you with us."
As another orphan who had survived hardship alone, Daenerys naturally felt sympathy toward the girl.
Gendry also nodded approvingly.
Someone familiar with Dragonstone's hidden terrain would be valuable.
"Thank you, Prince Gendry," Jannie said gratefully. "Thank you, Princess Daenerys."
At the castle courtyard, they encountered the Red Priestess once more.
She bowed gracefully before them.
"I can smell fire and smoke upon both of you, Your Highnesses."
"Lord Stannis is waiting in the Round Table Hall."
After speaking, she departed silently.
Gendry escorted Daenerys back to her chambers while Brienne of Tarth resumed her duties as the princess's sworn protector.
Then Gendry headed toward the Stone Drum Tower alongside Ser Barristan and the others.
The Stone Drum Tower was the main fortress of Dragonstone.
Its ancient walls were so massive that they supposedly rumbled whenever storms approached the island.
Deep below the castle lay damp prison cells and hidden tunnels stretching toward the volcanic center of the island itself.
Inside the Round Table Hall, Stannis Baratheon waited beside the famous painted table of Westeros.
The hall was bleak and nearly empty, making Stannis appear even colder and more imposing.
"Did you see the dragon caves?" Stannis asked immediately.
"Yes, Uncle," Gendry replied while walking toward the table.
"The best lair belonged to The Cannibal at the mountain summit."
"But the dragons are still too young to live there."
Stannis nodded.
"Even so, Dragonstone needs proper dragon guards."
"Have Ser Barristan and Ser Davos organize them," Gendry answered.
"The safest approach."
Then his expression hardened slightly.
"But now we must focus on war."
He pointed toward the painted map of Westeros.
"I've planned new supply routes between the Two Cities and Dragonstone."
"To avoid autumn storms, the fleet will travel through the Stepstones before passing Cape Wrath."
"We can also stop near Weeping Town or Tarth if necessary."
Stannis studied the map carefully.
"It increases travel distance," he admitted.
"But survival rates during storms will improve."
Gendry nodded.
Then his eyes turned colder.
"Next, we send letters to the lords."
"I want simultaneous attacks launched against King's Landing and Lannisport."
Even Ser Barristan looked surprised.
"A double offensive?"
Gendry smiled faintly.
"We control the sea completely."
"A young conqueror dividing his forces will appear arrogant and reckless."
"That's exactly what our enemies should believe."
Stannis stared at him for several silent moments.
Then he asked quietly:
"And who will serve as the bait?"
Gendry was about to answer—
But Stannis spoke first.
"The bait must be convincing."
His voice remained calm and unwavering.
"This time…"
"Perhaps I should be the bait."
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