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Game of Thrones: Azeroth? This Is Westeros!
Game of Thrones: Starborn Conqueror
Game of Thrones: My Pets Evolve Into Dragons
Game of Thrones: Joffrey the Ruthless Emperor
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The east wind arrived in Blackwater Bay even earlier than Vaegon's star charts had predicted.
Before dawn, the salty breeze was already whipping whitecaps against the hulls of the United Fleet, like countless invisible hands pushing the ironclad behemoths toward another day of grueling drills.
Daemon stood in the crow's nest of the Blackfyre. His fingertips traced the cold dragon carvings on the railing. On the horizon, the first hint of grey dawn was breaking, and the silver sails of House Velaryon glimmered faintly in the mist like a school of sea monsters lying in wait.
"Your Highness, Lord Corlys sends word: the Left Wing is ready and awaits your signal." Rayford Rosby climbed into the crow's nest, clutching a damp roll of parchment. It was the "Breakout Route Map" marked up late last night.
Corlys had circled three shoals in red ink where enemy ships could encircle them, annotating: "Velaryon ships can use the east wind to flank."
Daemon took the map, scanning the shoals. He recalled the stiffness of the Lannister defense on the western flank yesterday.
"Tell Lord Tymond to shift the Western fleet half a mile south," Daemon instructed. "Leave a gap to lure the 'enemy.' Once the mock Triarchy ships enter the shallows, use the fire ships to cut off their retreat."
As Rayford turned to leave, Gael's voice drifted up from below.
She hovered Dreamfyre over the deck, her pale violet dress damp with morning dew, holding up an oilskin packet. "Mother had the kitchens make hot oatcakes with Crackclaw Point honey. Eat something."
Daemon climbed down the rope ladder. Taking the packet, her hand felt cold against his—she must have left the Red Keep before light, and the wind on dragonback was freezing.
"Why didn't you wear a thicker cloak?" He adjusted her collar, revealing the Dreamfyre embroidery on her tunic. "The wind is sharp today."
Gael smiled and shook her head, pulling a folded note from her bodice. "Larys asked me to give you this. He intercepted a Triarchy message last night. They've reinforced their scorpion emplacements in the Stepstones and brought in three 'Iron-Hulls'—ships clad in iron plate that standard bolts can't pierce."
Daemon unfolded the note. The ink was still damp. In Larys's cramped handwriting, it read: "Iron-Hulls have deep drafts; difficult in shallows."
This perfectly matched Corlys's shoal strategy.
Daemon handed the note to Jarman behind him. "Get this to Lord Corlys. Have him adjust the flanking route to avoid deep water."
Just then, a horn blasted from Prince Baelon's flagship, the King's Banner. The long, mournful note echoed across the bay.
Daemon looked up. Baelon stood at the prow, his crimson cloak snapping in the east wind. With a wave of the dragon banner, the entire United Fleet surged into motion.
Left Wing: The Velaryon and Redwyne fleets set sail first. Corlys commanded his silver ships into a crescent formation. On the Arbor Queen, Allan Redwyne dropped a green flag, and archers nocked their arrows, green fletching gleaming cold in the morning light.
Right Wing: The Lannister fleet shifted south. Tymond Lannister stood in the crow's nest of the Golden Lion. At the wave of a gold flag, a dozen fire ships peeled away from the flank, their ignition mechanisms checked and ready.
Center Wing: The Crownlands and Vale fleets formed a "Long Snake" line. Lyonel Corbray, guided by Lord Sunderland, gripped Lady Forlorn and commanded Vale knights to lock shields along the rails, forming a wall of steel. The Royce twins stood at the front, rune-swords at their hips, eyes fixed warily on the "mock enemy"—old royal hulks painted with black sails to mimic the Triarchy.
"Take to the sky!" Daemon nodded to Gael and vaulted onto The Cannibal.
The black dragon let out a low roar, the wind from his wings snapping the banners on deck.
Grey Ghost followed, pale scales shimmering softly, weaving agilely between the masts.
Daemon Targaryen flew in from the right on Caraxes. For once, the Rogue Prince wasn't smirking. As the Blood Wyrm's shadow swept over the Lannister decks, even Tymond Lannister nodded at him—clearly, the Rogue Prince's help with the riverlords yesterday and his command of the fire ships had earned him a sliver of respect from the Lion of the West.
"Begin the Breakout!" Baelon's voice boomed through the horn.
The Center Wing's "Long Snake" suddenly accelerated, charging the "enemy" ships, rams gleaming.
The Left Wing's Velaryon ships used the east wind to slip back half a mile, then turned sharply to flank the "enemy" from the left. Corlys steered the Sea Snake personally, the ship moving like a silver fish to avoid the shallows while training scorpions on the "enemy" sails.
The Right Wing's Lannister fire ships surged forward. "Light them up!" Tymond roared. Ten ships burst into flame, becoming meteors hurtling toward the "enemy's" rear.
Daemon dove on The Cannibal, spewing black fire onto the sea in front of the "enemy," sending up walls of steam to herd them back.
Rhaenys swept in from the right on Meleys, painting an arc of red fire across the "enemy" sails—not burning them, but scaring the "crew" (Crownlands soldiers) into abandoning ship.
Daemon Targaryen didn't hold back either. Caraxes's scarlet flame snapped the mainmast of the lead "enemy" ship with precision—a clean hit that didn't scorch friendly rigging. Even Tymond muttered, "Decent work."
just as the "breakout" was succeeding, a lookout shouted: "Unidentified ship to the east! Flying Lyseni silk sails!"
Daemon's heart went cold. Lys was part of the Triarchy. A ship here could only be a scout!
He waved his dragon banner at Baelon. "The Cannibal and Caraxes will intercept! Velaryon fleet, pursue!"
The two dragons turned as one. The Red Dragon was fast as lightning, overtaking the Lyseni ship in moments.
Corlys reacted instantly. The Sea Snake led three galleys in a sprint toward the east.
Seeing the dragons, the Lyseni spy tried to run with full sail, but The Cannibal's fire forced them to turn—straight into the Velaryon net.
Allan Redwyne ordered a volley. Arrows shredded the rigging, and the Lyseni ship drifted dead in the water, hooked by the Sea Snake.
"Search!" Corlys ordered. Velaryon sailors boarded and soon dragged out shivering spies. One clutched a parchment—a diagram of the United Fleet's formation, annotated: "Dragons and ships tightly coordinated. Iron-Hull ballistae required to break defense."
Baelon frowned at the parchment. "The Triarchy has been watching us."
He turned to Daemon, praise in his voice. "Fast reaction today. The coordination was seamless."
Corlys nodded. "The spy says the Triarchy's Iron-Hulls are gathering at Echo Bay in the Stepstones. Deep water there favors them. But they didn't expect us to practice shallow-water breakouts—the east wind was a blessing."
Daemon took the confession, his finger tracing the words "Iron-Hull ballistae." Remembering Larys's note, he turned to Baelon. "Uncle, we should plate our hulls with dragonglass tomorrow. It resists bolts... and prepares for other contingencies."
He didn't say "Others." Based on the Leaf's message and Alys Rivers's prophecy, only he knew that dragonglass could weaken the piercing power of Triarchy bolts and kill White Walkers in the future.
Baelon agreed. He turned to the gathered lords. "We sail at the end of the month! Target: the Stepstones! We declare war! Let the Three Whores see the might of the Seven Kingdoms!"
At sunset, the sails furled. Blackwater Bay quieted, leaving only the faint smell of dragonfire sulfur.
Daemon leaned on the rail of the Blackfyre. Gael sat beside him, toying with a shard of dragonglass—a piece she'd found under The Cannibal's scales yesterday, likely from a secret trip back to his lair on Dragonstone.
"Dragonglass plating tomorrow," she whispered. "Vaegon says the northern lights are getting brighter. He's uneasy."
Daemon squeezed her hand. "Don't worry. Once we deal with the Triarchy, we'll go to Castle Black."
But Alys Rivers's note flashed in his mind: "Comet brightens, Eternal Night nears." He knew the war in the Stepstones was only the first step in protecting this century of peace.
The Cannibal circled high above, his black wings eclipsing the setting sun, casting a shadow over the Blackfyre like a silent guardian.
Daemon looked up. Vhagar roared in the distance, joined by Caraxes and Dreamfyre—a war song for the coming battle.
He knew when the sails turned toward the Narrow Sea, it wasn't just to end the Triarchy threat. It was to protect the smiles of those around him, to guard the warmth of this era. Even if the shadow of the Eternal Night waited in the distance, he would build a wall of black fire and steel to defend this land.