In Red Keep of King's Landing, Sansa Stark still sat by the window, looking out at the sea.
Jeyne Poole sat beside her, softly recounting the news she had heard outside today, such as how the Lannister's The Imp had already entered the city with reinforcements.
"I heard that His Majesty Viserys is very handsome," Jeyne said, suddenly shifting the topic to talk to Sansa about Viserys.
"I heard he has a pure Valyrian appearance, with silver hair, purple eyes, and fair skin, just like Prince Rhaegar from the songs. Do you know of Rhaegar? I heard that back then, Prince Rhaegar attracted all the noblewomen in the Seven Kingdoms. Even the current Queen Cersei used to be one of Prince Rhaegar's suitors."
Sansa was instantly captivated by her words and turned to look at her. Jeyne could see a clear sense of anticipation in Sansa's eyes, hoping she would continue.
Jeyne didn't keep her in suspense and continued with the rumors she'd heard about Viserys. "And then there's Viserys's dragon—that golden three-headed dragon. It looks so much like the House Targaryen's crest. Some say he hatched it himself in Valyria, while others say it was a gift from the gods and that he is their spokesperson."
Sansa asked softly, "Do you know when he will take King's Landing?"
Jeyne paused for a moment before saying, "How would I know that? But everyone in the castle is talking about it, so it should be soon."
Sansa fell silent. She longed to see her family now—her younger sister Arya, who used to always be at odds with her. And that legendary Dragon King, Viserys—what kind of person was he really? Why was her little sister with him?
She looked out the window. The sky over King's Landing felt a bit gray because of the recent clouds of war. But she seemed to see a golden light flickering in the distant clouds.
Sansa immediately straightened her back and looked closely.
Could that flash of light just now have been a legendary dragon?
But the dragons she yearned for were currently almost all gathered at Massey's Hook.
Stannis stood at the bow of his flagship, the fury, gazing at the gray sea ahead. His fleet of over fifty warships was already arranged in a wedge formation, the crowned stag banners on the sails flapping in the sea breeze.
Most of these were the old, dilapidated ships Viserys had left behind when Dragonstone was taken years ago. Others were merchant ships he had later conscripted from the Stormlands coast and refitted. Of the ships truly built afterward, aside from his flagship, there were only a few small boats. Because Robert gave him no financial support, this was all he had left—his final hope.
However, the Valyrian fleet appearing before him was dense with ships, their banners fluttering, stretching as far as the eye could see. Moreover, those ships looked larger and newer. Behind them, in the direction from which the fleet had come, they were similarly blocked by the Empire's warships. They now had nowhere to retreat.
But what was even more terrifying was in the sky.
Ten legendary dragons were circling above the fleet. The golden three-headed dragon was the largest, its wingspan blotting out the sun, casting a shadow over the fleet below.
A pitch-black dragon followed closely behind, flames burning in its dark red eyes. There were also smaller dragons—crimson, dark green, black...
They soared through the air, their Dragon Roars deafening, occasionally breathing fire as a show of force.
Stannis's thin face remained expressionless, but his gray eyes held a gravity he couldn't hide. He could only tightly grip the longsword hanging at his waist.
It was a fine sword, one he had obtained during his desperate defense of Storms End. Although it wasn't valyrian steel, it was harder than other swords. Later, he had a golden stag's head inlaid into the hilt, and the crowned stag of Baratheon was engraved upon the blade.
Behind him, the soldiers on the warships looked up at the legendary creatures, weapons in hand and faces pale. Their eyes held deep fear, but also loyalty to him.
He knew the odds were against them in this battle, but he was the King; he could not retreat.
"Davos," Stannis suddenly spoke to the Onion Knight beside him.
"Your Majesty?"
"If I die..." Stannis paused. "I want you to lead the remaining ships to break through, retreat to Storms End, and find Renly."
Davos looked at Stannis, his eyes filled with complex emotions. He had followed Stannis for so many years and had never seen him like this, never heard him say such things.
"Your Majesty, I promise you," Davos replied. He didn't offer any empty words about certain victory; seeing the sight before him, he knew they were doomed this time.
Stannis was silent for a moment, then began to issue orders. "All forces, prepare for battle. Nock the bolts, ready the fire oil. We must let the Targaryens know that the Baratheons are not to be trifled with."
The orders were passed down, and Davos took a small boat back to his own ship. Stannis's soldiers were preparing tensely; some checked the ballistae, some coated arrows in oil, and some knelt devoutly on the deck, offering their final prayers to the Seven.
Soon, the Valyrian fleet approached, slowly tightening the encirclement. At the front was a line of large warships with massive bronze rams on their prows. Their decks were filled with soldiers, well-equipped and high-spirited.
The dragons in the sky also began to dive.
Stannis saw the first dragon to move—it was indeed the three-headed dragon. Moreover, a tiny figure sat upon its back. The person's silver hair fluttered in the wind, and their black-and-red armor glinted coldly in the sunlight.
Viserys Targaryen.
Stannis looked up at the figure in the sky. He thought of Robert, of Eddard, and of those who had bled for the House Baratheon. He thought of the wars he had experienced in his life—from Storms End to Dragonstone, and then to Pyke—facing crisis after crisis, danger after danger, and emerging safe every time.
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