"The catch is, we have to get rid of the Smith," Jaime objected.
"If every alliance is aimed at dealing with Storm, then there is a chance. He is only in his teens, and young men that age are always a little reckless. Renly was defeated without warning, and assassins are an effective tool. Assassination or poison, so long as we plan carefully. Stannis has no love from the people, Eddard is a Northerner, the Arryn of the Vale is a mere child, Edmure is even more useless, and the Doran brothers cannot leave their lands. The Sorrowful Men of Qarth, the Faceless Men of Braavos, the killers of Volantis, they are all eager for work, and we cannot fall behind. I will spend all the gold it takes, so long as someone can accomplish this great task for me," Tywin said, folding his hands.
"Good luck, Father," Jaime said.
Though he believed it was wrong. A knight's way was a decisive battle, a duel fought one on one. But he was missing a hand, and that was too pitiful.
"Let us discuss your sister's possible marriage instead." Tywin Lannister looked at Cersei Lannister. "The older choices are too few, so we must also keep an eye on the younger ones, even the butter merchants, cheese merchants, and trade princes across the Narrow Sea. We need a beautiful great fleet."
"You want to sell me off, just as you sold me to Robert Baratheon back then. I will not consider any man." Cersei's face grew paler and paler. Her father was not discussing it with her. He was deciding for her.
"Everything is for the glory of the house. Even if you are my daughter, you must obey. I worked hard to win that glory, and I will not allow anyone to trample it." Tywin looked at Cersei coldly.
"And that price includes me, of course. And Myrcella and Tommen," Cersei asked softly.
"I have considered many candidates, but as the situation has worsened, among the older names only Balon Greyjoy remains. Among the younger ones, there are Theon Greyjoy, Willas of House Tyrell, the Redwyne twins, and others. As for the Martells, the hatred between us runs too deep. I am no longer considering Doran, Oberyn, or Quentyn, and the Martells are worth far less than the Golden Rose," Tywin said.
Kevan added, "The Greyjoys are raiding The North, and the Starks are Storm's allies, so the Kraken can only turn to us. As for the Tyrells, they have sided with Storm for the moment, but the Golden Rose was not one of the original founders of the old Fish, Wolf, Stag, and Eagle alliance. Their ties to Storm are the shallowest, and they also have their hatred of Stannis. If an opportunity appears, if the young Storm is assassinated, we can do everything in our power to win over the Golden Rose."
Jaime Lannister cleared his throat. "Balon is an old man, and he already has a wife. Willas is a cripple, and the Rose has attacked our armies and already thrown itself in with King's Landing. Will they listen to us?"
"The Rose was half-pushed into it, half-willing. Relatively speaking, unlike those other lands, there is no deep blood feud between the Rose and us. The Rose is also powerful." Tywin cut off his son's objection.
Then Tywin looked at Cersei. "As the heir to Highgarden, so long as Willas is not crippled below the waist, I believe many would be willing to love him. Besides, he is fond of breeding animals, and keeps the finest hounds, falcons, and steeds in all the Seven Kingdoms."
Cersei looked at Jaime, fire and despair in her green eyes.
"Taking everything into account, we currently have several tentative choices. Balon and Willas are merely near the top. Of course, I do not reject trade princes across the Narrow Sea, or the noble Bloodlines of Volantis and Lys. But we must wait for the situation to become clearer. Our survival depends on this single move," Tywin concluded.
"Thank you for your kindness, Father." Cersei's face was pale as paper, like a pet that had been crushed in someone's grip. "I will think it over carefully. I may leave now."
"Go. Do not forget your duty."
Cersei pushed the door open and left without giving Jaime another glance.
She resents me, Jaime thought. Her face had been full of bitterness.
"I have considered you as well," Tywin said, looking at his son Jaime. "You have many options. You are very popular in the Westerlands. And if the assassination succeeds, and the Tyrells turn back to us amid the chaos, Mace's daughter would be an excellent choice. A beautiful young maiden."
"I am a white knight. Father, surely you haven't forgotten?" Jaime said, forcing himself to stay calm.
I am a white knight. Yes, a false knight. I want no one. I only want to be with Cersei. Let us be together, like the ancient Targaryen Dragonlords.
"I think you have lost your senses. You are my son, not the son of an oath."
"Father, please... forgive me. I should guard Tommen." Jaime lowered his head.
"Forget it..." Tywin's face flushed red, then went pale, but in the end he did not curse him. Let them get through the hardest days first. Not now.
"The people your sister brought back also have value. She is not entirely foolish." Tywin changed the subject. "Several Pyromancers, makers of wildfire. They feared being killed by Storm, so your sister took them away, and she thinks highly of them. The white knight Boros, Payne with Ice, and Osfryd Kettleblack and his father."
"Wildfire?" Jaime asked in shock.
"Do not underestimate wildfire. It is very useful," Kevan said. "Tyrion's wildfire formation played a great role in King's Landing. It simply failed to blow up Gendry and Stannis."
"That is too dangerous..." Jaime refused. His body felt as if it had been filled with lead. Those green flames. Even after so long, they still haunted him.
"Those who fail lose everything, Jaime," Tywin warned him. "We need this technology."
Jaime could not say a word.
...
Dragonstone, the open courtyard. Golden battle standards flew from the Castle's highest point.
Dragons chased one another through the blue sky, like streaks of different-colored flame cutting across the heavens: black, milky white-yellow, and green. They circled again and again, climbing higher and higher, each trying to outdo the others. Then they plunged down, pouncing on the prey below.
Gendry and Daenerys watched the dragons in the sky. Ser Barristan, Ser Axel, Brienne, Anguy, Dacey, and Lothor were also watching the miracle overhead.
In the courtyard, the soldiers in gold robes and black armor who were training the dragons to evade attacks had already made ready. They looked up at the dragons in the sky, the black dragon, the green dragon, and the white dragon.
"Begin, Prince?" Anguy asked.
Gendry nodded. The javelin throwers and archers below the courtyard began their attack. Specially treated arrows and short spears flew like rain, their targets the dragons.
The young dragons darted left and right through wave after wave of attacks, avoiding the paths of the missiles. But not every line of attack could be dodged. A few tricky shots still struck the dragons' bodies.
Daenerys felt some pain at the sight, but she also knew this was a road the dragons had to take. If dragons were to fly over a battlefield, the attacks they faced would be far more dangerous.
"Second wave," Gendry said.
Anguy nodded. The soldiers began rotating, launching a second round of attacks that was sharper, faster, and fiercer.
"Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!"
Bowstrings were drawn and released. Arrows rose like fingers stabbing into the sky, piercing toward the shadows of the dragons.
The veterans in the second wave were even more elite, and the young dragons began to struggle. Slowly, however, they adapted to this kind of attack. After all, they already knew how to move through the sky and seize the right moment in battle.
Gendry saw the black dragon Balerion break through the clouds, then vanish mid-flight. The green dragon and the white dragon soon followed their elder brother's path, dodging the hard, powerful steel storm and fleeing into the sky.
A moment later, Balerion reappeared with a slyness all his own. He had even observed the rhythm of the attacks. Ordinary longbowmen and javelin throwers always had gaps between volleys. Balerion spat black-red flame, burning away the arrows and short spears aimed at them. The wood quickly crackled and caught fire. Although the flame could not completely melt the steel, it did weaken it to some degree.
All the dragons breathed flame, and dazzling fire bloomed in midair.
Only after the training ended did the dragons return to the air above the courtyard. Once the performance was over, it was time to eat.
"The Black Dragon takes first place and receives the top reward."
"The Green Dragon and the White Dragon are second and third. Middle reward."
Lively goats were released into the courtyard, and the dragons came roaring down. The Black Dragon ate first. Only after he finished did the other two dragons get their turn.
The smell of sulfur and fire began to fill the courtyard. Goat hair burned. Balerion snapped a goat's spine and enjoyed a fine meal.
Once Balerion had eaten his fill, the other two dragons, starving by then, rushed in as well and began devouring their food.
"You two need to do better," Daenerys called to the green dragon and the white dragon. "Vhagar, Viserion."
The two dragons snorted smoke from their nostrils in dissatisfaction. There truly was some distance between their talents and their tempers.
"Ordinary spears and arrows are not lacking. If you want dragons to be faster, fly higher, and become more powerful, then aside from my fire-controlling ring, I fear we will need mind spells and the horn. The flames from this ring are very useful for a dragon's growth." Gendry watched the rhythm of the dragon training. It was getting better and better now.
The dragons were already the size of ponies, with considerable aggression and danger to them, but they still needed to grow larger.
Dragons needed to be tempered by steel. They had to adapt to the cruelty of the battlefield from a young age. And Gendry's dragons were growing at terrifying speed, far faster than dragons of the past. In only a year or two, their wingspans had reached more than twelve meters. It was frightening.
Once they are a little larger, and their skin and scales are harder, then we can use scorpion crossbows, Gendry thought.
Dragons were a species of dynamic balance, able to make use of different strengths at different stages of life.
A dragon's scales and fire grew stronger with age, but as its body grew larger, its agility in the air would decline. In that sense, perhaps only one middle stretch of time was when a dragon was at its strongest.
Of course, that also tested the skill of the Dragonrider.
Just as in the Dance above the Gods Eye, when Daemon faced the One-Eyed. Vhagar was older and larger, unable to match his opponent's speed, and his movements seemed clumsy. So he climbed slowly, circling the Gods Eye in wider and wider arcs.
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