"Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh."
The sea wind swept in, the gale snapping the golden banner until it seemed to come alive. Against the field of gold, the three-headed red dragon in one corner perfectly echoed the three dragons now before them.
The courtyard of Dragonstone Castle was filled with mingled smells: the sulfur and stench of dragonfire, the salty tang of the sea breeze. Fire and salt.
"Slow down, children." Daenerys Targaryen, silver-haired and violet-eyed, tossed pieces of cooked meat into the air. The dragons immediately began fighting over them. The black dragon won the quickest and ate the most.
Their heads struck as fast as cobras. The winner roared in triumph, while the losers hissed in frustration.
"All right, Viserion, don't fight with your brothers." Daenerys immediately noticed the unfortunate white dragon, who could never beat the others to the food and always needed encouragement and comfort.
"A miracle!"
"The Dragonlord!"
The dragons seized everyone's attention. This was a miracle restored to the world, and a strange pride rose in every heart. These were the dragons of Baratheon and Targaryen, proof that the two great houses had become one, and a sign that dragons would dance again.
Dragons were proud and highly intelligent. They formed a deep dependence on and trust in those who raised them, but Gendry could also clearly sense how willful they were.
Take the black dragon Balerion, for example. If Daenerys tried to train him, he would be terribly disobedient. He was violent and aggressive, and Gendry had only managed to raise him properly because he had trained him from a young age with food and the stick. Dragons also favored fierce warriors. They trusted those who raised them, those who possessed "Dragonblood," those whose inner fire burned strong, as if they had found a beacon in the dark.
"Come here, good boy." Gendry looked at Balerion, and Balerion curved his neck around again, beginning to nibble at his fingers.
Balerion's teeth were as sharp as swords, yet they never broke Gendry's skin. Man and dragon seemed to be playing together. Gendry held out his hand, and Balerion stretched his head forward to chase it.
Gendry played a game of chase with the black dragon. His speed was astonishing, like a streak of black storm, unusually nimble. The more Balerion chased, the angrier he became. He slowly began to roar, his tail swaying as well. The black dragon was the tallest, strongest, fiercest, and wildest of them all, with scales like midnight and eyes like hellfire.
Ser Barristan watched Gendry's figure and could not help marveling at his incredible speed. He was strong, agile, and remarkably resilient. Even if one judged him purely by the path of a knight, Barristan had to admit that the storm stood upon the mountaintop.
"The bond between man and dragon is deeper than ordinary bonds." Gendry looked at Balerion. This was a contract formed in some unseen place.
A young dragon could grow alongside its master, making that master strong and vigorous. Targaryens rarely fell ill. The once frail and sickly Aerys had nearly collapsed when he heard of his mother Rhaenys's death, but after receiving the hatchling Quicksilver, his health quickly improved.
Daenerys had once told Gendry about her Dragon Dreams. In the dream, flames consumed her, and afterward she became stronger and sturdier, as if reborn.
"The ancient Valyrian Dragonlords used horns and binding spells to command dragons," Daenerys Targaryen said regretfully. "But now all we have is a single word and a whip."
"A whip can make a Dragon fly, but we still need to wait a little longer," Gendry said, taking Daenerys's hand. "Dragons and horses are nothing alike. A dragon's instinct is to attack. We'll have to study that when the time comes."
Daenerys nodded. She longed to fly with a Dragon again, just as she had before.
"Valyrian binding spells and horns really are hard to find," Gendry thought. "Could they only exist now in the ruins of Valyria? Even House Targaryen never mastered such things." Secrets like these might have belonged only to the highest Dragonlord families.
Gendry now had the Firebinder's Ring, which allowed him to command flame. If he could obtain the binding spells and the dragon horn, it might further improve his ability to control a Dragon.
"If I could fly while commanding a Dragon, and have the Pyromancer and the Dragon attack together, that would be the strongest Skill of man and dragon as one." That was Gendry's vision.
After the dragons finished eating the strips of meat, they were somewhat tired. They went straight into the courtyard, found places for themselves, curled up together, and basked in the sun. The dragons coiled around one another, their heads resting on their tails.
"This place must be very different from your homes, isn't it?" Daenerys asked Dacey Mormont and Brienne of Tarth.
"Tarth is the most beautiful place I've ever seen," Brienne said proudly. She was a simple girl. "There is no place in the world more beautiful than Tarth. It has hills and waterfalls, high mountain pastures and shadowed valleys."
"But this place has dragons," Daenerys said with a smile.
"Bear Island is very different from here as well, Princess," Dacey said, then swept her gaze over the courtyard of Dragonstone Castle. "Bear Island is remote, but beautiful, and its surroundings are nothing like this. It is the harsh North, a place beyond what you can imagine. Gnarled old oaks, towering ancient pines, flowering hawthorn groves, gray stone covered in moss, and clear streams running through steep hills. The hall of House Mormont is built from massive logs and surrounded by an earthen rampart."
"I would truly like to see those places," Daenerys said, her expression filled with longing.
"You will have the chance. You will ride Dragons to survey the Seven Kingdoms, just as the Conqueror did in his day," Dacey replied with certainty.
Gendry listened to them talk with a smile. Tarth and Bear Island were utterly different.
But then Dacey hesitantly asked Gendry for help.
"Prince," Dacey said. "You may grant Ser Jorah a pardon, but I was wondering whether you could also persuade him. His father is old. At the very least, he should go see him and listen to his advice."
"I'll speak to him again," Gendry said with a nod.
Gendry naturally understood Jorah's knot of resentment. A man could fail, but he could never fail and slink away in disgrace.
Jorah still dreamed of returning home in wealth and glory, of holding his head high before Lynesse Hightower. Sending him hurriedly to the Night's Watch now would leave a fire in Jorah's heart with nowhere to go. Besides, the Great Bear was a man with desires, and he would not easily give them up.
"My mother, and the rest of us, haven't seen this cousin in a very long time. I gave him the letters, but he refused to speak with me much," Dacey said, somewhat dejected.
"Poor Ser," Daenerys thought to herself.
"Jorah and that woman were a terrible match," Gendry remarked.
"She should have found a Northern woman, someone who could wrestle with a Great Bear or a direwolf, instead of chasing her own desires and vanity by seeking out a Southern noble lady," Dacey replied after a long silence.
"That lady was from House Hightower," Daenerys said, piecing some of the answer together from the details.
Just as they were discussing Ser Jorah's past, new information arrived.
"A letter from the Hand," Anguy said. "From the Tower of the Hand in King's Landing."
Gendry opened the letter. Its contents concerned the coronation ceremony to be held at the Dragonpit, along with certain details: how many guests were needed, how many performances there should be.
"A new surname."
Gendry picked up his pen and wrote down his name: Gendry Targaryen Baratheon the Breaker. Such a thing was rare, but not unheard of. House Martell, for instance.
House Nymeros Martell. "Nymeros" meant "of the Bloodline of Nymeria," proof of the union between maternal and paternal lines. In reality, it would be more common for a royal family name to be a long string of names.
The birth of a new house.
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