The blue sea was calm. On the deck of the quiet flagship Storm, everyone looked up at the sky.
Gendry, Daenerys Targaryen, Stannis Baratheon, the red priestess Melisandre, Barristan Selmy, Morosh, Anguy, Lothor Bren, the Bear girl Dacey Mormont, and the iron guard, "John Strong."
The standard-bearer Jon Snow was still on shore. Though his meeting with Catelyn Stark had been awkward, almost every northerner recognized Eddard's bastard son, and their attitude toward Jon was fairly friendly. There had been bastards among the Starks before, but Eddard was such a rigid, proper man that his having a bastard felt especially strange to people.
The golden banner flew at the bow. The crew and sailors of the Two Cities fleet stared up at the dragons in the sky, watching the shadows of dragons return to the world. They had once been curious and afraid, but now a strange, fierce pride had begun to grow in them toward the dragons of the Breaker and the Stormborn. From captains, warriors, and sailors down to kitchen boys, everyone loved watching the three dragons fly.
Gendry looked at the others. Among them, Stannis, Morosh, and Daenerys all had rich experience at sea. The rest had not weathered many storms. Stannis had been Master of Ships, a capable sailor and commander. Morosh was an outstanding smuggler captain from Myr.
As for Daenerys Stormborn, she had been born with the breath of a storm. When Daenerys was born crying on Dragonstone, the greatest storm in the history of Westeros howled across the sea. It was so fierce that it not only cracked the gargoyles on the castle walls, but also destroyed King Aerys's fleet almost completely. As a child, Daenerys crossed the Narrow Sea dozens of times, fleeing from one Free City to another. A salute to the legendary survivor, Daenerys.
"I see dragons," Great Lord Stannis Baratheon said, staring into the sky with wide eyes as he tracked the three dragons' flight.
"Yes, my lord," the white-haired Ser Barristan said. "The dragons have risen again."
Gendry smelled salt in the air. Beneath the vast sky stretched the boundless sea. Dolphins pierced the waves like silver spears, and flying fish appeared from time to time.
"I once thought dragons were only empty tales. All those who tried to summon dragons in the past met ill fortune," Stannis murmured. "Nine mages crossed the sea to hatch the dragon eggs stored by Aegon III, Dragonbane. Baelor the Blessed prayed over his eggs for half a year. Aegon IV built dragons of wood and iron. Brightflame Aerion drank wildfire, hoping to turn himself into a dragon. The mages failed, King Baelor's prayers received no answer, the wooden dragons burned, and Prince Aerion died screaming."
"The Lord of Light would not deceive me. The ancient prophecy will be fulfilled, the bleeding star, the hero's red sword. Stannis's dragon would be awakened, spreading stone wings to win him the Seven Kingdoms. But why has it become like this? Stannis has already bent the knee. He can no longer touch that crown." The red priestess's throat tightened with a deep sense of defeat. She could not go on. A thousand thoughts churned inside her.
If the Storm had dragons, then even her most essential shadow killers would be restrained.
What she had brought Stannis was still only a dragon in stone. Even if Stannis were willing to sacrifice king's blood like Edric, whether he could truly summon a dragon remained unknown. Yet Gendry had brought real, living dragons. It felt absurd to her. Did effort lose to talent in the end? Stannis was extraordinarily resilient, but the fate of this age did not seem to rest on him.
The dragons flew high and danced in the sky. Viserion's scales were fresh milk-white, while his horns, wing bones, and spine were dark gold, like metal shining in the sun. Vhagar was made of summer green and autumn bronze. The two soared above the fleet, circling again and again, climbing higher and higher as if competing with each other.
The black dragon Balerion flew even higher than them. The largest, Balerion, was glossy black all over, with crimson stripes running through his black scales, echoing the colors of his wings and horns. His eyes were red as burning coals.
"Dragons like to attack from above," Maester Qyburn explained to Stannis and the red priestess. "Just as the Conqueror attacked Harrenhal all those years ago."
The white dragon and the green dragon climbed between the ships and the sun, folded their wings, and dove with shrill screams. The black dragon plunged down from an even greater height. The three dragons would lock together, twisting into a ball of scales, tumbling from the sky while clawing and lashing their tails.
The black dragon always won. He was stronger than his companions, and wilder too. People said this dragon was Balerion the Black Dread reborn.
"Will they not hurt each other?" the red priestess could not help asking.
The red priestess was young and full-figured, with a strange beauty: a heart-shaped face, copper-red hair, and mysterious red eyes.
"They are only stretching their limbs," Gendry replied. At first, he had been very worried when the young dragons fought one another. But dragons were born aggressive. To them, this was only rough play. Besides, because they had hatched from the same clutch, the dragons were very close.
When they dropped to the surface of the sea, the three dragons immediately separated, hissing and shrieking as they rose again, their wings scattering the rising sea spray.
"You are lucky today. The black dragon did not fly too far away," Daenerys told them.
"The black dragon is the largest?" Stannis asked.
"And the wildest, my lord. That one belongs to the Storm," Anguy said. "The black dragon is bolder than the other two. He was the first to spread his wings and test himself over the water, the first to fly between the ships, the first to rush into the clouds and vanish, and the first to begin hunting and killing."
Gendry felt that somewhere deep inside, he could sense the black dragon's position. It was a strange bond, a strange pact. The black dragon would fly high, then return to his side. A wild dragon ought to belong to a fierce warrior.
Perhaps to dragons, people were also fire. The Targaryens were the finest dragonriders, and male dragonriders were often stronger than female dragonriders. Once noble ladies grew soft in luxury, their dragons would become the same, forgetting hunting and killing.
In general, dragonriders and dragons were closely bound. There was some mysterious connection between a dragon and its rider. Dragons were likely able to sense the danger or death of their current rider. For instance, when Helaena Targaryen, the Dreamer, leapt from Maegor's Holdfast to her death, Dreamfyre, imprisoned in the Dragonpit, suddenly roared and tore apart two chains that bound her to the ground.
"Does the black dragon obey your commands, Prince?" Stannis asked, looking not at Daenerys, but at Gendry.
The events of the past year or two had been absurd beyond precedent, one after another. First the red priestess landed on Dragonstone. Stannis suspected that Robert had been cuckolded by the Kingslayer and told Jon Arryn of his suspicions. Unexpectedly, Jon was poisoned first, after the schemer Petyr Baelish incited that madwoman Lysa Tully to do it, and Stannis fled to Dragonstone.
Then came the rise of the Storm. Eddard Stark was drawn south into King's Landing. The bleeding sword and the red comet appeared. Before Robert died, he wrote the will that set everything in motion, legitimizing his bastard children. King's Landing fell into turmoil, and war began.
But none of it had shocked him as much as seeing dragons appear before his eyes. If King Robert had seen dragons rise again, even he would surely have found it absurd.
"The dragons are our children," Daenerys replied. "When they were born, we were the first ones they saw."
Gendry nodded.
Stannis was deeply astonished as he looked at Gendry and Daenerys. If that was so, then the miracle they had brought was far greater than anything he had hoped for. Dragons, the most wondrous treasure of all. Though House Baratheon had once intermarried with House Targaryen, it had never produced dragonriders the way House Velaryon had.
"How was it done?" Great Lord Stannis could not help asking. Every attempt by kings past had ended in failure. Yet Daenerys, the orphan girl of the dragon house, and Robert's son now possessed a group of dragons. The bleeding sword had appeared as well. Perhaps this was the great upheaval the red priestess had once spoken of.
"Life," the red priestess murmured. "Only death can pay for life." She thought of the dead. Viserys the Beggar King, Khal Drogo the Headless. Their deaths had become the chance for the dragons' return, or at least one of the keys that opened the way.
"My lady, your thinking is right. But magic had to revive first before dragons could be born," Maester Qyburn explained.
"But can Baratheon blood command dragons as well?" That was what surprised Stannis most.
"It is fire. Life is like fire." The red priestess looked at Gendry. "The Baratheons have some dragon blood, and some ancient blood as well. More than that, when the dragons were born, they received the Storm's gift. The life-fire of the Storm burns fiercely, and dragons love that fire."
"Explain more clearly, my lady," Stannis said.
"To put it plainly, there is power in your bloodline as well, my lord. Lord Gendry has it too. It is the ancient power of the Storm. Storm's End also has spells that ward against magic. And Lord Gendry was present when the dragons hatched. With Khal Drogo's death as the offering, he formed a bond with the dragons."
Everyone nodded. The red priestess's explanation had its own basis and sounded reasonable enough. No matter how it had happened, a new house of Dragonlords had been born.
To hatch dragons, to master dragons, to command dragons. Having done all that, Gendry now held the greatest authority.
"You are the one chosen by the Storm. It seems I can entrust those responsibilities to you without worry," Stannis said bitterly. The difference in fortune between men was too great. He had never possessed that dazzling pull.
"I need you, Uncle. Unity. We must unite before the Long Winter."
Stannis nodded. This was the duty of a king, and it was the duty of House Baratheon as well, because they held the crown.
"You believe in the Long Winter too?" The red priestess's eyes brightened.
"Everyone has received the ravens. Autumn is often short, and winter is the long season," Maester Qyburn added.
...
"But they are still too small," Stannis said.
"Lord Stannis, dragons grow quickly. It will not be long before they can fight, perhaps a year or two. They eat a great deal. As long as they have food and freedom, dragons do not stop growing. The Black Dread died during the reign of the Conciliator after living for two hundred years. He was so enormous he could swallow an entire aurochs in one bite," the old knight Ser Barristan said. He and Stannis had known each other for years. He was tall, with snow-white hair, yet still looked quite powerful.
The red priestess nodded, watching the dragons in the sky with full attention. "They are priceless treasures. Though they are still small, they possess surging life and fire. Those who yearn for life and miracles will be drawn to the dragons."
"The Sorcerers of Qarth have already come," Gendry said to the red priestess. "They wanted us to go to the House of the Undying."
"As expected. A house of warlocks, bones and lies." The red priestess looked at Gendry. The Sorcerers of Qarth had come searching for dragons, and they were destined to gain nothing.
"The warlock left quickly. Otherwise, death would have been waiting for him. But I cannot cut out the mouths of every warlock and witch. The tale of the dragons will soon spread throughout Qarth," Gendry said.
"They are small now, but soon they will become weapons of war," Stannis thought as he watched the dragons. With dragons, House Baratheon could climb to a new peak, and the dragons' fame would greatly strengthen the house's legitimacy.
"At first, I had only ever seen dragon skulls. I remember the first time my father, Great Lord Steffon, brought me to court. Robert still had to hold my hand. I could not have been more than four, while he was five or six. After court ended, we both agreed that the king was majestic, and the dragons were terrifying. Years later, Father told us that King Aerys had cut himself on the throne that morning, so the Hand of the King had spoken in his place. The man who left such a deep impression on us was actually Great Lord Tywin Lannister."
"Tywin Lannister." Daenerys drew in a breath. That name had once been a nightmare to them, the Kingslayer and his father.
"That was a very long time ago," Great Lord Stannis said. "In the beginning, my father Great Lord Steffon Baratheon, Tywin Lannister, and King Aerys were good friends. Aerys was my father's cousin. Later, the old king grew more and more afraid of Tywin, and jealous of his achievements. Until Duskendale."
That was one of the mistakes of my life, Ser Barristan thought bitterly. He often wondered whether all the bloodshed that followed might have been avoided if he had not saved the Mad King.
"I am sorry for those things as well," Daenerys said, looking at the somewhat aged Stannis. War and the years had changed everyone. The more she learned about her father's story, the more she understood the truth. In his youth, Great Lord Steffon had served as a cupbearer in King's Landing alongside Aerys and Tywin, who were of a similar age. They had been close, and had fought side by side in the War of the Ninepenny Kings.
After the Defiance of Duskendale, the king gradually descended into madness, suspecting those around him and especially fearing that Tywin was plotting to kill him and put his eldest son Rhaegar on the throne. He decided to place loyal men on the Small Council and summoned Steffon to join it. Soon after, Aerys sent Steffon to Volantis to seek a bride of ancient and noble blood for Prince Rhaegar. Rumors spread that King Aerys planned to name Steffon Hand of the King once the task was complete, while Tywin would be arrested and tried for treason. But Steffon returned empty-handed.
"Not an apology. A new tomorrow," Gendry said.
"Princess Daenerys, your father was the Mad King, and your brother Rhaegar was a reckless prince. My brother Robert was a dissolute king, and my brother Renly was a greedy king, so all of them failed. They all treated the crown as a toy, as power alone. They looked less like kings than children," Stannis sighed. "Many people never asked for that crown. Gold is cold and heavy when worn on the head. But when responsibility falls upon our shoulders, none of us has a choice. Gendry, you are young. Daenerys, you are even younger. But the throne is heavier for you, because the Long Night is coming. For every day you are king, you bear that day's duty. Only men can rule the realm."
Gendry touched the longsword at his waist, then took Daenerys's hand. Boys could not survive winter. Only men could rule the realm.
"They are coming back."
As the young dragons swept back toward the ship, Gendry and Daenerys raised the salted beef from their bowls toward the sky for the dragons to see. The dragons stared hungrily. This was their food. Balerion was already able to hunt, but he still loved snatching food tossed by his master.
Vhagar spread green wings and stirred the air. Viserion's neck followed the path of what Daenerys threw, like a long milk-white snake.
"Balerion. Dracarys!" Gendry looked at the black dragon, then threw the meat into the sky.
Balerion moved faster than a cobra. He roared and breathed fire, a mix of crimson, orange, and black flame. Before the meat could fall, it was already charred. The black dragon snapped it up with sharp black teeth. Vhagar's head darted over like a snake, trying to intercept the salted meat and steal Balerion's prize. But the black dragon swallowed the beef in one bite, then lifted his head and shrieked. The smaller green dragon hissed in frustration.
"Do not be like that, Vhagar." Gendry looked at the green dragon. The green dragon was mischievous, while the white dragon was somewhat shy, a little like the Beggar King. That only proved the green dragon was more dangerous than the white one. Gendry rubbed Vhagar's head. The green dragon was close to Daenerys, but was also friendly toward him.
"You are too greedy. Careful, or Balerion will beat you." Gendry threatened him lightly. The green dragon was weak for now but loved to play, yet his fighting instinct was there. In the future, he would also become extremely aggressive.
Chunks of salted meat flew through the air, and the dragons began fighting over them. The black dragon and green dragon fought fiercely, while the white dragon was gentler and seemed less combative. The one worth worrying about was perhaps the white dragon. It could follow in the footsteps of the black and green dragons, but they also had to prevent the weakest of the three from being tempted by outside things.
"It seems we must do something. There are only three dragons in the world, but the danger they bring is greater than the protection they offer. Living dragons are miracles and terrors reborn into the world. They are priceless treasures," Stannis said. "Lady Melisandre, are you willing to guard this miracle reborn into the world? You have better people to serve now, my nephew and his betrothed."
The red priestess thought for a moment, then knelt before Gendry and Daenerys. "I am willing."
Gendry let the red priestess rise. Daenerys looked at her and said, "I have great need of someone like you, Lady Melisandre. But I hope you will restrain those extreme religious ideas of yours."
"Yes." The red priestess nodded. There were many things that could be discussed later, not rushed in the moment.
"Welcome to my ranks," Maester Qyburn said. To protect the Storm and the true dragon, and to deal with the mages of the whole world, he needed equally formidable mages.
"We will bring you much more, my lady," Qyburn said softly to the red priestess.
"How did you do it?" The red priestess pointed at Lord Strong, the giant warrior with the joined head. "When I looked beneath the helmet, I saw only emptiness, and wronged souls weeping behind the giant."
"He is a unique specimen, and also the fearless warrior I have long sought," Qyburn replied with a smile. A superhuman body, a large dose of manticore venom, and some black magic. Such a warrior could be created, but suitable specimens were far too rare. Among all those he had seen, only The Mountain and Khal Drogo had been suitable.