The winds of the Narrow Sea, heavy with salt and moisture, billowed against the sails of the three merchant ships.
The continent of Westeros had long since vanished beyond the horizon. Wherever one looked, there was only endless azure.
Lynn stood at the bow, with Daenerys standing quietly by his side.
She had changed out of her complicated silk gown and into a practical linen dress that allowed for easier movement. Her silver-gold hair was woven into a single thick braid that hung down her back.
On the deck, Daenerys reached out and adjusted Lynn's collar, which had been ruffled by the sea breeze.
The timidity and anxiety she had worn when they first met had completely faded from her stunningly beautiful face.
In their place was the gentle warmth of a wife and a boundless hope for the future.
Her hand naturally found its way into Lynn's palm, their fingers interlacing tight.
These past few days had been the most peaceful of her entire life.
She didn't have to watch her brother's volatile moods anymore. She didn't have to worry about where their next meal was coming from. And she certainly didn't have to feel like a piece of livestock, waiting to be sold off at any moment.
Her prince was right here beside her.
"Past these waters, if we head southeast, we'll reach Volantis," Daenerys said, pointing into the distance. A gleam of intelligence shone in her violet eyes.
"It is the oldest and most massive of the Free Cities. They built the Black Wall to separate themselves from the outside world."
There was a subtle note of disgust in her voice. "My brother always says that when he reclaims the Iron Throne, he'll build a wall even grander than that to keep all his enemies out."
"Inside that city, there are thousands upon thousands of slaves. They wear iron collars and have their status tattooed onto their faces."
Daenerys looked up at Lynn's profile. "Do you think... they dream of freedom?"
Lynn didn't answer, only listened quietly.
He could feel that Daenerys was trying to understand the world in her own way, rather than blindly accepting the twisted worldview filled with hatred and prejudice that Viserys had force-fed her for years.
"East of Volantis lies the Dothraki Sea."
When mentioning the endless grasslands, Daenerys's voice grew complicated.
"They say the grass there grows so high it can swallow a horse whole. When the wind blows, it looks like a rolling green ocean."
"The Dothraki follow the grass. They are born in the saddle and die in the saddle, free as the wind."
There was a hint of longing in her tone.
Lynn knew she wasn't longing for the savagery of the Dothraki, but for that untethered vitality—that absolute freedom.
"You seem to know this place well," Lynn finally said.
"I grew up here," Daenerys said, leaning her head on his shoulder, her voice dropping lower.
"From Braavos to Myr, then to Pentos... we were kicked around like a ball."
"Every single time, my brother would say, 'This is the last time we run.' But every single time, we'd have to pack everything and flee before dawn because the debt collectors were coming."
She looked up, her violet eyes fixed unblinkingly on Lynn.
"Do we have a home now?"
Lynn felt a tug at his heartstrings. He pulled her closer.
"When we return, the entire North will be your home."
The sea breeze played with the hem of her dress, making her look like a sprite ready to take flight on the wind.
ROAR—
A low, guttural dragon roar echoed from the clouds, shattering the tranquility of the sea.
Winter's massive body broke through the mist, the airflow from his wings carving two white wakes into the ocean surface below.
He spiraled down, his three massive heads curiously eyeing the toy-like ships beneath him.
The left head—the most playful of the three—suddenly craned its neck, cautiously bringing its face right up to the railing, directly in front of Daenerys.
Its vertical golden pupils, usually like molten lava, held no violence or cruelty. Instead, they were filled with pure curiosity.
It sniffed gently at Daenerys, a sound rumbling in its throat that sounded suspiciously like a purring cat. Then, using its giant snout, it gently nudged her shoulder.
Daenerys flinched at first, her body tensing up.
But as the warm breath washed over her face, the fear in her heart miraculously vanished.
Tentatively, she reached out and patted the dragon head, which was larger than her entire body.
Winter seemed to enjoy the affection, narrowing his eyes in comfort.
Lynn stood aside, watching this scene with a poker face, though his eyebrow twitched involuntarily.
An indescribable sourness bubbled up from the bottom of his heart without warning.
I raised this dragon with my own two hands.
The food, the water—who provided all of that? Me.
And now look at him.
It's only been a few days, and he's already flirting with my wife?
Lynn suddenly understood how a father felt when his daughter brought home a boyfriend. Or perhaps more accurately, like a farmer who spent years growing a prize cabbage, only to have his own pig dig it up.
"He seems to like me," Daenerys said, turning back with a bright, radiant smile.
Her violet eyes sparkled with a light he hadn't seen before.
"Yeah, well, he has bad eyesight," Lynn replied dryly.
Daenerys paused, then realized what he meant. Her cheeks flushed pink, but the corners of her mouth turned up. She was discovering that her husband wasn't nearly as cold as he appeared.
Winter nuzzled her for a moment longer before Lynn shot him a frosty glare.
The three heads flinched, shrinking back. The dragon flapped its wings aggrievedly and soared back into the high sky.
"That over there is the Disputed Lands," Daenerys said, her mood high as she pointed toward the hazy coastline in the distance. She began acting as a tour guide for Lynn.
"Countless wars have been fought there. Myr, Lys, and Tyrosh—those three Free Cities have been fighting for control of that land for a hundred years."
She pointed a slender finger southeast.
"To the east is Myr, famous for its tapestries and lace. Many of the luxuries in Magister Illyrio's manse came from there. The people there are skilled with poisons. Their 'Tears of Lys' are colorless and odorless, killing without a trace."
She spoke eloquently, her voice crisp and clear. Her beautiful face glowed with confidence. She was no longer the girl shivering behind her brother; she was trying to show her value to Lynn.
Nearby, in the shadows of the ship's railing.
Viserys drained the last drop of wine from his skin.
The spicy liquid burned his throat, but it couldn't extinguish the fire of jealousy in his heart.
He watched the two figures cuddling on the deck.
He saw the look on Daenerys's face—a look of genuine happiness and trust he had never seen before.
His fists clenched tight.
That woman is mine!
She is my sister! She is the property of House Targaryen!
Since childhood, she had been like a docile little dog, following behind him, looking at him with pleading eyes.
What right does she have to look at another man like that?
And that man... he's just a Northern savage who stole the power of the Targaryens!
I am the True Dragon!
The dragons should be ridden by me! The throne should be inherited by me!
Viserys stood up unsteadily. Alcohol mixed with envy, fermenting into a deadly poison in his mind.
He stumbled over to them.
"What are we chatting about, my dear sister?"
His voice was thick with drink and malice. "Are you teaching our great King-Beyond-the-Wall how to distinguish between good and bad wine?"
Daenerys stiffened, instinctively wanting to pull away from Lynn's embrace.
But Lynn held her shoulder firm, keeping her secure in his arms.
"We are discussing the map of the future, Your Grace," Lynn said, his tone flat. "The Dothraki Sea, Slaver's Bay, even Asshai to the east... Your kingdom is more than just that small patch of land called Westeros."
The words acted like a stimulant, instantly exciting Viserys's alcohol-numbed brain.
Yes!
My kingdom! My future map!
I am the King!
But a second later, he saw Daenerys still resting comfortably in Lynn's arms, not even bothering to look at him. The nameless fire in his gut roared back to life.
He felt ignored. Humiliated by this adulterous pair!
"You!" Viserys pointed a shaking finger at Daenerys.
"Get back to your cabin! You have no right to speak here!"
He tried to reassert his authority as a brother and a king.
Daenerys finally looked up.
There was no fear in her eyes. No obedience. Only a look of pity, as if she were watching a clown.
That look shattered the last of Viserys's sanity.
"You slut!"
He roared like an enraged beast, lunging at Daenerys.
"You dare defy me?! I will show you what it means to wake the dragon!"
His hand reached out to grab her flowing silver hair.
But in the next second, his movement froze eerily in mid-air.
Viserys looked down in horror.
He watched helplessly as a thin, heartbreakingly beautiful layer of frost spread from beneath Lynn's feet. It moved with visible speed, instantly covering the cuffs of his expensive velvet tunic.
The frost didn't physically hurt him, yet it felt as if it were freezing his very soul.
It was an absolute suppression from a predator far higher on the food chain.
"Your Grace, it seems you've truly had too much to drink," Lynn said calmly.
He slowly raised his hand.
The frost on Viserys vanished instantly, as if it had never been there.
"An illusion?"
Viserys's brain was too addled to think clearly.
"Have you forgotten who you are?!" Viserys screamed at Daenerys. "You are a Princess of House Targaryen! Your blood, your body, everything you are belongs to me!"
"You should be pleasing me! Not this thief who stole our family's power!"
He turned his head, glaring at Lynn with pure hatred. "And you! Don't think that just because you married my sister, you get everything Targaryen!"
"Dragons only submit to the blood of the True Dragon!"
"I am the last True Dragon!"
He threw his head back and, with all his strength, shrieked at Winter circling in the sky.
"DRACARYS!"
The wind howled. The only answer was the mocking cry of a few seagulls.
Winter simply tilted his large central head, glanced at him as if he were an idiot, and yawned.
A visible puff of white, freezing air escaped the dragon's maw, washing over Viserys.
Viserys shivered violently as the cold air hit him, dousing half his rage instantly.
The silence was deafeningly awkward.
"It seems your dragon didn't hear your command, King Viserys," Lynn said, no emotion in his voice.
Viserys stumbled back two steps, his face alternating between red and pale, looking utterly wretched.
He couldn't understand. Why?
Why didn't the dragon listen?
I am of the blood!
Unless... unless I am not the True Dragon?
No! Impossible!
He strangled that thought the moment it appeared.
It must be this Northerner! He must have used some sorcery to bewitch the dragon!
"Your sister is now my wife," Lynn said, taking a step forward, his tall frame completely shielding Daenerys.
"And you are merely a guest who is about to see his army."
"I hope you can remember this identity and refrain from doing anything stupid again."
Lynn's voice was calm, but it sent Viserys plunging into an icy abyss.
"Otherwise..."
Lynn didn't finish the sentence.
He simply placed his hand lightly on the ship's railing.
Crack—
A thin layer of frost rapidly spread outward from his palm.
The railing, made of hard ironwood, groaned under the strain of the magical ice.
Viserys's pupils constricted violently, the color draining from his face.
This time, he saw it clearly!
It wasn't an illusion earlier!
This is... magic?
He looked into Lynn's pitch-black eyes.
A fear stemming from the depths of his soul made him tremble uncontrollably.
He finally realized that the man he had provoked was no ally.
He was a demon who could crush him to death at any moment, on a whim.
"I... I..."
Viserys's lips quivered, unable to form a single word.
"See?" Lynn withdrew his hand as if nothing had happened. "You seem much more sober now."
Viserys turned and walked silently back toward his cabin, his retreating figure desolate and pathetic.
Daenerys watched her brother go. "He..."
"A man who cannot even control his own emotions is not fit to be a king," Lynn interrupted her.
He watched Viserys's back with cold eyes.
Just a mad dog eager to die.
Once we reach Slaver's Bay, I will use Viserys's blood to pay for the sins he committed against Daenerys.
Meanwhile, back in his cabin, Viserys kicked the wine cup off the table.
He threw himself at the wooden chest containing the dragon eggs, frantically trying to open it.
But the chest had long been sealed by Lynn's ice magic.
He could only pound his fists against the box like a madman until his knuckles were bloody and raw.
"Mine... they are all mine..."
He slumped against the chest, collapsing to the floor, growling like a lunatic.
Fear and humiliation finally coalesced in his heart into a killing intent colder than the Narrow Sea.
He looked up. The madness and irritability in his pale violet eyes were gone, replaced by a chilling darkness.
"You will die."
"I will kill you."
"The dragons, Daenerys, the Iron Throne..."
"Everything will be mine."