Game of Thrones: The Red Dragon Lord

Chapter 83: Chapter 83 Confrontation at the Port



As Gavin plummeted toward the sea, he caught sight of the black shadow surging toward him with unsettling speed. In the next moment, both he and the shadow plunged into the icy water.

Under the waves, the black shadow began to shift and contort, forming into a humanoid figure. It reached out with spectral hands, its grip tightening around Gavin's neck with a vengeance.

Deprived of air, Gavin's chest burned as his lungs screamed for relief. The oppressive weight of the water pressed down on him, and the shadow's grip only deepened his desperation.

Yet, despite his dire circumstances, Gavin held onto his flaming sword. Even submerged, the blade glowed with a fiery intensity. Summoning his remaining strength, Gavin drove the burning sword into the shadow's form.

The shadow writhed in agony as the flames spread, revealing a face that was eerily blank, devoid of features yet filled with malevolence. Its body twisted violently, attempting to resist the fire consuming it. Still, it held Gavin in its choking grasp.

"You owe me a life, Gavin Bellerith," a voice, bitter and filled with hatred, resonated in Gavin's mind, more felt than heard.

The flames roared hungrily, and at last, the shadow began to disintegrate. As its form dissipated into the water, its grip on Gavin finally loosened. Freed from its clutches, Gavin kicked toward the surface, his lungs desperate for air.

Breaking through the waves, Gavin gasped as though to reclaim all the oxygen he had been denied. His chest heaved, and the sea breeze felt like a lifeline as it swept over his drenched body.

From above, Syndor descended, its massive wings slicing through the night. With precision, the dragon's hind claws gripped Gavin, lifting him from the water. The sea receded below as Syndor carried him skyward toward the awaiting Belerys.

Lying limp in Syndor's grasp, Gavin's mind churned despite his physical exhaustion. His gaze lingered on the sea, now tranquil but hiding the echoes of his perilous battle.

"Was that the Thousand-Faced God?" he muttered to himself. "Or merely a fragment of its power?"

The thought gnawed at him. If it had been the god itself, its defeat seemed too simple. But if it was only a fragment, there could be far worse awaiting him.

Gavin's expression darkened. "If temples to the Thousand-Faced God exist beyond Braavos, I'll find them. And I'll destroy every last one. If I've already earned their ire, I may as well make it complete."

The Sea King's Fury

Meanwhile, in the opulent halls of the Neptune Palace, Rego Antarian, the Sea King of Braavos, received the grim news. The Court of Black and White had been reduced to ash, destroyed by Gavin and his dragon.

The Sea King's face flushed with rage, his fists clenched tightly as his body trembled. His voice boomed, reverberating off the marble walls.

"This is Braavos!" he roared. "How dare he unleash his dragon here? This is an insult to me and a provocation against the majesty of Braavos!"

His court fell silent, the weight of his anger stifling. After a moment, Rego Antarian turned to his trusted advisor, Tyron Reyyan.

"Deploy the fleet. Block the canyon's mouth. I want every ship armed and ready. Seal the docks and ensure no one leaves without my order."

Tyron bowed deeply. "Yes, Your Highness."

As Tyron departed to carry out the orders, the Sea King began pacing, his fury tempered only by his calculating mind. He weighed his options, knowing full well the dangers of confronting a dragon.

If Gavin and his dragon escaped, they might return with vengeance, unleashing ruin upon Braavos. But to let them leave unpunished would erode the city's pride—a humiliation Braavos could not afford.

Stopping suddenly, Rego Antarian addressed the chief water dancer beside him. "If Gavin comes here, could you slay the dragon before he calls it to his side?"

The water dancer hesitated, beads of sweat forming on his brow. "Your Highness, the flames we witnessed earlier... they are unlike anything I've encountered. I cannot promise success."

The Sea King sighed heavily, his anger giving way to grim resignation. "Then we cannot risk a direct confrontation. Send word to Tyron—maintain the blockade, but do not attack unless I command it. Also, summon Gavin to the Neptune Palace. I will speak with him personally."

Aboard the Belerys

After changing into dry clothes, Gavin emerged onto the deck of the Belerys. His steps were steady, but his mind remained heavy with thoughts of the shadow and its ominous words.

Daenerys rushed to him, her worry evident in her tear-filled eyes. "Gavin!" she cried, gripping his arm.

"I'm fine," he reassured her with a hoarse voice and a faint smile. "Everything is under control."

"Fine?" Daenerys glanced at his exhausted face and damp hair. "You don't look fine."

Gavin placed a hand gently over hers. "Trust me. I've been through worse. A little rest, and I'll be back to myself."

Her concern did not waver, but she nodded reluctantly.

At that moment, the captain approached, his expression tense. "Sir, we've been surrounded. The Sea King's fleet has blocked the canyon, and the port is eerily quiet. Soldiers are stationed at every critical point. Escaping by sea seems impossible."

Gavin's eyes narrowed as he turned to gaze at the distant port. After a moment's thought, he spoke. "They won't attack, not yet. The Sea King fears the consequences of provoking a dragon. Strengthen the fleet's defenses, and prepare for battle if it comes to that. For now, we wait."

As the night deepened, silence enveloped the standoff. Tension hung heavy in the air, broken only by the faint lapping of waves against the ships.

At last, a carriage approached the Belerys. From it emerged Tyron Reyyan, who boarded with measured steps and an air of cautious respect.

"Sir Gavin," Tyron said with a polite bow, "His Highness the Sea King requests your presence at the Neptune Palace."

Gavin studied Tyron's face, searching for hidden motives, then nodded. "Tell your king I'll meet him in the morning."

Tyron offered a slight bow before departing.

As the carriage rolled away, Gavin turned to the horizon, the weight of impending decisions pressing heavily on his shoulders.


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