Game of Thrones: The Red Dragon Lord

Gavin and Daenerys found a quiet corner of the inn to sit down. Meanwhile, the people hiding in the shadows cautiously peeked out, their curious gazes darting between the pair.

They whispered among themselves as they took in Gavin and Daenerys's unmistakable Targaryen features: the silver hair and violet eyes.

"Look at them," a bearded merchant murmured. "The hair, the eyes—those are Targaryens. And they ride a dragon. The Targaryens have returned."

"Bah, don't be ridiculous," a drunken man slurred. "The Targaryen dragons have been extinct for over a century! You're drunker than I am."

"Then why don't you step outside and see what's at the door?" a lean mercenary snapped coldly. "Wake up before the Dragon King burns us alive."

Another man, an older merchant with a furrowed brow, stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"If they're truly Targaryens, perhaps they've come seeking vengeance. Those who betrayed their family... they might be in for trouble."

Gavin ignored the hushed murmurs, though their distance muffled the words further. Daenerys, however, listened intently, her brows furrowed as she absorbed the fearful chatter.

After a moment, she turned to Gavin and asked softly:

"Gavin, do the people of the Seven Kingdoms really welcome the Targaryens?"

Gavin smiled faintly at the question, a hint of weariness in his eyes.

"For most people, it doesn't matter who sits on the Iron Throne. All they care about is their lives and their property. Public opinion and religion sway them easily. They'll welcome anyone if the ruler's policies are favorable to them."

Daenerys leaned closer, her voice earnest.

"How are things on the Stepstones? Do your people there love you?"

Gavin paused, considering his response carefully.

"Those who benefit from me are loyal, and those coerced into serving have no choice but to obey. That's the nature of power."

Their conversation was interrupted when Martha, the innkeeper's wife, approached nervously with a waiter carrying food. She bowed her head timidly, her voice trembling.

"S-Sir, the room is ready, and the sheep have been driven to the door. Is there anything else you require?"

Gavin gave her a reassuring smile and waved a hand dismissively.

"Thank you for your efforts. That will be all. Go about your work."

He rose slowly and strode toward the inn's entrance. Outside, Syndor awaited, his golden eyes glowing in the dim light. Gavin approached the frightened sheep that had been driven to the yard, grabbing one and tossing it toward the dragon.

With a low rumble, Syndor's massive jaws opened, and flames erupted, engulfing the sheep. The smell of roasting meat filled the air, thick and savory. Bolder patrons peeked from the safety of windows and doorways, captivated by the rare sight of a dragon feeding. Soldiers passing along the nearby road quickly hurried off, eager to inform their lords of what they had seen.

That night, Gavin and Daenerys rested in their room. Outside the window, the moonlight bathed the quiet roads in silver, the world peaceful for a fleeting moment.

But as they slept, the news of a Targaryen riding a dragon spread across the Seven Kingdoms like wildfire. Ravens carried the word swiftly, their wings cutting through the cold night air. By dawn, the tale had reached many noble houses, causing unease and speculation among the lords and ladies of Westeros.

The next morning, Gavin and Daenerys awoke early, prepared themselves quickly, and mounted Syndor. The inn's patrons, once paralyzed by fear, breathed sighs of relief as the dragon took flight. Though their fear subsided, excitement buzzed among them as they spread tales of the Dragon King and his queen.

Syndor carried Gavin and Daenerys southeastward, their journey lasting all day. Unlike the sparsely populated North, the Riverlands and Stormlands below were teeming with life. Farmers in the fields paused their work to gape at the dragon overhead, while travelers on the road shielded their eyes from the sun, mouths agape in astonishment.

Children pointed to the sky, yelling excitedly,

"Look! A dragon! A real dragon!"

The sheer size of Syndor, his powerful wings casting shadows over villages and fields, left an indelible mark on those who saw him. His fiery majesty, combined with his dominating presence, was a spectacle none could forget.

By dusk, the pair approached the Tas Strait, the outline of Tarth Island visible through the fading light. Gavin turned to Daenerys, his voice calm and reassuring.

"We're nearly at Tarth, the Sapphire Isle. The Tarth family rules from Evenfall Hall. We'll rest here before heading to the Stepstones. By dawn tomorrow, we'll reach our destination."

Daenerys nodded, her tone gentle.

"I'll follow your lead, Gavin. And Syndor deserves the rest as well."

The sapphire coast of Tarth shimmered in the twilight. A towering lighthouse stood atop a cliff, its beacon unlit as the guard on duty lazily scanned the horizon. His boredom was shattered when he glanced up and spotted Syndor's massive form descending toward the island. The dragon's wings spread wide, blotting out half the sky.

The guard froze, his jaw slack with shock. For a moment, he stood in stunned silence before suddenly bolting down the lighthouse stairs, shouting at the top of his lungs:

"Dragon! A dragon is coming!"

His panicked cries echoed as he ran into the village below. Borrowing a horse, he spurred it toward Evenfall Hall, his voice hoarse as he screamed warnings to all who would listen.

The guards at Evenfall Hall sounded the alarm as the frantic man arrived at the castle gates. Dismounting clumsily, he stumbled to his feet and shouted breathlessly,

"Dragon! There's a dragon flying toward the island!"

Inside the hall, Selwyn Tarth frowned at the ruckus. The lord of Tarth was a composed man, unshaken by most things, but the word "dragon" gave him pause. Before he could speak, his daughter Brienne entered the room, her towering figure and freckled face drawing curious glances.

Selwyn gestured for the guard to approach.

"Calm yourself. Tell me exactly what you saw," he said firmly.

The guard, drenched in sweat and still panting, began to recount the terrifying sight of the dragon and its riders.