The white walls of Myr rose high above the vineyards.
After weeks upon the endless grasslands...
The city felt almost overwhelming.
Stone streets.
Crowded markets.
Voices speaking a dozen different tongues.
The smell of salt drifting in from the harbor.
Daenerys slowed her mare beside mine.
"So many people..."
"The Free Cities are nothing like the Dothraki Sea."
"I've never seen a city this large."
"You'll see larger."
Nymeria immediately became the center of attention.
Merchants stepped aside.
Children pointed.
Several guards instinctively lowered their spears before deciding it was wiser to simply let us pass.
One sailor crossed himself.
Another muttered a prayer.
The direwolf ignored them all.
The harbor proved even busier.
Merchant cogs.
Fishing boats.
Long, sleek galleys from Lys.
Heavy trading carracks from Pentos.
Every berth seemed occupied.
I spent nearly the entire afternoon speaking with captains.
Most refused the voyage the moment I mentioned our destination.
"Valyria?"
One old captain laughed.
"I'd rather sail straight into a hurricane."
Another simply spat over the dock.
"The Smoking Sea?"
"No amount of gold."
A third made the sign against evil.
"I've children."
"I intend to keep living long enough to see them."
Finally...
An old Myrish merchant named Hazar agreed.
Not to sail into Valyria.
Only as far as Volantis.
Beyond that...
We would be on our own.
The price was outrageous.
I paid it anyway.
Gold could always be earned again.
Time...
Could not.
The vessel itself was modest.
A broad-beamed merchant ship with a crew of fifteen.
Large enough to carry cargo.
Small enough to make good speed under favorable winds.
It would serve.
There remained one final problem.
Crew.
Not for the voyage to Volantis.
Hazar already had sailors.
For what came after.
Valyria was different.
If we reached the Smoking Sea...
Many would refuse to continue.
I needed men willing to work for coin.
Men without homes to return to.
The slave market provided exactly that.
Daenerys walked beside me in silence.
Her expression hardened as we entered the market.
Rows of frightened men and women stood upon wooden platforms.
Chains.
Bruises.
Blank expressions.
She looked away.
"I hate this."
"So do I."
We stopped before a broker.
"I need sailors."
He smiled immediately.
"I have many."
"No."
I looked along the rows.
"I need men who actually know ships."
His smile faded slightly.
Eventually he led us elsewhere.
There...
Several dozen slaves sat beneath a canvas awning.
Sunburnt.
Scarred.
Older.
Most bore the calloused hands of experienced sailors.
Pirates captured at sea.
Merchant crews sold after raids.
Men who had spent their lives aboard ships.
Perfect.
I purchased twelve.
The broker handed me their chains.
I looked at them for only a moment.
Then unlocked the first shackle.
One by one...
Every chain fell away.
The former slaves stared at me in disbelief.
One older sailor rubbed his wrists.
"...My lord?"
"You're free."
None of them spoke.
"If you wish to leave..."
"You may."
"If you wish employment..."
"I pay honest wages."
"I ask only that you help sail my ship beyond Volantis."
Silence.
Finally...
The oldest among them stepped forward.
Grey beard.
Weathered face.
A missing left ear.
"You'd... pay us?"
"I would."
"And after?"
"You're free to go."
The man looked around at the others.
Then slowly nodded.
"We'll sail with you."
One by one...
The others agreed.
Celebrimbor watched from nearby.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"A wise investment."
"They'll fight harder as free men."
"Just as Men always have."
Three days later...
The harbor of Myr disappeared behind us.
The sea stretched endlessly ahead.
The wind filled the sails.
Our course pointed southeast.
Toward Volantis.
Toward the Smoking Sea.
Toward Old Valyria.
Life aboard the ship quickly settled into a routine.
The crew worked from dawn until dusk.
Daenerys spent hours simply watching the sea.
Sometimes she spoke with the sailors.
Sometimes she read the books I'd purchased in Myr.
Sometimes...
She simply watched the dragon eggs.
Every now and then...
She would rest a hand upon one.
As if expecting it to answer.
One evening...
As the sun sank beneath the western horizon...
I stood alone at the stern.
The wake shimmered gold beneath the fading light.
Soft footsteps approached behind me.
Daenerys.
She rested her hands upon the rail.
For several minutes...
Neither of us spoke.
Finally...
"You still haven't answered my question."
I smiled faintly.
"I've answered several."
"Not this one."
I looked out across the sea.
"Why did you save me?"
"Yes."
The waves rolled gently beneath the ship.
"Because no one else was going to."
She frowned.
"That can't be the only reason."
"It was enough."
Silence.
The wind caught strands of her silver-gold hair.
"My brother always said..."
She hesitated.
"...my duty was to marry whoever could restore our House."
Her fingers tightened around the railing.
"You won me."
"I did."
"If..."
She struggled with the words.
"If you wished me to become your wife..."
"...I would."
I turned to face her.
There was no affection in her eyes.
No love.
Only uncertainty.
And years of believing that her worth lay only in what she could be traded for.
It made my heart ache.
"No."
She blinked.
"...No?"
"No."
"You don't owe me that."
"But..."
"You gave me your freedom."
"Then let me repay you."
"You already have."
Confusion crossed her face.
"How?"
"You trusted me."
She looked unconvinced.
I smiled gently.
"Daenerys..."
"You're still growing."
"You've barely begun living your own life."
"I'm not going to decide your future for you."
She lowered her eyes.
"No one has ever said that to me."
"They should have."
The silence that followed was comfortable.
After a long while, she looked back up.
"What if..."
"...one day I choose differently?"
I chuckled quietly.
"Then one day..."
"When you're older."
"When you've had the chance to discover who you are..."
"...you can ask me again."
A genuine smile spread across her face.
"For now?"
I looked toward the eastern horizon.
Where somewhere beyond it...
Lay the ruins of Valyria.
"For now..."
"...let's survive the most dangerous place in the known world."
She laughed softly.
"I think..."
"I'd like that."
A week passed upon the Narrow Sea.
The winds favored them.
The seas remained calm.
Each sunrise carried them farther from the Free Cities...
And closer to the oldest ruin in the known world.
Daenerys spent most of her days learning.
The old sailors taught her knots.
Navigation.
The names of the winds.
She learned eagerly.
By the week's end...
She could already tie rigging faster than some of the younger deckhands.
The dragon eggs never left Talion's cabin.
Each evening...
He checked them.
Each evening...
They remained warm.
Just warm enough to notice.
No cracks.
Not yet.
On the seventh morning...
A cry rang out from the crow's nest.
"VOLANTIS!"
Everyone turned.
Far ahead...
A colossal city rose from the mouth of the Rhoyne.
Massive black walls stretched farther than the eye could see.
Countless towers pierced the morning mist.
Hundreds of ships crowded the immense harbor.
And above them all...
Towered the Long Bridge.
Daenerys stared in amazement.
"It's enormous."
"It is."
"The oldest of the Free Cities."
"And the richest."
By midday...
The ship entered the harbor.
The noise struck them immediately.
Dockworkers shouted.
Merchants bargained.
Temple bells echoed across the water.
Ships from every corner of the known world crowded the quays.
Summer Islanders.
Ghiscari traders.
Qartheen merchant princes.
Even an Ibbenese whaling vessel.
The world truly met in Volantis.
Captain Hazar secured the ship alongside a crowded pier.
He extended one weathered hand.
"I'll go no farther."
"I wouldn't ask you to."
Talion shook it firmly.
"You've my thanks."
"And my gold."
The old captain chuckled.
"I've earned every coin."
The freed sailors gathered beside the dock.
None left.
The grey-bearded sailor stepped forward.
"You still heading east?"
"I am."
"Into the Smoking Sea?"
"Yes."
The man looked toward the horizon.
Then back at Talion.
"We said we'd sail beyond Volantis."
He scratched his beard.
"We never said we'd stop here."
The others nodded.
One after another.
Talion looked at them in surprise.
"You know where I'm going."
"We do."
"You know the stories."
"We do."
"You could die."
The old sailor grinned.
"So could anyone."
A younger sailor laughed.
"And you pay well."
Talion smiled.
"Fair enough."
The next three days disappeared in preparation.
Their merchant vessel was unsuitable.
Too slow.
Too broad.
Too valuable to risk.
Talion sold it.
With Drogo's gold...
He purchased another.
A lean, two-masted caravel built in Lys.
Fast.
Shallow-drafted.
Easy to handle with a small crew.
Exactly what they needed.
The former slaves inspected every plank.
Every rope.
Every sail.
By sunset...
The old sailor returned.
"She's sound."
"She'll survive rough seas."
"If anything can."
Talion nodded.
"Then she's ours."
Supplies came next.
Fresh water.
Salted meat.
Dried fish.
Hardtack.
Medicinal herbs.
Spare timber.
Extra sailcloth.
Rope.
Lamp oil.
Everything needed for months at sea.
The cost was staggering.
Talion paid without complaint.
Gold meant little if they died for lack of supplies.
That evening...
Celebrimbor appeared beside the newly purchased ship.
His ghostly hand rested upon the railing.
"This vessel is much smaller."
"It has to be."
"The waters ahead..."
Talion looked east.
"...aren't meant for fleets."
Celebrimbor followed his gaze.
"I can feel it."
"What?"
He remained silent for several moments.
Finally...
"Death."
The single word hung in the evening air.
"So many spirits..."
"So much suffering..."
Talion looked toward the distant horizon.
Beyond it...
Lay the Smoking Sea.
And beyond that...
The broken peninsula of Valyria
Before dawn...
The lines were cast off.
The sails unfurled.
The new ship slipped quietly from Volantis Harbor.
The great Black Walls slowly disappeared behind them.
One by one...
Other vessels turned away.
Merchant routes led south.
Or east.
Or back across the Narrow Sea.
None continued where Talion sailed.
Soon...
They were alone.
Only one ship upon an endless sea.
Its bow pointed toward a destination every sane sailor feared.
The Smoking Sea.
Old Valyria.
The grave of dragons.