Note: Before leaving comments about Stark simp, please read the chapter and make sure you understand it. I'm not a big fan of the Starks, but I understand how respected they are in the North.
The rain had long since passed by the time the banners of House Tyrell crossed into the Crownlands.
Golden roses bloomed proudly against fields of emerald silk, hundreds of standards swaying above a column that stretched for nearly a mile along the kingsroad. Knights in polished green armor rode in disciplined ranks, while wagons laden with supplies, servants, and gifts rolled steadily behind them.
At the head of the procession rode Lord Mace Tyrell.
His armor gleamed brilliantly beneath the afternoon sun, etched with climbing vines and golden roses. Around his broad shoulders rested a rich green cloak trimmed in sable, fastened by a brooch of worked gold.
Beside him traveled a far simpler wheelhouse.
Plain by Tyrell standards.
Inside sat the true mind of Highgarden.
Lady Olenna Tyrell.
The Queen of Thorns.
The old woman rested comfortably against embroidered cushions as the carriage rocked gently over the uneven road.
One wrinkled hand supported her chin while the other lazily twirled a small silver ring around one finger.
Across from her sat Mace, having abandoned his saddle for a brief respite after several hours of riding.
He looked pleased.
Almost excited.
Olenna found that deeply concerning.
"You've been smiling for the better part of an hour," she remarked dryly.
Mace straightened proudly.
"We're riding to Kingslanding."
"I had noticed."
"To meet the future king."
"I noticed that as well."
"The king who defeated the rebellion."
She sighed dramatically.
"Gods preserve me, is there eventually a point hidden somewhere beneath all this?"
Mace frowned.
"I merely meant that this is an important occasion."
"It is."
"And I should appear confident."
"You should appear intelligent."
"...I can do both."
Olenna raised an eyebrow.
"I should hate to see the attempt."
Mace looked mildly offended.
"You've been unusually critical today."
"I've been unusually surrounded by optimism."
She leaned forward slightly.
"Tell me, Mace."
"What exactly do you believe awaits us in Kingslanding?"
He blinked.
"The gratitude of our king."
"Our king?"
"Damon Targaryen."
Olenna studied him carefully.
"You've already decided to trust him."
"We supported House Targaryen."
"We obeyed our oaths."
"We lifted the siege the moment his letters arrived."
"He knows our loyalty."
Olenna gave a quiet hum.
"Loyalty."
"What?"
"There is loyalty."
She lifted one finger.
"And then there is usefulness."
Another finger.
"Never confuse the two."
Silence settled between them for several moments.
Outside, the rhythmic sound of hooves continued uninterrupted.
Eventually Mace spoke again.
"The reports spoke highly of him."
"The reports also claimed two dragons burned nearly an entire army in less than an hour."
"They did."
"And?"
Olenna looked toward the carriage window.
"I've lived long enough to know that ravens exaggerate."
She paused.
"...Usually."
"But not always."
Hours later....
The first towers of King's Landing appeared upon the horizon.
The city dominated Blackwater Bay, massive walls climbing the surrounding hills while the Red Keep watched over everything from atop Aegon's High Hill.
Mace smiled.
"There."
He pointed proudly.
"The capital."
Olenna merely nodded.
Then... The horses began growing restless.
One snorted loudly.
Another tossed its head.
Several knights exchanged uncertain glances.
A shadow drifted across the road.
Slowly.
Silently.
The sunlight disappeared.
"What..."
Mace frowned.
The shadow continued moving.
Larger, and larger still.
Until the entire procession lay beneath it.
Every horse stopped.
Some refused to move.
Others reared violently.
"What in Seven Hells....."
Then came the roar.
It rolled across the sky with enough force to shake the earth itself.
Several horses screamed.
One young knight was thrown completely from his saddle.
Men instinctively reached for swords despite knowing no steel forged by man could possibly defend them from whatever had made that sound.
Mace looked upward, and forgot to breathe.
High above them, a dragon circled lazily through the clouds.
Crimson and enormous.
Its body seemed impossibly long, winding gracefully through the sky like some great serpent of old Valyria.
Sunlight reflected brilliantly from scales the color of fresh blood.
Its wings...
Gods... Its wings seemed to stretch wider than the sails of a dozen warships.
Every powerful beat carried the creature effortlessly through the heavens.
Fire escaped between its teeth with each rumbling growl.
Nobody spoke; they couldn't
The dragon banked gracefully over them. Its long neck twisted downward. Golden eyes swept across the road below.
For one terrible heartbeat...
Olenna could have sworn the beast was looking directly at them.
The dragon's gaze lingered.
Then...
With a thunderous beat of its wings...
Caraxes climbed higher into the sky.
Only after the shadow finally passed did the procession begin breathing again.
One young guard crossed himself repeatedly.
Another whispered desperate prayers.
Mace slowly removed his helmet.
"I..."
His voice cracked.
"I never imagined..."
"No."
Olenna interrupted quietly.
"Neither did I."
Her sharp blue eyes remained fixed upon the heavens.
"So."
She whispered almost to herself.
"This..."
"...is why the rebellion ended."
Living dragons.
She suddenly understood every report arriving from King's Landing.
Entire Lannister armies surrendering without resistance.
The Lannisters bending the knee.
She would have done the same.
Robert's rebellion collapsing in a single morning. It all made sense.
The city gates finally came into view.
Hundreds of soldiers manned the battlements.
Unlike the frightened garrison Mace expected...
These men stood proudly. Confidently.
Every face upon the walls watched the skies as naturally as breathing.
They were accustomed to dragons now.
That realization unsettled Olenna more than the beast itself.
Fear faded.
Habit remained.
King's Landing had already adapted.
Then another roar echoed overhead.
Different.
Higher. Almost... Noble
The procession looked upward once again.
A second dragon emerged from drifting clouds.
This one glistened pale silver-blue beneath the afternoon sun.
Her scales shimmered beautifully as polished sapphires dusted with frost.
Larger and broader, but more majestic.
Where Caraxes resembled a creature of war...
This dragon resembled royalty. She flew with calm confidence. No sudden dives.
No aggressive displays.
Simply graceful circles above the city.
She passed above them so quietly that many forgot to breathe again.
The sunlight reflected beautifully across her wings.
Even hardened knights stared in open wonder.
"My gods..."
Mace whispered.
"There truly are two."
Olenna watched silently.
Studying and comparing. The differences fascinated her.
Mace glanced toward her.
"What?"
"They're different."
"They aren't simply beasts obeying commands."
She continued watching Dreamfyre glide effortlessly across the sky.
"They each seem to have different personalities."
Mace looked uncertain.
"How can you tell?"
"The same way I can tell the difference between you and your father."
She smiled faintly.
"They carry themselves differently."
The gates slowly opened.
Massive oak doors reinforced with iron groaned inward.
Rows of Lannister soldiers stood alongside gold cloaks.
Perfect discipline.
Not a man moved unnecessarily. Not a voice rose above another.
This wasn't the disorganized city they had expected.
Everything functioned with quiet efficiency.
The captain stepped forward.
"Lord Mace Tyrell."
He bowed respectfully.
"Lady Olenna."
"His Grace has been informed of your arrival."
Mace blinked.
"So quickly?"
The captain smiled politely.
"You were expected."
Olenna looked around; she was sure more eyes were watching them than they could see.
Varys. Or perhaps... The young king himself.
The procession entered King's Landing.
Silence greeted them.
Not fearful silence.
Respectful silence.
Citizens stopped what they were doing to watch the Reach delegation pass.
Children pointed excitedly toward the dragons overhead.
Merchants had returned to business.
Smiths worked glowing forges.
Fishmongers shouted prices.
Life continued.
Yet everything felt different than the last time she was here; it felt more ordered than before.
No drunken brawls. No screaming.
No obvious disorder.
Soldiers patrolled constantly.
Mace looked impressed.
"The city recovered quickly."
"It recovered because someone made certain it would."
Olenna answered.
Then she noticed something unusual.
Nobody looked toward the Red Keep with resentment.
Instead...
Whenever Caraxes passed overhead...
People simply continued their work.
Like farmers glancing at changing weather.
Dragons had become part of daily life in barely weeks.
That, more than anything, convinced Olenna of Damon's intelligence.
He hadn't merely conquered King's Landing.
He had almost completely normalized dragons, whether that was the plan was unknown, but it had already happened.
As their wheelhouse climbed Aegon's High Hill toward the Red Keep, Olenna looked one final time toward the skies.
Caraxes had disappeared behind distant clouds.
Dreamfyre continued circling gracefully above the city.
The old woman folded her hands quietly within her lap.
"I expected to meet a frightened prince or maybe a slow prince, or maybe that was just what I was hoping."
She spoke softly enough that only Mace heard.
"I believe..."
She watched the great castle growing nearer.
"...we are about to meet the most dangerous man in Westeros."
Mace swallowed.
For once...
He offered no argument.
The gates of the Red Keep opened before them.
And somewhere beyond those ancient walls...
The Dragon waited.