Thump... thump-thump...
A heartbeat sleeping a thousand years—awakening in fire and frost's embrace.
Daenerys's body froze.
She held that black-red dragon egg like a newborn infant.
That clear, powerful pulse transmitted through her palm, spreading through her limbs.
"It... it's alive..."
She murmured.
Those violet eyes brimmed with shock.
Lynn said nothing.
His hand still covered Daenerys's.
Cold magic continuously poured into the three eggs.
Creating bizarre balance with hearth flames.
He knew the eggs were alive.
But he knew more clearly—this was merely the beginning.
To make these three true dragons break shell, fire and frost alone weren't nearly enough.
These three eggs needed sacrifice.
Needed a king's blood to water their throne.
Needed true dragon's blood to awaken their lineage.
And needed a sage's blood to unlock their wisdom.
Lynn's gaze pierced dancing flames, as if seeing the distant east.
That boundless grassland called the Dothraki Sea.
He saw a man on horseback—massive frame, aura like a lion.
Khal Drogo.
A natural-born king.
He saw a woman kneeling in dust, eyes venomous, casting blood magic.
Mirri Maz Duur.
A sage who knew blood magic.
Finally, his gaze returned to Pentos.
Falling on that man currently immersed in king's dreams, drunk as a lord.
Viserys Targaryen.
The last "true dragon."
The sacrifices were chosen. The feast was about to begin.
"Lynn..."
Daenerys's voice pulled him back.
She raised her head, that exquisite face mixing joy and confusion.
"What should we do?"
"It seems... it wants to come out."
"Don't rush."
Lynn withdrew his hand, also retracting frost magic.
The egg's glow and pulse instantly dimmed.
Daenerys's face showed disappointment.
"It needs more nourishment."
Lynn stood, pulling Daenerys up from the carpet.
"A grand sacrifice."
Daenerys nodded with half-understanding.
She didn't know what Lynn's "nourishment" and "sacrifice" truly meant.
But she trusted him unconditionally.
Her prince, her king, could never be wrong.
Next day, when Viserys woke from his hangover, his head felt ready to split.
He staggered from his room, wanting to find a slave girl to serve him, when he spotted those three dragon eggs placed in the courtyard center.
In morning sunlight, their surfaces gleamed with warm luster.
No longer cold stone, but containing life.
Viserys's drunkenness instantly cleared halfway.
He rushed forward, extending his hand to touch that black-red egg.
But before his hand made contact, another hand grabbed it.
Daenerys.
"Don't touch it."
Daenerys's voice was soft, yet carried invisible threat.
Viserys froze.
He looked at his sister.
This girl who'd followed him since childhood, not daring to breathe loudly—now dared stop him?
"What did you say?"
Viserys's face instantly darkened.
"Dany, have you forgotten who your king is?"
"They were entrusted to me by Lynn."
Daenerys didn't retreat.
Those purple eyes met Viserys's fury.
"Yours?"
Viserys laughed like he'd heard the world's funniest joke.
"Everything you have, I gave you!"
"Your life, your identity, even this husband—all bestowed by me!"
"These dragon eggs belong to Targaryen!"
"They belong to ME!"
"To the last true dragon bloodline!"
He forcefully shook off Daenerys's hand, reaching to seize the eggs.
"I think you've misunderstood something, King Viserys."
A cold voice came from behind.
Viserys's body stiffened.
He slowly turned, seeing Lynn standing there.
"These dragon eggs are wedding gifts Magister Illyrio gave us as a couple."
"So they're now my property."
Lynn walked before Viserys, those dark eyes calmly watching him.
"And you're currently just a beggar king living under another's roof."
"You—!"
Viserys's face instantly turned liver-colored, humiliation and rage making his entire body tremble.
Beggar King!
He hated that title most!
"Seems you haven't recognized your situation."
Lynn ignored his fury.
"Your throne, your army, your hope for revenge—all now in my hands."
"One word from me, and you'll become that beggar king again, begging in Free Cities' streets, mocked by all."
Lynn's words extinguished all Viserys's rage and dignity.
He looked at Lynn's calm face, bone-deep chill rising in his heart.
He finally realized—
This man before him wasn't some easily manipulated ally.
He was a monster more terrifying than dragons.
"I..."
Viserys's lips moved.
That phrase "I am the dragon" could no longer emerge.
"I just... desperately want to revive our house."
After struggling, he found a lame excuse.
"Good."
Lynn seemed satisfied with his pragmatism.
"In that case, we should depart."
"Depart? Where?"
Viserys froze.
"Back to Westeros?"
"No." Lynn shook his head.
"Your hundred-thousand wildling army will wait in the North."
"We now need to recruit forces, then conquer a new army."
Lynn's gaze turned east.
"The Dothraki."
In Magister Illyrio's estate, the atmosphere grew strange.
"Conquer the Dothraki?"
Illyrio's corpulent body sank into his couch, face showing spectacular expressions.
He'd heard countless mad plans in his life, but none matched Lynn's.
Conquer the Dothraki?
Those savages living on horseback, like locust swarms?
They had no cities, no kings.
Only khalasar following the strong.
They worshipped strength, lived by plunder.
Even mighty Valyrian Freehold couldn't handle them.
"Lord Lynn, perhaps you misunderstand the Dothraki."
Illyrio wiped forehead sweat.
"They cannot be conquered—they're like wind, coming and going without trace."
"Wind can be directed."
Lynn lifted his wine cup, taking a sip.
"Currently, the Dothraki Sea has one most powerful khalasar."
"Their leader is Khal Drogo—a man who's never lost in battle."
"Kill him, absorb his khalasar, and we gain over eighty thousand elite cavalry."
"Then, using this khalasar as core, we can snowball—absorbing all small tribes, unifying the entire Dothraki Sea."
Illyrio listened with pounding heart.
He had to admit—though mad, this plan wasn't impossible.
If truly unifying the Dothraki Sea, that golden trade route connecting east and west would be completely opened.
That profit...
Even the Iron Bank of Braavos would go mad!
"This... too risky." Illyrio still hesitated.
"Khal Drogo's warriors are the Dothraki's fiercest."
"They only follow the strongest khal."
"Perfect." Lynn smiled.
"I'll show them what true strength means."
"I'll personally cut his braid, let him taste defeat."
Viserys listened with boiling blood.
Already fantasizing—riding dragons, leading tens of thousands of Dothraki cavalry, charging into King's Landing.
A hundred times more glorious than attacking with wildlings!
"Illyrio! Give him ships!"
Viserys shouted excitedly.
"Give him the best ships! Fastest ships!"
"I command you—satisfy his every demand!"
Illyrio sighed helplessly.
He knew he had no choice left.
"I only need three ships."
Lynn raised three fingers.
"Plus sufficient fresh water and provisions."
"And..."
Lynn's gaze fell on Viserys.
"Please have King Viserys accompany us."
"Let the future Seven Kingdoms' king personally witness his first army's birth—quite necessary, isn't it?"
Viserys, hearing this, puffed his chest, face full of rightful pride.
"Naturally!"
He completely failed to realize—he was about to embark on a one-way road to hell.
He'd never imagine his coveted "true dragon's blood" would flow in the manner he least wished to see.
Lynn kept him alive now only to sacrifice him with Khal Drogo once the eggs were gathered.
Three days later.
Pentos harbor.
Three merchant ships belonging to Magister Illyrio had raised sails.
Lynn stood at the bow, sea wind whipping his black robes.
Daenerys stood quietly beside him like a dutiful wife, straightening his wind-tousled collar.
Her face no longer showed any timidity or anxiety.
Replaced by anticipation and happiness of embarking on a journey with her beloved.
Those three dragon eggs were carefully placed in the cabin's deepest hold, wrapped in warm silk.
Viserys also changed into practical riding clothes, waist bearing an ornate gilded longsword.
He stood tall, surveying dock slaves and sailors with eyes like inspecting his own territory.
Already fantasizing—upon reaching the Dothraki Sea, how those savages would worship this "true dragon."
Perhaps Lynn needn't act at all.
Just his rallying cry, and those horse-riding barbarians would kneel at his feet, kissing his boots.
As for Lynn...
Viserys's eyes flashed with cold gleam.
Just a thief who stole Targaryen power.
Once he controlled the Dothraki, reclaimed his dragon eggs and army—
He'd show this Northern savage who the true master was.
"Set sail!"
At the captain's command, heavy iron anchors slowly rose.
Three merchant ships—carrying different ambitions and desires—slowly left Pentos harbor, breaking waves toward that broader, bloodier eastern continent.
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