Pentos.
Magister Illyrio Mopatis's manse was, as always, opulent.
But the mountain of a man was behaving strangely today.
He wasn't lounging on his cushioned divan. Instead, he paced his study like a caged beast. His expensive silk robes clung to him with sweat, outlining his grotesque belly.
"Magister, you've been walking for nearly an hour." A servant ventured cautiously.
Lynn apparently despised slavery. Upon hearing the news, Illyrio had freed every slave in his household overnight. Better not provoke the dragon lord.
"Shut up!" Illyrio waved irritably.
One word looped through his mind.
Sugar.
White sugar.
When Jorah Mormont arrived dusty from the road and placed that small silk pouch on his desk, Illyrio had been dismissive. But when he tasted that powder—whiter than snow—this magister who'd sampled every delicacy in the world completely lost composure.
Sweetness that made the soul tremble. Pure. Noble. Not a trace of impurity.
He understood instantly the terrifying value behind it.
Westerosi nobles would go to war for this.
No—not just Westeros. Essos, Sothoryos, the entire world would descend into madness.
"My lord, Lynn says—" Jorah's voice had been calm, confident. "He'll grant you exclusive trade rights to this white sugar. In exchange for chartering all your merchant ships."
Illyrio's heart had skipped a beat.
He knew: this was a deal that could reshape the world.
But he also knew: it meant completely breaking with Meereen and Yunkai. Their fleets had blockaded all of Slaver's Bay.
But, as Lynn predicted—
No merchant can refuse three hundred percent profit.
Illyrio wasn't just a competent merchant. He was a master speculator.
Illyrio stopped pacing. His small eyes, buried in fat, blazed with greed.
"I'll send every ship in my fleet. Immediately. To Lys, Tyrosh, Volantis. Buy every scrap of grain, iron ore, cloth on the market. Then ship it all to Astapor."
"Magister, the Meereenese and Yunkish fleets—"
"Tell them to go to hell." Illyrio's face twisted. "Tell them if they touch one of my ships, Lynn's dragons will turn their cities to glass."
He didn't believe Lynn would actually deploy dragons for him.
But he understood perfectly how to borrow a tiger's威.
Astapor. The manse.
Lynn heard Jorah's report. His face showed the expected smile. Everything according to plan.
Then an Unsullied guard strode in.
"My lord. Viserys has been secured."
He knelt.
Lynn's smile vanished. Before, he'd had no time to deal with Viserys. Now, with the biggest problem solved, it was time to address Viserys's attack on Daenerys.
Lynn nodded.
He turned toward Daenerys's chambers.
Jorah moved to follow. Lynn stopped him with a look.
The door was open.
Daenerys sat by the window, watching the busy figures outside. Lost in thought. Her profile in the sunset glow was beautiful as a painting. But tinged with lingering melancholy.
"I heard." Lynn came up behind her. Gently pulled her into his arms.
Daenerys trembled slightly. Leaned her head against his chest.
"I'm fine." Her voice was muffled. "Just... sad. I thought he'd at least retain a shred of Targaryen dignity. But he didn't. He's like a rabid dog backed into a corner. Wanting to drag everyone to hell with him."
Lynn didn't offer empty comfort. Just tightened his arms.
"I'm sorry." Daenerys suddenly looked up, violet eyes guilty. "If I hadn't meddled, hadn't called for a healer—"
"This isn't your fault." Lynn cut her off. Kissed her forehead. "You're just too kind. Kindness isn't weakness, Dany. Never. But for some people—the irredeemable—mercy only emboldens them."
Daenerys fell silent.
She knew who Lynn meant.
"What will you do with him?" she asked softly.
"Everyone pays for their mistakes. Death is Viserys's final destination."
Lynn's answer was simple. Direct.
Daenerys stiffened.
She'd expected this. But hearing it still felt like an invisible hand squeezing her heart.
"I understand." She closed her eyes. Buried her face deeper. "I just... don't want to see that hate-filled face anymore."
"Alright." Lynn looked at her. "Then let him make one final contribution to House Targaryen."
That night.
Plaza of Punishment.
Torches lit the square like daylight. Unsullied stood in full armor, silent, forming an impenetrable wall. No expression on their faces.
Center of the plaza: a tall wooden platform, hastily built.
Two Unsullied pinned Viserys to the platform. His hands were ruined. Mouth gagged. Only desperate whimpers escaped his throat.
He stared at the thing lying on a velvet cushion at his feet.
A dragon egg.
Black as pitch. Covered in fine dark red veins, as if magma flowed within.
Viserys's pupils contracted.
He understood instantly what Lynn intended.
He began struggling wildly. His pale violet eyes filled with pleading.
Lynn didn't look at him.
His gaze fell on Daenerys beside him.
She wore a black gown. Silver-gold hair flying in the night wind. No expression on her face. Just watching the writhing, inhuman thing on the platform that was once her brother.
"Some say only death can pay for life." Lynn's voice rang across the silent plaza. "Others say only life can pay for life. Tonight, we test the ancient prophecy."
He drew a dagger from his belt.
Not Longclaw. A blade forged from dragonglass. Black as night. Radiating cold.
Step by step, he climbed the platform.
Viserys struggled harder.
Lynn knelt. Ripped the gag from his mouth.
"No! You can't do this to me!" Viserys's scream tore through the night. "I am the dragon! My blood is noble! You can't use it for this filthy ritual! I am your king! Dany! Save me! Save me!"
Daenerys watched coldly. Said nothing.
"Dragon?" Lynn smiled.
He gripped Viserys's chin. Pressed the dragonglass blade to his throat.
"A dragon who'd sell his own sister? Who can't even control his own emotions? You're not a dragon, Viserys. You're a talking maggot."
Maester Aemon bore Targaryen blood. A sage. Should have been king. The rightful heir. He alone satisfied all three conditions for hatching dragon eggs. If he were here, he could hatch all three eggs alone.
But Viserys only had Targaryen blood. He wasn't a sage. Had no capacity for kingship. To be safe, not waste Viserys's blood, Lynn chose to let him hatch only one egg.
Lynn hesitated no longer.
Hand up. Blade down.
SQUELCH.
The sharp dragonglass sliced Viserys's throat.
Hot blood fountained out.
Viserys's eyes bulged.
Life's light faded rapidly from his pupils.
Lynn grabbed his hair. Aimed the gushing neck at the black dragon egg.
"By king's blood, I summon thy spirit!"
Burning Targaryen blood poured over the egg.
The black egg's dark red veins began glowing faintly the instant blood touched it. Like a dried riverbed receiving life-giving water.
The entire egg trembled.
But it wasn't enough.
Lynn looked up.
Winter circled overhead, three massive heads peering down curiously.
"Winter!" Lynn called. "Dracarys!"
Winter roared low.
Inhaled deeply.
Dragon fire descended from the sky, precisely engulfing the glowing, heating egg.
King's blood and dragon's breath.
CRACK.
The sound of primal birth echoed across the silent plaza.
The black egg split.
Then a second crack. A third...
Countless fissures spread like a spiderweb.
BOOM.
The shell shattered.
A hatchling emerged—black as night, spine and wing edges traced with eerie blood-red. It shook off sticky fluid. Gazed curiously at this new world.
When its eyes met Lynn's, it chirped—clear, affectionate.
"Chirp!"
It toddled on wobbly legs to Lynn's feet. Nuzzled his boot with its small head.
The plaza: eight thousand Unsullied, after a moment of silence, knelt as one. Raised their spears. The unified thud of spear butts hitting stone was their most fervent tribute.
[You have slain Viserys Targaryen. EXP +0.2]
Lynn ignored the system notification.
His gaze moved past the newborn dragon to Daenerys.
Her face was wet with tears.
She looked at the black dragon. Heart a tangle of emotions.
The old Targaryen—drained with Viserys's blood—was dead.
The new Targaryen would rise from these ashes of blood and fire.
"Grey Worm."
"Yes, my lord."
"Cut off his head. Preserve it with lime and spices." Lynn glanced at Viserys's still-warm corpse. "I'll need it when I return to Westeros."
He bent down. Picked up the nuzzling black hatchling. The little thing was light. But warm.
Lynn looked into its molten gold eyes. Smiled.
"You'll be called Nightfang."
Lynn carried Nightfang down the platform to Daenerys.
"Like it?" He held the hatchling out. "It'll stay with you."
Daenerys reached out with trembling hands. Gently stroked Nightfang's smooth, warm scales. The hatchling purred contentedly.
She looked up at Lynn's eyes—so deep in the firelight—and nodded hard.