Daenerys Targaryen, the Mother of Dragons, strode across the boundless red wasteland with her followers and three young dragons. In her hands she held a scroll, her violet eyes focused intently upon its surface, as if she had fallen completely into its secrets.
Behind her, her handmaiden Doreah carried the three baby dragons in a sling on her back. The little creatures screeched and hissed restlessly, poking their heads out now and then to survey the barren horizon. Whenever they grew too excited and started thrashing about, Daenerys would rush over to soothe them with soft words and gentle strokes.
A short distance behind them, "the bear" Ser Jorah Mormont knelt beside a water skin, pouring into it from a blue crystal stone that shimmered faintly in the sun. A month ago, Daenerys and her three dragons had been reborn from the fire. Not far from the ashes where she had risen, her people later discovered a scroll and two such blue crystals buried in the cinders.
When Daenerys examined them, she found that the scroll contained Valyrian runes — Binding Spells, Flame Spells, and Summoning Spells. At first she believed these were gifts from the heavens, divine words granted to her rebirth. Out of curiosity, she tried one — and to her astonishment, the spell actually worked.
The Binding Spell fascinated her most. She discovered that it could even influence people. Whenever the young dragons bickered or fought, she would recite the incantation to bring them to order. Later experiments revealed that the Flame Spell could conjure real fire, while the Summoning Spell allowed her to manipulate physical matter itself.
However, both of those spells consumed immense energy, far beyond what she could yet control. Still, she practiced tirelessly, refusing to yield.
Her "sleeping dragon" brother had once told her ancient tales from the Age of Magic — of lost secrets and vanished powers. So she had always known what magic was, had always believed in its wonder. But to wield the famed Binding Spell herself was another matter entirely.
Most wondrous of all were those two blue crystals. When Daenerys chanted the Valyrian words inscribed upon them, fresh water would pour forth endlessly, like a fountain summoned by will alone. Thanks to those miraculous stones, Daenerys and her followers had survived the desolation of the Red Waste and made it this far.
To her people, she was no longer just Khaleesi — she was the living image of a goddess. No matter what gods they had once worshiped, now, in every heart, Daenerys was divinity itself.
"Khaleesi! How do I make this thing stop?"
Jorah's voice cut through her reverie. Daenerys blinked, pulled back from the world of the scroll. In the past few days she had discovered that the parchment contained not only spells, but also a mysterious treatise titled The Dominion of the Dragon King. Its words had utterly captivated her.
She was no fool. With time, she had begun to sense that these relics were not ordinary. After some questioning, she learned that the scroll and the stones had been stored in the same chest as the dragon eggs — hidden in a secret compartment at the bottom. On the night of the fire ritual, after Daenerys removed the eggs, Doreah had tossed the empty chest onto the pyre as kindling.
"Khaleesi!"
Jorah called again. Snapping back to herself, Daenerys shook her head clear, walked over, and took the crystal from his hands. Murmuring the Valyrian incantation etched upon it, she felt the flow of water within slow to a stop.
She frowned. The crystal's blue light was dimmer than before. A sense of unease pricked at her heart. She took the second stone from Doreah and saw the same fading hue.
"It seems our water is running low…" she said softly, helplessly. "I wonder if—"
Before she could finish, a cry of joy rose from afar. One of her bannermen was returning — and he brought news: the city of Qarth was willing to receive the Mother of Dragons.
Relief flooded Daenerys's face. Her people were starving, weary to the bone. They needed rest, and at last, sanctuary awaited them ahead.
When word of Eddard Stark's execution reached Riverrun, Robb Stark was consumed with grief and fury. But surrounded by the lords of the North and Riverlands, he rose from sorrow as they bent their knees and hailed him King in the North.
When Jon Snow and his companions returned to Riverrun, they found the northern lords deep in council. Because of Edmure Tully's so-called "mercy," the Riverland lords had scattered, each fighting their own battles on their own lands. The old Lord Hoster Tully lay ill, and after several defeats morale was crumbling — the Riverlords were growing weary of war.
Then Roose Bolton spoke coldly:"Forgive my bluntness, Lord Edmure, but I believe we must gather our forces and strike directly at Harrenhal — crush the Lannister army in the Riverlands once and for all. Running about dousing fires helps no one."
"But I cannot allow my people to be slaughtered by that beast, the Mountain," Edmure retorted, his face set in resolve. "The Riverlands have suffered terribly in this war. Many of my vassals' keeps lie in ruins. They have a duty to defend their lands and their folk. I cannot command them to abandon all and fight here — if their homes are lost, then what meaning does victory hold?"
As he spoke, his gaze flicked toward Lady Catelyn — deliberately, almost accusingly.
Many Riverlords blamed her for the war's beginning. To them, it was the Starks who had provoked the Lannisters, dragging the Riverlands into bloodshed that was never theirs to bear.
The northern lords caught the implication in Edmure's words and their expressions darkened slightly. Among them, Lord Tytos Blackwood of Raventree Hall saw the growing tension and quickly stood up to speak:
"My lords! Tywin's bastard of a house sent that monster, the Mountain, and his pack of wolves to burn and butcher across the Riverlands! Lord Edmure sent us home only to root them out — not from cowardice or division, but to destroy the Lannister raiders once and for all!"
The Blackwoods were among the oldest houses of the Riverlands — devout keepers of the Old Gods, much like the Starks. Though their ancestors had once been driven from the North, in this age the two houses shared deep friendship.
Tytos Blackwood himself had fought beside Eddard Stark in Robert's Rebellion. They had even once discussed marriage ties between their families.
It was worth noting that Brynden Tully's mother had been a Blackwood, which was said to be why Brynden bore the gift of the warg, touched by the blood of the First Men and the Old Gods alike.
"If the lords permit," came a sudden voice from the doorway, "I would like to take on the Mountain myself — so that the Riverlords may focus on wiping out the rest of the Lannisters."
All turned. The door swung open, and in strode Jon Snow, flanked by his men.
The northern lords rose at once, faces brightening. Robb stepped forward, throwing his arms around his brother.
Catelyn smiled faintly — a brief flicker of warmth — but her expression soon hardened, shadows of worry clouding her face.
"Jon Snow! You bastard — I thought you'd died on the King's Road!"
The teasing voice came from Theon Greyjoy. His words were sharp, but everyone knew the tone — it was his way of hiding concern. They were all relieved to see Jon alive.
The raid they had undertaken before had been perilous; one misstep could have cost them all their lives. Their return was no small miracle.
Once Jon and his companions were seated, the council resumed. Jon stood and addressed the gathered lords:
"My lords, to ensure the safety of the Riverlands and strike at the heart of the Lannisters' strength, I ask your leave to lead a force against the Mountain's host."
Robb frowned. "The Mountain is not easily slain. Are you sure you can handle him?"
"Robb, my lord," said Madsen-Dan Magnar, the warrior seated beside Jon, "you need not worry. With my aid, Lord Jon can deal with that beast. I've heard tales of the Mountain — said to be the strongest knight in the West. A fine chance for me to test how far I've come."
With Madsen-Dan's assurance, Robb granted permission. Plans were drawn, armies assigned. Then Roose Bolton rose once more, his pale eyes unreadable.
"My lords," he began smoothly, "the situation favors us. Lord Stannis has called the realm to arms — the Lannisters and their inbred 'pureblood' king stand on the brink of ruin. The lies they spread against us and Lord Eddard have been exposed. When we march on King's Landing, resistance will be weak.
"However, Lord Edmure can no longer lend us much strength. Thus, we must seek new allies. Two remain: Lord Renly, who commands a hundred thousand men from the Reach and Stormlands — or Lord Stannis, who holds the royal fleet and five thousand soldiers. But Stannis demands all bend the knee, calling both our King Robb and Renly false kings. So, my humble counsel is that we ally with Renly."
After long debate, they agreed to send Lady Catelyn as emissary. With her birth and dignity, she alone would be received with proper respect — southern nobles had little love for northern "barbarians."
When the council ended, Robb kept Jon and Theon behind. Though young, he had grown into a true commander — yet he still valued their counsel deeply. Their insight and strategies had proven flawless again and again.
The endless quarrels between Riverlords and Northmen had left Robb exhausted. Without Theon's support and his mother's steady guidance, chaos might already have consumed their campaign.
"What should we do next?" Robb asked quietly. "Do either of you have a plan?"
Theon grinned first. "I say we learn from old Tywin, the cunning lion himself. Golden Tooth may be strong, but the rest of the Westerlands aren't impregnable. Let me sail to the Iron Islands — convince my father to strike at the western shores. That'll force the Lannister host at Harrenhal to retreat. Then we'll be waiting on the road to ambush them."
Jon's eyes narrowed. "And how do you guarantee they won't betray us instead?"
"Jon…" Robb began, but Theon raised a hand, laughing lightly.
"He's an Ironborn, sure — but the Westerlands are dripping with gold. If he's fool enough to raid us instead of them, then he's not fit for the Seastone Chair. And when that happens, I'll just kill him myself and take it. Robb! You'll name me Warden of the Iron Islands, won't you?"
He threw back his head and laughed — loud, reckless, full of life. Robb joined in, then Jon. Their laughter rang through the halls of Riverrun, echoing across the stone walls like the fading warmth of a lost home.
In the end, Robb and Jon agreed to trust Theon. If he could rally the Iron Fleet to strike the Westerlands, their plan might just succeed.
Far away, on the shores of Dragonstone in Blackwater Bay, seven great statues blazed in fire — the Seven Gods that had once stood within the island's sept, now reduced to molten silhouettes.
Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Dragonstone, had learned the terrible truth: his late brother's three children bore no Baratheon blood. And so, ambition flared in his heart — he would claim the Iron Throne. On his journey to seek loans from the Iron Bank, he had "by chance" met the beautiful red priestess, Melisandre of Asshai.
Under her fervent preaching, Stannis had turned to the worship of the Lord of Light. In Dragonstone, he imposed this new faith by force — burning every relic of the Seven, banishing the septons and septas from his lands.
Before the blazing statues, Melisandre's voice rose over the crackling fire:"Behold! Stannis Baratheon is Azor Ahai reborn!"
As she spoke, Stannis stepped forward and drew from the heart of the Maiden's statue a sword wreathed in living flame.
The scene mirrored the prophecy: the hero who drew his sword from his beloved's heart. At least, for now, Stannis had not fallen so far as to make that literal — though, given time and desperation, who could say he wouldn't?
High above Dragonstone, in some unseen realm, two colossal beings clashed. One was the same manifestation of the Seven that Mako had once fought within his dreamscape; the other shone with golden fire, wielding a vast sword of flame — the Lord of Light himself, it seemed.
They exchanged no words, only blows. Their battle shook the heavens. At last, when Stannis pulled the flaming blade free, the warrior form of the Seven was cleaved in two by the Lord of Light's sword, scattering into a thousand glittering motes.
Sensing this, Melisandre smiled, radiant and triumphant. She raised her arms and declared to the watching crowd:
"Followers of the Lord of Light! A new age has come! Under Azor Ahai reborn — under Lord Stannis's banner — we shall find our final salvation!"