True to his word, Tywin had one hundred thousand gold dragons delivered to the Sea Dragon. The chest was enormous, requiring four men to carry it. The weight of it—both literal and metaphorical—settled in the ship's hold.
Father spent his days with King Robert, Jon Arryn had recovered enough to resume his duties—weakened, confused by the gaps in his memory, but alive and determined to continue serving.
Robert had been relieved when Jon insisted on returning to his position. Being king was burden enough without also managing the day-to-day 'activities'.
I stayed on the ship mostly, avoiding the Red Keep and its endless political games. But I had one final task before leaving King's Landing.
On the night before our departure, I slipped away from the ship.
I was looking for a specific place. A room deep beneath the Red Keep where The dragon skulls are stored. I already find hidden passage that Arya stumbled upon while following that cat.
I saw Enormous dragon skulls lined the walls, I walked slowly through the chamber, my footsteps echoing. These were the remains of House Targaryen's—My house's power the dragons that had conquered Westeros, forged the Iron Throne, made kings kneel.
At the far end of the chamber, I found what I was looking for.
Balerion the Black Dread. The largest skull of all, so massive it dominated the entire wall. This dragon had been ridden by Aegon the Conqueror himself. It had burned Harrenhal, destroyed armies, lived for nearly two hundred years.
I approached slowly, reverently.
I placed my hand on the bone, feeling its texture—smooth in places, rough in others. And then I reached out with my biokinesis, sensing deeper.
The bone was old, mineralized, but not entirely dead. There was still something there—trace amounts of organic material, preserved in the densest parts of the skull. Proteins, DNA fragments, cellular remnants that had somehow survived the centuries.
The actual structure of a creature that shouldn't have been able to exist—something that flew despite physics, breathed fire despite chemistry.
I couldn't take the whole skull. That would be noticed immediately. But I could take a small piece.
I focused my power on a section of bone near the back of the skull—a piece about the size of my palm, hidden where no one would notice its absence.
I carefully separated it from the main structure, using my biokinesis to make a clean break that looked natural, like the bone had simply cracked with age.
The piece came away In my hand. It was heavy like piece of metal.
Now with enough biomass I can create dragon, or I can clone the Black Dread himself!
I carefully wrapped the bone fragment in cloth and tucked it inside my shirt.
Then I turned and made my way back through the tunnels.
I returned to the ship few hours before dawn. Ghost was waiting, and he huffed when he caught the scent of ancient dragon bone on me.
"Don't judge," I murmured, scratching behind his ears. "We need every advantage we can get."
I hid the bone fragment in the bottom of my personal chest, wrapped in layers of cloth and buried beneath clothes and supplies.
By the time the sun rose, I was back on deck, looking like I'd never left.
Father came to the ship that morning.
"It's time," he said simply.
I'd known this was coming. Father would return to Winterfell—his duty to the king fulfilled by bringing me to save Jon Arryn. I would sail to Essos to build whatever future awaited me there.
We stood on the deck together, Ghost between us, and for a moment neither of us spoke.
"I don't know when I'll see you again," Father said finally. "If I'll see you again."
"You will," I said. "When winter comes, I'll be ready. I'll come back."
"Winter is always coming," Father said quietly.
I looked at him—at this man who'd raised me despite the scandal, who'd protected me, who'd trusted me even after learning what I could do.
"The Long Night is coming," I said quietly. "And when it does, Westeros will need every advantage it can get."
Father's grey eyes searched my face. "You're sure?"
"I'm sure."
He pulled me into an embrace—brief, fierce, unexpected. "Then go. Build, Learn what you need to learn. But remember who you are, Jon. Remember you're a Stark."
"I'll remember."
He released me and stepped back. "I'm sailing back to White Harbor today, then riding for Winterfell. I'll tell your siblings you left with honor and purpose. Arya especially—she'll want to know you're safe."
"Tell her I'm sorry I couldn't say goodbye in person. "
"I will." He looked at Ghost. "Take care of him."
Ghost huffed—almost like agreement.
Father clasped my shoulder once more, then walked down the gangplank without looking back. I watched him disappear into the crowded streets of King's Landing, heading toward his own ship and the long journey home to the North.
Two ships leaving King's Landing. One heading north to Winterfell. One heading east to Essos.
"Cast off!" the captain called.
But my ship wouldn't leave until tomorrow. I had one more night in King's Landing, one more chance to prepare.
That evening, I met with the captain of a different vessel—a Braavosi trader named Terys who'd agreed to take me across the Narrow Sea for a generous fee.
"We sail at dawn," he said in accented Common Tongue. "Braavos first, then wherever you wish to go. Your… companion…" He glanced nervously at Ghost. "He will stay below deck during the voyage, yes?"
"He'll stay where I stay," I said firmly. "But he won't cause trouble."
Terys didn't look convinced, but the gold I'd already paid him was apparently enough to overcome his doubts.
Dawn broke grey and cold over King's Landing. I stood on the deck of Terys's ship—the Water Dancer—and watched the Red Keep fade into the distance.
Ghost sat beside me, his massive form drawing nervous glances from the crew. But they gave us space, and that was all I needed.
I have made many enemies in kings landing before I even arived here, but I also got dragon bone and kept Ned stark safe.
The voyage to Braavos would take two weeks if the winds were favorable. I spent the time studying the dragon bone fragment in private, understanding it's genetics.