The sun hung high in a clear sky, and a gentle breeze passed without a ripple.
Gendry the Breaker and Daenerys Targaryen stepped into the warm autumn sunlight, the young royal couple shining as brightly as the blazing sun itself.
"King Gendry."
"Queen Daenerys."
The two young royals carried themselves with regal grace, representing the renewed reconciliation between the two illustrious houses of Targaryen and Baratheon, and through the maternal line, House Durrandon.
Endless crowds lined both sides of the road on the Dragonpit Hills, cheering for them.
Tall and handsome, Gendry had eyes as blue and clear as a mountain lake, warm yet resolute.
The Storm seemed like the Warrior made flesh, brave and fearless, beloved by the people, knights, and lords alike.
The last true dragon possessed an almost inhuman beauty, with silvery-gold hair and eyes like amethysts. Everyone believed her beauty was beyond compare, even among all the fair ladies of the Seven Kingdoms gathered there.
Gendry and Daenerys descended the road from the Dragonpit, flanked by the two white knights, Ser Barristan and Ser Balon, with guards and attendants surrounding them.
Ser Boggs led the King's Landing Guard in holding back the cheering crowd, while the royal guards formed an inner ring.
Yet even the two white knights were not the brightest sight today. That honor belonged to the Stag and Dragon couple, and their dragons.
"May the old and new gods bless you with lasting happiness," Great Lord Stannis and his wife offered in congratulations.
"May this good fortune continue without end," Great Lord Eddard and his wife blessed them.
"May the Mothers grant you children as beautiful as yourselves, boys as warriors, and girls as ladies," said the tall, beautiful Lady Alerie Tyrell, who also had silver hair.
Lords, knights, and envoys came one after another to bless the newlyweds and kiss their fingers. The line stretched on for a long while.
Afterward, golden banners fluttered in the wind as the people shouted the newlyweds' names.
The guests were to rest in the Red Keep, then join the wedding feast an hour later.
Gendry and Daenerys, and Mychel and Mya, both newlywed couples needed to change into fresh clothes. Wedding attire was different from coronation attire.
"Down you come, my bride." Gendry lifted Daenerys from the saddle. Though she was around five feet seven inches tall, she still looked petite beside him.
Daenerys let out a breathless, delighted laugh.
For Gendry, the coronation followed by the wedding ceremony had been thoroughly exhausting.
But that was what it meant to be king. Even a king's celebration was elevated into ceremony, every movement watched by tens of thousands. It was both performance and power.
"Ser Boggs and you will have to take extra care today, Lothor," Gendry said to Ser Lothor Brune.
"It is my honor," Lothor replied.
King's Landing was bustling today, and its defenses were tight from the inside out. In truth, they only appeared loose on the outside while remaining strict within.
Ser Barristan, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, led Balon and the attendants; Lothor commanded the royal guards; and Ser Boggs was responsible for directing the King's Landing Guard.
Lord Jack Crabb and Lord Roose Bolton were in charge of clearing the outer perimeter and securing the kingsroad.
Even against magical attacks, Gendry had prepared several people skilled in magical defense: the red priestesses, the red priests, and Qyburn.
It was not that Gendry was overly suspicious. Fame drew danger, and besides, he had a certain wariness toward weddings.
More than a dozen princes and nobles had died because of Gendry, and his enemies had spread across the world. Of course, perhaps once he had killed them all, he would no longer have to worry about such things.
The Storm's record included one king, Joffrey; two Dothraki khals, Zekko and Drogo, along with their khos and children, though Drogo had no children; one Volantis Lord Governor, Marajo; one Tyrosh Archon; one First Magister of Lys, Rhaen; a dozen Twin Cities governors and mercenary captains; and a dozen or so Great Masters and Wise Masters from Slaver's Bay.
Gendry and Daenerys returned to Maegor's Holdfast, where both of them needed to change.
The royal chambers were also located in Maegor's Holdfast, a massive square fortress buried deep in the heart of the Red Keep, enclosed by twelve-foot-thick walls and a dry moat filled with spikes.
The fires in the fireplaces at both ends of the king's bedchamber burned fiercely, filling the room with a vivid red glow.
The three Dragons had followed them into Maegor's Holdfast. Enclosed spaces made the young dragons angry, but the warmth of the room eased their resistance somewhat.
Later, the young dragons would be taken into the courtyard, where they could eat several whole sheep.
"True dragons fear no fire." Daenerys had a high tolerance for flame, while Gendry had even begun touching on the study of Pyromancy.
Gendry first set down Rage. The thing was far too conspicuous.
The gleaming golden greatsword Rage was as wide as Ice, broader than a palm, and taller than Jon Snow. If he had to carry a sword at his side, Orphan-Maker was far more convenient.
After all, Gendry could not sling Heartsbane across his body like Randyll Tarly, and he already carried plenty of equipment.
"This is a sword of sovereign authority." Gendry looked at the golden greatsword. Rage served more as a symbol of kingship, with a touch of ceremony to it.
A sword was authority. Like Blackfyre, Ice, Heartsbane, Truth, and Vigilance.
By comparison, the narrower bastard hand-and-a-half sword Orphan-Maker was more like a monarch's sword of justice, a monarch's sword of slaughter.
Gendry's sword belt held Orphan-Maker and a Valyrian steel dagger.
"House Targaryen once had two swords as well," Daenerys said, looking at Rage and Orphan-Maker, at the distinctive ripples of Valyrian steel. "Blackfyre and Dark Sister. Unfortunately, they have been lost."
"They will be found," Gendry said with a smile. He believed Blackfyre was across the Narrow Sea, while Dark Sister was likely somewhere in the cold North.
Gendry changed into black-and-gold striped breeches and a black tunic threaded with gold, with black silk sleeves and agate buttons. Four lifelike motifs adorned it: a crowned stag with a warhammer, a three-headed Dragon, a running Wolf Pack, and a slave breaking his shackles. These were the four poles of his power.
Daenerys changed into a purple gown, its bodice baring her shoulders and the upper curve of her small breasts. Her soft silvery-gold hair spilled over her snow-white shoulders and fell straight to her waist, while a slender golden crown rested on her brow. Daenerys's smile was shy and sweet.
The servants of the Red Keep had also been thoroughly screened several times, removing both the Lannister claws from the Westerlands and the informants Varys and Pycelle had once revealed.
The court had now been filled with new blood from the Crownlands, the Riverlands, the Stormlands, and the Vale, all of them staunch royalists.
The sweet fragrance of food slowly rose as night began to fall.
Gendry and Daenerys first brought the dragons to the courtyard to feed them.
Lively goats had already been prepared there, and Lothor was waiting with servants from the kennels and stables.
Among the servants stood a familiar face, a hulking, powerfully built giant of a man.
The right side of the Hound's face was gaunt, with sharp cheekbones, thick brows, and gray eyes. The left side was a ruined mess, the work of the Mountain.
The Hound was now assigned to protect the court's prized hounds and horses, and naturally, he was also responsible for protecting the dragons.
The Hound's new title was Dragonkeeper.
"How does the new work feel?" Gendry asked.
"Thanks to the mercy of the King and Queen, easier than anything I've ever done. I'll repay your kindness with loyalty. Come to think of it, raising dogs ought to be my specialty. My grandfather was the lions' kennelmaster." Sandor Clegane, the Hound, wore a black waistcoat as he knelt before the royal couple, then shrugged.
Daenerys looked at the Hound's face. It was strange, certainly, but she felt more pity than fear. Daenerys was a resilient true dragon.
If a white knight were sent to raise dogs and horses and watch over kennels, he would either draw his sword for a duel or kill himself, taking it as an unbearable insult.
But the Hound had never been a knight. He despised false knights and hated their hollow codes.
After the Mountain died, the Hound had even lost his purpose in life and had grown restless with boredom. Compared with killing, being around animals gave him a measure of peace.
"Let the goats out of the cages."
"As you command."
A dazed herd of goats appeared in the courtyard, and the Dragons began to shriek. Their roars made the goats go weak all over.
Then came the slaughter brought by the Dragons. The herd was soon too terrified even to run.
Balerion was the first to roar and dive down, sending a swirling mass of black-red flame crashing down.
"Mountain, I'm not afraid of you anymore." The Hound stared at the raging black-red flames and forced down the fear in his heart.
From now on, the Hound would live for himself. His grandfather had been a dog trainer. Perhaps this suited him better.
A lone mountain goat was engulfed in flames. The black Dragon landed on its back, snapped its spine, and ended its agonized bleating. The green Dragon and white Dragon also began to hunt.
The Dragons feasted where they had caught their prey, while smoke and the stench of scorched wool filled the air.
With black teeth sharp as swords, the Dragons tore into the charred, foul-smelling meat and devoured goat after goat.
Only after the Dragons had eaten their fill did they curl up separately in the courtyard among the braziers.
"I prepared a seat for you too, should you want it," Gendry said to the Hound.
The Hound shook his head and said bleakly, "I don't want to protect anyone anymore, and I don't want to become some false knight, currying favor with lords who only look noble. Just let me watch over these pups, falcons, fine horses, and Dragons. They're still more lovable than people."
"A knight is made by the heart of a knight," Gendry replied.
As one of the most dangerous warriors of his age, the Hound had chosen to deal with animals instead, a self-imposed exile. The noise and bustle belonged to others; the solitude was his own.
"Let's go." Gendry and Daenerys left the courtyard with Lothor and the others, while the Hound set up a chair and remained there with the Dragonkeepers, continuing to guard the Dragons.
Night slowly fell, and the smell of fresh bread and roast meat had already drifted through the Red Keep.
The castle's throne room did not have enough seats, so long tables had also been set up throughout the Red Keep's outer yard.
Twilight was still an hour away, but the throne room was already bright with flame. Every torch in every wall niche had been lit, and guests were hurrying inside.
"Everyone knows this will be a night of laughter and brilliance," Roose Bolton thought as he joined the queue, watching everything with eyes like dirty ice. "Tonight marks the third union of the Stag and the true dragon. It displays the Storm's unmatched legitimacy and overawes the lords of the realm into submitting to King Gendry's rule."
After seeing the fate of King Joffrey, Lord Governor Malaquo, and the slave masters, not to mention the appearance of the Dragons, no one dared contend with the Storm.
Even if sparks still remained in the Westerlands and across the Narrow Sea, the lords all knew those sparks were slowly going out.
Roose Bolton moved forward. The throne room had become a river of silk, satin, and velvet, and the honored guests had their own need to mingle.
"From the Riverlands, Ser William Merton of Maidenpool and his sons."
The fat, bloated Lord Merton carried his belly into court with his sons.
"From the North, Lord Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort, adviser to the Small Council and clearer of the kingsroad."
Roose straightened his appearance.
He saw Ser Boggs of Crackclaw Point still in the courtyard. The commander of the King's Landing Guard was seasoned and experienced in battle.
"From the Reach, Lord Randyll Tarly of Horn Hill and his son, young Lord Dickon, adviser to the Small Council and commander of the Dragonpit Veterans' Home."
Lord Randyll entered with his heir, Dickon. Randyll intended to push his son into the ranks of the attendants.
"From the Stormlands, Ser Donnar Swain of Stonehelm."
Ser Donnar entered.
"Deputy envoy of the Sealord of Braavos, Lady Bellegere Otherys, the Black Pearl."
The Black Pearl gave a charming smile to an attendant. Her beauty could captivate Braavos, and it was indeed a beauty of a rare kind.
"Envoy of the Prince and Council of Magisters of Pentos, Magister Ordello."
The guests who had already arrived stood behind the long tables. The lords and ladies entering the hall had their names and titles announced one by one by the heralds, then were escorted across the broad central aisle by cupbearers dressed in golden royal livery.
The galleries were filled with musicians: drummers, pipers, fiddlers, and players of horns, harps, and skin bagpipes.
Everyone had dressed in their finest, determined to make a dazzling entrance. But they all understood that tonight's true focus belonged to the King and Queen.
Beautiful young ladies such as Sansa Stark and Margaery Tyrell drew every eye, as did Arianne of Dorne with her exotic charm, especially since they were daughters of Great Lords. Yet few dared approach them. Such was the gap in status.
Still, someone had taken an interest in Arianne of Dorne. Edmure and Arianne were already chatting and laughing together.
Red-haired and blue-eyed Sansa had changed into a silver silk gown, matched with an exquisite silver hairnet set with white pearls, making her look delicate and lovely. Silver-gray and white were the colors of House Stark.
Margaery had changed into pale green brocade. Her soft brown hair spilled over her snow-white shoulders and fell straight to her waist, and her smile was gentle.
"What a lovely, graceful girl," the Queen of Thorns said, approaching Sansa in a gold-threaded silk gown and offering praise.
"Thank you for your kindness, Lady," Sansa said, wondering inwardly what the old woman was up to.
Just then, Gendry and Daenerys rode into the hall on matching golden steeds. Behind them came Princess Mya and Mychel as a couple, mounted on red steeds. Attendants ran ahead, scattering countless rose petals.
Sansa's gaze was drawn to the Storm at once.
"Forget it," the Queen of Thorns thought. This little girl was still at the age where she judged by faces. Pushing Willas on her might not work.
Olenna glanced back, and her heart sank. Why was Margaery also looking back at that young man who resembled a bright, clean sword?
Everyone looked toward King Gendry and his queen. They represented the handsomeness and beauty, the power and strength of the known world. Every eye fell on the young couple, making all others seem dim beside them.
"Welcome Gendry I of House Targaryen-Baratheon-Breaker, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, King of Myr, Tyrosh, the Disputed Lands, and the Stepstones, Commander of the Wolf Pack, the Storm, and his wife, Queen Daenerys!" the master of ceremonies cried out.
The Kingsguard escorted the royal couple onto the dais, where they took the places of honor beneath the shadow of the Iron Throne. Before them hung a row of long silk banners, with the gold of the Breaker and the black of Targaryen in the center, followed by the other banners.
The most honored seats belonged to the kin of the Stag, followed by the Great Lords, the Twin Cities Alliance, and the founding confidants of the Wolf Pack.
Those who could not be seated on the dais were seated below.
"You are a Maiden come down to earth," Stannis's tall wife said, embracing Daenerys and kissing the Queen's cheek, then kissing Mya.
Next, Great Lord Stannis, Edric, and the other Baratheon kin stepped forward to pay their respects. Gendry accepted the courtesy of his new relative, Lord Leyton, while Daenerys's two female guards, Brienne and Dacey, served as her kin.
Once the King and Queen were seated, the High Septon led everyone in prayer. After the prayer came the toasts and the meal.
A seventy-seven-course banquet was far too extravagant. In a year of disaster, Gendry had ordered it cut down to thirty-three courses.
"Fill the cups!" Gendry announced as he rose.
Anguy poured a flagon of dark red wine from the Arbor, a flagon of cider from the North, a flagon of brown ale from the Riverlands, a flagon of Dornish summer red, a flagon of green wine from Myr, a flagon of pear brandy from Tyrosh, and rum from the sailors of the Stepstones all into one great golden cup. It represented the seven great kingdoms ruled by the Storm and the Twin Cities Alliance.
"To my wife, Queen Daenerys, Your Grace!" Gendry raised the golden cup with ease.
The Black Pearl looked again and again, a gleam flashing through her eyes. This king truly did possess the natural strength spoken of in the tales.
"Long live Daenerys!" the whole hall shouted in answer. "Long live Daenerys! Long live Daenerys! To Your Grace the Queen!"
A thousand cups clinked at once, announcing the formal beginning of the wedding feast.