Surrounded by his guards, Gawen Crabb appeared at the docks, where Herschel—who had been waiting eagerly—immediately stepped forward to greet him, visibly excited.
"Good day, my lord!" he said with fervent reverence.
Gawen gave a small smile and nodded, studying him briefly. "My loyal Herschel. It's been a while."
Taking the reins from Martil Baker, Gawen mounted his horse. "Herschel, show me around."
Gawen led the group on an inspection tour of Mermaid Port.
At present, Mermaid Port could only be described as small but refined. The buildings, predominantly white, were modest in size yet meticulously crafted.
Though the docks couldn't entirely escape the smell of salt and fish, Herschel had arranged a cleaning crew that kept the place spotless.
Mermaid Port boasted the most stringent sanitation regulations in Westeros, with strict rewards and punishments—truly one of a kind.
Naturally, beautiful mermaids preferred clean surroundings… The pristine conditions further strengthened the myth that Mermaid Port was the legendary home of mermaids.
Mermaid Port served as the face of Gawen's domain to the outside world.
In most people's minds, the Crab Claw Peninsula was still an uncivilized, wild land. Gawen's aim was to change that perception through Mermaid Port, piece by piece.
Whether he expanded west or north in the future, military victory would be followed by a greater challenge: governance.
If conquered territories saw themselves as ruled by half-savages, their loyalty would be superficial at best. That would increase the cost of governance and risk turning new lands into a burden, not a strength—a shackle instead of a boon.
Gawen didn't want to be trapped in endless wars that bled the peninsula dry. In Westeros, one had to govern the Westerosi way.
Military power was essential, yes—but so were political strategies across every social stratum: low, middle, and high.
The road ahead was long. But Gawen, the master of ambition, was up for the challenge.
Mermaid Port already exuded a trace of prosperity. New stone buildings were under furious construction.
Herschel reported, "My lord, per your orders, I posted notices at the docks recruiting stonemasons. Many craftsmen from outside have now joined the effort."
"Well done, Herschel," Gawen nodded. "We urgently need manpower. Never forget—Mermaid Port represents the face of House Crabb."
"I understand and will remember it always," Herschel said, his voice solemn with pride.
At that moment, his heart swelled. The Crabb lands were transforming rapidly under Gawen's leadership. He felt he was witnessing the rise of House Crabb firsthand.
To him, the Crab Claw Peninsula was already in Gawen's grasp. The other local nobles, weakened since the Rebellion, could only bow before Crabb's growing might.
With 150,000 gold dragons recently secured—plus income from King's Landing and Highgarden—Gawen felt a rare surge of confidence.
From horseback, he surveyed his surroundings. His instinct for construction stirred restlessly.
But Gawen reined in the impulse. Given the state of the territory, Mermaid Port was already a bowstring pulled taut. He had to stay steady.
Still… a thought crept in. He was being too upright. With all the responsibilities on his shoulders… How could 150,000 dragons be enough?
Even a hatchling dragon would grow. As the royal appointee in charge of the anti-dragon initiative, he needed increased funding to deal with escalating complications.
What if Robert died? Would the Red Keep abandon the pursuit of the Targaryen hatchlings?
Unacceptable. That was King Robert's final wish. And Gawen, loyal to the end, would uphold it—his unwavering devotion would shame all the sycophants in the Red Keep.
In the original history, Robert had supposedly rescinded the order on his deathbed—with Eddard Stark as witness.
If that happened here, Gawen would blame it on milk of the poppy. Clearly, the drug clouded the mind of a king who had been brave all his life.
Queen Cersei remained a pivotal figure. Politics in the Red Keep could not run without her support. Gawen still needed to cling tightly to Lady Cersei.
In his mind, Gawen quietly declared that the biggest cost of the anti-dragon campaign was pleasing Queen Cersei. Time for a massive procurement mission across Essos!
Gawen received delegations of old and new residents of Mermaid Port with refined restraint.
"My lord, may the Old and the New Gods bless you!"
"My lord, the outsiders keep relieving themselves everywhere!"
"My lord, there aren't enough men—I want a husband!"
"Lord Gawen, we haven't had a war in ages! When—?"
"May you live forever, my lord!"
"My lord, I want a strong husband!"
…
Patient as ever, Gawen preserved the image of a benevolent ruler in the minds of his people.
Whether they were granted an audience or not, the townsfolk felt reassured. Their lord was still healthy.
Though warlike by tradition, the people of Crabb lands—both old and new—acted like docile cats in front of Gawen.
The reasons? First, credit must go to Clarence Crabb, the legendary hero of the peninsula. Thanks to his legacy, Gawen was born with the hidden authority to become a true leader of the region.
According to Westerosi custom—and the tribal traditions of the peninsula—Gawen, as Clarence's heir, only needed strength to unify the mountain clans. They would naturally merge into House Crabb.
Second, years of oppression by the Vale lords—led by Jon Arryn—had made life in the Crab Claw Peninsula even harsher.
Now, the people longed for a powerful leader. Gawen had arrived at the perfect moment. Harsh lands birthed strong heroes.
Third, most of the peninsula was populated by tribal mountain folk who'd followed their chieftains for centuries. Obedience to strength was ingrained in their bones.
So yes—calling Crabb nobles "half-savages" wasn't entirely inaccurate. In the hearts of his new subjects, Gawen was their chieftain.
Looking up at the sun, Gawen tugged the reins and turned his horse. "Mason, we'll end the inspection here. Let's head to Whispers Hall."
"Yes, my lord! I'll arrange it at once!" Herschel replied, spurring his horse forward.
Anguy, riding at Gawen's side, straightened his back. A born archer, he was extremely perceptive.
Since disembarking, he had noticed many gazes following him—clearly from women.
Feeling rather pleased, Anguy subtly scanned the crowd… Not bad. No need to rush.
Mondon Waters gave the stiff-acting Anguy a simple glance, then turned away.
He was fully occupied with the thickened plate armor he'd ordered. It would take three months to complete, and right now, it was the only thing he cared about.
Samwell Tarly beamed with excitement, flashing his big white teeth as he eagerly observed everything around him.
He had learned much about Crabb territory from Mondon.
Mermaid Port wasn't large, but it was vibrant. Sam could hardly believe that just a few months ago it had been a mere fishing village.
Everywhere he looked, buildings were going up. He believed that soon the entire place would be transformed again.
The more he saw, the more confident he became in his choice. There were so many ways to apply his talents here… He only regretted not knowing more.
What made him happiest of all was knowing he would soon write to his mother—and make her proud.
But… the growing attention from women made Sam increasingly flustered. And a little scared.
Mondon glanced at him and chuckled.
"I… I'm just not used to this," Sam mumbled, blushing.
Mondon blinked his big, honest eyes. "Sam, the spearwives like strong men. You'll be more popular than Anguy."
Sam glanced nervously at the distant crowd. "Mondon, I'm just… fat. I've always been like this."
Mondon grinned. "Lord Gawen told me to assign two guards to you. From now on, they'll accompany you everywhere."
"Guards? For me?"
Mondon nodded his big head. "Lord Gawen said you're a vital asset to House Crabb. He wants you well protected."
Gawen's attentiveness moved Sam deeply. His eyes welled up.
Mother…
Pentos – The Mansion of Magister Illyrio
Daenerys Targaryen gently stroked the fabric between her fingers. It was soft as flowing water—unlike anything she had ever touched.
A sudden thought chilled her.
"Brother… this gift… it's from Magister Illyrio again, isn't it?"
She quickly corrected herself, anxious. She hoped Viserys hadn't heard her slip.
Instinct told her that Illyrio could not be trusted, but she didn't dare speak it aloud—nor warn Viserys.
He was lost in the flattery of Illyrio, completely under his spell.
To stay safe, Daenerys had to obey. As long as her brother remained in his dreamworld, she wouldn't have to fear him too much.
"Again?"
Viserys echoed the word with a sneer. Dany flinched, stepping back slightly.
A strange smile curled on his face as he stepped closer. "What are you so worried about, my sweet sister?"
Daenerys dared not move. Any sudden reaction would enrage him—he'd see it as defiance.
Trembling, she lowered her head.
Satisfied, Viserys believed she had finally learned how to behave before the rightful king.
His eyes narrowed on her figure, his brow furrowed deeply.
"You're so flat. Stand straight! And look at you—you're far too skinny."
At his words, Daenerys instantly straightened like a trained soldier.
With a critical glance, Viserys continued, "Dany, we actually own enough treasure to fill a city. It's just… stored for now, in a thief's house. Once I reclaim the Iron Throne, all of it will be mine again."
"Illyrio's no fool. He knows he must keep pleasing me—so that when I return in glory, I won't forget who supported me."
Daenerys had told herself countless times—never go against him, never defy him. But she couldn't help it.
"Brother… Illyrio is cunning. You shouldn't trust him completely."
"Do you think I'm stupid?" Viserys laughed. "Are you trying to awaken the wrath of the sleeping dragon again?"
"No—I don't want that!" she said quickly.
Today, Viserys was in a good mood. Illyrio had made progress on something, and he decided to show his sister a glimpse of royal mercy.
"My sweet Dany… once I take back the Iron Throne, think of the silks and jewels. You'll have more than you can ever wear."
His hand trembled slightly as he spoke.
"I've thought it through. I'll need just ten thousand soldiers. With that, I'll sweep through all of Westeros.
The great houses—Tyrell, Redwyne, Darry, Greyjoy—they all hate the usurper as much as I do. The Dornish burn with rage for Princess Elia and her children.
Across every farm and village in the Seven Kingdoms, men secretly long for the return of House Targaryen. Women sew the dragon banners in secret. When I cross the Narrow Sea, they will rise with righteous fury."
Viserys's voice darkened.
"I'll kill the Usurper myself—just as he killed my brother. And that Lannister 'Kingslayer'? I'll make him pay. I'll avenge our father."
This side of Viserys terrified Daenerys more than his fists ever had. She feared she might lose the only family she had left.
Her father and eldest brother were dead. Her mother had died giving birth to her.
If not for Viserys… she wouldn't even know their names. He was all she had.
Eyes stinging, Daenerys clutched her brother's arms.
"Viserys, I'm scared. Please… let's go home. Let's leave this place."
The air turned to ice.
"Home?" Viserys muttered, then laughed coldly.
"Dany… tell me, what home? Ours was taken from us! Since Ser Willem died, what home do we have besides the Seven Kingdoms?"
Daenerys slowly let go, wiping away tears before they fell.
Her brother had just been here… but now he was gone again.
Viserys gently stroked the purple fabric. "This color brings out your eyes. The finest tailor in Pentos will make you the prettiest dress in the city."
He pinched his chin thoughtfully. "And plenty of jewelry too. You need to look like a princess."
Then, frowning at Daenerys's dazed expression, he scolded her.
"There you go again! Lift your head! You look nothing like a princess. If I hadn't seen you born, I'd doubt you had any dragon blood at all."
.
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🔥 The Throne's Last Flame — A Song Forged in Ice and Wrath 🔥
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