Late night, in Dany's bedchamber.
The girl tucked the three cold fossil eggs against her as always and drifted off to sleep—but tonight her dream was different.*
She stood on scorched earth, her feet resting on blackened grit and ash; the sky overhead a sickly blood-red.*
A massive black dragon wheeled in the air above her, its scales so dark they seemed to swallow light, only those dark-red eyes like burning flames fixed on her.*
Beside the black dragon hovered two spectral forms: one of ivory and gold, the other deep green with bronze freckles. The ivory-and-gold shadow was veined with eerie ice-blue crystals, as though being flash-frozen.*
The black dragon dove. It opened its jaws and blasted crimson Dragonfire that carried no heat yet made her soul shudder.*
She screamed and jerked awake, night-drenched linen clinging to her skin.*
The vision was vivid: the crimson sky, the obsidian dragon, the creeping ice shards, every detail etched into her mind.*
She hugged the eggs; their chill steadied her. Could this be the dragon dream her brother had mentioned? The prophetic heritage of Targaryen blood?*
The idea, mixing excitement with lingering dread, sent her flying from the room.
She sprang barefoot onto the cold floor, clutching the three eggs, and ran for Viserys's chamber.*
Luckily he was alone tonight, attending to state papers, sparing Ashara's presence and any potential embarrassment.*
By the time she finished her breathless account, every trace of sleep had left Viserys's face.*
He examined each egg, but they remained fossils, no flicker of life within.*
Viserys lapsed into thought.
Perhaps this was a prophetic dream, not a dragon dream—Dany had that gift in the old story.*
At least it meant the eggs would hatch. The crystal-covered white-gold shadow was clearly Viserion turned frost-wyrm by the Night King.*
The timing is uncanny, the night after the Red Priests arrived with the lord of light's prophecy.*
Was rhllor warning him that even dragons won't spare him from the dark and cold?
Dany herself is the fulcrum of these omens—'Stormborn,' 'Mother of Dragons,' the one who makes prophecy real.*
She may also be the Nissa-Nissa reborn, destined to die for the Long Night. This time he won't allow it.*
"Dany," he said, wrapping her trembling form in steady arms, "your dream is a promise. Those eggs will hatch. With me and our dragons watching, no one will hurt you, and Viserion will never be chained by ice."
He strokes her silver hair. "Because of you these eggs awoke; because of you they'll hatch. Keep vigil—one day Vormax, Viserion, and Akhomet will break free and fly for you."
"I believe you, brother." Fear recedes.
She burrows against him, exhaustion taking over.
"Can I stay here tonight? I'm scared of dreaming again."
"Of course." He lifts the blanket; she curls in beside him, eggs still in her arms, and drifts off.
Days blur into urgency at Dragonstone.
The first four Young Dragons begin hunting drills under Ghidorah's eye, practicing on small magical beasts.
Envoys from the Free Cities descend on Valyria.
Braavos and the moderates formally recognise the empire, asking about its future and pledges of free trade across the Narrow Sea.
The Volantene hard-liners take longer, needing time to prepare.
They arrive haughty, demanding he halt the slave uprisings and relinquish all of Essos, keeping only Valyrian Peninsula.
Or else Valyria will face a coalition army.
Reports drift in from Westeros.
Alliser's informants say Tywin Lannister is obsessed with finding lightbringer.
They tried buying the valyrian steel sword through merchants, but were blocked by Viserys's price.
Now Tywin has dispatched his brother Kevan Lannister with a disguised merchant fleet and a fortune, bound for Free Bay to reclaim the family blade.
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