Early morning at the Magister's manse in Pentos.
No birdsong, only the distant cries of seagulls skimming over the tiled roofs.
Sunlight filtered through the carved window lattices, casting dappled shadows on the luxurious carpet.
The air was thick with the scent of rich spices, cloyingly sweet, as if trying to drown one in this gentle cage.
Daenerys was restless.
Female slaves had dressed her in a moon-white silk gown.
The fabric flowed like moonlight, making her already pale skin appear nearly transparent.
Her silver-gold hair was meticulously groomed and pinned with tiny pearls.
Until Lynn pushed open the door and walked in.
He had changed into a black velvet tunic prepared for him by Illyrio.
Embroidered on the chest in silver thread was an unassuming crest: a ferocious three-headed ice dragon.
Simple attire, yet it gave him an innate aura of oppression.
"Are you ready?" Lynn's voice was calm.
Daenerys nodded, then quickly shook her head.
She stood up nervously, walking over to Lynn.
Her violet eyes were filled with expectation and unease.
"I... I don't know what to do."
"Do what?"
"Be a... wife." Her voice was as low as a gnat's buzz.
Lynn looked at her, at the girl who was about to become his wife.
Her beauty was enough to drive any man mad.
But beneath that beauty lay a soul wrapped in fear and insecurity for far too long.
"You don't need to do anything."
Lynn reached out, tucking a stray strand of silver hair behind her ear.
"Just be yourself."
His fingertips were cool, yet they brought Daenerys a wave of reassurance.
Yes.
Be herself.
This was her Prince's only expectation of her.
The wedding was simple to the point of shabbiness.
No guests, no choir, no seven-tiered wedding pie.
In the courtyard of Magister Illyrio's manse, the fat man who had nearly wet himself in terror at Winter's dragon aura yesterday was now beaming as the officiant.
Viserys stood aside, wearing a reserved yet impatient smile, as if he were the protagonist of the day.
A septon of the Faith of the Seven, found in the dockside district of Pentos, wearing a robe washed white with age, was trembling as he recited the ancient vows.
He likely never dreamed in his life that he would one day step into the Magister's mansion to bless such a bizarre wedding.
"...In the name of the Father, I pronounce you man and wife."
"You may kiss your bride."
As soon as the septon finished speaking, Viserys was the first to applaud, the sound jarringly loud.
"Wonderful! Wonderful!"
He shouted.
"Now, we are family!"
"Indestructible allies!"
Lynn ignored his noise.
He turned to face Daenerys.
A moving flush stained the girl's cheeks, her long eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings.
Gathering her courage, she raised her eyes to meet Lynn's gaze.
Lynn lowered his head and kissed her.
This kiss was completely different from the one on the terrace yesterday.
No probing or venting, only a gentle firmness declaring sovereignty.
Daenerys responded clumsily, her hands instinctively clutching the fabric of Lynn's tunic.
She felt as if her body were melting, melting into this embrace that made her feel incredibly safe.
Illyrio had prepared a small feast.
The long table was laden with delicacies from all over the world, served in glittering gold and silver vessels.
Viserys was already half-drunk.
One arm around a buxom slave girl, the other raising his goblet.
Loudly discussing how he would deal with the usurpers upon his return to Westeros.
"Robert Baratheon! I'll hang his head on the gates of King's Landing!"
"And that Kingslayer! I'll feed him to the dragon!"
His voice echoed in the empty banquet hall, appearing exceptionally comical.
Lynn ignored him, leisurely cutting a piece of roasted fish from the Summer Sea on his plate.
Daenerys sat beside him, quietly pouring wine for him like a docile kitten.
She was no longer the princess at everyone's mercy, but Lynn's wife.
This new identity gave her a sense of belonging she had never felt before.
Just then, Magister Illyrio clapped his hands.
Two strong slaves carried a heavy wooden chest into the banquet hall.
The chest was made of Westerosi weirwood, bound with bronze corners, looking ancient and mysterious.
"My dear friend."
Illyrio's face was piled with smiles.
His obese body struggled slightly to stand up from his chair.
"A small wedding gift, a token of my regard."
Viserys stopped his shouting, looking over curiously.
Illyrio personally walked forward and undid the latches on the chest.
The moment the lid opened, everyone's gaze was drawn to it.
Inside, resting on thick black velvet, lay three massive eggs.
One was deep green, covered in bronze flecks.
One was creamy white, with pale gold streaks.
The last one was pure black, like the deep sea at midnight, yet its surface shimmered with a strange blood-red luster.
Their surfaces were covered in fine scales, glittering like gems in the candlelight.
"Dragon eggs?"
Viserys cried out, instantly sobering up significantly.
He stumbled forward, wanting to reach out and touch them, but was deterred by the ancient aura they emanated, afraid to get too close.
"Yes, true dragon eggs."
"Genuine articles!"
A hint of smugness appeared on Illyrio's face.
"They come from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai. Priceless."
"However... time has turned them to stone."
He added with regret.
The slaves and the septon present gasped in amazement.
This was indeed a gift worthy of Daenerys's status.
From the moment she saw the dragon eggs, Daenerys couldn't tear her eyes away.
A throb stemming from the depths of her bloodline made her involuntarily stand up and walk to the chest.
She reached out a slender hand, gently stroking the black-red dragon egg.
It felt cold and hard, indeed like stone.
But for some reason, she felt a faint pulse within it, like a heartbeat.
"Just pretty rocks."
Viserys quickly lost interest, a look of disdain on his face.
"I have a living giant dragon now."
"Illyrio, you might as well have given me a ship full of gold."
Lynn said nothing.
He walked forward, his gaze resting on the three dragon eggs.
Of course he knew what these were.
These weren't rocks at all!
This was Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion!
Of course, this time, they wouldn't bear those names.
They were the three dragons that would burn Slaver's Bay and make the whole world tremble in the future!
Suppressing the joy in his heart, he mimicked Daenerys, reaching out to touch the green dragon egg.
Cold, hard.
Nothing unusual.
But he knew this was just the surface.
Blood and fire...
Lynn's gaze inadvertently swept over Daenerys's exquisitely beautiful face.
His lips moved slightly, a crazy and bold plan already forming in his mind.
He wanted more than just one three-headed dragon.
He wanted them all!
---
Deep into the night.
In the bridal chamber belonging to Lynn and Daenerys, there was no romantic atmosphere.
The three dragon eggs were placed in the center of the room.
A roaring fire burned in the fireplace, casting their shadows on the wall like three dormant beasts.
Daenerys sat on the soft carpet, hugging the black-red dragon egg.
She held the egg tightly in her arms.
As if it were not a cold stone, but her long-lost child.
"I can feel it."
She looked up, gazing at Lynn with those shockingly bright violet eyes.
"It's speaking to me."
Lynn walked over and sat beside her.
"What did it say?"
"It said... it's cold."
Daenerys's voice held a trace of heartache.
Lynn didn't think she was talking nonsense.
The Targaryen bloodline had a mysterious connection with dragons.
Just like Maester Aemon back then.
He reached out, covering Daenerys's hand holding the dragon egg.
Her hand was very cold, like jade.
"Perhaps we can warm it up a bit."
As Lynn spoke, he turned his gaze to the dancing flames in the fireplace.
Daenerys seemed to understand something, her breathing quickening.
She looked at Lynn, then at the fire, a trace of hesitation and fear flashing in her beautiful eyes.
Fire was the Targaryen destiny, and also the Targaryen curse.
Her brother always threatened her with "waking the dragon," threatening to burn her to death.
"Don't be afraid."
Lynn's voice seemed to possess magic, easily soothing the fear in her heart.
He held her hand, along with the dragon egg.
Slowly, bit by bit, they approached the fireplace.
Waves of heat washed over them, making Daenerys close her eyes nervously.
However, the expected burning pain didn't come.
She only felt an unprecedented warmth radiating from the dragon egg.
Flowing up her arm, spreading through her entire body.
The feeling was like soaking in a warm spring on a cold winter night.
She opened her eyes cautiously.
The scene before her completely stunned her.
Under the baking of the flames, the black-red dragon egg didn't crack; instead, it began to emit an eerie red glow.
The fine scales on the shell seemed to come alive, pulsating slightly in the light.
What amazed her most was...
Her hand was right there in the fire, yet she felt no pain at all!
"I... I'm not afraid of fire..."
Daenerys murmured, as if discovering an incredible secret.
Lynn didn't speak, simply channeling Ice Magic slowly into the three dragon eggs.
Just then.
Thump.
An extremely faint, yet incredibly clear sound came from inside the dragon egg.
Daenerys went rigid.
Thump... thump-thump...
The sound grew faster, clearer.
Like a heart that had slept for a thousand years, reawakening under the call of the fire!
Alive!
It was really alive!
The dragon eggs were activated!