The Age of Daenerys Targaryen

Part 60: The shadow of the dragon

It was a cloudless morning when the black sails of the Imperial Navy came into view. Hundreds of ships headed for the Blackwater Estuary, close together, with the rising sun and the east wind behind them.

And high above them, Drogon glided through the sky.

The city's septs were crowded with people begging the Seven for protection. It was no different in the Red Keep.

Tyrion lit a candle before the altar of the Father, the Mother, the Warrior, the Crone, the Smith and the Maiden. He left out the Stranger.

He was a little surprised that Bronn was praying too.

"I would never have thought you were religious", said the gnome.

"Neither am I", said the former mercenary. "But lighting a few candles and praying can't hurt. We will probably all die, and in case something is true about the chatter of the septons about the seven hells..."

Tyrion grinned. "Bronn, your black soul will go to hell, you can save yourself the prayers. But that also applies to me."

"Oh yes? Then why are you here?"

"As you said: it can't hurt."

Drogon circled high above the city, the flapping of his leather wings could only be heard faintly on the ground. His huge shadow darkened whole blocks. The nervous crew of the ballistae, who were posted on the Red Keep and the city walls, aimed their devices at the dragon, which was out of reach, and followed his course.

Otherwise, it was like the world was holding its breath. Minutes passed like hours and tens of thousands made their peace with the gods. But after what felt like an eternity, the dragon turned away and settled on the south side of the Blackwater Estuary, where a small troop of Imperial soldiers had meanwhile gone ashore and started setting up a camp.

"Why are there so few?", Tyrion wondered while he, Lord Royce, Davos and Jon stood on the wall of the Red Keep and watched the Imperials on the opposite bank. "There would be room for a hundred thousand men on all these ships, but only five hundred went ashore."

"Maybe they think we'll surrender without a fight", said Royce.

"Look", said Davos and pointed in the direction of the enemy fleet. "There is a single ship coming."

Indeed, a small Imperial galley was rowing toward the harbor. A white flag was waving on the mast, the Imperial counterpart to the rainbow-colored peace banner of the Westerosi.

"They come to dictate the terms of the surrender", growled Royce. "I would like to just let our ballistae sink the boat."

"Wait a minute", said Jon, who had the best eyes. "The flag ... it's light gray, not white. And there's the Stark direwolf on it!"

"What?!", said Royce, amazed.

"It's true", said Davos. "What might that mean?"

"We'll know in a moment", said Tyrion, and they hurried to the quays.

The galley was docking when Tyrion and the others arrived. Imperial marines stood on the deck exchanging suspicious looks with the gold cloaks who guarded the harbor.

Then a gangway was placed and Sansa and Arya Stark, as well as Gendry Baratheon and Illyrio Mopatis, stepped to the railing. Both women gave a scream when they saw Jon and before he knew it, the sisters were in his arms.

"Lord Tyrion", said Illyrio as he and Gendry followed the Starks ashore. "Would you and King Brandon be inclined to listen to me?"