Chương 318: Chapter 319: The Meeting
The cerulean sea lay calm and smooth, merging with the sky in a seamless reflection.
"Is it true that Caesar's dragon is as big as an elephant?"
Daenerys Targaryen stood on the deck, her silver hair fluttering in the breeze, a look of astonishment lighting up her delicate face.
"Yes, at least it was when I saw it two months ago," Katu Tigerfang proclaimed proudly. "It's likely even bigger now."
Daenerys glanced at her three dragons playing in the clear sky.
Viserion and Rhaegal were barely the size of hunting dogs, and even the largest, Drogon, was only about the size of a warhorse.
An elephant...
Daenerys recalled the massive creatures she had once seen in the Governor's mansion in Pentos, her emotions stirring in a way she couldn't quite define.
"Caesar's dragon must have hatched earlier than mine," she said.
"No, Caesar's dragon hatched on the same day as yours—the day the red comet appeared," Katu said.
"That's true, my queen," Ser Barristan Selmy confirmed. "The last time I saw Caesar's dragon, though, it was no bigger than a kitten."
"That was long ago," Katu said confidently. "When you see Cleopatra now, you won't be able to close your mouth in amazement."
"How did Caesar's dragon grow so quickly?" Daenerys asked, unable to suppress her curiosity. "What's his secret?"
"Maybe it eats more," Katu offered, recalling his king's casual explanation.
Daenerys frowned, unsatisfied with this answer. Drogon, after all, was also voracious and growing the fastest, but even so, he was nowhere near the size of an elephant.
She didn't think Katu was lying—such a claim could easily be disproven. Besides, he had said that Caesar would ride his white dragon across the sea to meet her.
Her Drogon was nowhere near capable of such a feat.
Though Drogon was the size of a warhorse, his body—made up of neck, tail, and wings—was much lighter than it appeared. Daenerys hadn't dared to ride him yet. Even if Drogon could carry her, he was far from being able to fly across an ocean.
"Bastards always grow faster," Ser Jorah Mormont muttered under his breath, his words cutting through the salty air and reaching everyone's ears.
Katu turned on him with a glare. "Jorah Mormont! Who are you calling a bastard?"
"Jorah! Apologize!" Daenerys commanded, her tone sharp.
Reluctantly, Jorah bowed slightly. "If my words offended you, I apologize."
Katu huffed but refrained from escalating the confrontation. With a polite nod to Daenerys, he excused himself.
Once he had gone, Jorah spoke again:
"My queen, Caesar is indeed of bastard blood—a Blackfyre. You are the true Targaryen, the last true dragon."
Ser Barristan gave a silent nod of agreement.
"Whether black dragon or red dragon, they are still dragons," Daenerys replied firmly. "Caesar is the last of my kin in this world. I will not tolerate disrespect toward him."
"Yes, my queen," Jorah acknowledged, but his voice carried a note of caution. "My concerns are not about Caesar himself but about you."
"Concern for me? Why?"
"I worry you underestimate Caesar's ambition," Jorah said. "Don't forget, he has already crowned himself King in the Stormlands. When the Iron Throne is reclaimed, who will sit upon it—him or you?"
"Of course, it should be Queen Daenerys," Barristan interjected. "She is the last of King Aerys II's bloodline, with an indisputable claim to the Iron Throne."
"Exactly," Jorah agreed. "But Caesar now commands the loyalty of the Stormlands and the Reach—his power already surpasses yours. Do you think a man with such strength will willingly bend the knee to you?"
Daenerys didn't answer immediately. Her gaze followed her dragons as they played.
Viserion and Rhaegal wrestled midair, their claws locking as they spiraled downward, a scaly tangle of wings and tails. Daenerys knew this was harmless roughhousing, a way for them to stretch their muscles.
Sure enough, just before hitting the water, the two dragons separated with sharp cries, flapping their wings to ascend again, sending spray into the air.
Will Caesar and I clash like that? Daenerys wondered.
Will he hurt me?
"What do you think I should do?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of uncertainty.
"I suggest we head to Pentos," Barristan proposed. "Illyrio Mopatis has always been a friend to House Targaryen. He can provide you with resources and won't pose a threat to your position."
"Merchants are not to be trusted, my queen," Jorah countered. "They care only for profit. The moment selling you becomes more advantageous than supporting you, they'll betray you without hesitation. Have you forgotten how Illyrio sold you to the Dothraki?"
"Illyrio married the queen to Khal Drogo," Barristan corrected.
"For a price, in exchange for Khal Drogo's army. That's still selling her," Jorah retorted.
"Enough, Jorah," Daenerys interjected. "Illyrio sheltered me when I had no one and even gifted me three dragon eggs."
"Because he couldn't hatch them himself. To him, they were just pretty stones," Jorah argued. "I've never known a rich man to be driven by kindness alone. Illyrio is no exception."
Barristan opened his mouth to retort but thought better of it. He, too, was wary of Illyrio.
"Then who can I trust?" Daenerys demanded. "Not Caesar, not Illyrio. I can't reclaim the Iron Throne with just the two of you at my side!"
"You need more swords," Jorah said. "More soldiers loyal to you. I suggest building your own army."
"And where will I find such an army?"
"In the place we're headed."
"Slaver's Bay?"
"Yes. Have you heard of the Unsullied in Astapor?"
"They're slave soldiers!" Barristan exclaimed, scandalized. "The laws of Westeros forbid slavery. Returning with a slave army would bring scorn and resistance from the Seven Kingdoms."
"Besides, we lack the funds," Daenerys pointed out.
"The ships' cargo can be traded for Unsullied," Jorah suggested. "Silks, tiger pelts, medicinal wines—Illyrio's cargo holds countless treasures."
"Those belong to Illyrio!" Barristan snapped. "Mormont, no wonder Lord Eddard wants you dead. You're a man without honor!"
"Honor won't win back the Iron Throne," Jorah retorted, then turned to Daenerys. "If Illyrio truly supports you, he won't miss three shiploads of goods."
"Enough," Daenerys cut in. "I'll decide later."
Her attention was abruptly drawn upward as her dragons became agitated, circling wildly and breathing fire.
"What's wrong with them?"
Then a shout came from the bow:
"Dragon! A white dragon!"
Daenerys turned to look and saw it—a massive white dragon soaring toward them from the west.
"Caesar has arrived," Barristan murmured grimly.
In moments, the white dragon was upon them, and Daenerys realized Katu had not been exaggerating.
"It's enormous…"
Compared to the white dragon, Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal looked like underdeveloped hatchlings.
This is a miracle of creation, a masterpiece of the gods, and a force that mortals cannot resist! Even Jorah Mormont, who had previously disdained Caesar, was now frightened by the might of the white dragon.
The colossal creature's shadow covered the ship as its presence filled the air with heat and awe.
Daenerys's heart raced. A strange, fluttering feeling stirred within her chest.
The white dragon swooped low, its wings sending powerful gusts across the deck.
"Greetings, Princess Daenerys Targaryen."
Caesar dismounted, landing gracefully on the deck. His warm smile caught the sunlight, rivaling its brilliance.
Daenerys beamed back, her radiant smile brighter than the sunlit sea.
All her doubts about Caesar melted away, leaving only one thought:
He is a true dragon, my last blood kin.
Just like Aegon and his sisters, three centuries ago…
"You should address her as Your Grace," Jorah snapped. "She is the last blood of Aerys II, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm—Daenerys Targaryen!"
"Jorah, mind your manners!" Daenerys scolded sharply, before turning to Caesar with a warm smile.
"Good day, Samwell. Just call me Dany."
(End of Chapter)
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