On the other side of the Narrow Sea lay the continent of Essos.
Ser Jorah Mormont, the Great Bear, poured out a heartfelt confession to the goddess in his heart—Daenerys Targaryen.
"Your Grace." The Great Bear knelt on one knee. "Daenerys, my sword is yours, and so is my heart— I beg you, listen to me. Daenerys, I know what you intend to do, but please, you must not do this…"
"I must," Daenerys said softly. She reached out her pale hand and gently, sorrowfully stroked the Great Bear's cheek. "You do not understand."
"No, I do," despair filled the Great Bear's voice. "If you climb onto Khal Drogo's funeral pyre, I will not stand by and watch. I will not watch you be burned alive."
"Is that what you fear?"
Daenerys lightly kissed the Great Bear's broad forehead. "Do not worry. I am not so childish."
The Great Bear opened his eyes. "You truly won't die with him? Daenerys—will you swear that you won't?"
"I swear."
When Khal Drogo's body was carried onto the funeral pyre, the sun was already sinking toward the horizon. Daenerys stepped out of the tent, while the other Dothraki stood silently to the side, watching.
"Bring me oil—and bring me my dragon eggs," Daenerys ordered the handmaid.
She personally placed the dragon eggs upon the pyre. Then she spoke to all the Dothraki and slaves present. "I now set you free. You are no longer slaves. But those who remain will be my brothers and sisters."
Before long, a great many people departed.
Bound in ropes, Mirri Maz Duur stared at Daenerys, a mocking smile upon the priestess's face.
Daenerys looked at her and ordered the Great Bear to bind this murderer—who had plotted the death of her husband, the khal—onto the funeral pyre. Then she continued, addressing the crowd, "I bear the blood of House Targaryen. I am the true dragon's daughter. I swear—anyone who dares harm you will die screaming in agony!"
The priestess's hiss drifted on the wind. "I will not scream."
Daenerys answered that she would—but she had no wish to hear her screams. She wanted only her life.
She set the pyre alight. The priestess began to wail instantly, while Daenerys stepped forward, one step at a time, into the heart of the flames.
The fire burned through the entire night.
When the flames finally died out, and the ground cooled slightly—
Ser Jorah Mormont found Daenerys amid the ashes. He discovered her sitting unharmed within the burnt-out pyre. She was completely naked, her body covered in soot, her splendid garments reduced to ash—nearly every external thing upon her had been burned away…
Yet she herself was unscathed.
Upon her body lay three small dragons. The hatchlings stared at the approaching Great Bear with eyes bright red like burning coals.
In truth, Daenerys had long sensed it—true dragons do not fear fire. Her brother had been killed by her husband with boiling molten gold poured over his head, yet she herself had felt no pain on multiple occasions while within flames.
At that moment, the Great Bear knelt down in silence. Daenerys's people followed, all kneeling and offering their devout submission.
Daenerys Targaryen rose to her feet. The black dragon upon her shoulder let out a hiss, white smoke curling from its mouth and nostrils. The other two clung to her back, spreading their translucent wings and beating the air, joining together in the roar of true dragons.
Daenerys Stormborn had, at this moment, ascended—becoming Dragon Mama!
Damn it!
At Fishing Village Port, the lord's estate was about to officially welcome a new steward—a noble-educated girl just over fourteen years of age.
Dany used a barrage of questions to prove to Lynn that she was serious about the position of steward of the lord's estate.
Watching the girl leave while hugging a stack of paper covered in written notes, the old maester Hill leaned toward Lynn and said with a smile, "She will make a fine steward."
Lynn paused, then replied, "I hope so."
After a moment, Lynn continued, "However, she lacks experience and is still too young. If necessary, help her out. I don't want my steward to be looked down upon by workers who come seeking employment, and the old servants in the estate may not accept her so easily either."
"That is indeed a problem," old Hill said thoughtfully.
"We can have Hood assign a squire to her," Lynn offered at the right moment.
The old maester nodded in agreement. Then, after carefully glancing at Lynn's expression, he asked again, "I hear my lord is recruiting a large number of masons, preparing to construct a fortress?"
"You heard correctly. The construction is still only in the preliminary planning stage. Of course, some materials will be shown to you—many things will still need to rely on your wisdom and experience," Lynn said with a smile. "Didn't you say Fishing Village Port was too small?"
"Even so," the old maester paused, "my lord, your territory does not seem to require recruiting so many builders—unless you are planning to build a palace."
Seeing the old maester look at him with confusion, Lynn scratched his head and asked instead,
"Don't we already possess the territory of the Three Sisters islands? After all, neither King's Landing nor the North cares about that pirate-infested land. As long as we don't say anything, no one will know the Three Sisters belong to us."
"You intend to develop the islands?" Maester Hill asked in surprise.
Lynn nodded. "That is inevitable. But for now, this is only the early stage. I need to go to larger cities and recruit more manpower."
Old Hill looked at Lynn seriously.
He had to admit that the young lord before him truly seemed to have changed.
He had begun to grow ambitious.
Yet no matter how he searched through his memories, the old maester still could not determine what Lynn intended to do with that isolated archipelago far out at sea.
The land there was barren, the terrain flat. If one wished to establish a new kingdom there—like the Iron Islands—turning it into a heavily fortified, independent world, it was nearly impossible.
Of course, Lynn had no intention of truly building an independent, powerful kingdom there.
But turning it into a shelter for mass troop expansion, and a base for commercial production—that was another matter entirely.
As long as he possessed a merchant caravan of his own, relying on the geographical position of the Three Sisters in the Bite, he would soon make Westeros remember his name.
The reason for choosing the Bite was simple.
To the north of the Three Sisters lay his own Fishing Village Port as a supply point. To the west was the most critical chokehold of Westeros—the Neck.
Moreover, the two major cities near the Neck, Greywater Watch and Karhold Bay, were both close at hand.
To the south, the route opened toward the Vale of Arryn and the Trident.
With a strong commercial project in place, development would be no problem at all.
Lynn was brimming with confidence.
And he already had his first favored project—
the malt ale beloved by the people of the North.
...
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Here are a few fan-fic titles that I've recently uploaded on my Patreon:
"Game of Thrones: Dragon Prince"
"Game of Thrones: Political Life"
"Game of Thrones: Lannister Kingdom"
"Game of Thrones: Ruler of the Deep Seas "
" Game of Thrones: From the Elden Lord to the Young Wolf"
"Game of Thrones The Glory of a Knight"
(End Chapter)