Following the trail left behind by the wildling army, Drogon flew northward. After slowing his speed and flying for about an hour, he spotted another massive force moving steadily across the frozen landscape.
From a distance, it looked much like the wildling host he had seen earlier. But as he drew closer, the differences became immediately apparent.
Their movements were stiff. Their steps were slow and awkward. Many of their bodies were twisted or deformed, with limbs bent at unnatural angles that defied the limits of living joints.
Remembering how the mammoths had noticed him earlier, Drogon did not approach the Night King's army too closely. Instead, he circled high above, observing from a great altitude while searching for the Night King himself.
The closer he came to the army of the dead, the fiercer the snowstorm became.
It reminded him of the blizzard the Night King had conjured during the Battle of Winterfell, when Daenerys and Jon had been nearly blinded while riding their dragons.
That storm had almost prevented them from setting the trench ablaze. Had it not been for the Red Priestess Melisandre, the Army of the Dead might have broken through.
Drogon scanned the host again and again but still failed to find the Night King.
Judging by its size, the army numbered roughly fifty to sixty thousand dead.
Its formation was scattered over an enormous area, and the blizzard reduced visibility so severely that he could not even see from one side of the host to the other.
He could only continue circling while searching.
At the same time, he carefully observed the White Walkers stationed along the edges of the army.
From a distance, they looked much like zombies.
The difference lay in their glowing blue eyes. Their movements were not nearly as sluggish as the wights beneath them; in actual combat, they were terrifyingly fast.
Everyone said White Walkers could only be killed by dragonglass, Valyrian steel, or dragonfire.
For a moment, Drogon was tempted to test that claim himself with a blast of flame.
"Hm?"
The instant the thought crossed his mind, every instinct screamed in warning.
Without thinking, he violently beat his wings and shot straight upward.
Thud!
A sharp pain exploded through his right leg as a spear grazed past him.
While climbing rapidly into the sky, Drogon twisted around to look toward the direction from which the weapon had come.
Through the blizzard, he vaguely made out several riders slowly advancing.
"Damn it... I got ambushed."
He cursed inwardly.
He had instinctively assumed that since he couldn't see the Night King, the Night King couldn't see him either.
He had forgotten that the snowstorm might only obscure his vision—not the Night King's.
Most likely, while Drogon had been searching for him, the Night King had already been quietly watching, waiting for the perfect opportunity before hurling his spear.
As he continued flying in an erratic pattern, Drogon gradually calmed down.
Although his leg hurt badly, he was no longer as fearful of the Night King as before.
The spear had possessed incredible force, but there had been no strange magical effect or mysterious power attached to it.
That relieved him.
His greatest concern had been that the Night King's weapon might possess abilities he knew nothing about.
Fortunately, the spear had struck only his leg.
Had it pierced one of his wings instead, he would have had no choice but to flee back to the Wall.
Although his confidence had grown slightly, Drogon still had no intention of confronting the Night King directly.
Dragonfire alone could not kill him.
Surely he wasn't expected to claw the Night King to death.
For now, at best, he possessed the ability to maneuver against him from long range.
Looking down at his injury, Drogon saw that although he had dodged in time, a large section of scales had been torn away, along with a chunk of flesh roughly the size of a peanut.
On his current body, it looked small.
But if he had already reached adulthood, the missing flesh would have been as large as a washbasin—serious enough to damage muscle and bone.
And this had only been a glancing hit.
Had the spear landed squarely...
He might not have survived.
The thought sent a chill down his spine.
Despite all his caution, he had still nearly fallen victim to the Night King's attack.
Yet simply retreating now felt unbearable.
He had been ambushed, wounded, and still hadn't gotten a proper look at his enemy.
How could he return to the Wall like this?
After estimating where the spear had originated, Drogon folded his wings and dove once more.
Carefully observing the riders below, he finally spotted them again.
The Night King was accepting another spear from one of his lieutenants, preparing to throw a second time.
This time Drogon finally saw him clearly.
The Night King wore light armor.
His face was covered in vertical grooves, as though carved from stone.
His deep blue eyes glowed with icy brilliance.
Naturally, Drogon had no intention of charging straight into the path of that spear.
He wasn't arrogant enough to believe he could dodge the throw of the greatest javelin master in existence.
The instant he had seen the Night King clearly, he abruptly banked sideways.
The Night King had expected Drogon to dive directly toward him.
He hadn't anticipated the sudden change in direction.
Mechanically, he rotated his body and tried to track the dragon once more.
But Drogon refused to give him enough time to aim.
Using his small, agile body, he zigzagged unpredictably through the sky.
Against a full-grown dragon, perhaps the Night King could have calmly taken aim and struck with a single throw.
But against an unusually nimble juvenile dragon...
Even with his extraordinary throwing ability, he could not predict Drogon's erratic flight path.
He never released the second spear.
By the time Drogon disappeared beyond the horizon, the Night King still hadn't found a suitable opportunity.
After silently watching the direction in which Drogon had vanished, he handed the spear back to one of his followers and continued leading the Army of the Dead northward, following the trail left behind by the wildlings.
On the return journey, Drogon did not stop at Castle Black.
Instead, he flew directly to King's Landing.
Several hours later, he landed in a run-down alley beside Flea Bottom.
After confirming no one was nearby, he retrieved the hidden letter Varys had left for him.
This drop location differed from the previous ones.
To avoid exposing their intelligence network through repeated use of the same site, the Master of Whisperers had once again changed the location.
The first thing Drogon noticed after opening the letter was news of two deaths.
The first came from the Wall.
Lord Commander Jeor Mormont had been betrayed by his own men and stabbed to death at Craster's Keep.
Seeing the report, Drogon couldn't help feeling sorrow for Jorah.
Father and son had never enjoyed a close relationship.
He wondered how Jorah would react when he learned of his father's death.
Mormont's death itself did not surprise Drogon.
The second death, however, completely caught him off guard.
Lord Tywin had been poisoned to death in his own bedroom.
The poison used was the Strangler.
Tyrion had been accused of murdering his father, and Queen Regent Cersei had placed a bounty on his head.
Drogon couldn't believe Tywin had still died so early.
In this timeline, Shae had never betrayed Tyrion.
Nor had she become Tywin's lover.
Without those two devastating betrayals, Tyrion would never have committed the unforgivable act of patricide.
So...
Who had poisoned Tywin?
According to Varys's own analysis, there were three possibilities.
The most likely suspects were Lady Olenna and Littlefinger.
After all, they had been responsible for poisoning Joffrey.
With Tywin controlling the government, removing him would greatly benefit both of their political ambitions.
Varys's second suspect was Prince Oberyn of Dorne.
Oberyn hated Tywin with every fiber of his being.
Even after killing Gregor Clegane in trial by combat, he might still have chosen to poison Tywin as further revenge.
The third suspect surprised Drogon the most.
Varys actually suspected Cersei herself.
He theorized that she might have murdered her own father and then framed her brother Tyrion for the crime.
The letter merely listed the suspects.
Varys did not explain why he considered Cersei a possibility.
-----------------------
Completed English PDF of this fan-fic on my Patreon shop if you want to support and own the full fan-fic in one go. Just grab the PDF and binge the entire story from start to finish!
Guys, I've uploaded some High Quality english translated fanfic on my Patreon shop! Feel free to check it out-if you're interested, you can grab a copy and support me there.
Here are a few titles of recently uploaded fanfics:
New Addition:
" Game of Thrones: The Rising Direwolf "
" Game of Thrones: The Beginning of a Fantasy Journey "
" Game of Thrones: High King of Padania "
" Game of Thrones: The Throne at the Peak of Power "
" Game of Thrones: Pride of Winter "
Your support means a lot-thanks in advance, legends!
many more are available 30+.
patreon.com/EminentWriter
(End of Chapter)