Chapter 35:
Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, the easternmost end of the Wall.
The thin morning mist was torn apart by massive ship sails.
A huge fleet, like a moving city on the sea, slowly sailed into the harbor. The sails bore the emblem of a red three-headed dragon. The decks were filled with Unsullied soldiers holding long spears and Dothraki riders wrapped in thick furs, their faces full of displeasure (they hated seawater, and they hated the cold even more).
Above in the sky, two enormous shadows spiraled downward.
The green Rhaegal and the golden Viserion let out deafening dragon roars, announcing the return of House Targaryen to the world.
On the command tower of Black Castle.
Victor straightened the collar of his cloak that had been ruffled by the wind, then helped Sansa tighten her snow-white wolfskin cloak.
"Nervous?" Victor asked with a smile.
"Is she here to steal your North, or to steal you?" Sansa stared coldly at the dragons in the sky, her voice carrying the characteristic chill of the North. "Or both?"
"She is here to save the world."
Victor took Sansa's cold hand. "And we are here to teach her how to do it."
…
Half an hour later, on the Wall's elevator platform.
Daenerys Targaryen, dressed in a silver-white dragonscale leather coat for the cold and a red cloak, stepped onto this final defensive line under the protection of Tyrion, Jorah Mormont, and Grey Worm.
She was beautiful. That ethereal, almost otherworldly Valyrian beauty made the rough Night's Watch men around her forget to breathe.
But at this moment, Her Grace's face did not look pleased.
Because the first thing she saw was not a crowd bowing in worship.
It was her fiercest and most untamed eldest son — Drogon.
At this moment, the massive Black Death was lying on the open ground behind Victor Pompey like a giant house cat. Its eyes were half-closed, enjoying Victor brushing its chin with a huge steel brush.
"Purr… purr…"
The satisfied rumbling shook the snow on the ground.
"Drogon?"
Daenerys called out in disbelief.
Hearing "Mother's" voice, Drogon opened one eye, glanced at Daenerys, then… rubbed its head closer to Victor as if saying: "Mom, don't interrupt. This groomer is good."
The corner of Daenerys' mouth twitched.
She took a deep breath, trying to maintain her queenly dignity, and shot a sharp gaze at the man standing beside the dragon.
"Victor Pompey."
Daenerys' voice was clear and commanding. "I heard from Tyrion that you are quite special. But I didn't expect you to have a hobby of stealing other people's pets."
"This is called 'technical exchange,' Your Grace."
Victor tossed the steel brush to a bewildered Hound and stepped forward with a smile.
He did not kneel. He simply placed a hand over his chest and bowed slightly — the courtesy of an equal ally.
"Welcome to the end of the world, Daenerys."
"It seems Tyrion did not lie. You truly make even this endless winter lose its color."
Daenerys looked at the man before her.
Handsome, mysterious, radiating an aura of unfathomable confidence. Most importantly, when facing dragons, his composure was even more natural than hers, the Mother of Dragons.
"And this is…?" Daenerys' gaze shifted to the red-haired woman beside Victor.
"I am Sansa Stark."
Sansa stepped forward, head held high, standing as straight as a pine tree. "Lady of Winterfell, Warden of the North. Welcome to my lands, daughter of House Targaryen."
Sparks flew.
Invisible sparks exploded in the air.
On one side was the Dragon Queen who had conquered the East.
On the other was the reborn Queen of the North who had endured trials and risen stronger.
Daenerys narrowed her eyes slightly. "Your lands? I thought the Seven Kingdoms belonged to the Iron Throne."
Sansa replied without yielding: "The North belongs only to the people of the North. And without Lord Pompey's cannons and our blood, what you would see now is nothing but a wasteland overrun by the dead."
The atmosphere grew extremely awkward for a moment.
Tyrion quickly stepped in from behind to smooth things over. "Ahem! Two noble ladies! Since we are all here to fight the Others, how about a cup of hot wine to warm up first? The wind here can freeze a man's nose right off."
Victor also smiled and stood between the two women, naturally gesturing with one hand.
"Tyrion is right. It's cold outside. Let's talk inside."
"Besides, I want you to meet someone, Your Grace."
Victor glanced at Jon Snow, who had been standing silently in the shadows, staring at the dragons in a daze.
…
Command Hall, long table meeting.
This was a meeting worthy of being recorded in history.
On the left sat Victor, Sansa, and Jon.
On the right sat Daenerys, Tyrion, and Grey Worm.
In the middle of the table was a meticulously detailed sand table of the entire North (printed by Victor's system).
"The Night King has retreated, but he will return."
Victor pointed at the "Land of Always Winter" on the sand table. "And next time, he will bring even more dead, and perhaps even more terrible things."
"I have three dragons," Daenerys said proudly. "My Unsullied army has also arrived. We can march straight in and burn them all."
"Have you not learned your lesson yet?"
Victor shook his head. "In the land of extreme cold, a dragon's endurance will drop. And the Others have spears (though Victor didn't mention how accurate the Night King's throws were, he had to prepare for it) and magical storms."
"We need a more reliable strategy."
"What strategy?"
Victor took out a set of blueprints and slapped them on the table.
[Wall Defense System 2.0: Industrialized Fortress Network.]
"I will turn the hundred-mile area north of the Wall into a death trap."
"We will plant landmines, set up barbed wire, and build bunkers."
"We will turn this war from a 'skirmish' into a 'meat grinder.'"
Daenerys looked at the unfamiliar words with some confusion but also a sense of awe.
But at that moment, a commotion suddenly came from outside the hall.
"Roar——!!!"
The green dragon Rhaegal suddenly roared in the courtyard, seeming restless and agitated.
Daenerys was startled and about to stand up.
But Rhaegal did not attack anyone. Instead, it stretched its massive head toward the window and kept sniffing at one person inside the room, even letting out a low, almost affectionate rumble.
The person it was sniffing was not Daenerys, nor Victor.
It was the quiet "bastard" standing in the shadows — Jon Snow.
"How is this possible…"
Daenerys stood up in shock. "Rhaegal has never been friendly with anyone except me."
Victor's lips curled into an amused smile.
Here it comes. Bloodline suppression.
As the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen, Jon carried the purest dragon blood. Rhaegal was named after his father.
"Jon," Victor suddenly spoke. "Go and touch him."
"Me?" Jon looked bewildered. "That's a dragon… it will bite my hand off."
"Go on," Victor encouraged. "It seems… it's treating you like family."
Under everyone's gaze, Jon hesitantly reached out his hand.
Rhaegal did not breathe fire. Instead, it lowered its head obediently, allowing Jon's hand to touch its snout.
Even its pupils contracted into the gentle shape it only showed to family when it made contact with Jon.
The entire hall fell silent.
Even Sansa covered her mouth in shock.
Daenerys watched this scene, her heart shaken beyond words. She had always believed she was the last Targaryen in the world.
But now, this dragon was telling her… she was not.
She suddenly turned to look at Victor.
The man's eyes were deep as the sea, as if he had known everything all along.
"It seems our alliance is even closer than we imagined."
Victor raised his wine cup, breaking the silence.
"Your Grace, perhaps you should re-examine the identity of this Lord Commander of the Night's Watch."
"But before that…"
Victor stood up, his gaze sweeping over everyone present.
"Since the dragons have arrived and everyone is here."
"I propose we formally establish the [Dawn Alliance]."
"Supreme Commander: Me (Victor)."
"Aerial strike force: Queen Daenerys."
"Ground defense force: Jon and Sansa."
"Logistics and technological support: Pompey Industrial Group."
"Who approves? Who objects?"
Daenerys looked at Rhaegal outside the window, who was "cuddling" with Jon, then at Victor, who controlled the rhythm of the entire room despite wearing no crown.
She knew she had no reason to refuse.
Moreover, she was becoming more and more curious about this man.
"I approve," Daenerys raised her wine cup. "But I have one condition."
"What is it?"
"Tonight, you must teach me how to brush a dragon's teeth." Daenerys pointed at Drogon, who was still enjoying himself outside. "And I want to eat those red stones."
Victor was momentarily stunned, then burst into laughter.
"No problem."
"As long as you don't mind chipping your teeth."
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