Stannis stood stiffly and saluted, his face unreadable.
Stannis:"Good morning, Your Majesty. Welcome to Dragonstone."
Robert scoffed, his voice tinged with both anger and fatigue.
Robert:"I didn't want to come at all, Stannis. If you ever bothered to visit King's Landing, maybe I wouldn't have to chase you across the damn realm to see you!"
Stannis didn't flinch. He stood silent and still as stone.
Robert dropped heavily into a chair and waved his hand impatiently.
Robert:"I want to conquer the Stepstones. Tell me—can the royal fleet handle their navy?"
Stannis:"I'm not certain. The royal fleet has worked alongside Gavin Belleris's ships in hunting pirates before. But these aren't Ironborn raiders. Their warships are powerful—tall-masted and heavily armed. Most of our ships are low, long vessels. In a proper naval engagement, it could take four or five of ours to bring down one of theirs. Longships simply don't match sailing battleships in strength or defense."
Robert slammed a fist down on the armrest.
Robert:"I've spent a fortune on the royal fleet—and this is all the might we have to show for it? Pathetic!"
Stannis (sharply):"You spend most of that fortune on tourneys, feasts, and pleasures of the flesh. Since the rebellion in the Iron Islands, the royal fleet hasn't received proper funding. The Small Council never allocated money for repairs or replacements."
Robert scowled, clearly caught off guard. He rubbed his face with a tired sigh.
Robert:"Fine. I'll have Littlefinger handle the gold."
Stannis (dryly):"Another loan, no doubt?"
Robert's gaze hardened, his tone dropping to a warning growl.
Robert:"Mind your tongue, Stannis. You're speaking to your king."
The hall fell into tense silence. The air between them crackled like a drawn bowstring.
Finally, Robert exhaled and leaned back in his chair.
Robert (more composed):"I want patrols around the Stepstones. Train new sailors. Funds will be provided soon."
Stannis:"Understood."
A brief pause. Then Stannis added carefully:
Stannis:"Lord Jon Arryn's death leaves the realm without a Hand. Has Your Majesty decided on a successor?"
Robert stood, a bitter chuckle in his throat.
Robert:"Aye. I want Ned Stark for the job."
Stannis's face tightened. His eyes flickered with disbelief.
Stannis (firmly):"I recommend myself, Your Grace. I've done my duty. I know governance. I would serve better than Jon Arryn—and more suitably than Eddard Stark."
Robert waved his hand dismissively as he turned to leave.
Robert:"You've more important duties. Manage the fleet. That's where I need you now."
He strode toward the exit, but halted at the threshold and turned back.
Robert:"Where is my niece—Celine? I want to see her."
Stannis:"In the garden behind the keep. I'll have a servant take you."
Robert gave a brisk nod and marched out of the hall.
Stannis watched him go, jaw clenched. He said nothing—just lowered his head and stood there, silent.
Some months earlier, a letter had arrived at Dragonstone. No seal of a house—just wax, and secrecy.
When Stannis read its contents, it struck him like a lightning bolt. Jon Arryn had discovered the terrible truth: none of Cersei's children were Robert's.
The children were bastards. And Jon had been silenced for it.
Now the Lannisters were watching him.
Stannis had confirmed what he could. Then, with urgency, he left the treacherous capital and fled to Dragonstone.
He knew Robert wouldn't believe him. He knew even suggesting it could be seen as treason.
With Ned Stark becoming Hand, Stannis decided to wait. Let the wolf come to the lion's den. Then he would speak.
In the blazing dragon cave, a chorus of cracking echoed like firewood splitting in a hearth.
Three dragon eggs shattered.
The first dragon emerged—golden-scaled, radiant like the sun itself.
The second followed—its deep blue scales shimmering like a stormy sea.
And the third erupted into the world in a blaze of flame-red fury.
Gavin Belleris's heart pounded as he opened his panel.
Host: Gavin BellerisAge: 18
Bloodline:Bloodfire Dragonborn (Development: 68%)
Born of Dragon King lineage
Control over fire and dragons
Fire-resistant
Rule:
60/68 (Promotion available via panel)
40 Junior Blood Dragon Guards (advancement possible)
8 Senior Blood Dragon Guards (maxed)
1 Adult Dragon (magical, non-advancing)
6 Baby Dragons (magical, non-advancing)
5 Dragon Eggs (unhatched)
Skills:
Fire Mastery: Legendary
Swordsmanship: Legendary
Flame Blade: Legendary
Archery: Master
Spear Combat: Master
Energy Points: 36(Passively or actively absorbed from ambient magic)
Gavin watched the newborn dragons in awe, their scales catching the firelight like gemstones.
He smiled to himself. Soon, he thought, we will rule the skies.
Suddenly, Qyburn burst in, breathless and dripping with sweat from the cave's heat.
Qyburn:"My lord! Urgent news from the Disputed Lands."
Daenerys, standing beside Gavin, turned immediately. Her eyes locked onto the letter in Qyburn's hands.
Gavin opened it and scanned its contents. His brow furrowed deeply.
Gavin (muttering):"I expected Myr to make the first move… but Volantis has already deployed the Tiger Cloak Army to the border."
He handed the letter to Qyburn, then looked to Daenerys.
Gavin:"We fly to Lys tomorrow. The situation is unfolding faster than we thought. Qyburn, keep a close watch on the Iron Throne's movements. And double the pace on warship construction."
Qyburn (bowing):"Yes, my lord. It shall be done."
Gavin turned back to the young dragons and gently handed them to the Blood Dragon Guards.
Gavin:"Feed them regularly. Handle them with care."
With that, he and Daenerys swept out of the dragon cave, flames dancing behind them—fire rising before them.