In the darkness before dawn, the flas gradually died down.
Everyone waited.
Sansa Stark stood among the crowd, hands clasped tightly to her chest. She didn't know who she was praying for… the man she admired, or the miracle about to be born?
Her blue eyes sparkled with crystalline light in the fire's glow, her heart beating so fast it felt like it would burst from her chest.
Tyene Sand stood beside her. The Dornish woman's eyes flickered with complex emotion. She had seen too much, experienced too much, yet at this mont she could not maintain her usual cynicism.
The maid sisters Annie and Emma also clasped their hands in prayer, their eyes already moist.
Barristan Selmy stood straight, his white hair stirring in the night wind. In his eyes were both expectation and nervousness. This old man who had witnessed the rise and fall of three dynasties now looked like a pilgrim awaiting a divine miracle.
Arthur, Bronn, Mars, Coben, Aurora… all the core mbers of House Jaqenion waited.
A faint glow of dawn had appeared on the horizon. Those who had been sleeping on the ground were gently woken by those beside them.
No one spoke.
There was only the crackling of dying flas and the suppressed breathing of hundreds of thousands.
The flas finally went out.
When the first ray of morning light fell, several crisp crack sounds rang out in the quiet dawn, then were broadcast across all of Draco through the speakers.
Through the high-definition cara, people stared with wide eyes.
The black dragon egg moved.
A tiny crack appeared at the top, like lightning splitting the night sky.
Then a second, a third… fragnts began to peel away, revealing wet, pitch-black scales underneath.
A small claw poked out from the crack, its nails white like freshly sharpened bone spurs.
Then a head pushed through, still wearing a piece of eggshell.
It squinted, as if not yet used to the light of this world. Its black scales were covered in transparent mucus that reflected a dark red sheen in the morning light. It opened its mouth and let out a weak… "Yah~"
It wasn't a roar. It sounded more like a newborn kitten looking for milk.
The black egg fully cracked open.
The little black dragon staggered out from the fragnts. Its limbs were still clumsy. It crawled forward on its belly like a lizard across the ashes, then lowered its head and began gnawing on the broken eggshell.
Crunch, crunch, crunch…
The crisp cracking sounds were especially clear in the silence.
At that mont—
Crack.
The cyan egg split.
A few seconds later, the white one moved as well.
Three cracks spread almost simultaneously across the two eggs.
From the cyan eggshell erged a pale cyan head with bronze-colored eyes. From the white eggshell poked out a pure white little head with bright red eyes, like two freshly lit coals.
Like the little black one, they staggered out of their shells, then instinctively lowered their heads and began eating their own eggshells.
Everyone in the plaza held their breath. The only sound in the air was the crunch crunch crunch of chewing.
The little black one ate with great focus, bite after bite, devouring every bit of its own eggshell. It lifted its head, licked its lips, then… "Burp."
A small, round, satisfied burp escaped its mouth. It seed startled by itself and blinked its bright red eyes in a dazed, adorable way.
Then it turned its head and stared at the unfinished eggshell beside little cyan.
It took a step forward.
Another step.
Its eyes were fixed on those shell fragnts. It reached out a tiny claw, probing tentatively.
"No, you little glutton."
Luke, still sitting cross-legged, reached out and blocked it.
It looked up at Luke. Those red eyes were filled with grievance: That's mine?
"That's your sister's," Luke said softly. Then he reached out and lifted it up.
It was tiny, barely larger than Luke's palm. Its black scales felt slightly warm against his fingertips, like stones that had just been ward by the sun. It struggled for a mont, then settled down, curling up in his palm and making soft gurgling sounds in its throat.
On the other side, the little cyan dragon had finally finished its eggshell. It raised its head, looked around in confusion, then its gaze landed on Luke.
It opened its mouth and let out a soft "Eee-yah."
Not a roar. Definitely not a roar. Just a milky, baby-like call, like an infant looking for its mother.
The little white dragon had also finished. It shook its head, scattering shell fragnts, then crawled toward Luke as well, making the sa "ee-yah ee-yah" sounds.
Luke placed the little black one on his lap, then reached out with both hands to lift the cyan and white dragons as well.
Their scales were all warm. The little cyan's eyes were bronze-colored and squinted when looking at Luke, as if smiling. The little white's bright red eyes stared fixedly at his face, unblinking, as if trying to morize him.
Luke moved them onto his shoulders.
The little cyan was very obedient. It climbed up his arm and curled into a circle on his right shoulder. The little white hesitated for a mont, then began climbing too, finally settling on his left shoulder, its little head resting warmly against the side of Luke's neck.
As for the little black one, it had no intention of behaving.
It stood up on Luke's lap, leaped onto his forearm, then climbed up his shoulder, stepping on his collarbone and neck. Its tiny claws grabbed his hair as it laboriously made its way to the top of King Luke's head.
Luke could feel its small body finding a comfortable spot in his hair. It settled down contentedly, its tail hanging down and swaying across his forehead.
He stood up. Ashes slid off his body.
At this mont he was completely naked — his clothes had long since turned to ash in the flas.
Under the gaze of the entire crowd, he took out a large bath towel from his personal space as if performing magic and wrapped it around his lower body to avoid exposure.
He stood tall and straight, unhard, with two dragons on his shoulders and one on his head.
The great King Luke spread his arms, looked up at the sky, and shouted:
"Jaqenion — Unyielding and Eternal!"
The sun was rising. Golden light poured over him.
On his head, the little black one poked its head out and opened its mouth.
"Rawr~"
A tiny, milky "dragon roar."
The little cyan and little white on his shoulders also raised their heads, opened their mouths, and let out the sa sounds toward the stunned crowd before them:
Rawr.
Rawr.
The sounds were soft and weak, like three little kittens owing.
But everyone knew.
They had just witnessed sothing historic.
The great King Luke Jaqenion had hatched dragons!
Three dragons.
Living dragons.
The entire plaza fell silent for a mont.
Then… the cheers erupted like thunder.
"Dragons!"
"Dragons!"
"Long live King Luke!"
"Long live Jaqenion!"
Barristan Selmy dropped to one knee, tears streaming down his face.
This fearless knight, this legendary figure who had served three kings, now knelt at the edge of the ashes, his hands trembling. He had seen too many wars, too much death, too many conspiracies and betrayals. He thought he had seen everything.
But at this mont, he witnessed a miracle again. This old man's obsession with "dragons" was stronger than anyone's.
A true miracle.
Sansa covered her mouth, tears pouring from her eyes. She didn't know what she was crying for — for those three tiny lives, for Luke's miracle, or for so emotion she couldn't even na.
She only knew that at this mont, her heart was beating faster than it ever had.
Tyene's eyes widened. She was speechless for a long ti. The Dornish Sand Snake, who had seen countless sches, poisons, life and death, and betrayals, was completely captivated by those three little lives.
Everyone in the plaza knelt like falling dominoes.
One row, then another, then another.
From the center of the plaza to the edges, from the main platform to the outer streets, from every corner of Draco to every place where people watched the large screens.
All the citizens of Draco watching the screens, no matter where they were, knelt devoutly.
No one gave the order.
No one forced them.
They simply knelt.
Before that man.
Before those three baby dragons.
Before this miracle.
Luke held the three tiny lives in his arms and slowly rose into the sky against the rising sun.
Golden sunlight poured over him, over the little dragons on his shoulders, and over the playful little black dragon on his head.
His figure shone brilliantly in the dawn light.
A new day.
A new year.
A new era.
Across the Narrow Sea, on the shores of the Dothraki Sea.
The flas had burned all night. When the first rays of dawn tried to pierce the clouds and shine upon this scorched earth, the fire finally died out.
The crowd gathered around the ashes, holding their breath at the sight before them.
Daenerys Targaryen stood naked and unhard in the center of the still-warm ashes.
Her clothes had long since burned away. Her signature silver-gold hair had also disappeared, leaving only ash covering her smooth skin. She kept her head lowered, as if still asleep.
But everyone's eyes were drawn to what was in her arms and beside her.
The three hard dragon egg fossils had cracked open.
In their place were three wet, newborn baby dragons, crying for food.
One dragon with cream-white and golden scales had its long neck wrapped around her arm, gently suckling at her body.
One bronze-and-erald dragon clung to her shoulder, curiously observing this strange new world.
One black-and-red dragon was the most aggressive. It raised its little head, opened its bright red eyes like burning coals, and stared warily at the approaching Jorah Mormont.
When Daenerys slowly raised her head and opened her eyes, everyone knew that the weak little girl who had once been bullied by her brother was gone.
The black one let out the first cry toward the sky.
All the followers, including Jorah Mormont, stared in shock and slowly knelt.
Daenerys stood up slowly, completely naked. No one dared to profane her. Their eyes and expressions were filled with reverence.
She raised her head and looked toward the eastern sunrise.
Holding the three baby dragons, she spoke slowly, her voice growing more and more passionate:
"I am Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First n, Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Mother of Dragons."
The three baby dragons also let out their first weak, newborn cries.
Though soft, those sounds foretold that the entire world would soon tremble.
The first day of the new year.
Six dragons had been born into the world at the sa ti.
The creature known as dragons had returned.
Whether in Draco or the Dothraki Sea, the news spread like a storm in every direction.
Ravens flew across the sky. ssengers galloped on horseback. rchants spread the word in taverns. Wandering singers sang in the streets.
Six dragons.
One dragon father, one dragon mother!
One in the west, one in the east.
While the nobles of Westeros were still fighting over five crowns, they had no idea that their reckoning had arrived.
--------------------------
Support us on P@tre0n and gain access to 100 chapters in advance!
[email protected]/inkshield
User Comments
0 comments from readers