The waves rocked the ship gently, rising and falling like a slow breath.
Kartiga sat on the edge of his bed, shirt half-loose, eyes closed. His elbows rested on his knees, hands dangling. He didn't move, didn't speak—just let the sea carry him while thoughts circled his mind like sharks.
This wasn't the plan.
Kai had thrown everything off.
"Damn it, Kai…" he muttered under his breath.
He'd imagined things going differently. Much slower. A distant friendship, maybe. A meeting in Qarth, years later—when Daenerys was no longer a frightened girl, but a queen with dragons, her own people, and purpose. That was the version he'd always admired. The girl on fire. The girl who walked through flames.
Now?
Now he had… a girl. Just a girl.
Tied. Confused. Alone.
No dragons. No Khalasar. No prophecy.
Just a teenage girl ripped from her story too soon.
The ripple of that change—it was already spreading like cracks across glass.
He rubbed the back of his neck. "What the hell am I supposed to do with her now?"
The door creaked open behind him.
Kai stepped in, silent. Behind him, two men carried a long, heavy wooden box. They crossed the room carefully and stopped just short of the desk.
Kai didn't speak.
Tanaka leaned in through the doorway, arms crossed, watching with a raised brow. The corner of his mouth curved upward in a half-smirk. You better pray this works.
Kartiga opened his eyes, blinking once before they landed on the box.
He stood slowly. "What is that?" he asked, voice low.
Kai hesitated. "Something that might fix what I broke."
Kartiga gave a small nod toward the men. "Open it."
The men knelt and unlatched the iron clasps. A soft creak as the lid lifted.
Inside—wrapped in black cloth and nestled in straw—lay three large, stone-like dragon eggs.
The lantern light hit them, and they shimmered like something from a dream.
One was cream-colored with golden veins.
One deep green with a cracked, mossy texture.
And the last was black, laced with streaks of red like dried blood.
Kartiga stepped closer, silent.
He reached in and lifted the cream-colored egg with both hands. It was heavy. Cold.
His thumb ran across its surface, tracing the golden lines.
Kai stepped forward, his voice quiet. "Illyrio had them. Locked away in a vault. He doesn't know they're gone yet."
Tanaka gave a short laugh through his nose.
Kai said nothing.
Kartiga didn't take his eyes off the egg. "How do we hatch them?"
Silence fell over the room.
Even the ship seemed to still, the waves quieting for a moment.
No one answered.
Tanaka's smirk faded. His eyes moved between the two of them.
Kartiga let out a dry chuckle, more tired than amused.
"Well," he said, "you didn't just steal the dragon's mother. You took her dragons too."
Kai shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.
No one laughed.
Kartiga placed the egg gently back into its nest of straw, then stood upright and turned for the door.
He paused at the threshold. The sea wind touched his face. His tone was even, but firm.
"Bring the box."
Then he walked out.
Kai gave a small nod to the men. They closed the lid carefully, locked the clasps, and lifted the box again.
Tanaka gave Kai a look.
"Let's hope the gods aren't watching."
And then they followed Kartiga out.
---------------------------------------------
Morning. Crossroads Inn.
The sky was a dull gray. Mist still clung to the grass along the road as the men of the Riverlands surrounded the old Crossroads Inn. A place once full of song and laughter during the day was now cold, silent—dead.
Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish, remained on horseback, his cloak fluttering in the wind. His face was grim. He didn't like the silence.
His men called out again.
"Open up! In the name of Lord Tully!"
No answer.
Another knock. Fists on wood. Then boots.
Nothing.
Blackfish narrowed his eyes. "Break it open."
Two of his soldiers stepped up with axes and slammed them into the door hinges. It groaned, splintered, then swung open.
They froze.
Inside… the smell hit first. Then the sight.
Masha Heddle, the innkeeper, and two of her cousins hung from the ceiling beam. Their bodies swayed gently in the draft, lifeless eyes staring at nothing.
The hearth was cold. The fire hadn't been lit in days.
The men stepped inside cautiously, weapons ready, looking up at the corpses. Someone whispered a curse.
Blackfish dismounted and strode in after them, jaw clenched, eyes full of anger. He stared at the hanged bodies for a long moment. His scowl deepened.
"They were no mens," he said flatly. "Cowards."
He turned, stepping outside again, shaking his head.
"They were here," he muttered. "And we missed them."
Then—
Whhhiiipp—thump!
An arrow through the air with a long, hissing trail of black smoke, landing hard on the Inn's roof.
For a second—silence again.
Then—BOOM!
The kitchen erupted. A thunderous blast shook the whole building. Flames burst out the back windows. Smoke and dust clouded the entrance. Men were thrown back, stunned, coughing and yelling. Some scrambled for buckets, others for cover.
Blackfish fell to one knee, hand gripping the mud. His ears rang.
He looked up, eyes narrowing as he turned toward the direction the arrow came from.
The woods.
He stared into the thick line of trees just beyond the clearing.
Empty.
No movement. No sound.
Just the trees swaying gently. The smoke curling upward.
Whoever did this—they were ghosts now.
But Blackfish wasn't done.
He stood up slowly, brushing off his cloak, face hard as stone.
"Find the trail," he growled. "They were here. And I want every bloody tree in that forest turned upside down."
His men moved quickly, some still coughing from the blast, some still laying down.
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