Chapter 394

The arrow sliced through the frigid air of Crown's Rest, whistling past the edge of the target and burying itself in the snow-covered ground with a soft thud. If the match hinged on who missed first, the result was already clear. Whether Theon Greyjoy’s final shot was doomed to fail or his aim was thrown off by some subtle disturbance at the last moment would remain an eternal mystery.

This unexpected, thrilling finale had held the crowd’s attention completely. When Theon missed, the first reaction from the spectators was a collective groan of disappointment—only afterward did they begin to notice the blaring horn and the frantic ringing of the alarm bells.

For a moment, chaos erupted, but it quickly gave way to confusion. Both the horn and the bells were ringing in patterns that didn’t follow Crown's Rest's established communication protocols. No one knew what was happening.

The single horn blast was the first anomaly. Along the Wall, one blast signified the return of rangers from patrol, but this was Crown's Rest. Here, with no massive ice wall obstructing visibility, returning patrols were spotted and identified by the guards on the walls, negating the need for a horn blast. Instead, the horns here had only two meanings: two blasts indicated a revolt among the new settlers, and three blasts signaled the arrival of the Others. Since the wildlings had already been integrated into the Gift, the latter was the only plausible concern.

Unless, of course, the person sounding the horn had only managed a single blast before being silenced.

But what about the bells? In Crown's Rest, the number of rings and their intervals conveyed specific meanings: opening or closing the gates, starting or ending shifts, meal times, curfews, or calls to arms. Even in emergencies requiring continuous ringing, there was always a distinct rhythm. Now, however, the bells were clanging erratically, their urgency defying any discernible code.

The horn and the bells came from different departments, and their operators didn’t work together. For both systems to malfunction simultaneously was unprecedented—and deeply unsettling.

...

Aegor, equally puzzled, didn’t dare take the situation lightly. Acting on the worst-case assumption—an attack by the Others—he quickly began issuing orders: evacuate the spectators from the tournament grounds, send troops to reinforce the outer gates, and, if the enemy was already at their doorstep, seal the gates and leave any stragglers outside to fend for themselves.

But a deeper question gnawed at him. Crown's Rest was protected by the dual defenses of the Wall and the Gorge—a near-impenetrable barrier reinforced by an extensive patrol network stretching over ten miles. How could the Others possibly bypass such fortifications and suddenly appear outside the town? Unless they had somehow sailed past Eastwatch or Icecanyon Port and marched north from the King’s Road, it seemed inconceivable.

“Master! Master!” Arya’s voice cut through his thoughts as she tugged urgently at his sleeve. “Hurry and secure the Lightbringers! And give me a few—I can help!”

“Acrylic!” Aegor barked, waving one of his trusted soldiers over. “Collect all the Lightbringer arrows and bring them back. As for you—” He pried Arya’s hands off his arm and pushed her toward a nearby group of Northmen. “Escort Lady Stark back to the inner keep. Keep an eye on her, and don’t let her wander!”

“No! Let me go!” Arya protested, her voice rising.

“Look!” Myrcella’s startled cry redirected everyone’s attention to the sky. “Is that... a dragon?”

Aegor turned sharply in the direction Myrcella was pointing. Sure enough, against the gray, overcast sky, a massive black silhouette loomed in the distance, rapidly closing in on the town. Its wings and tail were unmistakable, even from this distance. A dragon.

The enormous beast descended in a slow spiral, its altitude dropping as it approached the tournament grounds. A single shrill cry—likely a light call for the dragon—resounded like rolling thunder to the crowd below.

No wonder the horn and bells were in disarray! Aegor immediately understood the cause of the chaos: the guards hadn’t failed their duties. Rather, it was his own emergency protocols that were at fault. He had accounted for every possible scenario—except for what to do when a dragon flew toward Crown's Rest.

Faced with the unexpected sight of a dragon, the guards had improvised, each using whatever means they could to alert the town without risking an incorrect or delayed alarm.

...

And it wasn’t just one dragon. Soon, two smaller, lighter-colored figures appeared in the sky, flying in formation above the larger black one. Daenerys Targaryen, it seemed, had brought all three of her “children” to Crown's Rest, as if to make up for Aegor missing the dragons during his visit to Dragonstone.

The black dragon, larger than its siblings, continued to descend, circling lower and lower until it hovered directly above the tournament grounds. The other two dragons frolicked high above, weaving and diving playfully through the sky.

The spectators below were torn between awe and panic. The more timid ones shoved their way toward the exits, while the braver souls stood rooted in place, craning their necks to take in the divine spectacle. Some even wondered aloud if this was another one of Aegor’s grand spectacles.

Fortunately, the open-air arena offered many escape routes. With soldiers from the logistics division working tirelessly to maintain order, a stampede was narrowly avoided. Meanwhile, the dragons circled the area several times, seemingly assessing whether any threats—like scorpions or dragon-killing weapons—were present. Finally, the black dragon descended into the center of the field, landing on a small mound near the targets.

As Arya was forcibly dragged away by her guards, she turned and shouted a final warning to Aegor: “Master, don’t forget—that’s the Mad King’s daughter!”

Aegor waved her off. “I know. Now get going. You’re not going to want to make friends with her!”

...

Melisandre’s fanatic colleague, Moqorro, had apparently been right: the Mother of Dragons had come all the way to Crown's Rest because of a fabricated complete 'Sovereign'. Aegor had mentally prepared for her arrival, but he hadn’t expected Daenerys to pick such a dramatic day for her visit.

“Confiscate everyone’s bows!” Aegor barked at Warner, the commander of the Crown's Rest garrison. “Pull all non-logistics personnel out of the area. No one is to act without my express orders!”

To come alone into uncharted territory north of the Wall, Daenerys showed the courage of a lion—or perhaps sheer recklessness. Aegor admired her daring yet found her audacity troubling. Crown's Rest was packed with potential threats: Beric Dondarrion’s party, theoretically loyal to King Stannis; hill tribes technically sworn to House Stark; and the Winterfell soldiers accompanying Arya.

Arya’s warning about Daenerys being the Mad King’s daughter wasn’t without merit. The Baratheon rebellion had started because Aerys Targaryen burned Arya’s grandfather and uncle alive. That was a blood feud of the highest order.

If someone in the crowd—anyone, really—saw an opportunity to kill the last known Targaryen, it wouldn’t matter how many dragons she had. If they succeeded, the war could end instantly. King Stannis, ever the pragmatist, would surely reward such an act.

...

Within the cramped confines of this small town were hundreds of people who had valid reasons to harm Daenerys. If anyone made a move—successful or not—and provoked one of her dragons into unleashing its fire, the consequences would be catastrophic. Crown's Rest's preparations were tailored for the Night King, not dragons. There were no scorpions or anti-dragon defenses, and the town was filled with wildfire, dragonglass explosives, and other highly flammable materials. One stray blast of dragonfire could destroy everything.

As Aegor issued a flurry of orders, the commotion gradually subsided, and the arena was cleared. Once the situation was under control, he adjusted his coat, gathered his most trusted guards, and approached the mound where the black dragon—and its queenly rider—awaited.