The Dragon that Decides 12

The Dragon that Decides
Chapter 12

-VB-

Sealord Omani of Braavos stared upon the dragon lounging atop the hill across from the city wall, and he knew that if that beast were ever to be unleashed - by human action or inaction - then Braavos would burn.

It wouldn’t be question about if it would burn or even when; it would be a question of how quickly it would burn.

Seated across from him, the supposed dragon rider of this dragon - a creature bigger than the combined bulk of two biggest galleons in Braavos’s navy with a wingspan bigger than even that - smiled as she looked at her dragon. “Fascinating, isn’t he?” she asked him casually. “There’s nothing in the world like him.” Then she turned back to him with a cold smile. “I wager that he’s bigger than Aegon the Conqueror’s Balerion.”

Balerion. The supposedly biggest dragon to ever exist since the fall of Valyria.

“Certainly, he is stronger.”

“You are sure of that?” he asked with faux calm.

She nodded before she turned to her dragon again. “Carna, can you show them your strength? Not all of it, just a part.”

The dragon’s long neck and head rose up from where he had been resting and glanced at his rider. Then he turned his neck around so that it was facing one of the small hills outside Braavos. It was where no one lived.

His mouth opened, showing rows and rows of sharp teeth that Omani was sure could shred ships apart if the dragon wanted to.

Then something glowed from within its mouth.

The sealord paled as he realized that he was about to see a dragon breath fire.

He wished he saw fire.

Instead of fire, a white light burst forth from the dragon’s maw and slammed into the hill.

The hill exploded.

Everything around it caught fire. Instead of red, he saw blue fire, and even the rocks caught on fire.

“Oh dear,” the Targaryen muttered. “Carna dear, can you put out the fire? We don’t want to hurt the city and its good people, right? They’ve been good to us.”

The dragon looked at her like she was asking something both stupid and ridiculous. Then it grumbled -the dragon grumbled!- and beat its wings.

Omani gripped the heavy table his servants brought outside for this very meeting, and held onto his life as the dragon took off from the ground. He flew across two miles in under half a minute and landed atop… atop a rocky hill on fire. It laid down on top of the fires. Its wings spread out and came down upon the land like a blanket.

And the blue fire smothered out.

The dragon laid there for a moment longer before it got back up, shaking itself like a dog would, before it started to walk back towards them.

Sealord Omani held firm, but the same couldn’t be said about most of his guards. All except one quivered in their boots. The only one who didn’t was his old friend and bodyguard, Benedict.

‘I should give him a raise, again,’ he thought to himself before turning back to the Targaryen, who looked upon him with amusement.

He did not find anything funny about the situation, and his eyes couldn’t help but glance at the hill. Or rather a half-burnt ruin of a hill; the top quarter of the hill was gone, exploding away when the dragon’s breath struck it initially.

Omani knew that something that strong could and would break through the city’s walls with ease.

“... I will be frank, Your Grace,” he spoke. “You may be without a throne, but you certainly aren’t without power.”

“Thank you for your honesty, sealord,” she replied with a nod. “Honesty among leaders is refreshing to see.”

He looked at her. Really looked at her. He saw in her eyes a dimmed fire.

“When I heard that the last daughter of the Targaryens were sold to the dothraki, I thought that would be the end of your line. It seems that my spies and agents haven’t been as accurate as they said if you came here by yourself with only a dragon.”

She shook her head sadly. “Your spies were right, but it is not something I would like to get into.”

“Of course. Why have you requested this meeting, Your Grace?”

“Because I find myself in need of funds and manpower to retake what is rightfully mine.”

He knew it.

“And, pardon me for asking, what would the fair city of Braavos, the first of the Free Cities, gain in allowing a Targaryen to retake Westeros?” he asked pointedly.

She took a deep breath as if to center herself before she smiled. It was a genuine smile, not a forced one.

“Because I will offer Braavos a treaty of mutual friendship and commerce if it agrees to become my friend, my dear sealord. My dragon is bigger than that of Aegon the Conqueror. Do you believe that I will fail in my conquest?”

After what he saw?

No.

Hell no.

“If I were to mysterious die, then my Carna knows to burn all of Westeros.”

His stomach dropped. “I see.” He didn’t want to see, but he did. ‘If I can’t have what is rightfully mine, then no one can,’ was it?

It was frightening, and with a dragon that big, if it could truly understand something as complex as a command upon death, then … then …

As the Sealord of Braavos, he could not allow Westeros to fall. When giant kingdoms fell, their tiny little pieces always bickered and fought. They would raid and attack their neighbors, which included Braavos and the other Free Cities. The sheer chaos that would result from the destruction of the Kingdom of the Iron Throne…

“You would threaten Braavos?” he asked her curtly.

“On the contrary. I have nothing but the best wishes for this beautiful city. It’s where I have some of my best memories,” she replied apologetically and wistfully. “Rather, mutually assured destruction as a result of my death would be aimed at the likes of the Lannisters.” She smiled after saying that. “Would you like to be a friend of the House of Targaryen, Sealord of Braavos?”