Game of Thrones: The Red Dragon Lord

With the first light of dawn breaking the horizon, Tyron Rayyan waited at the gates of Gavin's villa. His extravagant, gilded wheel palace gleamed in the faint sunlight, flanked by a retinue of heavily armed guards.

Gavin stepped out from the villa courtyard, dressed sharply for the occasion. Upon seeing Tyron, he greeted him with a warm smile. "Good morning, Tyron Rayyan!"

Tyron hurriedly returned the gesture, bowing slightly. "Sir Gavin, good morning! It is an honor to accompany you."

Gavin's expression softened with an apologetic smile. "I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long."

Tyron waved his hands dismissively. "Oh, no, no, Sir Gavin. There's no need to apologize. It is still quite early."

With that, the two men boarded the luxurious wheel palace, which began its stately journey toward the Sea Lord's Palace. Following closely behind was the Blood Dragon Guard, their disciplined ranks marching in synchronized precision.

En Route to the Sea Lord's Palace

The wheel palace moved leisurely along Braavos' wide, paved streets. The morning breeze carried a crisp freshness that mingled with the faint aroma of the nearby sea. Not long into their journey, the grand silhouette of the Sea Lord's Palace loomed into view, a structure both regal and commanding, as if it were carved from the very soul of the sea.

The palace rested proudly on the coast, its alabaster walls gleaming under the soft morning light. The architecture was a harmonious blend of grandeur and majesty, its design seemingly fused with the surrounding ocean.

Arrival at the Banquet

The open-air square of the Sea Lord's Palace was a sight to behold. An expansive courtyard stretched out, adorned with polished marble and elegant carvings. Circular tables were arranged in an artful pattern, each laden with sumptuous fruit platters and delicately crafted pastries. The sweet aroma of ripe fruits and the tantalizing scent of spices filled the air.

Guests dressed in luxurious silks and glittering jewelry moved gracefully through the crowd, their laughter and soft conversations punctuating the ambiance. Women's flowing gowns resembled blooming flowers, while men's tailored garments exuded authority and refinement.

Guided by Tyron, Gavin approached the Sea Lord of Braavos, Ferregor Antharion. The Sea Lord stood at the center of the gathering, his presence as commanding as the palace itself. Upon seeing Gavin, he rose to greet him, a hearty laugh escaping his lips.

"Sir Gavin! Welcome to my humble palace. I have heard countless tales of your exploits, and seeing you in person, I must say, you exceed even the grandest rumors. I trust today's banquet will bring you joy and companionship!"

Gavin inclined his head respectfully. "Your Highness, Sea Lord, I am truly honored by your invitation and deeply grateful for your generous hospitality."

The Sea Lord's Questions

The Sea Lord's eyes lingered on Gavin's striking silver hair and violet eyes, curiosity dancing in his expression. "Sir Gavin, I've heard whispers that you command a dragon. May I ask, does your lineage trace back to the Targaryens?"

Gavin met the question with composed confidence. "Your Highness, my dragon-controlling lineage does not stem from the Targaryens but from my mother's family, the Belorith. They are one of the original forty Dragon King families."

The Sea Lord's brows lifted slightly in thought. "Fascinating. After the cataclysmic Doom of Valyria, many of the Dragon King families were obliterated. Beyond the Targaryens, most were lost to history. It's remarkable to hear that the Belorith line endures."

He paused, then leaned forward, his curiosity deepening. "May I ask, where did you discover your dragon?"

Gavin smiled subtly, noting the Sea Lord's relentless inquisitiveness. "It's no secret, Your Highness. I recently ventured into the ruins of Valyria on an expedition. There, I was fortunate enough to bond with my dragon, Syndor."

A flicker of shock crossed the Sea Lord's face. "Valyria? The cursed lands? I, too, once sent an expedition there. The waterways are treacherous, and the dangers are beyond imagination. The casualties were severe. Yet, I never imagined dragons might still dwell there."

Gavin detected a spark of intrigue in the Sea Lord's expression, likely signaling a renewed interest in Valyria. He smirked inwardly, knowing all too well the peril such ambitions carried.

A Strategic Proposal

After a moment's pause, Gavin shifted the topic. "Your Highness, I sent a messenger ahead, expressing my interest in acquiring the Valyrian steel sword in your treasure vault. Would you be willing to name your price?"

The Sea Lord chuckled and waved a hand. "Ah, Sir Gavin, I rarely part with treasures from my vault. However, as my guest, I can arrange for you to admire it at your leisure."

Gavin expected such a response but remained persistent. "If I may, Your Highness, I propose an exchange. I possess a detailed map of a safe passage through the Sea of Smoke, charted personally during my journey to Valyria. Such a map is invaluable."

The Sea Lord's demeanor shifted as he considered the offer. After a long pause, he replied, "Sir Gavin, such a map is indeed a rare treasure. Allow me time to consider your proposal. I will provide my answer before you depart Braavos."

Gavin maintained a polite smile, though he noted the Sea Lord's hesitation with mild irritation. "Of course, Your Highness. I trust you will find my offer both fair and advantageous."

Viserys and Daenerys

Meanwhile, Viserys Targaryen stood on the periphery of the banquet, his gaze fixed on Gavin. His eyes burned with envy as he muttered under his breath. "Silver hair, violet eyes, and a dragon to boot? He's nothing but a pretender, a Blackfyre. I am the true dragon, the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms!"

Beside him, Daenerys Targaryen remained silent, her arm stinging where her brother had pinched her moments earlier. Viserys' tone turned sharp as he whispered harshly. "Remember the plan, Dany. Make sure Gavin notices you. Charm him. If we're to return to Westeros, we need his dragon."

Daenerys swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, brother."

At that moment, Illyrio Mopatis, the corpulent governor of Pentos, approached. He bowed respectfully. "Your Majesty Viserys, Princess Daenerys, it is a pleasure to meet you."

Viserys puffed his chest with pride at being addressed as "Your Majesty." "Governor Illyrio, I trust you've come with news?"