Game of Thrones: The Red Dragon Lord

After Gavin and Daenerys emerged from the Red Temple, they found themselves back amid the vibrant celebrations.

Gavin's mind, however, was elsewhere. He pondered silently: Why did I attract the Red God's attention? What does the Lord of Light, R'hllor, want from me? He clenched his fists unconsciously. I know the White Walkers in the North are real, but they won't pose an immediate threat. Years will pass before they move south.

Initially, Gavin had planned to accompany thirty armed merchant ships to the North for timber. Now, he questioned if that voyage would unfold as intended. If R'hllor notices me, perhaps the God of Cold will too. Am I destined to face them both? His jaw tightened as he thought, Ever since I came to this world, I've altered its course. If this continues, my clash with the White Walkers feels inevitable.

Perhaps a journey beyond the Wall to observe the situation firsthand was wise.

"Gavin, look!"

Daenerys's excited voice yanked him from his thoughts. She tugged his arm, pointing toward the high platform near the Temple of the Moon, where a troupe of actors performed an animated play.

Without waiting, Daenerys darted ahead, her silver hair flowing in the lantern light. Gavin smiled faintly, quickening his pace to follow her.

Onstage, the actors delivered their lines with passion, their dramatic movements captivating the crowd. Applause erupted intermittently, blending with the laughter and cheers of the audience. Gavin and Daenerys stood enraptured, swept up in the infectious energy.

As night descended, Braavos transformed into a sea of glowing lights and jubilant noise. Every corner buzzed with life—music filled the air, and the scent of street food mingled with the salt of the sea breeze. Gavin and Daenerys wandered among the revelers, savoring every moment.

After hours of exploration, Daenerys finally stopped and leaned against Gavin's shoulder, panting softly.

"Gavin, I'm a little tired."

Gavin nodded, realizing his own fatigue. "Let's head back," he said, offering his arm.

Their walk back was uneventful at first, the villa's silhouette growing clearer in the distance. The streets grew quieter, the celebration fading behind them.

Suddenly, a figure sprinted toward them. One of the Blood Dragon Guards. Gavin furrowed his brow, instincts sharpening. But something about the guard's eyes unsettled him.

Before Gavin could speak, two senior Blood Dragon Guards emerged from the shadows. They moved like predators, closing the distance in seconds. One guard delivered a swift punch to the approaching man's abdomen, doubling him over, while the other twisted his arm and forced him to the ground. The "guard" collapsed with a pained grunt, his limbs pinned.

Gavin approached slowly, Daenerys clinging to his arm.

"Isn't this one of your guards?" she asked, her voice trembling with confusion.

Gavin shook his head, his gaze steely. "No. If he were, I'd recognize him." He knelt, gesturing for the senior guard to unmask the man.

A deft tug revealed an unfamiliar face, though the man's eyes retained the eerie crimson hue of the Blood Dragon Guards.

"How did you replicate their eyes?" Gavin asked coldly, leaning closer.

The imposter smirked, his tone equally icy. "Gavin Syndor, you spurned the gift of the Thousand-Faced God. Now, you owe a life in return."

Gavin's expression remained unreadable. "I owe no one," he said firmly.

"The will of the Thousand-Faced God is absolute," the man sneered.

Gavin's stare turned piercing. "I am master of my fate. No god—Thousand-Faced or otherwise—will dictate my path."

Silence hung between them, tension thick in the air. Finally, Gavin asked, "Who sent you?"

The man's lips remained sealed, his silence defiant.

One of the Blood Dragon Guards twisted the man's arm sharply. A sickening crack echoed, but the faceless man bit down a cry, maintaining his smirk.

The guard repeated the process on the other arm. This time, sweat beaded on the man's brow, his resolve faltering. Gavin sighed inwardly, impressed by his resilience.

Daenerys tugged on Gavin's sleeve. "Is this necessary?" she whispered, her eyes pleading.

Gavin placed a reassuring hand over hers. "Trust me," he murmured.

He turned back to the faceless man. "What if I offer you a deal? Whatever price your client paid, I'll match it to call off this assassination."

The man's smile returned, blood staining his teeth. "You've already incurred a debt to the Thousand-Faced God. That cannot be undone."

Gavin straightened, his patience thinning. "Then we're done here." He motioned for the guards to handle the prisoner.

The Blood Dragon Guards broke the man's legs with mechanical efficiency before hauling him upright. Gavin led Daenerys away, the prisoner dragged behind them.

"What are you planning to do?" Daenerys asked, her voice laced with worry.

"This is Braavos," Gavin replied calmly. "We're guests under the Sea King's protection. It's time he fulfills his promise of safety."

The Sea King's palace loomed ahead, bathed in silver moonlight. Guards stood on either side of the grand staircase, their torches casting flickering shadows.

Soon, Tyron Reyen, the Sea King's envoy, appeared, his robes disheveled as he rushed to greet them. "Sir Gavin, Lady Daenerys, I am deeply sorry for this breach of security."

"It's no fault of yours," Gavin said politely, though his tone carried an edge. "But I trust the Sea King will address this matter."

"Of course," Tyron said quickly. "His Highness awaits you inside."

With that, Gavin and Daenerys followed the envoy into the grand hall, its gilded walls glinting in the candlelight. The Sea King's palace was a testament to Braavos's wealth and power—a fitting stage for the confrontation Gavin anticipated.