In the Castle of Dragonstone, Gendry's study, meticulously arranged by Daenerys Targaryen, was adorned with bright yellow flowers, and wood carvings and furs characteristic of the Stormlands.
However, none of these could rival the brilliance of the dragon eggs and dragons Gendry had obtained.
Several small dragons were currently tearing at each other on a precious Myr carpet, and after tiring themselves out, they would curl up around the brazier to sleep.
Gendry, with his black hair and blue eyes, opened a cedarwood chest decorated with black dragonglass, revealing three dragon eggs nestled on thick velvet and brocade before Daenerys Targaryen.
Gendry had scoured the dragon nests on the eastern slopes of Dragonstone to find these three scattered dragon eggs, which were truly priceless treasures.
There might be more dragon eggs, but those in the deeper, more perilous parts of Dragon Mountain's nests, or even fossils, would be incredibly difficult to obtain.
Without a fire-wielder ring and some of the Fire Magic Gendry had diligently studied and comprehended, acquiring these three deeply hidden dragon eggs from the eastern slope's dragon lairs would have been a suicide mission; ordinary people simply couldn't withstand the scorching heat and the sulfurous hot mist laden with toxic pollution.
"How did you get these?" Daenerys was startled, dressed in a purple gown that matched her violet eyes.
Her figure was slender and elegant, and her frame was delicate.
The last True Dragon, her otherworldly beauty overshadowed everything.
"Silverwing's nest, The Glutton's nest, and one more possibly from an unknown dragon's nest.
From the very depths of the dragon lairs," Gendry said calmly, yet this calmness revealed his extraordinary nature.
"This is too frightening, even for dragon eggs, your adventure was too insane." Daenerys looked at the three dragon eggs, then kissed Gendry's face repeatedly, her hands a little flustered and at a loss.
"I have no family left, only you."
Both of them shared a tragic background of difficult lives and deceased parents.
In these chaotic times, there was a sense of relying on each other for survival.
"Great achievements stem from hardship." Gendry caressed Daenerys's silver-gold hair.
He had guided Dany well; now Daenerys was devoted to him, loved him, rather than being the queen who had traversed a path of thorns and bloodshed.
But this was perhaps for the best; the cruel world should be left to men, and Daenerys had already encountered enough cruelty.
"Alright, go touch the dragon eggs quickly.
For my beautiful wife, I must also live a long, long life."
Daenerys reached for the dragon eggs, while Gendry pondered other questions.
"How did Euron Greyjoy, that pervert, enter the volcanic ruins and obtain that dragon egg and so many Valyrian treasures?" Gendry wondered.
The Valyrian Ruins were far more dangerous than Dragonstone, and Crows Eye didn't have a ring either.
"Perhaps Skinchanging; it's possible he didn't personally infiltrate." Gendry quickly deduced an answer.
If Crows Eye could control a ship's crew and later communicate with and summon a sea monster from the deep, his Skinchanging ability was already miraculous; only a resilient mind could control so many puppets unscathed.
Crows Eye manipulating people to enter the ruins was also a viable option.
In fact, Crows Eye and Gendry had both touched upon somewhat similar paths—power derived from bloodline, not faith—though their directions were vastly different.
This was related to their family histories: "Godsgrief" Durran was a mortal who defied gods, fierce and stubborn but not evil.
Gendry was delving into the power of the Stormlands family, which was Fire Magic, and potentially Water Magic and the power of the green hand in the future.
Crows Eye, however, could trace his lineage to the drowned god and the Skinchanging often exhibited by the first men.
The drowned god was a cruel and bloody deity; he created the Ironborn to rape, plunder, and establish a new heaven and earth with blood, fire, and song, carving their names with it.
Perhaps the more twisted, suffering, and perverted Crows Eye became, the greater the drowned god's rewards to him.
"They're alive!" Daenerys exclaimed excitedly.
When the cedarwood chest opened, the dragon eggs captivated her eyes.
Even though she already possessed True Dragons, seeing dragon eggs again still filled her with excitement, especially since these eggs were not fossils.
Daenerys carefully picked up a dragon egg, which required both her hands to lift.
These dragon eggs also emitted a warm touch, completely unlike the fossilized dragon eggs she had previously received from Illyrio.
The dragon eggs shimmered with a metallic luster as Daenerys's fingers played with them, each one priceless.
The first dragon egg was golden, radiant like the sun, with pink flame patterns.
The second was red, revealing various bright bronze spots and pink spirals as her fingers rotated it.
The last one was a silver dragon egg, with beautiful and elegant purple waves and swirls.
"Will they hatch into dragons?" Daenerys asked expectantly.
"These dragon eggs can be for the Children."
"They should, but not now," Gendry said, stroking the warm dragon eggs.
"The colors of these dragons are reflected on their eggs, even their flames.
If they hatch, they will be gold, silver, and red dragons (one primary color, with other colors as accents; dragons are colorful)."
Only the dragons born from the fossilized dragon eggs that Gendry and Daenerys had encountered were the most special, for they were imbued with magical formulas, where only death could buy life.
These three dragons, born of circumstance, also grew at an extraordinary rate.
As for the other dragon eggs, only when magic reached a certain level would there be a possibility of hatching.
They had been dormant on Dragonstone for so long; a little more time wouldn't matter.
"I wish I could tell you the whereabouts of those dragon eggs, but I don't have the answer either," Daenerys said with a touch of regret.
The Targaryen Dynasty had fallen when Daenerys was born, so she had no idea where the dragon egg vault was.
Let alone Daenerys, even Viserys was unaware.
If the two siblings had possessed some dragon eggs, even fossilized ones, they wouldn't have been reduced to begging.
The secret of the dragon eggs might only have been known to the Mad King himself; given the animosity between the Mad King and Rhaegar, Rhaegar might not have known either.
"It's alright, we'll find them eventually.
Whether the dragon egg vault is in King's Landing or on Dragonstone."
"Shall I put them in the brazier, my love?" Daenerys asked.
"You may."
The three dragon eggs were placed in the red basin, and tongues of black flame licked every side of them.
The scales on the dragon eggs seemed to glow, absorbing every bit of heat...
Riverrun was triangular, and Lord Hoster Tully's room in Riverrun was also triangular, with a balcony protruding eastward.
At the castle's angle, the swift Tumblestone River flowed into the tranquil Red Fork.
At this moment, the study was filled with the stench of death, heavy, sweet, and decaying.
"wormwood." Lord Hoster's eyes could no longer open; his hair and beard were white, and he had lost the strength to open his eyes.
"Father, I'm here," Catelyn Tully quickly stepped forward.
"And my two precious Children, Robb and Sansa, your grandson and granddaughter."
"Forgive me,... all that blood... please, wormwood..." Hoster cried out.
"The Child... died... but it's alright, there will be more..."
The Maester looked at the group of Tullys, Catelyn, Edmure, and Brynden, then shook his head.
"This is Lord Hoster's final hour."
"Alas..." Brynden Tully sighed, then murmured, "Lysa will never come to see him; he should have known when he sent her away to the Stormlands.
He probably didn't want to live once he understood that truth."
Catelyn remained silent.
Lysa was her kin, but also a bane to House Tully.
She didn't know what to say; it was a conflicting emotion.
Lord Hoster's hand fumbled forward, his eyes suddenly snapped open, and he vaguely saw Sansa Stark.
"You came to see me?..."
Sansa Stark looked at her aged grandfather; they hadn't seen each other much, but the bloodline had been passed down: red hair and blue eyes.
Sansa was a little flustered, unsure how to express herself.
"She forgives you, Father..." Catelyn gave her daughter a look.
Sansa Stark reached out and held her grandfather's hand.
Catelyn's bond with her father was the deepest; she was the eldest daughter, and when her two elder brothers died, Lord Hoster had once considered grooming her as his heir.
"No, you're not her?" Hoster fumbled with Sansa's hand, then pushed it away.
The color of the red hair wasn't the same; Sansa was younger and more radiant.
The daughter in his memory was always shy and delicate, Lysa.
Hoster's strength completely vanished with that cry; his strength, his courage, his belief.
A moment later, Hoster fell into an eternal sleep.
Lord of Riverrun, Hoster Tully, became an aged corpse.
"Father..." Edmure wailed, kneeling by Hoster's bed.
Catelyn's eyes welled with tears as she watched the blue and red striped bedsheet slowly lose its warmth.
A second Tully, her father and sister, both died in the chaos of Westeros.
Brynden Tully stood frozen, looking at his brother's corpse.
He had hated him once, but he also had to admit that it was Hoster Tully who had originally played both sides, securing good marriage matches for his Children.
Edmure's face was pained, "These things, damn it, why did Father have to know all this.
Lysa's matter, Littlefinger's matter, Arryn's matter."
"Shut up, you fool.
Arryn has done nothing wrong to us, and neither have the Stormlands," Brynden said, looking at Edmure.
"Look at your foolishness; everything for the family, what must be discarded must be discarded.
In the future, we will not be in-laws with the vale men; I don't want any family to be unwilling to marry into House Tully."
Catelyn hesitated, looking at her somewhat flustered Children.
Yes, they were relatives, but judging by the frequency of visits, these siblings hadn't visited their grandfather much either.
"Don't ever mention Lysa's matter again; it benefits none of us.
It offends the vale men and offends our King," Brynden said with a bitter face.
"Your father sold her for a good price; for the Tully army, Jon agreed to this transaction."
"Mm." Catelyn nodded painfully; her sister's dull marriage, her tragic life, so be it.
"There's one more thing," Robb Stark said, glancing at everyone.
"We might have to go to King's Landing again.
Father is in King's Landing, and the King is about to be crowned; surely some of us must attend the Stormlands' coronation ceremony."
Sansa pricked up her ears; she knew the weight of that letter—Father had been found.
Joffrey died in a mob uprising, and that annoying Varys was also on the verge of death.
She could go see the Stormlands, that would be very sweet.
"Wait until your grandfather's ceremony is over," Catelyn said.
"I do want to see your father very much, but, but I at least have to manage things well."
"Exactly, do we have to discuss these things now?" Edmure Tully turned his head and said, still with tear stains on his face.
"We could have gone with great fanfare.
It was you, Edmure, you insisted that the Lords return to repair their castles.
After the First Red Fork War, in the Second Red Fork War, we could only watch Tywin's army secretly find a crossing and leave," Brynden couldn't help but complain.
"If not for that, bringing Tywin's head would have been the honorable way."
"Can you blame me for that too?" Edmure's eyes widened in confusion.
"They subtly told me it was time to go home; we won the first time, Tywin definitely wouldn't be coming back.
What could I do then?
Their homes had been burned, killed, and plundered; they had to clean up, and winter was coming soon."
"Uncle, let it be.
Why not press on? My Northern Army was also helpless.
When we were dealing with the Kingslayer's reserve forces breaking through upstream, Tywin directly crossed downstream.
This battle shouldn't have taken so long; we still need to go back for winter..." Robb rubbed his temples.
"I should have gained glory in the war; my victory just vanished."
"Alright, alright..." Catelyn said.
"Go outside and talk; I don't want you to argue in here.
When Eddard gets here, you will have the victory you desire."
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