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Game of Thrones: Dwarf Become King
Game of Thrones: Dragons Dance
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Morning mist still clung to the water as Andalos warships flew the black-and-red dragon banner and prowled the Tyrosh Strait like wolves.
This was a direct slap to Tyrosh's face. Their navy had ruled these waters for generations, and now foreign ships were shitting on their doorstep.
Tyrosh's lifeline ran through the Stepstones and the estates in the Disputed Lands. Viserys had already burned those estates and was choking off merchant traffic from the islands. The raids on their anchored fleet at dawn and dusk had shattered what little respect the Archon and governors still commanded.
The pirate king Salladhor Saan on Grey Gallows Island stayed neutral, holed up like a rat. Viserys kept a close eye on him but didn't waste time. The Stepstones were the crossroads of the world. Once Tyrosh fell, he would take them too, even if it meant new enemies.
Viserys rode Sunblaze high above the strait, cutting supply lines and forcing the Tyroshi admiral to finally come out and fight.
The Tyroshi fleet surged forward like an angry bull, a hundred warships strong, sails painted gold and stamped with the Three-Headed God. Their flagship, the Wine God, carried four hundred oars and bristled with scorpions and catapults loaded with burning pitch. Bluebeard, the admiral, had crammed the decks with armored sellswords and crossbowmen, sacrificing speed for protection against dragonfire.
They rowed in tight formation, oars rising and falling like a single heartbeat. Bluebeard scanned the sky through his Myrish glass, jaw tight. One dragon could still ruin everything.
"Three-Headed God!" the Tyroshi sailors roared. "Tyrosh forever!"
The fleets closed. Arrows hissed. Boarding planks slammed down. Steel rang and men screamed as the first ships locked together.
Sunblaze dove out of the clouds and struck the rear line first, the smaller, slower ships. Golden-red fireballs slammed into decks and sails. Men jumped screaming into the sea while burning hulls cracked and sank.
Bluebeard snarled orders. "Scorpions! Kill that fucking dragon!"
Viserys wheeled Sunblaze over a large Tyroshi warship locked in boarding combat and unleashed another blast. The deck turned into a furnace. Andal ships pulled back as the Tyroshi vessel split open and flooded.
Bluebeard's eyes widened when the dragon vanished into the clouds again. He thought they had hit it.
"Full press! Drown them in blood!" he shouted, convinced the Dragon King was dead.
The fleets smashed together in the narrow strait. Catapults hurled burning barrels. Hulls ground and split. Blood sprayed across decks.
Then Sunblaze dropped out of the sky directly over the Wine God.
Bluebeard's face went white. The silver-armored rider was still alive. The whole thing had been a trap.
"Fire! Kill him!" he screamed.
Hundreds of crossbows and scorpions roared at once. Bolts the size of spears streaked upward. Viserys raised his hand and a ring of searing flame spun around him, burning arrows to ash before they reached his face. The few that hit his Valyrian steel plate bounced off harmlessly.
Sunblaze roared and swept the flagship's deck with dragonfire. Bluebeard and his officers danced in the flames, screaming as their oiled beards and hair caught like torches.
The admiral's final howl was lost in the roar of burning wood and dying men.