Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

"You're half-right, Euron. Serenity belongs to me now!" Dany gently toyed with the small bells at the ends of her long braid, smiling as she said, "But ask yourself, is this my fault? If you hadn't chased after me, or if you'd simply greeted us and left, would things have ended like this? You're a villain, and yet you see everyone else as one, too."

"Alright, my dear Queen, what do you intend to do with me, a defeated nobleman?" Euron's sharp blue eye softened, giving way to a gentle, mocking smile.

Dany looked amused as she turned to Jorah. "By the old laws of the Seven Kingdoms, how should I deal with this lord? Or rather, how much ransom should I demand from House Greyjoy?"

"Your Grace, in war, the ransom for an ordinary knight would be 100 gold dragons at most," Jorah replied, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he coldly regarded Euron. "But he has committed regicide in intent, a grave crime. If Eddard Stark were here, he would not hesitate to take Ice and behead him."

"If Eddard Stark were here, your head would have long since rolled for being a slaver," Euron retorted lazily, standing nonchalantly.

"In Westeros, you might have the chance to don the black," Barristan Selmy said, his tone filled with contempt. "But here..." He glanced at Euron disdainfully. "If the Queen were merciful, she'd grant you the Drowned God's blessing and drown you in the old Ironborn way."

The "Drowning Ceremony" had two purposes. Originally, it was a method of execution for guilty Ironborn. Over time, it evolved into a baptismal rite under the tenets of the Drowned God.

"Euron, why did you pursue us?" Dany asked curiously.

"Because I saw dragons circling your mast," Euron answered straightforwardly, without hesitation. "When I found the Dragonbinder in Valyria, I thought it was useless. After all, without dragons in the world, what purpose did it serve? So, you can imagine my joy when I saw those two dragons. It was overwhelming."

Ah, that explains it!

When someone wields a hammer, everything looks like a nail to be struck. Similarly, when one holds a dragon-slaying blade, encountering dragons must stir a deep urge to act.

"Where did you get that bronze dragon egg?" she asked again.

"Can it hatch?" His pupils contracted as he eagerly countered with a question.

"Hmm?" Dany drew out the sound, raising an eyebrow.

"Fine!" Euron sighed. "I found it aboard a merchant ship in Jade Sea. Supposedly, it belonged to a great sorcerer from Asshai."

He quickly added, "Can you hatch it?"

"I'm not sure," Dany said regretfully.

"Why not?" Euron asked, puzzled.

"I've said it before: life for life. I lost three of my closest kin to bring these three dragons into the world. Now that I have three dragons, even if I had surviving relatives, I wouldn't sacrifice them for another dragon." Dany spoke with a faint smile.

"Could others hatch a dragon this way?" Euron's eyes gleamed with curiosity.

"You're insane!" Dany gave him a cold glance. "Who would gamble their loved ones for an uncertain future? If someone has no affection for their kin, it doesn't count as a sacrifice. But if they do, would they dare to risk it?"

"Are dragon eggs common in Asshai?" she pressed on.

Euron sneered. "Didn't you just say it's not worth it? Aren't three dragons enough for you?"

Jorah kicked him with his iron boot, his tone icy. "Mind your place."

Euron stumbled forward, his shackles clinking as he steadied himself against the deck. "Alright, I understand. Dragon eggs in Asshai are rare. I've plundered dozens of ships and only found one—and it was fossilized."

"What about the Dragonbinder? Why haven't my dragons recovered from their frenzy?" Dany asked, her voice stern.

"I went to the Palace of Telyria," Euron began, lowering his voice. Suddenly, a dark gleam flickered in his right eye.

Barristan Selmy's gaze sharpened. With a quick motion, he tapped his cane's base against the deck, shifting the two-meter-long staff horizontally. His body pivoted with it, swinging the staff in a fluid arc. The tip struck the back of Euron's head with a sharp "thud."

The entire move was swift and seamless, deceptively effortless yet forceful. The dark gleam in Euron's eye vanished as he collapsed to the deck with a groan.

"Behave yourself. Don't play tricks before the Princess," the old knight said sternly to the fallen Euron.

Dany froze for a moment, then hurriedly returned to her cabin. Inside, the two dragons in their cages had indeed grown restless again. It took her a long while to calm them. When she returned to the deck, her expression was grave as she nodded to Barristan and the others. Approaching Euron, she asked, "Have you really mastered Valyrian sorcery?"

Euron turned his head and grinned smugly. "Marry me! You have three dragons. That black one is yours—no horn can take it. But the green and white dragons... they're already mine—"

"Thud!" Dany kicked him in the stomach, sneering. "I don't believe you. I'll kill you myself, blow the horn, and see if they don't come back to me."

"Ugh..." Euron coughed painfully. "It's useless. Blowing the horn again will drive them mad. And you don't know how to awaken the binder's magic."

"Then teach me!" Dany demanded.

Euron chuckled darkly.

"Kill him," Jorah urged.

Euron's smile faltered.

Dany nodded. "Aggo, cut off his head and toss the body into the sea."

"Shing!" The Dothraki warrior unsheathed his arakh and grabbed Euron's hair, preparing for the execution.

Euron's face turned cold and terrifying as he struggled violently, but his severe injuries left him unable to cause the horseman any trouble.

"I yield! I'll talk!" Euron shouted when he was dragged to the edge of the ship.

"Yield? Just kill him already," Daenerys said coolly.

"I know how to enter Valyria!" Euron yelled hastily.

At this moment, his neck was pressed against the ship's railing by Aggo, his head hanging out over the side. One clean strike would decapitate him, spilling blood without dirtying the deck.

"Kill him?" Aggo raised his arakh high and looked back for instructions.

Daenerys hesitated. To be honest, she really wanted to finish off this scoundrel. After all, in Game of Thrones, Euron Greyjoy was practically the ultimate villain.

The White Walkers might seem terrifying, but they were defeated by Arya in a single stroke. Euron, however, killed one of Daenerys' dragons and countless allies.

But reality differed from the show. The prophecy of the Prince That Was Promised had been revered for thousands of years, and nearly every culture treated it with utmost seriousness. It seemed that the Long Night wouldn't end so easily.

In this context, the secrets of Valyrian sorcery became immensely valuable to her, far outweighing the Iron Throne.

"I can draw you a map—accurate and genuine!" Seeing Daenerys' hesitation, Euron grew truly anxious. This woman isn't bluffing—she actually wants me dead. But… why? Could the Dragonbinder horn pose a greater threat to her than I imagined? Could it overpower the Mother of Dragons herself?

Regret washed over him. He shouldn't have pushed his luck yesterday. Testing the limits of the horn's control over the dragons and provoking them against their mother had been reckless.

"Alright," Daenerys gestured to Aggo to stay his hand. She turned to Euron and said, "Swear by the Drowned God, the House of Greyjoy, and your own future."

Euron immediately swore a long, vicious oath, then said, "Your turn now, Your Grace."

"Me?" Daenerys was puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Swear an oath!" Euron widened his one good eye in exasperation.

"Why would I need to?" She paused before realizing his intent.

"Ah," she chuckled lightly, "I am a queen. My word is my bond."

Queen? Euron sneered inwardly. You don't even have a proper foothold yet, and you call yourself a queen.

Still, he didn't press the matter. In this world, unlike modern Earth, the system of trust hadn't yet completely collapsed. Even Mad King Aerys, her infamous father, had rarely broken his word—though his madness was of an entirely different kind.

"I've discovered two uses for the Dragonbinder horn. The first is what you witnessed yesterday—it immobilizes nearby targets by sacrificing the blower's soul. The second is controlling dragons."

"To blow the horn," Euron continued, "the person's chest must bear a tattoo of some kind of flying creature—probably a wyvern. It's unclear if the tattoo itself holds magical power, but during the process, not only do the person's mouth and nose bleed from burns, but even the eyes of the tattoo drip blood."

Daenerys wasn't certain about the tattoo's significance. Perhaps the horn's blower had been someone from the Summer Isles, where tattoos were common and less noticeable.

"The principle behind controlling dragons is fascinating," Euron said, a strange mix of awe and yearning in his expression. "You all saw it—though the one blowing the horn was a slave, I was the one who controlled the dragons.

The horn seems imbued with a magic that automatically determines the rightful master. Or perhaps it senses my will surpassing that of the slave. Maybe the ancient Valyrian dragonlords deliberately designed it this way. Each use of the horn requires a soul's sacrifice, so naturally, they wouldn't risk blowing it themselves."

The group exchanged bewildered looks, unable to fathom how a mere horn could be so steeped in sorcery. It defied all reason.

After a moment of silence, Daenerys asked softly, "I noticed that the horn's blower yesterday only lasted two minutes before dying. Isn't that too short to be useful in battle?"

"That was the limit," Euron explained. "Under normal circumstances, the person can endure longer. The first time, the slave held out for a full eight minutes."

Two minutes versus eight minutes—what difference does that make?

"Does the effect weaken with distance?" Barristan asked, glancing at the eunuch, who had recovered from the horn's influence faster than he had. The old knight was unwilling to believe his own willpower was inferior to a eunuch's.

Euron smirked. "Isn't that obvious? Why else would I have lured the Silence closer to your ship?"

"How can the dragons be freed from your control?" Daenerys asked sternly. "Can you still control the green and white dragons now?"

Euron chuckled darkly and sighed. "I have to actively connect with them. Earlier, I thought they had returned to normal. As for breaking the control… you could blow the horn yourself or sacrifice a subordinate."

"But," he added, "it must be a loyal subordinate. Otherwise, the dragon will recognize them as its new master."

"Also," he warned, "don't overuse the horn. I wasn't lying before—the horn came in a large chest containing a sheepskin scroll written in High Valyrian.

It listed several taboos. In addition to sacrificing the blower's soul, frequent changes in a dragon's master through the horn can drive the dragon insane, leading to its eventual death."

(End of Chapter)

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