Chapter 143 Gavin returns

The Dragon Returns

After the resounding victory over Volantis at sea, Gavin led the fleet to demolish several of the enemy's critical shipyards in swift succession. With the enemy's naval backbone shattered, he entrusted the remaining cleanup to Hassan and chose to return ahead of the fleet.

The Three Cities, now stripped of naval power, were cornered—trapped in passive defense. All their sea routes were under blockade. If not for the use of homing pigeons, even Tyrosh would have been entirely severed from the outside world.

Gavin was confident: it wouldn't be long before envoys came crawling, pleading for surrender.

"Szzzzz..."

As Syndor, his golden dragon, swept over the skies of Lis Island, heads tilted upward in unison. The people below stared in awe and wonder.

Among them, former slaves—those promised freedom under Gavin's banner—gazed skyward with fervent hope burning in their eyes. To them, that dragon wasn't a beast of war, but a symbol of justice and liberation.

"The war is over," one man whispered, shielding his eyes from the sun."I heard the Volantene fleet was drowned in fire," another said.But not all were convinced."Don't be so sure," muttered a wary merchant. "The Dragon King's ambitions might stretch beyond this war. The disputed lands aren't safe yet."

In the Governor's Mansion, Viserion stirred from his slumber. The sharp, keening whistle of Syndor echoed across the sky, and the white dragon's head lifted with a majestic roar, answering his brother's call.

Daenerys, seated nearby, immediately understood."Gavin's back."

She straightened her gown and hurried toward the courtyard.

The landing of Syndor was nothing short of a spectacle. His wings churned the air into a fierce tempest. Branches shuddered. Leaves whipped through the sky like birds startled from their nests.

Before Gavin even dismounted, he heard Viserion's answering cry—and he knew Daenerys was already there.

He leapt down and crossed the stone courtyard. She was already running to him.

And when they met, the world held its breath. The two embraced, fierce and unyielding, as if they could hold off the flow of time itself.

Gavin pressed a kiss to her forehead, voice low."I made you worry, Daenerys."

She smiled up at him."I never doubted you'd come back victorious. Tell me—has it ended?"

He shook his head gently."Not quite. Volantis has fallen, and the enemy can no longer resist. I left Hassan to finish the rest. But when this is over…"He looked into her eyes. "…I intend to be king. And I want us to finally marry."

Her eyes softened."I've waited so long for that, Gavin."

They walked side by side toward the Governor's Palace, fingers interlaced.

"Daenerys," Gavin said, his voice thoughtful. "You've always called yourself my fiancée. But I want you to be queen—before our wedding. Take your rightful title. When we one day reclaim Westeros, our children will inherit it all."

She stopped, surprised by his words."Forget it," she said at last, her voice warm. "I don't need a crown to feel complete. You're my king, and I'll wait until Westeros is ours to take that throne. I'll support you to sit on it."

Gavin chuckled softly."A title is just that—a title. To me, it means little. What matters is that you are my queen. This, if anything, can make up for what you lost."He looked up at the distant sky. "Power lies not in cold thrones or dusty titles. It lies in dragons and armies. Without them, your father's claim meant nothing. If House Targaryen had held onto its dragons, there'd have been no rebellion."

Daenerys nodded slowly, his words resonating.

"Then it's settled," she said. "I'll send ravens tomorrow. The realm shall know that Daenerys Stormborn is Queen of the Stepstones."

Gavin laughed."As you command… Your Majesty."

He gave her a teasing bow before asking, more seriously:"Has anything troubling happened while I was gone?"

She recounted all that had occurred—Quentyn Martell's visit, the proposal, the veiled threats, and her swift dismissal of him.

Gavin's brow furrowed as she finished."Dorne's always been opportunistic. Seeking to gain while others bleed. And he dared to threaten me?"His tone darkened. "Is the prince still here?"

Daenerys gave him a playful smirk."He's gone. Fled like a lizard when he heard Syndor roar. But... there's someone else."Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "A noble lady from Highgarden. She's here now, in the mansion."

Gavin blinked."Margaery? Wasn't she stationed at Bloodstone?"

"Apparently, patience isn't her virtue," Daenerys replied. "She claims she comes with Tyrell business. But I think we both know her true interests lie elsewhere."

Gavin's expression turned thoughtful."Then I'll speak with her. We'll see what she truly wants."

Just then, Daenerys wrapped herself around him, her voice quieter, more serious."Gavin, no matter what happens... I want our children to inherit everything we build—together."

Gavin paused, caught off guard. Then a quiet realization dawned, and he gave a faint, sheepish laugh."Of course," he said, gently holding her. "You'll always be my queen."

Elsewhere, Margaery Tyrell sat alone in a lavish chamber, a book of poetry lying unread in her lap.

Her thoughts, however, were anything but poetic.

She had seen the golden dragon descend from the sky—Gavin was back. But she didn't know if his war had truly ended... or if he had time for her.

Later that night, she received an unexpected invitation.

Dinner with Daenerys.

At first, the atmosphere was tense. Daenerys was clearly wary, and Margaery could feel the undercurrent of suspicion in her voice. But Margaery knew her craft. With carefully chosen words, a hint of vulnerability, and the practiced helplessness of a noble daughter burdened by duty, she softened Daenerys's edge.

By the end of the meal, the tension had eased. There was laughter, subtle nods of understanding—a quiet truce.

For now.