Gavin straightened his cloak, brushing off the dust of travel. Just as he approached the steps of the City Lord's Palace, a powerful gust of wind swept over him, followed by the unmistakable cry of a dragon. He looked up to see Daenerys descending from the sky atop Syndor. The majestic black dragon circled once before landing with a ground-shaking thud.
Without hesitation, Daenerys dismounted and rushed into Gavin's arms.
"Gavin!"Her voice trembled as she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. "You're finally back. I've missed you—every hour, every moment. I didn't know how much longer I could wait."
Gavin held her close, his grip strong and comforting, as if trying to absorb her sorrow and fears.
"I'm here now," he murmured, brushing a hand through her silver hair. "Are you hurt? Did anything happen while I was gone?"
Daenerys shook her head, resting her cheek against his chest.
"I'm safe, thanks to Brienne. She stayed by my side the whole time."
Gavin looked past her, noticing Brienne standing nearby, tall and vigilant as ever, her armor catching the light. A genuine smile formed on his face.
"Thank you, Brienne. Truly. I won't forget this."
Brienne stood straighter, her voice steady and proud.
"Please, Lord Gavin—don't call me 'lady.' I am a knight now."
Gavin's brow lifted slightly in surprise. He glanced at the twin blades, Dark Sisters, strapped to her waist, then turned to Daenerys for confirmation.
She nodded with a smile.
"She's earned it. Her courage, loyalty—there was no question. I knighted her myself."
Gavin's smile deepened.
"Then I thank you again, Ser Brienne. Your name will be remembered in song and story."
"It's my honor to serve you both," Brienne replied, bowing her head.
Gavin turned back to Daenerys and gently took her hand.
"Come. We have much to discuss—and the Iron Throne won't wait."
Inside the council chamber, Gavin and his allies took their seats. Daenerys motioned to the servants, who quickly filled goblets with wine. Gavin took his with a nod of thanks and drank deeply, the strong liquor washing away the fatigue of battle and flight.
He set his goblet down with purpose.
"Now—tell me what's happened while I was away."
Qyburn rose, pulling two pieces of parchment from within his robe.
"My lord, this is the assassin's confession. I conducted the interrogation personally."
Gavin took the documents and began to read. The room fell silent.
His brow furrowed as he read, then furrowed deeper as a familiar name caught his eye: Littlefinger. He closed the papers and stared into space for a long moment.
Was it truly an order from Robert Baratheon—or was this Littlefinger's work, a deliberate attempt to destabilize the realm?
A bitter smile touched Gavin's lips.
"Perhaps it no longer matters. The Iron Throne has made its move."
He turned toward Boris.
"The tax officials. Are they still on Bloodstone?"
Boris stood quickly.
"No longer free, my lord. I had them imprisoned—along with those who came ashore with them. We also recovered the gold they had collected."
"Good." Gavin nodded. "Expel them. Let the Iron Throne know its authority ends here."
He turned again to Qyburn.
"Write to the lords of Westeros. Publicly condemn this cowardly assassination attempt. And to Robert Baratheon... send him a challenge. If he has any honor left, I'll meet him in single combat."
Daenerys flinched beside him, her hand tightening around his. Her eyes searched his face.
"Gavin... are you sure?"
He smiled at her, gently squeezing her fingers.
"Have faith in me. You know I wouldn't risk this if I weren't certain."
To Qyburn, he added:
"Also, keep an eye on Stannis and the royal fleet. I want reports on any movement."
"Yes, my lord."
At that moment, Governor Harvey rose from his seat.
"Lord Gavin, what's the status of our campaign in Lys?"
The room turned to Gavin with curiosity. Even Daenerys leaned slightly forward.
"Lys is ours," Gavin replied, a hint of pride in his tone. "We've taken the land, and Hassan is managing the aftermath—sorting the prisoners, repairing the ships. For now, as long as Myr and Tyrosh don't interfere, I don't intend to press further into Essos."
He turned to Boris.
"The academy. The new class—are they ready?"
"They are. Final evaluations begin next month."
"Good. Select capable officials from Bloodstone and Gray Gallows. Send them to Lys to help establish administration. Use this graduating class to bolster their numbers."
Boris and Harvey exchanged tired smiles, but both bowed.
"As you command."
Gavin looked toward Qyburn again.
"Send some of your apprentices to Lys as well. There's no Crow's Nest there yet. Establish communications, and keep an eye out for talent to train at the academy."
Qyburn hesitated.
"If I may, I'd prefer to go myself. The apprentices still lack experience."
Gavin shook his head.
"Not yet. I need you here—overseeing the shipyards. Our fleets are the foundation of everything. Without them, we're exposed."
"Understood, my lord."
Gavin stood, casting his gaze around the room. His voice dropped into the quiet with firm resolve.
"We face enemies on both shores—east and west. But if we move wisely, and strike only when the time is right, we will endure. We will win."
The hall rang with a unified cry.
"As you command, my lord!"