The Red God Lands, Flames Rise, Mountains and Rivers Boil, Everything Proceeds According to Plan

Dragonstone, Map Room.

This was once where Aegon the Conqueror of House Targaryen had planned his conquest of the Seven Kingdoms.

The enormous table had been carved into a map of Westeros, every bay and mountain range clearly visible.

Three hundred years ago, Aegon Targaryen had stood here, his eyes fixed on the lands he was about to conquer.

Now, however, the place was thick with the stench of defeat and decay.

Stormlands nobles who had fled here, along with the remnants of the Crownlands nobility, had gathered in this hall.

Some bore burns, their skin ulcerated as they let out low groans.

Others had escaped unscathed, yet their eyes were hollow, as though their souls had already been swallowed by the Blackwater Rush's flames.

Waves pounded against the castle foundations, producing a dull roar.

The sound passed through the heavy stone walls like a death knell for everyone present.

Every heart had turned to ashes.

"Have they been found?"

Renly Baratheon sat upon a tall black-stone throne.

His feet could not even reach the ground, dangling in midair like a child who had stolen an adult's clothes.

The velvet formalwear was far too large for a thirteen-year-old boy, making him look somewhat ridiculous.

His collar was crooked, and dust stained his cuffs.

Yet there was not the slightest trace of a smile on his handsome face.

Only a near-hysterical tension remained.

Morford Velaryon stood nearby.

The Lord of High Tide and head of House Velaryon looked as though he had aged ten years in an instant.

The vigor once bestowed by his proud Old Valyrian bloodline had vanished without a trace.

His bright golden hair was a disheveled mess, like a clump of dead grass.

His eye sockets had sunk deep, bloodshot veins filling them.

The Seven Kingdoms had