King Ghidorah flew swiftly, her immense golden body slicing through the sky, each beat of her wings whipping up a gale. The journey from King's Landing to the Iron Islands would have taken her less than a day.
But to accommodate the other dragons, especially Rhaenys, Viserys had to make King Ghidorah slow down.
Thus, by the time the dark, rugged outline of the Iron Islands appeared in his sight, it was already noon on the second day after their departure.
In the waters surrounding the Iron Islands, the main force of the Arbor fleet stood ready for battle.
Dispatched by House Redwyne, the fleet consisted of nearly a hundred warships, their sails emblazoned with purple grapes and billowing gently in the breeze.
Waves slapped against the hulls with a steady rhythm, but the mood throughout the fleet was tense.
Ser Horas Redwyne stood at the bow of his flagship, the Grape Harvest, both hands resting on the railing as he gazed at the hazy gray outline of the Iron Islands in the distance.
The sea breeze brushed his rather weathered face with its salty tang, but he scarcely noticed. His thoughts were fixed on the coming battle. His fleet had patrolled these waters for an entire week, day and night without rest, intercepting several Ironborn longships that had tried to break through the blockade. Those Ironborn had fought fiercely, but they had still fallen to the elite sailors of the Arbor.
Yet Horas knew these encounters were merely a prelude. The real spectacle had yet to begin.
"Lord Horas." His adjutant hurried to his side and said urgently, "A letter from King's Landing."
Horas turned, took the letter, and quickly unfolded it to read.
The writing was neat and concise, containing only a few sentences. "In a few days,