Gendry looked at the black dragon. He was extraordinary indeed, the strongest of the three. People said he was Balerion the Black Dread reborn.
"The Mountain and Amory are dead. The Kingslayer has lost his sword hand." Behind Gendry's calm words, the flames of war continued to burn.
"You are the knight of my heart," Dany praised him. Her knight, her flame, her sun.
"And you are the queen of love and beauty in mine."
Daenerys gave him a kiss, light and moving.
"Then are we close to victory?" Dany asked.
"We will win, but we still have a terrible Long Winter to face."
"Winter." Daenerys was a little afraid. She, too, was a child of summer.
The dragons sensed her fear, and all three spread their wings and took flight. Balerion flapped up to a high point in the manor, while the other two swept across the sky, their wingtips scraping the branches.
"But we have dragons. They're growing very fast."
"My dear princess, dragons aren't invincible." Gendry took Daenerys's hand. "The wars to come will be a combination of cruelty and absurdity."
Dragonbinder, sorcery, the Drowned God, the Cold God, the Lord of Light-they would face all the oddballs of the Known World.
Daenerys only half understood.
For the sake of fire, Tyrion and Hallyne were now deep beneath Rhaenys Hill, directly below the hall of the Alchemists' Guild.
Tyrion Lannister had put on heavy padded trousers, a woolen tunic, and a thick velvet coat. Only then could he barely endure the chill.
Saltpeter covered the damp stone walls. The only light came from the sealed, iron-barred glass oil lamp that the pyromancer Hallyne carried with great care.
Jars of wildfire stood along the stone walls. The pyromancers had to be exceedingly cautious. Neither flame nor light