Above the Seven Kingdoms stood the one and only Storm.
Though there was little sunlight at the time, the red-gold gleam of the Valyrian steel armor and the heat of the flames brought by the magic dragons.
Still made the king seem like a blazing sun, fiery and unrestrained, beyond anyone's reach.
"Your Majesty!"
"Your Majesty!"
"Storm Dragon King!" "Storm Dragon King!"
With fear rising from deep in their bones, everyone lowered their heads, not daring to raise them far enough to look at the king.
Even men as worldly as Eddard and Roose felt an awed reverence, as though gazing up at a towering mountain. Nobility, murderous presence, heroic spirit, refinement-whatever it was, it was the bearing of an emperor.
Eddard had only seen this quality in the young Robert and Rhaegar back then, and without question, Gendry alone possessed it in the world today.
"Rise, my lords."
Gendry reached out to help his pale-faced companion climb down from the magic dragon. It was Little Rose, who had been left dizzy and disoriented among the clouds.
"A little bumpy, Lady Margaery?"
"No, no. Your Majesty, Your Majesty's magic dragon is simply rather too marvelous," Margaery Tyrell said with a flattering smile as she straightened her skirt.
"Perhaps he likes you." Gendry laughed heartily. His hand was long-fingered and strong, and Margaery held it with great care.
Gendry glanced at Margaery. Little Rose was certainly good-looking, but at a rough estimate, the girl's bust might not even measure up to Sansa's, let alone Black Pearl's.
Speaking of Black Pearl, she was still sending Gendry a steady stream of letters from Braavos, though Gendry always read them without replying.
Margaery followed quietly behind the king, paying her respects to the lords.
Eddard and the others were utterly taken aback. Power-this was