GOT: Molten Crown

Through the monocular lens of his spyglass, Viserys saw a mass of thick black clouds gathering in the direction of Dragonstone.

And the density and scale of those clouds continued to grow.

It was swelling like a balloon being filled with air.

Several of the Kingsguard Ironcloaks also had their own spyglasses. They were all much older than Viserys, yet none of them had ever seen such a terrifying prelude to a storm.

They couldn't even imagine how dreadful the storm would be under a cloud formation like this.

Their gazes toward Viserys began to change.

Earlier, Rhaella had told them that Viserys had dreamed of an unprecedented storm.

At first, the three of them were skeptical. But now, they had no doubt—this young king was the legendary dream-walker.

With a king who could foresee calamity leading them, perhaps House Targaryen truly could rise again.

Viserys lowered his spyglass and turned to Gerold and the others.

"Set sail for Storm's End at full speed!"

"Yes, Your Grace!"

The warships, linked by iron chains, began to hoist their sails.

The black sails billowed upward, like dark clouds rising from the sea. Some seasoned sailors also noticed that something was off.

The sea steamed with stifling heat, and the humidity in the air suddenly surged.

Those who had just stepped out from the cabins felt as if a massive beast had licked their faces. Everything pointed to one possibility—a torrential storm was coming.

At some point, a rumor began circulating through the fleet:

The king had dreamed of a great storm, which was why they had set sail early.

As soldiers whispered among themselves, raindrops suddenly began to fall on the sails, tapping and drumming.

The sound grew more intense by the second. The fleet had barely left Dragonstone, and already streams of rainwater were running down the sails.

Back on Dragonstone, the scene was even more terrifying.

Rain was not simply falling—it was pouring from the skies in sheets. Water splashed furiously against windows with a deafening roar.

Gale-force winds tore past the Stone Drum tower, howling like thunder.

Young Rhaenys and the other children buried their faces in the arms of nurses and maids, nearly crying in terror.

In the birthing chamber, Rhaella was experiencing increasingly frequent contractions.

Daenerys was about to be born.

Elia and Lyanna stood vigil inside and outside the room, managing the midwives and attendants.

They were also responsible for observing Rhaella's condition—if she showed signs of hallucinations, they were to press Valyrian steel items against her skin.

Willem stationed over a hundred guards throughout the keep, sealing off every entry and exit.

The area within a hundred paces of the birthing chamber was filled with men he had personally selected. He had verified the identity of every one of them, multiple times.

Willem himself patrolled the guard posts in the pouring rain.

Feeling the intensifying rain and the ever-wilder wind, he knew Dragonstone was likely at the very heart of the storm.

From a high vantage point, he looked southward and couldn't help but worry about Viserys.

The downpour was beginning to obscure vision.

He wasn't sure if Viserys would be able to find Storm's End in time. He couldn't even be certain the chained ships would be able to withstand such a fierce storm.

On the other side, because of the iron chains linking the ships, the fleet's speed was far from ideal.

To compensate, Viserys had dispatched several fast ships ahead of the fleet to serve as navigators.

Each of these was manned by the most experienced sailors in the fleet, many of whom had spent their lives at sea.

The lead ships flew red and yellow flags and produced thick plumes of black smoke to ensure the rest of the fleet could follow them even in the rain.

The rain kept coming down harder, turning the world into a white blur.

Suddenly, soldiers noticed that fog had begun to rise. Rain poured from the skies while mist steamed up from the sea below.

Visibility became nearly nonexistent.

But the captains and sub-commanders who had attended the war councils felt more invigorated than ever.

The fleet had already escaped the worst by departing Dragonstone.

Even if they did nothing else, they had preserved their forces. And from another perspective—Storm's End's harbor defenses were surely at their weakest now.

If they could break through, they would earn eternal glory.

Thanks to the goods and even prostitutes Davos had brought from the Free Cities in the past two months, the soldiers had somewhere to spend their gold.

Now, after all the indulgence, they were eager for greater rewards.

Viserys had raised the bounty for a successful decapitation strike to three gold dragons. Three gold dragons—nearly a year's wages for some.

The captains, too, dreamed of winning honors.

Although Viserys couldn't yet grant them land, he had granted them special privileges on Dragonstone.

So their will to fight was strong.

Neither rain nor wind could dampen the fleet's morale.

Meanwhile, the weather at Storm's End was relatively better. But the heavy rain and howling wind had already halted construction.

Most of the guards had retreated to the harbor, taking shelter.

Stannis stood in the tower, gazing out in silence.

"Don't worry," said Maester Cressen with a smile. "From what I can tell, the storm clouds are moving in from the north. Dragonstone will take the worst of it. They won't come."

"Mm," Stannis nodded, agreeing with him.

Experienced captains had told him that in such violent seas, masts of poor quality would snap in an instant.

Some mid-sized ships could be overturned outright. If the Targaryens dared to attack now, the storm alone would destroy them.

But that wasn't what Stannis was worried about.

This storm brought back painful memories. His parents had died in a shipwreck during a storm while returning from the Free Cities.

That incident had planted in him a deep dislike—perhaps even hatred—toward the Targaryens.

After all, his parents had gone to the Free Cities to help Rhaegar find a wife with Valyrian blood.

Stannis never understood—were the women of Westeros not good enough for Rhaegar?

The Targaryens no longer had dragons.

What good was pure blood now?

He resolved that once he became Lord of Storm's End, he would order markers placed on the reefs—flags or other signals to prevent future wrecks.

Standing atop the tower, his thoughts drifted.

The rain was so loud that it became the only sound between heaven and earth, creating an eerie stillness.

Tap, tap, tap—

Suddenly, Stannis noticed something breaking that silence behind him.

He listened closely. Knocking.

Tap, tap, tap—

"Come in," Cressen said, turning toward the door.

A nobleman, dripping wet as if fished out of the sea, rushed in with a panicked expression.

"My lords! A fleet has appeared in Shipbreaker Bay!"

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