At the top of Storm's End, inside the Lord's luxurious master bedroom, the heavily pregnant Margaery Tyrell lay on the bed, enjoying a platter of fresh fruit.
Suddenly, the glass window was enveloped in white magic and pushed open from the outside. A moment later, Renly floated in through the window.
"Renly! How many times have I told you not to enter through the window?! Only thieves do that! You're a Lord; this is beneath you," Margaery scolded, clearly displeased.
"Haha, I was just too anxious knowing you were about to give birth," Renly replied, trying to change the subject as he stepped forward to check on her.
Before the window could be shut, Wright followed suit, floating inside and casually closing it behind him. "Renly, this window is too small. You should have it enlarged in the future!"
Seeing Wright enter, Margaery's face lit up with a smile. She turned to Renly and teased, "See? Now that was a professional window entrance! You should learn from your little brother, Wright!"
"Yes, yes," Renly agreed without hesitation.
Wright, assuming Margaery was referring to their time in King's Landing, blushed slightly. But upon noticing the other people in the room, he quickly greeted them. "Margaery, it's been a while, Loras. And the ladies of House Tyrell grow more beautiful by the day."
Loras and the others bowed slightly. "Good afternoon, Lord Wright."
Several other Tyrell ladies were also in the room, serving as Margaery's attendants, alongside numerous bustling servants. As long as outsiders were present, Loras maintained his noble decorum, never acting out of place despite his close relationship with Renly. That was one of the things he did best—keeping their bond discreet, ensuring it could endure.
Margaery eyed Wright curiously. "I only sent the letter to King's Landing two days ago. How did you arrive so quickly?"
Renly grinned. "As soon as we received your letter, Wright decided to come as well. Of course, we rode dragons."
Margaery glanced out the window. Given the size of Wright's dragon, there were neither shadows blotting out the sun nor the usual thunderous landing noise. She turned back to Wright. "Did Odahviing fly off?"
"I sent him back to Tyrosh," Wright replied.
Meanwhile, Renly's young dragon had landed on the castle rooftop. The guards opened the doors for it, and soon the small creature trotted through the bedroom entrance, panting from exhaustion after the long flight.
"Peytvahaaz!" Margaery called out in perfect High Valyrian.
The little dragon lifted its head with a soft cry, then turned toward the servants bringing in platters of meat.
Wright, on the other hand, was examining the paintings adorning the bedroom walls—portraits of his parents in this lifetime. They had passed away at an age younger than Robert was now. In the paintings, their faces were still youthful, but one thing was clear—their family was cursed with thick beards. He chuckled to himself before turning back to Renly and the others.
"Odahviing laid five dragon eggs on Skull Island. She's been secretly guarding them, and even though I've been to her lair, I've never actually seen them. She must have buried them. But she promised me that once the child is born, she'll bring an egg for them."
Renly, who had long since mastered life-detection magic, already knew there was only one life force within Margaery's womb.
Wright smiled at Margaery. "So, you won't get to pick your favorite color. There's nothing I can do about that—whatever egg Odahviing brings is the one you get."
Margaery pouted. "Oh! I was hoping for a green one."
Wright ruffled her hair. "A person chooses a dragon, and a dragon chooses its rider. The bond between a dragon and its rider manifests as a magical and spiritual resonance. The stronger the connection, the greater the awareness between them. For example, Odahviing and I—I can call her across entire continents using magic."
This knowledge had come from absorbing Durnehviir soul. If the bond between a person and their dragon was weak, then no matter how much magic they poured into it, summoning the beast across vast distances would be impossible. In short, the stronger the bond, the farther the communication range and the deeper the emotional link. In the absence of powerful magical interference, a dragon rider could command their beast without even speaking.
In this era, medicine was not well developed, and Wright was a mage, not a midwife. He had no way of predicting exactly when Margaery would go into labor. So, all they could do was keep her company, chatting and ensuring she remained in good spirits.
But what was meant to happen would happen. Three days after Wright's arrival at Storm's End, the entire castle burst into motion.
"I studied a little medicine at the Citadel, but I never researched childbirth!" Wright complained.
Inside the bedroom, Renly and Wright stood behind a partition screen. As mages, their role was to ensure the safety of both mother and child—something that had become customary among nobles in recent years.
A group of experienced older maids surrounded Margaery, while a maester specializing in medicine stood at her bedside, guiding her through deep breaths.
Margaery was seventeen. Her frame had fully matured, and the process went smoothly. At last, a baby's cries filled the room. Wright immediately cast a healing spell on Margaery.
A healthy baby boy was born.
The maids swiftly moved to clean and swaddle the child, while Margaery, still energetic, held her newborn and chatted cheerfully with her attendants.
Wright and Renly walked over to see the child. With wrinkled red skin and sparse black hair on his head, his features were still indistinct—it would take time for his skin to tighten.
Wright arranged a detection magic circle on the floor, and as the intricate five-colored formation spread beneath Margaery's bed, the onlookers gasped. Wright carefully examined the child's body.
Margaery, Renly, Loras, the maester, and the handmaidens all held their breath, watching in silence until the magic circle faded away.
"How is it?" Renly asked anxiously, eyes locked on Wright.
Wright's face remained unreadable. "I have good news and bad news."
"Ah!" Everyone gasped, and Margaery instinctively held the baby closer to her chest.
"Start with the good news!" Renly's heart was pounding.
Wright smirked. "The good news is… the child has magical talent."
The tension eased slightly. Wright hadn't mentioned any health issues, but since there was still bad news, everyone turned their eyes back to him.
Wright placed both hands on Renly's shoulders, his expression heavy. "The bad news is… the child's magic surpasses yours by an immeasurable degree! By the time he's thirteen, he'll be able to trounce you!"
"HAHAHA! A feast! A feast!" Renly burst into laughter and bolted from the room, shouting to the castle officials.
Seeing Renly's reaction, Margaery realized that Wright's "bad news" was nothing but a jest. She grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. "You're insufferable when you talk like that!"
"Haha, just lightening the mood!" Wright caught the pillow and handed it back to a handmaiden.
In Westeros, apart from Dorne, people still favored male heirs. Now that the Lord of Storm's End, Renly, had a male successor, the castle bells rang in celebration, and the city erupted in cheers. Ravens were released one after another from the rookery, carrying the news far and wide.
By dinnertime, makeshift kitchens were set up across Storm's End's training grounds. Wagons and handcarts streamed into the castle, bringing an abundance of food to be distributed throughout the city.
The nobles and wealthy merchants dined inside the castle, where a mountain of gifts piled up in one corner of the hall. After more than a decade under Renly and Wright's rule, the Stormlands had grown immensely prosperous. The nobility and traders were wealthy, and even the well-paid knights and skilled craftsmen lived comfortably—many farmers had accumulated considerable wealth as well.
Two days later, Odahviing descended upon the dragon landing grounds at Storm's End, a designated area for dragons. A waterproof leather pouch dangled from its mouth, which it dropped in front of Wright before turning toward the prepared meat and digging in.
Wright carried the pouch into the grand hall, where the banquet was still underway, now entertaining visiting nobles from distant lands.
Thanks to healing magic, Margaery was already moving around freely. She sat beside Renly in the lord's seat, graciously receiving the congratulations of the nobility. Their newborn was safely kept in the bedchamber, heavily guarded.
Seeing Wright approach, Margaery knew a gift was coming. She nudged Renly, who was slightly drunk, and both of them straightened their postures. The surrounding Stormlands lords also quieted down.
Wright declared, "My nephew has been born, and as his uncle, of course, I must present a gift. But you know I live quite far away, so I'm a little late."
Renly laughed. "No need for that formality between us! Just hand it over and come drink with us!"
Wright unfastened the leather pouch, revealing a few letters—clearly not the main gift—before pulling out three exquisitely crafted wooden boxes.
"I obtained a Valyrian steel scimitar in Meereen," Wright explained. "I melted it down and forged three necklaces—one for Renly, one for Margaery, and one for my nephew."
Inside the three boxes, each necklace bore a pendant: two shaped like dragon heads and one in the shape of a rose. Wright had prepared them long ago, keeping the remaining Valyrian steel for his own future child.
"Lord Wright, you truly are rich," one noble murmured with envy. "Melting down a Valyrian steel weapon for gifts? The last auction saw House Lannister spend tens of thousands of gold dragons just to buy a single sword!"
Wright handed over the three ornate wooden boxes, their lids inlaid with glass, revealing the necklaces resting on velvet inside.
"Thank you very much!" Margaery said, accepting them with a graceful bow.
"This gold-red one is for me, isn't it?" Renly asked, noticing one dragon-head pendant was colored, while the other was left in its natural black hue.
Wright nodded. "It matches your dragon. I didn't know my nephew's dragon color when I made these, so I'll adjust his later. He's too young to wear a necklace now—just let him hold it for now."
"It's stunning! Thank you!" Renly exclaimed. Since gaining wealth, he had attempted to forge Valyrian steel trinkets himself using magic. Unfortunately, his craftsmanship was poor, and his creations were nothing short of hideous.
Wright leaned in between the two, lowering his voice so only they could hear. "Don't just treat these as decorations. I've imbued the three necklaces with magic—resistance to poison and disease. It's best if you wear them at all times. If you don't like the design, just let me know, and I'll modify them."
Margaery opened the box and gently ran her fingers over the red pendant shaped like a rose. She didn't sense anything unusual. Meanwhile, a faint glow of magic flickered in Renly's hand as he held his necklace—he could clearly feel the power coursing through the Valyrian steel, but his own magic was unable to penetrate it.
Renly handed a cup of wine to Wright. "Good brother! Is this the new magic you've been working on in Tyrosh?"
The two clinked their cups and downed the wine in one go. "I have to master it to the highest level. Once the child's naming day is over, take care of Stormlands' affairs and come to Tyrosh as soon as possible."
"Of course, I'll go! Hahaha." Renly continued to toy with his necklace.
Wright opened his bag again and placed a square wooden box on the table. When he lifted the lid, it revealed two golden dragon figurines, poised with their wings spread as if ready to take flight.
One dragon was slightly larger, adorned with tiny embedded rubies—clearly modeled after Renly's dragon. The other was slightly smaller, with finely etched scales across its body but no gemstones.
Wright smiled. "The larger one is from Nymeria, and the smaller one is a gift from Tyene."
"When I visit Tyrosh, I'll make sure to bring them something in return." The two golden sculptures were exquisite, and Margaery admired them greatly.
Storm's End would soon have two young dragons of similar age. As for Tyene's dragon, it lacked gemstone embellishments—not due to a lack of wealth but simply because no one yet knew what color it would be.
Wright finally retrieved the last item, the one the surrounding nobles had been anticipating the most. Many had been waiting for this moment—if Lord Wright Baratheon were to gift a dragon egg, it would mean the Stormlands would have not one but two dragons in the future! But no one knew for certain if he would actually present one.
The dragon egg had been meticulously cleaned, and to Wright's amusement, someone had drawn a smiling face on its surface—undoubtedly Tyene's doing.
"This is for my nephew," Wright announced. "At night, place it in his cradle. During the day, keep it near the fireplace. Renly, you should also use your magic flames on it frequently."
"This method is different from before?" Renly asked, puzzled.
"This egg is from Odahviing's first clutch—of course, it's different," Wright replied.
"Fair enough!" Renly took the egg and stood up, raising it high above his head as he proclaimed to the gathered guests, "This is the dragon egg Wright has gifted my son! Soon, a blue dragon shall soar over Storm's End!"
"Congratulations, Lord Renly!"
"Well said!"
The guests rose from their seats, cheering and applauding in celebration of the Stormlands' prosperous future.
Wright clapped along with them, then turned back to Renly. "Have you decided on my nephew's name?"
Renly scratched his head. "I've thought of so many, but either I don't like them, or Margaery doesn't. It's a real headache!"
Though Wright was the true father of the child, he had no intention of contesting Renly's right to name him.
He pointed at the egg, which was a deep blue with golden streaks running across its surface. "Now you have to think of not just the child's name but also the dragon's."
"Let me enjoy the moment first—I'll worry about that later!" Renly laughed, settling back into his seat with his cup.
---
That night, Wright sat in his study, reading through letters before writing a response to Nymeria.
The contents of the letter concerned Dorne—Anders Yronwood had begun rallying allies.
The first was House Allyrion of Godsgrace. Ser Ryon Allyrion, father of Daemon Sand, had plenty of reasons to support House Yronwood. Not only had Oberyn and Wright killed his son, but his wife was from House Yronwood.
The second was House Blackmont of Blackmont. Its current head, Lady Larra Blackmont, maintained close ties with Prince Doran Martell. House Blackmont was a powerful family, once one of the Six Kings of Dorne.
The third was House Wyl of Wyl. This house had fought alongside House Martell in the wars to unify Dorne and was unwaveringly loyal to Doran Martell's son, Trystane.
Another significant reason House Wyl would never support Wright's child was their long-standing enmity with House Baratheon.
House Baratheon's founder, Orys Baratheon, was captured by the Lord of Wyl during Aegon's first campaign against Dorne in 4 AC. Orys lost an arm in captivity, earning the moniker Orys One-Hand. This injury led to his resignation as the realm's first Hand of the King.
Nine years later, when Aegon invaded Dorne again, Orys captured the Wyl lord's son, Walter Wyl, and exacted his revenge—he severed all of Walter's limbs, reducing him to a living stump. The man died from festering wounds on the journey back to Storm's End, with Orys watching as his enemy rotted away.
With House Yronwood rallying three formidable factions, Dorne was inching ever closer to civil war.