86: Chapter 86 Ice Flame Mutation

Drogon raised his right hand. His fingers spread, and a tiny wisp of Ice Fire, no larger than a fingernail, coalesced in his palm.

The color of the Ice Fire had changed.

Previously, it was a pure, eerie blue—like the color of the deep sea, or the light shining through a glacial crevice. Now, dark gold filaments were woven into the eerie blue, like countless microscopic gold threads braided into the blue flames.

The gold threads flowed slowly within the Ice Fire, winding along the flickering path of the flames. The Ice Fire pulsed silently in his palm, the cold light and gold threads intertwining, casting shifting shadows across the scales of his hand.

"The Ice Fire has mutated due to the bloodline breakthrough. New attribute: The Ice Fire now contains a faint 'Bloodline Burning' effect—for targets with a dragon bloodline concentration lower than the host, the Ice Fire will scorch their bloodline foundation in addition to causing frostbite."

"The burning effect is proportional to the difference in bloodline concentration between both parties—it has zero effect on pure humans, can weaken the bloodline circulation speed of a Dragonborn Knight by about fifteen to twenty percent, and can weaken a Space-Time Dragon Captain by about five to ten percent."

"This effect may have tactical value against the Dragon Senate's Enforcement Squad. Especially that Dragon-born Apostle—her dragon blood concentration is relatively low, so the Ice Fire might be even more effective against her than against a Dragonborn Knight."

"Good. I'll use this to deal with a Chronos Dragon. Time distortion can slow my movements, and Bloodline Burning can slow his bloodline circulation. He slows me, I slow him. We'll see who gives in first."

He retracted the Ice Fire. His fingers closed, extinguishing the flame in his palm and releasing a faint wisp of white vapor. The vapor condensed into a tiny ice crystal snowflake in the air, which then slowly drifted onto the stone floor of the secret chamber.

He stood up and casually placed the empty venison plate on the stone platform in the secret chamber—where Orys's dragon-glass core had once rested. Beside the plate, he placed a fragment of dragon-glass he had brought back from King's Landing as a return gift. The fragment shimmered with a faint blue light on the stone platform, pulsing in sync with the lingering heartbeat within the pillar's core.

Late at night. Daenerys's bedchamber.

She leaned against the headboard. A Westeros atlas lay open in her hands, turned to the page for Storm's End—the corner of the page was folded into a small triangle, the crease still fresh. Four items sat on the low table by her bed: an emerald necklace, a valyrian steel chain, a square sapphire ring, and the golden rose brooch she had pinned to her collar today, only to unfasten and set aside for closer inspection.

The four items each glowed under the Dragonglass Lamp, like a miniature Small Council meeting. She still wore the purple flame stone ring on her left thumb; it emitted a soft purple light under the Dragonglass Lamp, reflecting the golden glow of the brooch.

Drogon pushed the door open and entered. He had changed into a clean short robe. His hair still carried the dampness of volcanic steam—after leaving the mineral vein, he had soaked in the volcanic hot springs for half an hour, washing away most of the sulfur smell.

He walked to her bedside. Instead of sitting directly at the foot of the bed as usual, he sat cross-legged on the floor beside her. His tail curled around to the front, the tip gently brushing against her fingers hanging by the bed.

Daenerys didn't look up, but her fingers hanging by the bed hooked onto the tip of his tail. Her fingertips traced lightly over his tail scales—counting three scales up from the tip, that scale was smoother than the others.

It was a recently formed habit—she had discovered that his tail scales were smoother than his back scales, feeling like warm obsidian, a hundred times more comfortable than the steel rings on the chain.

"It's surpassed two thousand. Melisandre's flames suddenly brightened twofold three hours ago. The entire Nightfire Altar was lit up like day; she said even the sentries on the crater could see the blue-green pillar of light."

He paused. Looking up, his vertical pupils watched her intently under the lamp. The eerie blue Ice Fire swirled slowly deep within his pupils.

"As for you—the Enforcement Squad arrives in three and a half weeks. If they strike over Dragonstone, can the castle's defenses hold?"

Daenerys let go of his tail. From under her pillow, she pulled out a defense plan she had drafted this afternoon with Jorah and Barristan, spreading it out before him.

A cross-sectional map of Dragonstone's terrain was drawn in charcoal on the parchment—the castle's outer walls were marked with obsidian magic resistance levels, each section clearly labeled with a number.

The Unsullied ballista positions were drawn on the top floor of the Dragon Tower—twelve ballistae with a field of fire covering the entire sky. The Dothraki Cavalry's maneuver routes were marked with arrows around the castle's perimeter—three mobile units of six hundred men each, capable of striking from any gate within ten minutes.

The handwriting was Jorah's, the annotations were Barristan's, and there were several small charcoal dots at the bottom—added by her. She had pressed too hard when making the dots, leaving small indentations in the parchment.

"Dragonstone's volcano is a natural barrier in itself. The castle's outer walls are obsidian shaped by Valyrian magic, possessing partial resistance to dragonfire—not immunity, but it can reduce dragonfire damage by forty percent."

"The Unsullied can set up ballistae inside the castle—ordinary ballistae are useless against pure-blooded dragons, but they can pin down those three Dragonborn Knights. Their wingspans are only about twenty meters; hitting the wing membranes with a ballista can temporarily ground them. As for that Chronos Dragon—that's up to you."

She looked up. Her violet eyes were bright under the Dragonglass Lamp, bright enough to see the fine circle of violet-gold at the edge of her irises—the physical mark of the blood bond resonance within her.

"Drogon—we faced the Great Masters' dragonfire bolts in Slaver's Bay, and ice spears and Abyss Generals on the walls of Meereen. We survived every time. This time will be no different."

Drogon looked down at the defense plan. The cross-section on the parchment made Dragonstone Castle look like an upturned ship. His tail swayed slowly and powerfully behind him, tracing heavy arcs in the air.

Then he looked up, his lips curling into a familiar arc—the same smile he had shown before biting the back of White Mane's neck on the city walls. It wasn't just confidence. It was the knowledge that he would win.

"Leave the Chronos Dragon to me. As for the Dragon-born Apostle—if she wants to negotiate, you handle it. You are the Mother of Dragons; your title is equal to hers. If she doesn't want to negotiate—leave her to White Mane. The lioness has taken the dragon-kiss sword and is in need of a worthy opponent to test its edge. That Apostle has starlight wings, but White Mane has valyrian steel."