Skyrim System In Westeros

Later in the evening, Nymeria and Tyene went to find Prince Oberyn.

"Father, can you dismiss the guards at the door?"

Both women were dressed in traditional Dornish attire. As Nymeria spoke, she moved to close the windows, while Tyene followed suit, helping her.

Oberyn opened the door, waved the guards away, and then leaned casually against a cabinet, arms crossed, a smirk on his lips.

"What could be so secretive that it has the future Lady of a High Lord and a master alchemist acting so cautiously?"

Tyene was surprised. "Father, you already know?"

Oberyn chuckled. "Anyone with a brain can see it. Wright appeared right in the middle of the war, and now the Baratheon brothers are paving the way for him. Who else but Wright could become the future Lord of the Stepstones?"

Nymeria and Tyene exchanged glances. It seemed their father was aware of certain things, but what they had come to discuss was something entirely different.

Nymeria straightened in her seat. "Father, Wright told me that the Baratheon brothers have been planning to take the Stepstones for years. They were just waiting for the right moment to start a war. With how well-prepared their strategy and logistics are, there's no way they put this together in just a few months."

Oberyn sat down in a chair across from them. "Looks like I underestimated them. So, did Wright Baratheon send you to tell me all this?"

Both women nodded.

"And what exactly do you expect me to do about it? The Baratheons are financing this war, the noble houses are supplying soldiers, and Robert will divide the spoils afterward. Wright is already set to become Governor of the Stepstones. What noble in their right mind would dare oppose him?"

Nymeria shook her head. "That's not the reason we're here. That just came to mind because of what you said earlier. Wright actually sent us to talk about the dragons."

"Dragons?" Oberyn's expression remained unchanged, but his mind immediately began racing.

Daenerys Targaryen had hatched two dragons. Young Griff had hatched one. But the widely spread rumors claimed that Daenerys had three. Had the truth leaked?

Nymeria cut straight to the point. "Wright has a dragon."

Oberyn scoffed, his tone dismissive. "He's lucky, then." But inwardly, he was anything but calm. The balance of power was shifting yet again.

Nymeria shook her head. "This isn't just luck. He didn't find the dragon—he summoned it. But there's only one."

Oberyn narrowed his eyes. "One dragon? And yet all the great lords know that Daenerys has three."

Tyene, clearly unimpressed, huffed. "Daenerys' dragons are the size of puppies. If they curled up together, they wouldn't even be as big as one of Wright's dragon's scales!"

Oberyn blinked. "A single scale?"

Nymeria launched into the story of how Wright had summoned his dragon. Just three words in the language of dragons had turned the skies dark, shifting the heavens themselves. The beast that appeared was as large as a mountain, battling the ancient Dragonlord on its back.

Tyene eagerly added more details, describing how they had lived alongside the dragon in the ruins of Valyria for months and how they had ridden on its back all the way to the Stepstones.

Oberyn was deeply shaken. A dragon that massive was already larger than Balerion the Black Dread. Against such a monster, no modern weapon could do more than scratch it. Perhaps a lucky shot from a heavy ballista could bring it down—Dorne had once managed to kill a dragon, after all. That victory had come at a devastating cost, leaving the land in ruins, but it had been enough to keep the Targaryens from ever sending their dragons against them again.

Still, Daenerys' dragons were far too young. Against a beast of this magnitude, they would need a hundred years to grow into a real challenge. A hundred years!

Nymeria continued, "Wright also said that Odahviing..."

Oberyn interrupted her. "Odahviing?"

Nymeria nodded. "That's the name of Wright's dragon. And he told me that Odahviing will soon lay an egg. Wright's descendants will all be Dragonriders!"

Oberyn fell into deep thought. Slowly, his brow furrowed, and his fingers started trembling. Then, suddenly, he erupted in fury.

"That venomous bastard, Wright Baratheon! He sent you to tell me this because he wants to tempt me into killing Doran!"

Nymeria frowned. "I don't think Wright wants to make an enemy of Dorne. After all, Dorne secretly supported the Targaryens for years. There was everything that happened in Braavos, too. Even if there's no solid proof..."

Oberyn slammed a fist on the table. "That Baratheon bastard! Has he bewitched you two with his magic? How can you be so eager to serve him? You are Dornishwomen!"

His sudden rage startled both of them. But what was done could not be undone. Nymeria did not want to see the relationship between Wright and Dorne deteriorate further. If things got worse, Dorne would be the one to suffer the most.

"Wright is a powerful mage, and Odahviing is not just some fire-breathing beast. His magic is even more terrifying than Wright's! If Dorne becomes his enemy, we will be wiped from the face of the earth!"

For the first time in her life, Nymeria defied her father.

"The Targaryens are nothing but the last remnants of a dying dynasty. But Wright Baratheon—he is the beginning of an entirely new dragon empire!"

"Mm-hmm." Tyene did not dare speak but nodded repeatedly.

Nymeria pressed on. "Wright met Rahgot, one of the Fourteen Dragonlords of Valyria from five thousand years ago—along with the very founder of the empire itself."

Oberyn, seeing his daughter so worked up, forced himself to listen. But as he heard the full story, his entire worldview shattered once again.

"What? A man from five thousand years ago?"

Nymeria and Tyene recounted the final moments of Wright's battle. A dragon that could speak, ancient dragon magic, heroic spirits capable of taming hundred-meter-long dragons with ease—Wright had met the forefathers of Valyria! They had spoken in a forgotten language, taught him how to forge Valyrian steel, and even gifted him two nearly divine weapons!

Oberyn leaned back in his chair, speechless for a long time. It was all too absurd. He didn't even know where to begin questioning its authenticity.

One of those legendary weapons—he had already seen it that afternoon. During a war council, Wright had simply left it among the other weapons, as if it were nothing special. At the time, Oberyn had assumed it was just some enchanted blade. But now he knew it was a true artifact. Wright hadn't even bothered to secure it, because no ordinary man could wield it.

Tyene added, "Wright has a dragon, and soon he'll have a dragon egg. Renly Baratheon shares the closest bloodline to him—he could become a dragonrider as well."

Oberyn's fingers tapped against the table. "Bloodline, you say?"

Nymeria nodded. "Yes. The bloodline of a new Dragonlord. Odahviing will soon lay another dragon egg. In Volantis, some of the pureblood Valyrians have already begun acknowledging Wright as their new ruler. And in the future, more and more will swear loyalty to him."

Oberyn's gaze darkened. "And this is all information Wright wanted you to share with me?"

Nymeria replied, "Wright told us to tell you everything we know—anything you wish to hear."

Oberyn exhaled sharply. "He is a clever one! Now that he has laid his cards on the table, I have a few more questions for you."

The conversation continued late into the night. Eventually, Oberyn noticed how dark it had gotten. He looked at his daughters and said,

"Go and rest. Tomorrow, Robert will hold a war council in the great hall. It will be a long meeting. I've heard enough for now."

"Understood, Father."

Once they left, Oberyn opened the window, pulled a chair close, and sat there gazing at the night sky. A red comet burned brightly above, the most striking mark upon the heavens.

Wright knew nothing of Young Griff, yet he was fully aware of Daenerys—and had deliberately let her go.

A dragon as vast as a mountain against three hatchlings no larger than pups. The blood of Old Valyria's Dragonlords against the lineage of the new Dragonlord, Wright. Magic, Fire and Blood, Valyria.

Oberyn gazed at the night sky, lost in thought, sleepless until dawn.

---

The following day, King Robert convened a grand assembly. Every noble and warrior who could attend had already gathered.

The throne itself was simple—a wooden chair atop a raised platform. Below it, nobles sat in rows according to their rank, while knights of various houses stood further back. Several maesters were seated at the king's side, quills in hand, prepared to record the proceedings.

Wright attended as the realm's Archmage, securing a seat close to Robert. Had he come merely as the Lord of Antlers, he might have found himself seated near the entrance.

Renly, Stannis, Oberyn, Barristan, and other high-ranking figures filled the front rows.

Across from him, Oberyn sat with dark circles under his eyes. Wright smiled slightly and nodded in greeting. Oberyn yawned, looking thoroughly displeased, and gave a half-hearted nod in return before lowering his head for a quick nap.

The maesters checked their timepieces and signaled to Kingsguard Ser Lyn Corbray.

"The hour has arrived. Silence!"

At once, the hall fell still.

Barristan, acting as the presiding officer, began the proceedings.

"First, we shall conduct the knighting ceremony for the first graduates of Westeros' magical apprenticeship program. From Starfall, of House Dayne of Dorne—Ser Ashara Dayne, the Sword of theMorning.'"

Ashara Dayne stepped forward in black Dornish plate, her surcoat bearing the sigil of her house—a pale purple field with a white sword and a falling star. Twin swords were strapped to her back. She knelt in the center of the hall, facing Robert.

Since there was no precedent for enshrining mages into knighthood, Wright had discussed the matter with Robert the previous day. Given that this was wartime, they agreed to keep things simple—following the traditional knighting rites.

Lyn Corbray continued.

"From Winterfell, of House Stark—Robb Stark."

Robb Stark approached in black chainmail, his auburn curls neatly combed. Around his neck hung a prominent direwolf pendant, now his signature emblem. Carrying two swords, he knelt to Ashara's left.

"From Winterfell, of House Stark—Jon Snow."

Jon Snow, clad in the same black armor, his hair groomed to perfection, carried a single sword and knelt to Ashara's right.

Lyn Corbray read aloud from a parchment, detailing their studies, magical achievements, experiences in quelling bandits, and feats in the Stepstones campaign.

At the end of the recitation, Robert stood and descended from his throne to personally knight all three as royal mages, granting Robb and Jon the title of Ser.

Off to the side, Qyburn and Thoros of Myr observed the ceremony. Unlike the apprentices, they had long since earned their titles and knighthoods through other deeds and had not undergone this process.

As Robert returned to his seat, the newly knighted mages stood and received the congratulations of the gathered lords and knights.

When the applause and murmurs of congratulations finally subsided, Wright rose and approached them.

"Robb, Jon—these are magics I designed specifically for each of you."

He handed each a book bearing their names upon the cover.

"Thank you, Master," they replied, pleasantly surprised. Unique spells tailored to them alone—something no other mage possessed.

Ashara turned to Wright with an expectant grin, waiting for her own gift. When she saw nothing in his hands, she tilted her head, glancing around as if Wright had hidden something behind his back.

White light flared in Wright's hand—a familiar sight to many in the hall who understood magic.

"Alteration magic!" Some of those well-acquainted with King's Landing's mystical affairs immediately recognized it.

"As if that wasn't obvious!" Another voice shot back.

The magic hand was a useful spell. A pale magical aura stretched beyond the hall, reaching an armory rack outside. A sword lifted from its place and was swiftly pulled back into Wright's grasp.

"You were my first official apprentice, and you always fight with twin blades. A single sword, even if it's Dawn, isn't enough. This one is for you."

Ashara received the sword with both hands, too overwhelmed with joy to speak.

Seated upon his throne, Robert grinned, thinking of his new warhammer. Stannis considered that a broader blade would have been more practical. Renly, meanwhile, examined the sword's design, finding it insufficiently ornate for his tastes.

"Dark Sister!" someone exclaimed, recognizing the weapon.

"Wright just gave Dark Sister to Ashara Dayne!" gasped another.

"One of House Targaryen's two ancestral blades—just handed over like that?" murmured a voice laced with envy.