The Mountain of Ice and Fire

Although a dragon's wings could cover dozens of miles with each flap, making them as swift as lightning, it still took the Mountain and Sheepstealer quite a while to burn all of the nearly two thousand warships of the Nine Free Cities.

However, the Mountain and Sheepstealer had plenty of time. They could afford to waste it.

*

The drumbeats on the Imp's warship finally ceased!

After the Mountain had burned the Braavosi naval fleet, the dragon had been gliding and circling above the Imp's large ship, neither ascending into the sky nor landing. The Imp stood on the deck and shouted to the Mountain many times, speaking of past friendships and future alliances, but the Mountain simply steered the dragon in slow circles, not uttering a single word in response.

It wasn't until the Imp finally shut his mouth and the warship came to a halt that the Mountain's dragon hovered not far above the ship, its wings stirring up winds that whistled around the vessel. Arianne Martell's voice called down, "Imp, we're returning to the Mountains of the Moon. Would you care to visit?"

"If the Mountain agrees, I would be delighted."

"Then bind yourself up, and make sure it's a tight binding."

"Is this the Mountain's will?"

"It's my will, Halfman. If you want to negotiate with the Mountain, you must first make me happy, and then I will report to him."

"Princess Arianne Martell, are you now the Mountain's messenger?"

"I am his chief administrator, dwarf. I'm giving you one last chance to bind yourself up tightly, and leave as much rope as possible so it's easy for us to pull you along."

"Does the Mountain intend to parade me through King's Landing?"

"Imp, if you want to know the answer, you must first bind yourself. I'll count to three. If you don't comply, the negotiations are over."

"I'll do it!" The Imp made an immediate decision.

As long as the Mountain was willing to talk, that was all that mattered!

His greatest fear was that the Mountain would refuse to talk, and the dragon would simply slaughter everyone, bringing Daenerys's dynasty to an end.

A moment later, the Imp had himself bound tightly, with a long length of rope left for pulling.

The dragon's two claws landed on the bow of the warship, causing the entire front of the ship to immediately sink, and the stern to rise high out of the water with a splash. The people on board panicked, grabbing hold of whatever they could to avoid falling. Those who didn't react quickly enough tumbled to the ground in a chaotic mess. The drummers and their drums on the deck fell into the sea.

The dragon flapped its wings, its body gently rising, and the warship settled back down, the bow rising sharply and the stern crashing down onto the water with a loud boom. Those who hadn't managed to grab hold of anything were thrown around inside the ship, their bodies completely out of control.

Arianne jumped off the dragon's back, landing steadily on the deck. She quickly grabbed the rope, then leaped into the air. The Mountain reached out and clasped Arianne's hand, gently pulling her onto the dragon's back. Before the Mountain could issue a command, Sheepstealer took flight, carrying the dizzy Imp, who was still reeling from being tossed around on the deck, into the high sky.

The Imp dangled in the air like a toy doll at the end of the long rope. After a good while, a scream like that of a man shot by an arrow came from the air. It wasn't that he was slow to react, but that he was too shocked, almost suffocated. It took a while for him to realize that he was already floating high in the sky.

The Imp's screams were heart-wrenching!

However, the screaming didn't last long. The dragon was flying very fast, and the cold wind quickly filled the Imp's wide mouth, rushing down his throat and into his stomach, making his whole body feel like it was falling into an ice cellar. He quickly closed his mouth and his eyes, not daring to open them.

The autumn night wind howled, forcing the Imp to gasp for breath. The feeling of weightlessness in the sky made him feel like he was about to fall and die.

He was terrified!

He didn't know how long had passed, maybe just a few heartbeats, maybe a hundred years, when a voice suddenly rang out like thunder, a voice the Imp knew well, the Mountain's voice: "Daenerys, I've taken your Hand, Tyrion. We need to find a place to sit down and have a drink. Since you're willing to negotiate, please order your Dothraki riders to retreat."

The Imp barely opened his eyes and realized that the dragon had flown to the waters off Dragonstone, where the lights of hundreds of warships shone below.

The Mountain was shouting down to Daenerys.

Whoosh!

The Imp's body suddenly swung violently, and he let out an uncontrollable cry—Ahhhhhh!—When the rope jerked him back, he realized that the Mountain hadn't let go of him. Instead, the dragon had climbed higher and circled upwards.

The Mountain didn't wait for Daenerys to respond to his shout, and directly commanded Sheepstealer to climb higher and leave.

In the night sky, a dragon carried two people: the Mountain and Arianne. A long, thick rope hung down, with a person tied to it—Her Majesty the Queen's Hand: the Imp Tyrion Lannister. The other end of the rope was held in the Mountain's hand, and whenever the dragon made a turn, the Imp would swing out violently, as if the Mountain had let go and thrown him away. Each time, he was so frightened that he screamed ahhhhhh until the rope reached its end and yanked his small body back, like a super-flying swing.

The Imp had never experienced such a sensation, and he would surely never forget it!

When the dragon flew over the Mountains of the Moon, the air became even colder, and the Imp finally couldn't withstand such a thrilling journey and fainted.

*

He didn't know how long had passed before the Imp woke up groggily. He heard what sounded like the giggling of women; he wasn't sure if it was a dream or reality. He smelled the tempting aroma of roasted meat; in addition, there were several powerful auras that made him feel obvious pressure in the distance; and his body seemed to be warm, as if he were in front of a blazing charcoal stove.

The Imp slowly opened his eyes and saw sunlight, grass, mountains, trees—and a row of roasted meat in front of him, with goat, fox, wolf, and rabbit… The Imp couldn't believe it. He shook his head, closed his eyes, and then opened them again: That's right, in front of him was indeed a long row of barbecue racks, each triangular rack with animal meat roasting on it, and dozens of strangely dressed men and women were tending the charcoal fire, turning the meat, and brushing it with sauces and seasonings…

The aroma of the meat was overwhelming, so rich that it couldn't be dispelled, a scent that the Imp had never smelled before, making him feel extremely comfortable inside and out, revitalizing his tired body and mind.

"He's awake!" A woman's voice rang out in the distance.

The Imp followed the sound and looked up. On the hillside, on the green grass, a radiant woman was riding a tall, fiery horse-like beast—Princess Arianne Martell of Dorne. The fiery horse-like beast had a long, sharp horn in the middle of its head, like a short spear.

The Imp recognized this strange beast. It was the unicorn that the Mountain had subdued on the Claw Peninsula—Red Smoke!

The Imp's heart was filled with astonishment. He stood up, and then he was completely stunned—on the higher hillside, in a large black area, four dragons were lying on the ground sunbathing—and the Mountain was in the middle of these four dragons, talking to them.

The other three dragons were Daenerys's three children: the black dragon Drogon, the bronze dragon Rhaegal, and the white dragon Viserion. The three dragons looked like three obedient children in front of Sheepstealer.

The Imp was struck by lightning. A roaring sound rolled back and forth in his head. He staggered, quickly steadied himself, his one eye widened to the fullest, his mouth open, unable to close, like a stone carving. After a good while, his black eye rotated, proving that he was actually alive.

With a delicate shout, Arianne rode the Red Smoke beast over, and with a snap, she flicked the whip in her hand, wrapping it around a roasted wild dog dripping with yellow oil. With a flick of her wrist, the dog meat on the barbecue triangle rack flew into the air…

The Imp's one eye blinked, and he subconsciously thought that Arianne's body would be splattered with oil. But he was wrong. The dog meat flew up, and the Red Smoke beast also ran towards the hillside. It ran so fast that it was like an arrow shot out, and the dog meat on the whip was dragged up, following behind the person and the beast like a kite that couldn't fly.

"Viserion! Eat!" Arianne shouted. She used High Valyrian, the dragon-riding command.

The Imp understood this sentence. He had been by Daenerys's side and had heard Daenerys shout like this. The Imp had also learned a few simple dragon words, such as: Dragonfire!

The white dragon heard Arianne's shout and swooped down from a low altitude with a whoosh, gliding towards this side.

Arianne shouted delicately, and with a forceful flick of the whip in her hand, the roasted dog meat on the whip flew up, over her head, and towards the white dragon. The white dragon stretched out its long neck, let out a soft dragon roar, flapped its wings, swooped over, and caught the food in its mouth…

The Imp watched, forgetting everything—the mountains, the wind, the sunlight, and himself, the Mountain and the dragons, all forgotten.

A faint voice sounded in his mind from an extremely distant place. In the blink of an eye, the voice boomed from afar, exploding in his mind, filling his entire perception: The Mountain and Arianne are training dragons here—training Daenerys's dragons—how is this possible? An completely impossible thing, I must be seeing things, no no no, no—

The Imp's shout of "No" was earth-shattering. In fact, he didn't make any sound. The shout was in his heart, in the depths of his soul—no—

*

Two hours later, it was afternoon.

"Imp, what do you think of my ranch?" The Mountain sat in front of the barbecue rack and pointed to the hillside below.

The Imp had already seen the huge fenced-in ranch below the mountain, but he didn't raise his head and was preoccupied with drinking and eating meat. He had already drunk cup after cup, and wine stains covered his chest, wetting his noble and well-fitting formal attire. Both of his hands were covered in oil, and so were his cuffs. He ate greedily, wiping the oil on his hands on his formal attire.

On his left chest, he wore an exquisite golden badge: Hand of the King.

"You can continue to eat the meat, but you can't drink any more wine," the Mountain said again.

The Imp paid no attention and continued to grab the wine skin, pouring himself a bowl full of wine.

"One last bowl," the Mountain said in a gentle tone.

Glug, glug, glug, the Imp drank the wine in large gulps, the wine flowing down his whiskered beard and onto his chest.

The Imp drank the bowl of wine in one breath. He reached out to take the wine skin again, but he took an empty one. A woman from the Burned Men had already taken away all the wine skins. The Imp stood up to chase after her, but the Mountain's hand gently rested on his shoulder, and the Imp was immediately unable to move, as if a mountain peak had pressed down on his small shoulders.

The Imp glared at the Mountain.

"You're here to negotiate. I won't negotiate with a drunkard," the Mountain said.

"Drink to your heart's content first, then negotiate."

"Negotiate first, then drink. This concerns human lives."

"Human lives? You care about that?"

"I don't care about that. You care about that."

"I don't care either."

"Good, Arianne, release the raven."

"Yes, Lord Mountain." Arianne stood up and walked towards the living quarters.

Not far down the hillside, a row of houses had been built.

"Wait!" The Imp threw down the rabbit leg in his hand and wiped his hands clean of grease on his noble and elegant Hand's attire. "If I want to drink enough wine before negotiating, whose lives are you planning to take?"

"Jaime Lannister, Cersei Lannister, Tommen Lannister, Myrcella Lannister," the Mountain said slowly.

The Imp's nonchalant expression immediately collapsed!

"You want to usurp the throne? Seize Tommen's Iron Throne?" He stood up all of a sudden, but he didn't realize it himself.

"Only a fool would fight for the Iron Throne. That chair is very uncomfortable to sit on, and you might accidentally cut your hand on the blade. You know this, and I know this."

"Ha!" The Imp's "ha" was full of mockery.

"Daenerys is finished." The Mountain pointed to the black area on the hillside. In that dragon's territory, several dragons were doing things that were not suitable for children. Dragons are silver by nature, this is normal daily life between lovers.

"She's the Unburnt, a dragon rider. You can't tame her dragons."

"I can't tame Drogon, he's already bonded; but Rhaegal and Viserion don't have dragon riders yet."

"Viserion already belongs to me. I'm also of dragonseed." Arianne Martell smiled. "The blood of the Targaryen family flows in my veins. The Targaryen family and the Martell family have been marrying each other for a long time."

The Imp was stifled!

The Mountain said calmly, "Imp, my Sheepstealer is a female dragon. If I'm lucky, she might lay four or more dragon eggs for me at once. One dragon egg is one dragon. And it only takes a day or a night to hatch a dragon. It only takes a year for a dragon to have initial combat power."

"You want to have more dragons?"

"A hundred and seventy years ago, there were six wild dragons on Dragonstone Mountain on Dragonstone Island, one of which was Sheepstealer. I hope Westeros can return to the age of dragons." The Mountain looked at Sheepstealer on the hillside. "Sheepstealer is already the king of four dragons, just like Daenerys is your king. Imp, kneel down, swear allegiance to me, be my most loyal vassal, and I will guarantee Jaime, Cersei, Tommen, and Myrcella a way out. I will let them leave Westeros safely, just like I once sent you away safely. If you don't submit to me, they will die miserably. I will also sell Myrcella and Cersei to the pleasure houses, and maybe after a year or two, I will strangle them."

Thank you to [Book Friend 20171013134223443] and [Wahaha] for the rewards, grateful, handshake.