NOVEL NEXT Chapter 33: When Serpents Make Their Entrance
King's Landing: The Back Alleys
In the shadowy alleys of King's Landing, two figures in bloodied black armor moved with purpose. One wore a golden silk scarf streaked with grime and blood, which he adjusted as he crouched over a lifeless body, inspecting it with an almost casual curiosity. A dagger jutted from the man's throat, and a sword was lodged deep in his stomach.
"Another one of these red-scarf bastards," Aegon muttered, frustration etched into his voice. "The closer we get to the docks, the more of them we run into."
Behind him, Aemond held another man against the wall with Blackfyre, the Valyrian steel blade, glinting under the dim light. "Who sent you?" Aemond demanded, his voice sharp and dangerous.
Aegon ignored his brother's interrogation, prodding at the dead body's side with his dagger. "Stop that and focus," Aemond snapped, irritation rising.
Before Aemond could get his answer, the pinned man lunged with a concealed dagger. It was a futile effort; Aemond's reflexes were faster. With a single, decisive swing, Blackfyre severed the man's head, sending it tumbling to the ground.
"Tsk," Aemond spat, his anger barely contained. "We still don't know why this is happening."
Aegon stood, wiping his blade on the dead man's tunic. "Relax, brother. This will all blow over once our sister sits her spiky chair. Then I'll be back on my ship with the Moon Fairy and enough wine to drown a peasant."
Aemond turned to his brother, scrutinizing him. Aegon had never shown much interest in swordplay or bloodshed, dismissing it as a waste of time. Yet today, his blade moved with a disturbing ease, his demeanor unnervingly calm. For all his usual hedonism and theatrics, there was a darker side to Aegon that Aemond was only now beginning to see.
"Let's keep moving," Aegon said, his tone flat as he sheathed his blade and stepped over the bodies.
Open Seas: The Approach to King's Landing
Above the fleet, four dragons soared in unison, their massive wings slicing through the air. Daemon, perched atop Caraxes, pointed toward the distant horizon. "There they are! Make yourselves known!"
The dragon riders pulled horns from their belts and blew them in a synchronized call. The haunting tones echoed across the sea, followed by deafening roars from the dragons. Below, hundreds of ships bristled with life as sailors and soldiers looked to the skies in awe and apprehension.
Suddenly, a figure took to the air, smaller than the dragons but larger than any ordinary human. Laughter rang out, wild and unrestrained. Aegon the Winged, riding without a saddle or reins, performed a daring spin in the air, his laughter blending with the dragons' roars.
"The gods see you, oh Queen of the Seven Kingdoms!" Aegon shouted, his voice amplified by the wind. "The Endals and the First Men see you! King Consort, Prince, and heir to the Seven Kingdoms, oh my sister! Lead your people to glory!"
From below, a great splash broke the sea's surface. A seafoam-green, serpentine dragon emerged, its wings sending torrents of water cascading over the ships. Ophiuchus, Aegon's unique and fearsome dragon, screeched as it ascended. The beast exuded a terrifying grace, its agility in the air unmatched. With a practiced ease, Ophiuchus caught Aegon mid-dive, carrying him skyward as the prince stood confidently on its back.
Daemon couldn't help but marvel. Ophiuchus was unlike any dragon he had seen, its serpentine movements a mesmerizing blend of fluidity and power. Even Caraxes, with all his battle scars and ferocity, seemed less wild in comparison.
"Pirate Prince," Rhaenyra called out, shouting against the wind, "will Vhagar or my sister join us?"
"Of course," Aegon replied, grinning. "They'll arrive a day or two after us. Vhagar's retired now—she prefers to lord over her own little island with villagers to feed and groom her."
Jacarys, baffled, yelled, "Surely you jest!"
Daemon laughed heartily. "My boy rarely jests when it comes to dragons."
"Indeed," Aegon said with a smirk. "Vhagar eats pirates, not people. She's picky that way."
Rhaenyra watched Aegon closely, her eyes lingering on his dragon. Ophiuchus, with its scars and predatory movements, was a stark contrast to her own Syrax, a dragon of regal bearing but undeniably tame. Had she, in her efforts to maintain control, defanged her own dragon? The thought gnawed at her.
"What's the plan?" Rhaenyra asked, crossing her arms as the wind whipped around them.
"I'll retrieve your crown, the High Septon, and Blackfyre," Aegon declared. "We'll crown you in the Dragonpit and make the traitors kneel. My fleet has flowers, statues—I've prepared a performance for the ages. Oh, and I've brought clothes. Something more colorful than your current... ahem... leathers."
The others exchanged glances, momentarily self-conscious in their utilitarian riding gear. Aegon, by contrast, was a vision of pageantry, clad in full plate armor adorned with a serpentine dragon motif and a flowing blue cape.
Daemon scowled. "What's wrong with our riding leathers? We wear them with pride."
"They're ugly," Aegon shot back without hesitation. "But don't worry—my contacts in Braavos and the Summer Isles have prepared outfits worthy of the occasion. For now, make yourselves known!"
Ahead, the outline of King's Landing grew clearer. Aegon drew his greatsword and axe, their inscriptions catching the light: Watch unto me and Do you see me. He roared, his voice primal and commanding.
"Do you see me? Look at me! Watch me!" he bellowed, crouching as Ophiuchus dove toward the fleet in an acrobatic display. The other dragons followed suit, their riders matching his daring maneuvers as the people on the ships out fishing erupted in cheers and cries of astonishment.
Ophiuchus roared, a sound so alien and terrifying that even the other dragons quieted momentarily. Aegon's laughter rang out again, echoing across the sea. Below, the sailors and soldiers stared in awe at the serpentine dragon and its audacious rider. They were performers, yes—but they were also harbingers of the queen's return.