Rain beat down upon King's Landing.
Rhaenys's Hill stood amid flashes of lightning and thunder.
The Dragonpit— that magnificent stone hall capable of housing dozens of dragons—its dome glimmered with a dim, damp sheen beneath the curtain of rain.
Outside the only exit, three newly reinforced watchtowers stood in a horn formation. Beneath the oilcloth shelters atop the towers, a hundred elite soldiers wore oil-soaked cloaks, gripping long halberds and heavy crossbows, their eyes vigilantly scanning the ground below.
They were the personal guard personally selected by Aemond. The order was cold and absolute: anyone approaching the interior of the Dragonpit who was not a member of the Green royal faction or a dragon guard was to be killed without mercy.
On the watchtowers, the sound of rain, the distant rumble of thunder, suppressed coughing… tonight was destined to be hard to endure.
...
Inside the Dragonpit, western sector.
The air was murky, filled with sulfur and the distinctive bloody scent of dragons.
Thick iron bars and heavy chains divided the natural cavern into several compartments.
In one of the enclosures, the dark-green young dragon Vermax anxiously scraped at the rock with its powerful hind claws, producing a harsh grinding sound.
Its amber vertical pupils opened and narrowed repeatedly under the dim torchlight, staring fixedly toward the entrance of the passage, a low, eager rumble rolling in its throat.
It had smelled it.
That was its master's scent!
Although the iron collar locked around its neck and the thick chain fixed to the rock wall restricted its movement, they could not restrain the agitation and longing within its senses.
Next door, the gray-white Arrax had buried its head beneath its foreclaws.
At the very back, Tyraxes kept pacing in circles.
In the eastern sector of the Dragonpit, upon a protruding wide stone platform, Sunfyre lay coiled, its molten-gold body magnificent as flowing gold, breathing slowly as it dozed.
Not far away, in a dry corner, the two young dragons belonging to Jaehaerys and Ysera— the snow-white Ymir and the gray Rockfang—slept pressed close together.
Several dragon guards were divided into two groups, standing watch at the intersection of the passages.
Thick cloaks wrapped around them shielded them from the night's creeping cold and drowsiness.
No one noticed that, in the darker shadows along the fork leading toward the old ventilation shaft, several pairs of eyes were staring intently at their every move.
"Shift change… less than half an hour left," a voice said in a very low tone. The speaker was the dragon guard captain with severe burn scars across his face, Gaels.
Several trusted men stood beside him.
They had once been the dragon guards assigned exclusively to care for Princess Rhaenyra's dragon, Syrax.
Although Rhaenyra had left King's Landing many years ago, she had never forgotten these loyal servants of hers, often looking after their families on Dragonstone.
Tonight was the moment for them to repay that kindness.
"…Almost time…" another voice continued. It was Jacaerys Velaryon.
He wore dragon guard leather armor; whether soaked with sweat or dampness, it clung tightly to his tensed muscles.
This was a rare opportunity. Aemond was not in King's Landing, but at Harrenhal.
His only remaining right eye gleamed sharply in the darkness, staring fixedly in the direction Gaels had indicated—toward the empty wine jug lying overturned at the feet of the two dozing guards.
Behind him were his brothers Lucerys and Joffrey, both equally tense, their breathing slightly quickened.
"My lord, remember," Gaels said, turning his head.
"Once inside, go straight for your dragons. I have the keys ready." He tapped the hard object against his chest.
"Vermax's chain is the thickest. I will open that one first."
"The keys for Arrax and Tyraxes are with Robin and Tom."
He gestured to the two dragon guards behind him. "Once they are unfastened, ignore everything else. Mount immediately and charge for the exit!"
"There are our men at the main gate. It isn't fully closed—they left a gap. Vermax should be able to smash it open easily!"
"And you?" Lucerys asked, unable to suppress the worry in his voice.
Gaels's mouth pulled into a wry smile. "Once you fly out and make a commotion, we'll slip out through the dragon-dung transport passage at the back and head straight for the docks."
"There's a ship waiting for us."
"The bigger the disturbance you make in the sky and the more you draw the attention of those dogs on the towers, the better our chances of surviving."
He paused, the gaze beneath the scars sweeping over the three brothers.
"So, Lord Jacaerys—don't hesitate, and don't look back."
Jacaerys nodded heavily.
"I understand. Move."
Gaels made a crisp gesture and went first, moving like a ghost.
His familiarity with the structure of the Dragonpit far exceeded that of ordinary men.
Jacaerys followed closely. Lucerys pushed the still somewhat stunned Joffrey, and the three moved out in single file.
Less than twenty paces remained to the guards at the entrance.
The smell of wine and the sound of snoring were clearly audible.
Gaels leaned half his face out from behind a stone pillar and gave Jacaerys a "wait" gesture, then pointed at himself and then at the two guards.
He slowly drew two daggers from the leather sheath at his waist, their edges glimmering faintly blue under the dim light.
Just as Gaels's wrist gathered strength, ready to throw the daggers—
"Mm…" one guard mumbled vaguely and shifted his body.
Everyone froze.
But the guard merely scratched his cheek, smacked his lips, tilted his head to the other side, and resumed snoring.
A cold flash burst in Gaels's eyes—there was no longer the slightest hesitation!
Both hands flicked, muscles surging!
Whoosh! Whoosh!
Two faint yet piercing sounds of air being cut rang out almost simultaneously!
The two guards' bodies jerked at the same time!
Blood burst precisely from their throats!
Their eyes flew open wide. Their hands clawed futilely at their throats. They tried to shout, yet only hoarse, leaking sounds escaped. Their pupils quickly scattered, and their bodies sagged forward.
Gaels and the dragon guard named Robin had already lunged forward. They seized the bodies at once and swiftly dragged them into the darkness of a nearby cavern.
The entire process was silent and clean.
"Quick!" Gaels barked in a low voice, pulling out the heavy ring of keys.
Jacaerys rushed first toward Vermax's enclosure!
The young dragon had already sensed him. It abruptly raised the front half of its body, iron chains clattering wildly!
From its throat burst a roar mixed with joy and urgency. Its massive head desperately tried to push through the gaps in the bars, its amber vertical pupils locking tightly onto its master.
"Quiet, my dragon, quiet…" Jacaerys's voice trembled uncontrollably.
His fingers slipped through the cold bars and touched the warm, hard scales beside Vermax's snout.
The humiliation they had endured, the pain of losing an eye, the ruined betrothal, the fury of having his dragon taken away…
All of it suddenly surged like burning liquid in his single eye.
"Vermax, I'm here… I'm taking you home!"
Gaels had already found the largest key. With a sharp click, he inserted it into the lock and twisted hard.
Clack!
The heavy lock sprang open.
Gaels and Robin worked together, quickly unfastening and casting aside the cold, heavy chains that had been wrapped several times around the barred gate and the dragon's neck collar.
"Roar!"
The instant the restraint was removed, Vermax let out a relieved, exultant growl. Eagerly, it shoved the barred gate open with its head. Its huge head stretched completely out, rubbing affectionately and forcefully against Jacaerys's chest, the strength nearly knocking him backward.
"Good! Good boy!" Jacaerys embraced the dragon's head, briefly pressing against the rough, warm scales. Then, using both hands and feet, he grabbed the loosened leather straps of the old saddle that still remained around the dragon's neck and climbed up with effort.
The long-lost riding position, the familiar sensation, the feeling of commanding a dragon—it nearly made him want to throw back his head and howl!
On the other side, Lucerys and Joffrey, with the help of Robin and Tom, had also quickly freed Arrax and Tyraxes from their restraints.
The two young dragons were equally excited. They circled their riders affectionately, rubbing their heads against them and letting out cheerful, muffled sounds.
"Go! Move!" Gaels pointed toward the direction they had come from, his face tight.
The three young dragons carried their riders forward. Under the guidance of Gaels and the others, they quickly passed through the winding corridors and entered a relatively wide arched passage leading toward the Dragonpit's main hall.
Footsteps, the clack of dragon claws scraping against rock, and the excited, suppressed growls of the young dragons echoed through the passage.
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