Lys, the courtyard of the Princes Residence.
The afternoon sunlight filtered through the vines, casting dappled shadows on the bluestone ground.
On a stone table in a corner of the courtyard lay several sheets of parchment covered in complex runes, the ink still fresh.
Aegon sat by the table, his fingers unconsciously tapping the surface, his gaze falling upon those obscure Valyrian characters...
The ancient knowledge of Blood Magic in his mind was being organized, recorded, and attempted to be understood by him bit by bit.
From not far away came clear neighs and a young girl's light laughter.
Daenerys sat on a stone bench by the pond, with the milky-white dragonling with pale gold wingtips, Meraxes, lying on her lap.
The little dragon half-squinted its vertical pupils, allowing Daenerys's fingers to gently comb the fine scales behind its neck, letting out a comfortable purr.
Lia stood in the shade of a tree a bit further away, holding the emerald-colored Vhagar in her arms.
Vhagar was quieter than Meraxes, but its gaze always followed the most active figure in the pond...
Balerion.
This black dragonling was the most lively and active of the three.
It was currently flapping its fledgling wings, skimming low over the courtyard, startling several resting birds.
With a dive into the pond, splashing water everywhere, it emerged a moment later clutching a plump ornamental red fish in its mouth and landed on the rockery.
It tilted its head, letting out a triumphant gurgle from its throat, and then exhaled a small puff of hot dragonflame, the fire precisely grazing the fish's body, instantly roasting it to a fragrant char.
It swallowed it in a few bites, shook its head in satisfaction, water droplets and sparks flying together.
Watching its naughty yet spirited appearance, Daenerys couldn't help but chuckle, a gentle light rippling in her purple eyes.
Lia also looked on somewhat dazed, her tense body relaxing slightly.
This scene, amidst the afternoon sun and the fragrance of the courtyard's greenery, actually had a strange, warm feeling like an ordinary family.
New life and protection, peace and vitality.
Aegon's gaze rose from the parchment in his hand and fell upon the scene in the courtyard.
The corner of his mouth hooked into an extremely faint, almost soft curve, nearly imperceptible.
But this curve quickly vanished, like thin ice under the sun.
He lowered his eyelids again, pulling his attention back to the Blood Magic literature in his hand concerning power and price.
He had tried to let Daenerys come into contact with this knowledge, showing her the parts he had transcribed.
But Dany lacked systematic basic training in magic, and understanding those profound runes and energy conversion principles was truly difficult.
This couldn't be rushed; it could only be guided slowly in the future. Perhaps... once her bond with the little dragons deepened and her sensing of her own bloodline power grew stronger, it would be easier to start.
"Your Highness."
The figure of a Personal Guard appeared at the entrance of the courtyard, bowing respectfully and interrupting the brief tranquility.
Aegon looked up.
"The Stepstones, the latest battle report from Commander-in-Chief Luc." The Personal Guard stepped forward, presenting a letter with a special wax seal with both hands.
Aegon took it, opened it, and scanned it quickly.
The letter was in Luc's own handwriting, the script slightly messy, carrying the scent of smoke.
It reported another fierce clash with Saradog Sann's pirate coalition. Both sides were repeatedly back and forth between several major islands, with significant casualties.
Luc stated he was still looking for an opportunity for a decisive battle, but admitted that the pirates were putting up a desperate struggle relying on complex terrain and reefs. The war had fallen into a stalemate, and it would be difficult to resolve completely in the short term, requesting more time...
After Aegon finished reading, he placed the letter on the stone table, his fingers lightly tapping the cold surface.
The purpose of tempering had already been achieved.
Luc and the Ash Regiment had experienced hard battles, seen blood, and struggled in adversity.
Continuing to let them consume resources long-term against pirates familiar with the terrain without the support of decisive power made little sense.
It would just be pointless bloodshed and a waste of precious time.
And time... what he lacked most now was perhaps time.
He had just received the latest intelligence from King's Landing this morning.
Robert Baratheon, that former stag, had ultimately died under the tusks of a wild boar, exiting in an almost absurd manner.
Eddard Stark, that stubborn Warden of the North, had also, as he expected, left his head on the steps of the Great Sept of Baelor because of his own honor and laws.
The War of the Five Kings had already begun.
Westeros was falling into the chaos he envisioned as most suitable for intervention.
It was time to go back.
To take back everything belonging to the Targaryens.
And to make those usurpers, traitors, and those who stained Targaryen blood in countless conspiracies pay the price they should have paid long ago.
"Aegon?" Daenerys noticed the change in his expression, stood up holding Meraxes, and walked over.
Lia also held Vhagar and followed closely behind, concern on her face.
Aegon looked at her and said calmly, "The war in the Stepstones is at a stalemate. Luc needs a decisive victory to break the balance."
"Are you going personally?" Daenerys immediately understood his meaning.
"Yes." Aegon nodded. "Delay is useless. A swift sweep to wrap things up quickly, and then... the Western Expedition to Westeros."
The Western Expedition to Westeros.
These six words made Daenerys's expression instantly become complex.
A trace of daze, a trace of throbbing, and a trace of unspeakable heaviness flashed through her purple eyes.
This was the dream that her brother Viserys had spent his whole life, even until madness, obsessively shouting for, and also the "home" she had carried since birth but never truly set foot on.
That iron throne, that continent, those surnames... to her, they were more like bitter symbols from her years in exile and her brother's crazed mutterings.
She had recently been to the Perfume Garden.
Viserys lived there, wearing fine clothes, drinking fine wine, staring blankly at their mother's crown, or delivering "kingly speeches" to the air with bleary eyes.
He seemed to have forgotten the previous madness and betrayal, like an empty shell emptied of content, waiting to be refilled.
Only when she occasionally visited with Balerion would a glimmer flash in his eyes... excitement, complexity, eventually turning into a strange sense of relief.
She had left a dragon egg, picked from the secret chamber and still possessing a faint warmth, in the Perfume Garden, pleading with Aegon to allow Viserys to "care" for it.
Aegon agreed.
Their mother's recovered crown was the first cornerstone to fill that empty shell named "Viserys," and that dragon egg was the second.
Perhaps when the shell was refilled, and when that egg hatched... the brother who used to show her a bit of warmth in the early days of exile could return a little bit in some way.
And the person who gave all these possibilities was Aegon.
Crowning her, pulling her back from the flames, giving her stability and respect, sharing deep secrets, bringing the newborn dragons, and even forgiving her betraying brother...
Her heart had long ago, unknowingly, been completely occupied by this figure with silver hair and purple eyes, who carried the full weight of the family but still kept his back straight.
Daenerys took a deep breath, suppressing her surging thoughts.
She looked at Aegon, her eyes becoming clear and firm again: "Lia and I will help you prepare."
Aegon did not refuse.
The three left the courtyard and came to a dedicated armor room next to the study.
The set of valyrian steel armor obtained in the Valyrian Ruins was now hung on a special ebony stand, each piece of armor flowing with a unique luster as dark as night yet containing hidden starlight under the dim indoor light.
The design was magnificent yet sinister, full of ancient Valyrian style, but the design at the joints revealed unusual flexibility and precision.
Daenerys and Lia stepped forward and began to dress Aegon.
Cold metal war boots encased his calves.
Pitch-black gauntlets covered his forearms, with slightly protruding claw shapes at the knuckles.
Heavy tassets hung down, with dark red leather lining underneath; the gorget, carved with patterns of circling dragons, was carefully lifted and fastened above the breastplate, fitting perfectly.
When the last piece of pauldron was fixed, Daenerys picked up the dark red cloak hanging nearby.
The cloak was of heavy texture, its edges embroidered with complex patterns in gold thread, and at its center was the bold and sinister Targaryen three-headed red dragon crest.
She stood on tiptoe, carefully fastening the cloak's clasp to the armor ring on Aegon's left shoulder.
The dark red cloak fell, unfurling behind him like congealed blood and night.
Finally, the helmet.
That helmet, also forged from Valyrian Steel, was shaped like outspread dragon wings; when the visor was closed, it left only a narrow observation slit for the eyes, the entire design filled with majesty and cold deterrence.
Daenerys held up the helmet with both hands, it was somewhat heavy. She looked at Aegon, and Aegon lowered his head slightly.
The helmet was put on, connecting seamlessly with the armor on his head and neck.
The visor dropped, concealing that handsome yet often too cold and hard face, only a strand of silver hair and deep purple gaze were faintly visible through the observation slit.
In an instant, the air in the study seemed to stagnate.
Standing before them was no longer just Aegon Targaryen.
It was a Dragonlord stepped out of ancient legends, born for war and destruction.
The dark light of the Valyrian Steel, the killing intent of the deep red cloak, the sinister dragon-wing helmet, and that calm yet seemingly soul-freezing gaze coming through the observation slit... together formed an extremely impactful picture.
Daenerys's purple eyes were completely occupied by this black figure that had suddenly become incredibly strange and majestic.
She felt her heart race and her breathing slightly catch.
She had never seen Rhaegar, and didn't know what kind of presence that brother, known as the "Last true dragon," had when he donned armor and held a sword.
But at this moment, looking at Aegon before her, a voice in her heart said: A true dragon should perhaps look like this.
Silent, majestic, carrying the supreme dignity of bloodline and power, and... a trace of cold baleful aura born for revenge and conquest.
Lia was even more entranced, standing there holding Vhagar in her arms, her pale purple eyes unblinking, filled with shock, awe, and an unspeakable longing.
Aegon moved his neck and arms, the armor joints making a subtle and smooth metal friction sound, not feeling heavy at all.
He walked to the weapon rack on the side and took down the two longswords hanging there, the dark sisters representing power, and Blackfyre symbolizing authority.
He securely fastened them to the special clips on his waist.
Then, he turned to face Daenerys.
His voice, muffled by the dragon-head visor, sounded somewhat low and blurred, yet with a metallic quality: "Watch the house."
Only three simple words.
Daenerys nodded vigorously, her fingertips turning slightly white from the force: "Be careful."
Aegon said no more, only gave her an almost imperceptible nod, then turned and walked out of the armor room with steady and powerful steps, heading towards the wide area cleared outside the residence specifically for Ghidorah's takeoff and landing.
The cloak fluttered behind him, rubbing against the black armor with a rustling sound, like a war flag unfurling in the wind.
Daenerys and Lia followed him to the door, watching his back disappear around the corner of the corridor.
Soon, a low and majestic dragon roar came from outside, along with the whistling of air currents whipped up by strong winds.
They walked quickly to a high terrace of the residence.
In the distance on the open ground, the pale gold behemoth had already landed, its six molten-gold vertical pupils flashing with cold light in the sunlight.
That black figure wearing the dark red cloak was agilely climbing onto Ghidorah's back along the temporarily erected ladder.
Aegon sat firmly, grasping the protrusions on the dragon's back.
Ghidorah's three heads rose simultaneously, letting out a roar that shook heaven and earth.
Giant wings suddenly unfurled, blotting out the sun.
Hind legs kicked off the ground, and the massive body, aided by the anti-gravity field, soared into the sky with an agility inconsistent with its size, whipping up violent air currents that made the flags below flap loudly and sand and stones fly.
The pale gold dragon shadow quickly rose, circled once over the City of Lys, and then sped away towards the southeast... in the direction of the Stepstones, its speed getting faster and faster, eventually turning into a rapidly shrinking gold dot on the horizon.
Daenerys looked up, her purple eyes following that gold dot until it completely merged into the clouds and light of the high sky, no longer visible.
Her heart seemed to fly away with that dragon shadow, hanging in mid-air.
After a good while, she gently exhaled and withdrew her gaze.
Only then did she notice that her maid Lia beside her was still staring blankly in the direction where the dragon had disappeared, her pale purple eyes unblinking, her face still holding the un-faded shock and a certain... almost infatuated focus.
A trace of an extremely faint ripple, which even she herself didn't fully understand, inexplicably rose in Daenerys's heart.
She Slightly furrowed brows, nudged Lia gently with her elbow.
"Ah!" Lia cried out, snapping back to her senses. Realizing her loss of composure, her cheeks instantly turned red, and she hurriedly lowered her head, clutching Vhagar in her arms in a fluster.
"Prin... Princess, I..."
Seeing her ashamed and panicked look, that inexplicable ripple quietly dissipated, and Daenerys instead found it somewhat funny.
She shook her head, her tone calm: "Let's go, it's time to feed Balerion. He ate some roasted fish just now, but I'm afraid it wasn't enough."
"Yes, Princess," Lia replied softly, secretly letting out a sigh of relief, and followed behind Daenerys, leaving the terrace with Vhagar in her arms.
Peace returned to the courtyard, with only the rustling of the wind through the grapevine leaves and the slight ripples in the shallow pond.
But in the air, there seemed to be a lingering aura of the dragon's takeoff just now, and the silent martial atmosphere brought by that black-armored figure.
Ãdvåñçé çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn luffy1898