The Dragonpit, King's Landing.
Rain lashed against King's Landing. Lightning and thunder rolled over the Hill of Rhaenys.
The Dragonpit, a magnificent stone hall large enough to house dozens of dragons, shimmered with a dark, damp luster under the downpour.
Outside the sole exit, three newly reinforced watchtowers stood in a triangular formation.
Beneath the oilcloth canopies, a hundred elite guards in oil-slicked cloaks gripped their halberds and heavy crossbows, their eyes scanning the ground with sharp vigilance.
These were the personal guards handpicked by Aemond Targaryen.
Their orders were cold and absolute: anyone approaching the interior of the Dragonpit who was not a Green or a Dragonkeeper was to be executed on sight.
Inside the western wing of the Pit, the air was stagnant, heavy with the scent of sulfur and the distinct musk of dragons.
Thick iron bars and heavy chains divided the natural caverns into several enclosures.
In one of these cells, the dark green dragon Vermax was anxiously scraping the rock with his powerful hind claws, creating a piercing screech.
His amber pupils constricted and dilated under the dim torchlight as he stared at the tunnel entrance, a low, expectant rumble rolling in his throat.
He smelled it. The scent of his master!
Though the iron collar and heavy chains restricted his movements, they could not suppress the restless yearning in his senses.
In the neighboring cell, the bronze-brown Arrax rested his head on his forepaws, while further in, Tyraxes paced incessantly in circles.
To the east, on a wide stone ledge, the magnificent golden form of Sunfyre lay coiled, breathing deeply in a light slumber.
Nearby, in a dry corner, the two hatchlings belonging to Prince Baelon and Princess Daena, the snow-white Ymir and the grey Rockfang, slept huddled together.
Dragonkeepers stood guard in groups at the tunnel intersections, wrapped in heavy cloaks to ward off the night's chill and the creeping exhaustion.
None of them noticed that in the deeper shadows of an old ventilation shaft, several pairs of eyes were tracking their every move.
"The shift change... in less than half an hour," whispered Giles, a Dragonkeeper captain whose face bore severe burn scars.
He was accompanied by a few trusted subordinates. They had once been the keepers of Syrax, dedicated to Princess Rhaenyra.
Though she had left the city years ago, she had never forgotten her loyal servants, often looking after their families on Dragonstone.
Tonight was their day of reckoning.
"It's time..." another voice joined in.
It was Jacaerys Velaryon. He was dressed in Dragonkeeper leather armor, the material slick with either sweat or dampness.
This was a rare opportunity; Aemond was not in King's Landing, but at Harrenhal.
Jacaerys's remaining eye glinted sharply in the dark, fixed on the empty wine jugs at the feet of the two dozing guards.
Behind him stood his brothers, Lucerys and Joffrey, both visibly nervous, their breathing shallow.
"My Lord, remember," Giles turned to him.
"Once inside, go straight for your dragons. I have the keys ready." He patted his chest.
"Vermax's chains are the thickest; I'll unlock him first. Robin and Tom have the keys for Arrax and Tyraxes. Once they are free, ignore everything else, mount them and charge for the exit!"
"The main gate has our people; it's not fully closed, just a crack. Vermax should be able to ram through it easily!"
"What about you?" Lucerys asked, unable to hide his worry.
Giles offered a grim smile.
"Once you fly out and cause a commotion, we'll slip through the rear dragon-dung chutes and head for the docks. We have a ship waiting. The bigger the scene you cause in the sky, the more you draw the eyes of the guards in the towers, the better our chance of survival."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the three brothers.
"So, Lord Jacaerys... do not hesitate. Do not look back."
Jacaerys nodded firmly. "I understand. Let's go."
Giles signaled and moved like a ghost. His familiarity with the Dragonpit was unmatched.
Jacaerys followed closely, while Lucerys gave the dazed Joffrey a nudge, and the three of them filed out into the corridor.
They were less than twenty paces from the entrance guards. The smell of wine and the sound of snoring were unmistakable.
Giles peeked around a stone pillar, gave Jacaerys a "wait" gesture, then pointed to himself and the two guards.
He slowly drew two daggers from his belt, the blades catching a faint, blueish tint in the dim light.
Just as Giles coiled his strength to throw, one guard mumbled incoherently and shifted. Everyone froze.
But the guard only scratched his cheek, smacked his lips, and tilted his head the other way as his snoring resumed.
A cold light flashed in Giles's eyes. No more hesitation. His muscles bunched, and his wrists flicked!
Swish! Swish!
Two faint but sharp whistles cut the air simultaneously. The guards jerked in unison, blood blooming precisely at their throats.
Their eyes flew open as they clawed uselessly at their necks, trying to scream but only managing a gurgling wheeze.
Their pupils dilated instantly as their bodies slumped forward.
Giles and a keeper named Robin lunged forward, catching the bodies before they hit the floor and dragging them into the darkness of a side cave.
"Quick!" Giles hissed, pulling out a heavy ring of keys.
Jacaerys was the first to reach Vermax's enclosure. The dragon had already sensed him, rearing up on his forelegs as his chains rattled loudly.
A roar of joy and urgency erupted from his throat as he pushed his massive head against the gaps in the bars.
"Quiet, my dragon, quiet..." Jacaerys's voice trembled with suppressed emotion.
He reached through the bars, touching the warm, hard scales of Vermax's snout.
The years of humiliation, the sting of his lost eye, the broken betrothal, and the fury of losing his dragon... it all dissolved into hot tears in his single eye.
"Vermax, I'm here... I'm taking you home!"
Giles found the largest key, slid it into the lock with a click, and twisted with all his might.
Clack!
The heavy lock sprang open. Giles and Robin worked together to unwind the cold, heavy chains from the gate and the dragon's neck collar, casting them aside.
"Roar!"
With his shackles gone, Vermax let out a triumphant low roar.
He pushed the gate open with his head, his snout pressing affectionately and forcefully against Jacaerys's chest, the force nearly knocking him backward.
"Good! Good lad!"
Jacaerys hugged the dragon's head for a brief moment, then scrambled up, grabbing the straps of the old saddle that had never been fully removed.
He pulled himself up into the seat. The familiar position and the sensation of commanding his dragon made him want to scream toward the heavens!
Nearby, Lucerys and Joffrey, with the help of Robin and Tom, had quickly unchained Arrax and Tyraxes.
The two young dragons were equally ecstatic, circling their masters and letting out cheerful trills.
"Go! Move now!" Giles pointed toward the main hall, his face tight with tension.
The three dragons, carrying their riders and led by Giles and the others, moved rapidly through the winding tunnels into the wide, arched corridor leading to the main hall of the Dragonpit.
The sounds of footsteps, dragon claws clicking against stone, and excited, muffled roars echoed through the passage.
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