Aegon watched him gesticulate wildly, spittle flying, his face devoid of any expression.
It wasn't until Viserys himself was hoarse and breathless, staring intently with bloodshot, eager eyes, that Aegon slowly spoke. His voice was not loud, but carried an undeniable resolve, instantly silencing all of Viserys's clamor:
"You cannot stay in Pentos."
Viserys's fantasies came to an abrupt halt: "Wh-what?"
"Illyrio is dead, but the power struggle in Pentos will not cease; it will only become more chaotic. It is no longer safe here."
Aegon's gaze swept over the Pentos nobles gathered at the edge of the courtyard, watching in terror, before returning to Viserys's face.
"Go to Lys, my city. It has high walls, loyal armies, and is the safest place right now."
"You can see for yourselves there how our family's future should be rebuilt."
"What about you?" Viserys asked anxiously, stepping forward as if to grab Aegon's arm, but stopping in fear.
"Aren't you coming with us? Shouldn't you immediately organize the army and prepare for the expedition?"
"I'm going to Braavos," Aegon said, his tone calm.
"To handle some necessary diplomatic affairs. You go to Lys and settle in first; I will follow shortly."
Braavos? Diplomacy? Words like Iron Bank and alliances flashed through Viserys's mind.
He thought he understood, nodding heavily, a look of comprehension on his face:
"Yes! We need money! A lot of money! And allies! The Sealord of Braavos, the Iron Bank... excellent! You go negotiate! In the name of the Targaryen king, promise them trade privileges, future tax reductions! You must succeed!"
Aegon no longer looked at him, nor did he respond to his kingly promises.
He turned to Daenerys.
Her gaze had followed him all along, her tears stopped, but the emotions in her eyes were more complex and profound, reflecting the firelight, and his calm figure.
When Aegon's gaze met hers, she saw a faint glimmer in his deep purple eyes, a light that only she seemed able to read.
"When you arrive in Lys..." he said to her, his voice imperceptibly softer than when he spoke to Viserys, "someone will receive you."
"You can live there peacefully, study, and even participate in some political affairs, if you wish."
Daenerys nodded vigorously, her Hands clasped tightly in front of her.
Having spoken, Aegon wasted no more time.
He turned to the Pentos nobles, who were silent and cowering at the edge of the courtyard, his gaze falling on an old man, the most richly dressed among them, and currently trembling the most violently.
His voice clearly carried across the courtyard, which had suddenly fallen silent again:
"I need two of the fastest ships, the best sailors, and ample fresh water and provisions."
"To escort my uncle, Viserys Targaryen, and my aunt, Princess Daenerys Targaryen, to Lys."
"Now, immediately."
The old man's legs went weak, almost collapsing to his knees. He bowed hastily, his voice trembling: "Y-yes, Your Highness! I'll see to it immediately! Immediately!"
The command was relayed frantically, and the entire Governors Mansion, even the Port, once again fell into a frenzied, unnaturally efficient bustle driven by fear.
No one dared to delay in the slightest; the sight of Illyrio instantly vaporized and the lingering dragon's might above them were the best incentives.
As the last rays of the setting sun were about to be swallowed by the horizon, painting the sky a desolate purplish-red, everything was ready.
At the dock, two swift sailing ships had their sails fully hoisted, and sailors worked silently and quickly among the ropes.
Viserys and Daenerys stood before the gangplank. Several Pentos servants, heads bowed, timidly carried their simple luggage onto the ship.
Aegon gave Daenerys a final nod, a movement almost imperceptible, but Daenerys understood.
Then he looked at Viserys, his tone businesslike: "See you in Lys."
Viserys seemed to want to give a few more instructions in his capacity as king and elder, such as to return quickly, prioritize state affairs, and to be flexible with negotiation terms, to assert his authority and grasp of the overall situation.
But Aegon had already turned decisively, walking towards an empty gravel beach beside the dock, leaving him only a straight and indifferent back.
Everyone's gaze involuntarily followed that silver-haired figure in black.
He raised his right arm and made a simple gesture towards the darkening sky.
"Roar————!!!"
A deep, prolonged dragon's roar, chilling to the soul, seemed to come from the depths of the clouds, from high above.
That massive shadow, like a pale golden nightmare, which had been hovering over the city, began to move, slowly descending.
Under countless gazes intertwined with terror, awe, obsession, and fear, Ghidorah folded its sky-covering giant wings and landed on the gravel beach.
When its heavy dragon body landed, the entire dock seemed to tremble slightly, stirring up a cloud of dust.
Six vertical pupils, like molten gold, swept across the ant-like crowd on the dock in the deepening twilight, like six burning, cold stars.
Aegon didn't even look back, lightly leaping onto the dragon's neck.
Ghidorah's three heads, covered in grotesque bone armor, simultaneously lifted, letting out a second sky-shattering roar towards the blood-faded sky.
Its enormous wing membranes suddenly fully unfurled, stirring up violent currents of air!
A fierce wind suddenly rose, sending sand and stones flying!
Flags on the dock were stretched taut, flapping loudly! People cried out, covering their faces, blown off balance and unable to open their eyes!
Viserys stumbled by the ship's rail, nearly falling, and had to grab the gangplank railing awkwardly to steady himself.
Daenerys's silver-gold hair whipped wildly in the gale. She squinted, trying to look towards the gravel beach.
When the suffocating wind pressure lessened slightly and people could barely see again, the giant dragon, carrying its rider, had soared into the sky!
That image was deeply etched in the eyes of every beholder.
The pale golden behemoth tore through the twilight, rising straight into the firmament, stirring winds and clouds with the beat of its wings.
With just two beats of its wings, it had become a rapidly shrinking black speck, shooting north, towards Braavos, and in an instant, merged into the iron-grey, thick clouds and the vast twilight, disappearing from sight.
Only the lingering, rumbling aftershock, like distant thunder, and the persistent gale on the dock, mixed with the smell of the sea and dust, remained.
The sea breeze filled the sails, and the ships cut through the deepening night, sailing south.
In the cabin, Viserys waved away the trembling Pentos servant who brought wine, and impatiently closed the door.
The excited flush on his face had not yet faded; in the flickering light of the cabin lamp, the redness even seemed a little sickly, his eyes terrifyingly bright.
"Did you see it, Dany?"
He lowered his voice, but couldn't suppress the excitement and trembling in his tone, pacing rapidly back and forth in the narrow cabin.
"That dragon! Did you see how big and powerful it was? A three-headed dragon! Just like our house sigil, and blackfyre! The legendary blackfyre!"
"Aegon is my nephew! He has the same most noble true dragon blood flowing in his veins as I do! He will help me! He will definitely help me ascend the iron throne!"
He walked to the porthole, looking out at the dark sea and a lingering trace of dark red where the sea met the sky in the distance, as if he could already see the outline of the Red Keep in King's Landing, and the winding, grotesque iron throne.
"When we reach Lys, I will, as king, formally summon his generals, his ministers, all his knights and officers!"
"I will hold grand feasts, and at the feasts, bestow titles and lands upon them! In exchange for their loyalty and vows to me, to the Targaryen Dynasty!"
"Then, we will assemble a great army, build more, faster warships! Aegon has a dragon, he can clear obstacles first, burn Robert's Fleet! My army will land afterwards and march directly on King's Landing..."
The more he spoke, the more excited he became. He suddenly turned around, his eyes shining in the dim light, like two burning will-o'-the-wisps:
"Robert, that drunken boar, and Tywin Lannister, that old lion hiding in Casterly Rock, they will tremble and wail before dragonfire!"
"When we take King's Landing, I will sit on the iron throne and have the High Septon crown me!"
"Then I will make Aegon my Hand! No, perhaps first make him a Prince, commanding the army! Our uncle-nephew alliance will surely usher in the most glorious era in Targaryen history! Making all of Westeros bow before the true dragon!"
Daenerys sat on a thick velvet chair, holding a grey velvet-wrapped bundle in her arms.
One Hand unconsciously stroked the velvet surface over and over again.
The fabric was thick and soft, but the outline of the hard objects beneath was clearly discernible—three dragon eggs.
Her fingertips could feel the raised patterns, like carvings in some ancient language.
Even stranger was the temperature.
The cabin was cold, and the sea breeze seeped through the porthole cracks, carrying the chill of the night.
But the bundle in her arms emitted a subtle, constant warmth, not hot, like a stone warmed by winter sun, continuously warming her arms and chest.
They were originally one of Illyrio Mopatis's most private and precious collections, said to be rare treasures found in the Shadow Lands.
Aegon had found them in the courtyard and entrusted them to her keeping, saying only: "They belong to the Targaryens."
Daenerys watched her brother pacing back and forth in the cabin, gesticulating wildly, spitting as he spoke, seeing the madness on his face—a mixture of ecstasy, delusion, and a sudden release after long suppression.
Her brow furrowed slightly, and the brief sense of calm she had felt in Aegon's presence was replaced by familiar worry and unease.
"Brother," she began softly, her voice not loud, but like a small stone dropped into Viserys's boiling sea of fantasy, trying to stir a ripple of reason, "Don't you understand yet?"
"Understand what?" Viserys stopped, looking at her displeased, as if annoyed that she had interrupted his fantasies of ruling the world.
"The army of Lys is Aegon's army."
"The city of Lys is Aegon's city, and that dragon... only obeys Aegon's commands."
Daenerys raised her head, her purple eyes exceptionally clear in the dim light, and exceptionally calm, clearly reflecting the unnatural flush on her brother's face.
"He is already the master of that land. Our going there is to his territory, to accept his protection."
Viserys's face darkened visibly, like a clear sky suddenly covered with clouds.
"I am the King!"
He emphasized his words, as if to smash his sister's "confused" understanding with this title. "He is a Targaryen, my own nephew. It is his natural duty to pledge allegiance to the King! This is blood, this is law!"
"But what do you have besides that title?"
Daenerys's voice was still very soft, but it pierced the hot air in the cabin like a needle.
"Do you have an army? Do you have gold coins? Do you even have a single castle, a single ship, a single knight willing to fight for you?"
Viserys's face instantly turned a liver-like purple.
He opened his mouth, wanting to retort, but couldn't find any words.
The cabin swayed slightly with the waves, and the lamplight cast dancing shadows on his face, leaving his embarrassment nowhere to hide.
"I... I am the rightful monarch of the Seven Kingdoms!" he finally managed to hiss, his voice weakening.
"A rightful monarch needs subjects to acknowledge him, and swords to defend him."
Daenerys tightened her grip on the velvet-wrapped bundle in her arms; the dragon eggs felt heavy in her embrace.
"Aegon has a dragon, three cities, and an army. What do you have, brother?"
This sentence was like a final heavy hammer, shattering the fragile shell of Viserys's self-deception.
He stood rooted to the spot, his chest heaving violently, glaring at Daenerys, his eyes churning with anger and a hint of humiliation at being utterly exposed.
The light flickered on his face; in that moment, he didn't look like a king, but like a clown stripped of his finery, standing in the cold wind.
After a long while, he squeezed out a muffled, almost whimpering cold snort from his throat.
"What do you know."
He flung out these words, his voice dry, then turned, yanked open the cabin door, and staggered out.
The door slammed shut behind him, shaking the cabin lamp.
Silence returned to the cabin, leaving only the monotonous sound of waves lapping against the hull, and the small, flickering halo of light cast by the solitary lamp.
Daenerys sat alone in the light and shadow, and after a long time, gently let out a breath.
She turned her head to look out the porthole.
The dark sea stretched into the unknown distance, with only the white foam broken by the ship's prow glowing faintly in the night.
Lys was in that direction.
Dear Reader,
A special 60% discount offer available Don't miss this opportunity to enjoy your favorite stories at a greatly reduced price.
The offer is available for a limited time only — grab it before it ends!
Ãdvåñçé çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn luffy1898