After the meal with his family, Amon was escorted by two white knights, who seemed to be twins, one called Ser Arryk and the other Ser Erryk Cargyll; neither spoke whilst taking Amon and his women to his room.
When Amon entered, he was met with the four remainder which didnt attend dinner within the spacious bedroom.
It smelled faintly of incense and old linen.
Rushly prepared.
But unused and forgotten.
Amon crossed the threshold without slowing. The two veiled women followed him in, the door closing behind them with a dull, final click that shut out the Red Keep and everything that came with it.
Inside, the rest were already there.
Silver hair gleamed in candlelight as the women occupied the room in casual disarray. Two reclined across a divan, Legs intertwineed, veils still in place, but posture unmistakably bored. Another sat on the edge of the bed, elbows braced on her knees, chin resting in her hands as she stared at nothing in particular. A third leaned against the wall, arms folded, head tipped back as if counting the cracks in the ceiling.
No one stood.
No one bowed.
The silence lasted exactly three heartbeats.
Then someone moved.
She hit him like a thrown dagger.
Amon barely had time to register motion before a body collided with his chest, arms wrapping around his shoulders with familiar force. The impact knocked him back a step, armor clinking softly as he caught his balance.
Her veil tore free in the motion, sailing through the air before drifting lazily down to the floor.
She grinned up at him.
Fine crimson scales traced her cheekbones and temples, catching the candlelight like polished gemstones. They framed eyes that were just slightly wrong, pupils too narrow, gaze too sharp, too beast-like.
Well?" she demanded, breathless yet brimming with energy. "Was it worth the trouble?"
Amon huffed a quiet laugh, one hand coming up to steady the girl at her waist. "You don't even wait for the door to close properly anymore."
"Come on~," she droned back. "We just met your family and instead of..."
Behind them, someone scoffed, cutting the girl off. "Please. You call that meeting the family?" another woman said, pushing herself upright from a chair. She tugged her veil aside just enough to reveal a crooked smile. "We all saw the dilapidated state of those supposed family members."
"true." Another said.
"This place is a shithole," a final voice added, their tone as dry as a desert.
The tension in the room eased all at once, like a knot that had finally split apart rather than being neatly untied.
Amon slipped free, their movements gentle as they moved deeper into the chamber. Rolling his shoulders as if shedding the weight of the hall, he unfastened one of the gauntlets and put it aside; then the other. Metal clanked softly against the table.
"It was dull," he said after a deafening silence.
A chorus of groans followed.
"Oh, of course it was," the scaled woman muttered, flopping backwards onto the bed with exaggerated despair, the scaled woman said:
"You arrive on the greatest dragon the world has ever known, half the city wets itself, and then they welcome you like a lizard that just crawled from their toilet."
"They were afraid," Amon replied evenly.
"And? We weren't scared when you first turned upon the shores of Basilisk Isle." She shot back at the man.
One of the women in the room paced slowly back and forth across the room, her veil finally pushed back to reveal sharp features and faint scales along her throat. "This place reeks of shit," she said. "And those nobles look no better than those monsters in Quhor."
Amon nodded once, half-laughing at his bride's insults to the kingdom's nobility.
"This place is just as divided as you said." The one bride who was counting the cracks in the ceiling spoke.
"Indeed, black versus green."
The word landed heavier than he intended.
The room stilled under the choking atmosphere—only broken by a single person repeatedly saying "Green."
Amon exhaled sharply and sat down on the edge of the massive bed, his hands meeting the coolness of the bedsheets.
"The royal family barely feels Valyrian anymore," he said.
"They wear dragon colors, but their blood…" Amon shook his head in disapproval. "It's thin. Hightower-thin."
Silence quickly followed once more.
One woman straightened herself slowly from where she had leaned against the wall. She reached up and removed her veil entirely.
Her eyes were unmistakable.
Gold irises ringed with molten red; pupils slit like those of a cat's. When she blinked, there was no hiding what she was… A dragon.
"What should we do then?" She spoke in a questioning tone, her head tilting to the side slightly.
Amon looked up at her. "Let's see how this plays out. Given a few years, and maybe we won't have to interfere."
She studied him for a long moment, then inclined her head. "Fair."
Another woman snorted. "Still, your brother looks to practically be in love with you. And your niece..."
"So what?" Amon said, quieter now. "She's just a girl."
"And the queen?" the scaled woman on the bed asked lazily. "She looked like she'd swallowed a scale off a drake."
Amon's mouth curved faintly.
A ripple of amusement moved through the room.
"And the Hand?" someone asked. "The one with the eyes that never stop measuring?"
Amon leaned back slightly, resting his palms against the mattress.
"Otto remembers me," he said. "That much was clear."
"He should. You unraveled his careful little world just by existing," another woman said.
"They think I left as a prince," Amon continued, his tone now eerie. "And returned as one…"
He shook his head slowly.
"They have no idea what I have accomplished in my time away—what battles I have faced."
The woman with the molten eyes watched him closely. "Do they need to know yet?"
"No," he said. "Not for now."
She nodded. "Good. I'm tired."
"Tired?" someone echoed incredulously.
"Yes," she clarified. "We traveled three continents to reach here, and instead of meeting us with open arms, they looked like we had eaten their kids and spit their bones bones."
Amon's gaze drifted towards the veils scattered across the room.
"So am I."
Another woman stretched, finally rising from her seat. "At least this chamber is comfortable, quite comfortable indeed," she said. "Better than sleeping on stone or sand, at least."
"Speak for yourself," someone else replied. "I liked the one with the lava vents."
"That was not sleeping," Amon said dryly.
A few of them laughed softly.
As the night stretched on, Amon, with the help of his brides, removed their gowns and clothes and leaped into bed as they all slept for the night. Although for one of them she stayed awake, unwilling to sleep in the environment, so she lay on the couch, reading a book.
(AN: Dialogue Co-written by Novaline7. Please check out his book as a thank you.) Ascend Or Die.)