The silence at the breakfast table did not break. It stretched, thinned, and lingered, hanging between the plates and goblets like mist that refused to lift.
Viserys dabbed at his mouth with a cloth he did not need, more out of habit than hunger. He had eaten little from his plate. His eyes drifted toward Amon again, drawn there whether he wished it or not. Sitting across from his eldest brother still felt unreal, like staring at a reflection that did not quite match the man he had become.
"There will be a tournament," Viserys said at last.
His voice sounded steadier than he felt.
The words carried farther than intended in the quiet hall. Aegon's head snapped up immediately, interest bright and immediate. Helaena did not react, her gaze still fixed somewhere beyond the table. Aemond's eyes flicked toward Amon, sharp and calculating, then returned to his plate.
"A tourney?" Aegon repeated, barely containing himself.
Viserys ignored him.
"In honor of Rhaenyra's nameday," he continued, folding the cloth carefully and setting it aside. "Knights from across the realm have already gathered. Lords as well. It is meant to be… a celebration. Brother"
A pause followed.
Amon lifted his gaze slowly, chewing once before swallowing. He said nothing, but his attention settled fully on Viserys now. The effect was immediate. Viserys felt it in his chest, the same pressure he had known as a boy whenever Amon's focus turned toward him.
"You are invited," Viserys added, the words chosen carefully. "All of you."
Amon's eyes moved briefly, not to Viserys's children, nor to Otto, but to the veiled women seated beside him. They did not look back at him. They did not need to. Their stillness was an answer.
"We will attend," Amon said.
The simplicity of the response caught Viserys off guard. He had braced himself for hesitation, for questions, perhaps even refusal. Instead, the answer came clean and unadorned.
Relief flickered across his face before he could stop it.
Alicent noticed.
Her fingers tightened slightly around her goblet, knuckles paling for a heartbeat before she forced her grip to relax. She kept her smile, but it felt brittle, stretched thin by unease she could not name.
Otto said nothing. He did not need to. His eyes moved from Amon to the women and back again, noting posture, distance, order. He counted the things that did not fit.
Amon rose from his seat.
The movement was unhurried, deliberate. His chair scraped softly against the stone floor. At once, his brides stood with him, their chairs shifting in near-perfect unison. They did not bow. They did not offer thanks. They simply stood, veils unmoving, presence heavy in the room.
For a moment, Viserys wondered if he should say something else. A word of welcome. A reminder that this was still family.
Nothing came.
Amon turned and began walking toward the exit. His brides followed, falling into step as naturally as breath.
As they left the hall, no one spoke.
Not because they were forbidden to. But because no one knew how.
The corridors of the Red Keep felt narrower than before.
Amon sensed it without needing to look. Stone pressed in on either side as servants flattened themselves against walls and pillars, heads bowed, eyes carefully lowered. No one froze this time. No one stared openly.
The group moved at a steady pace, unhurried and silent. Footsteps echoed softly against stone, the sound swallowed quickly by the vastness of the Keep.
Maera walked beside Amon, close enough that her shoulder nearly brushed his arm. Even veiled, she radiated a quiet intensity that made others give her space.
"The Hand is watching you like a man counting breaths," she said softly.
"He always has," Amon replied.
"He watches us too," Nima added from behind them. "As though he expects us to bite."
Ronara tilted her head, considering. "I could," she said thoughtfully. "If that would help."
Amon laughed.
It was a brief sound, low and genuine, echoing softly along the corridor. The tension in the group eased at once, like a knot loosening.
"No," he said. "Not today."
Ronara shrugged. "Another time, then."
They passed through a final archway and emerged into the open air.
A carriage awaited them, and when they all got within its confines and the driver signalled by Amon to move, as everyone looked outside.
They traveled from the red keep to the dragon pit. Tily asked questions about the streets, prompting Amon to answer kindly, whilst the remainder stayed silent but listened keenly.
The Dragonpit rose ahead of them, vast and ancient, its massive dome cutting into the sky like the shell of some colossal beast. The closer they drew, the warmer the air became, heavy with smoke, ash, and the deep, metallic scent of dragon.
Amon inhaled deeply.
The air settled into his lungs like memory.
Tina wrinkled her nose. "They hate being here," she muttered. "You can smell it. Dragons shouldn't be kept in cages."
"They are not cages," Nima said quietly. "They are compromises set by the targeryens to keep their power there."
Tina scoffed. "Same thing, dressed prettier."
At the gates, the Dragonkeepers waited.
They stood in ritual formation, tall and silent, clad in black and red robes. Obsidian masks shaped as stylized dragon faces hid their features entirely. Their voices murmured in High Valyrian, ancient words spoken for continuity rather than command.
As Amon approached, and they parted.
No order was given.
They simply moved, some bowing low to Amon and the girls as they passed.
The interior of the Dragonpit opened wide before them. Heat pressed down from above and below, alive and breathing. The sound came first, low rumbles, the scrape of talons against stone, the slow, massive breathing of creatures that had never been meant to share space with men.
They walked past hole after hole of darkness before passing one with dragonkeepers standing at its edge.
Syrax stirred as they passed.
The yellow dragon lifted her head, wings shifting restlessly. Her roar echoed sharply through the chamber, a warning rather than a challenge. She did not advance.
She kept her distance.
Amon did not look at her.
Ignoring the shifting Syrax, Amon and the girls moved deeper as they passed another deep pit within the den.
This time, however, more dragonkeepers were stationed at its edge as a deeper, louder rumble and scraping of claws against stone resounded.
It was Dreamfyre's pit.
The great blue dragon looked in mild interest at the passing humans before she suddenly surged upright, wings spreading wide as fire gathered behind her teeth. Her maw opened to show rows of teeth as the abyss began to become brighter with the light of flames.
Amon stopped and stared at the dragon.
Before anyone could react, the ground trembled. From the deeper parts of the dragon pit came an even larger and more thundering clasping of claws against stone.
The sheer size of the dragon blocked the barely translucent light seeping through the ceiling of the pit.
Balerion arrived.
The Black Dread descended like a living mountain, his wings blotting out what little light filtered through the dome. His landing shook stone and bone alike. Its maw opened as a roar bellowed out. Its deep and powerful voice carried across the dragon pit, stirring dragons asleep
The voice was a command.
Dreamfyre froze.
The fire sputtered out before it could form. Puffs of black smoke flew from her nostrils as she closed her maw shut. Slowly, she lowered her head.
The pit went still.
Silence followed Balerion's roar, not empty silence, but a silence enforced by an axe being mere inches from your neck.
Amon stepped forward without hesitation. He rested one hand against Balerion's foreleg, the massive limb warm beneath his palm. The dragon leaned into the touch, a deep rumble vibrating through stone and bone alike.
Maera exhaled slowly. "He missed you."
"Yes," Amon said. "I know."
Amon and the girls began massaging the massive dragons claw like hands, making it emitt and deep vibration that carried throughout the dragon pit.
Around them, the other dragons watched.
Syrax, who had poked its head from its own pit, shifted uneasily, wings folding tighter to her body. Dreamfyre remained still, head lowered, eyes following Balerion with wary respect. None of them advanced. None of them dared.
The Dragonkeepers stood frozen in reverent silence. No chains rattled. No commands were spoken. They watched as one might watch the tide, aware that intervention was not only unnecessary but foolish.
This was pure dominance.
Amon straightened, withdrawing his hand. Balerion's head followed him briefly, then settled, the great dragon lowering himself with a huff that stirred dust and ash across the pit floor.
"We will leave shortly," Amon said calmly. "Prepare him."
The Dragonkeepers bowed deeply as one, murmuring assent in High Valyrian. Their movements were precise, practiced, but beneath the ritual lay something rarer.
Reverence.
As Amon turned away, his brides fell into step once more. They moved through the pit beneath the watchful eyes of dragons and men alike, their veils fluttering faintly in the heat.
Tina glanced back once, her expression unreadable beneath the veil. "Do you think they know?" The question lingered before Amon answered, "Maybe, they might have tails about the dragon kin of Valyria, but its unlikly."
They arrived outside the pit and got back into the carriage that had taken them here. Amon spoke to the driver to bring them to the peer.
The driver following oders knoded urgently before whipping the horses, forcing the carriage to move once again.
"Where are we going, Amon?" Tily called out within the carriage as they were being transported to the peer.
"Before we left i sent some ships to arrive after us. Although it took them six months, I say they should be arriving today."
The group turned to Amon in stunned silence before the carriage returned into the traffic of kings landing.