Rain poured over King's Landing.
Rhaenys' Hill shook under the roar of lightning and thunder.
The dragon's lair, a magnificent stone hall capable of holding dozens of dragons, glowed with a dark, damp light beneath the curtain of rain.
Outside the lone exit in the corner stood three newly reinforced watchtowers, and beneath an oiled shed atop the tower, hundreds of elite guards in oilskins gripped halberds and heavy crossbows, their eyes alert, scanning below.
These were the bodyguards chosen by Prince Aemond Targaryen, and his orders were cold and absolute: anyone who was not of the Green Party royal family or the Dragon Guard and came near the dragon's lair would be killed.
On the watchtower, the sound of rain, faint thunder, and muffled coughs filled the air… Tonight would be difficult.
———
Inside the dragon's lair, on the western side.
The air was thick, heavy with the scent of sulfur and dragons.
Thick iron bars and heavy chains divided the natural cavern into several compartments.
In one, a dark-green young dragon, Vermax, anxiously pawed at the stones with his strong hind legs, the sharp sound echoing through the gloom.
His amber vertical pupils opened and closed beneath the dim yellow torchlight, watching the passage with a low, expectant rumble rolling in his throat.
He sensed a familiar scent.
The scent of his master!
Though the iron collar around his neck and the thick chain tethering him to the stone wall restricted his movements, they could not contain the anxiety and longing in his heart.
Nearby, the copper-brown Arrax buried his head in his forepaws.
The innermost, Tyraxes, continued pacing in circles.
On the eastern side of the lair, on a broad stone platform, the magnificent body of Syrax / Sunfyre, like molten gold, rested as he breathed heavily in a light doze.
In a dry corner nearby, two young dragons slept—Īmorion, snow-white, and Zaldrīzes, grey.
Several Dragon Guards were split into two groups, keeping watch at the junctions of the passages.
Wrapped in thick cloaks, they resisted the cold and drowsiness of the night.
No one noticed that at a darker fork, leading to an old ventilation shaft, several pairs of eyes watched their every move.
"The shift… Less than half an hour left," said the voice, low and measured.
It belonged to Captain Gyles of the Dragon Guard, his face marred with severe burn scars.
A few cutthroats accompanied him.
Once, they had been dragons' companions to Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and guardians of Syrax.
Princess Rhaenyra had been absent from King's Landing for many years, but she never forgot her loyal servants and always cared for their families on Dragonstone.
Tonight—the time to repay them.
"Almost…" replied another voice, Jacaerys Velaryon.
He wore the leather armor of the Dragon Guard, soaked with sweat or rain, clinging to his taut muscles.
A rare opportunity—Aemond was not in King's Landing, but in Harrenhal.
His single remaining right eye glinted sharply in the dark, watching where Gyles pointed, at the empty wine jug that two dozing guards had spilled at their feet.
Behind him, his brothers Lucerys Velaryon and Joffrey Velaryon stood tense, breathing lightly.
"My lord, remember," Gyles said, turning his head.
"Go straight to your dragon. The keys are ready."
He tapped a solid object on his chest.
"Vermax has the thickest chains; I'll unlock him first."
"The keys for Arrax and Tyraxes—Robin and Tom have them."
He gestured to two Dragon Guards behind him.
"Once you're untethered, worry about nothing—make for the exit immediately!"
"The gates hold our men—they're not fully closed. There's a gap. Vermax should break through easily!"
"And you?" Lucerys asked, anxiety lacing his voice.
A corner of Gyles' lips twisted into a wry smile:
"When you fly and make noise, we'll slip through the dragon-shit chute behind us and head straight for the docks."
"We have a boat waiting."
"The higher you rise in the sky and the more you blind the dogs on the towers, the better our chances of survival."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the three brothers under the scar.
"So, Master Jacaerys, do not hesitate, do not look back."
Jacaerys nodded heavily.
"I understand. Let's go."
Gyles made a simple gesture, taking the lead like a shadow.
His knowledge of the dragon's lair far surpassed that of ordinary men.
Jacaerys followed him, and Lucerys nudged Joffrey, still slightly dazed, and the three moved in a line.
Less than twenty steps remained to the entrance guard.
The smell of alcohol and the sound of snoring were clear.
Gyles peered from behind a stone column, gestured "wait" to Jacaerys, then signaled to himself and the two guards.
He slowly drew two daggers from leather sheaths at his waist; the blades gleamed dark blue in the dim light.
As his wrists tensed, ready to throw, a guard muttered uncertainly and shifted.
All froze.
The guard simply scratched his cheek, clicked his lips, tilted his head, and snored again.
Gyles' eyes flared with cold fury; there would be no hesitation.
Hands trembled, muscles tensed.
"Whoosh! Whoosh!"
Two sharp sounds rang almost simultaneously!
Two guards trembled.
Blood blossomed in their throats with precision.
Their eyes widened; hands grasped helplessly at their necks.
They could only make a faint "ho-ho" before collapsing forward.
Gyles and the Dragon Guards, Robin and Tom, quickly dragged their bodies into the shadows of the cavern.
The process was silent and clean.
"Quickly!" Gyles whispered, producing the heavy keychain.
Jacaerys leapt first into Vermax's pen!
The young dragon sensed him immediately, rearing on his forelegs, iron chains clanging!
A roar of joy and impatience exploded from his throat; his massive head struggled to break free, amber eyes locked on his master.
"Quiet, my dragon… quiet…" Jacaerys' voice trembled.
His fingers slipped through the bars, touching the warm, hard scales along Vermax's snout.
All humiliation, betrayal, and the pain of lost contracts turned instantly into molten heat, flooding his vision.
"Vermax, I'm here… I'll take you home!"
Gyles found the largest key, inserted it into the lock with a click, and turned sharply.
"Click!"
The heavy lock snapped open!
Gyles and Robin swiftly freed the cold, heavy iron chains that coiled around the gate and Vermax's neck.
"Rrrr!" At that moment, Vermax erupted in a low roar of joy, nudging the gate aside and pressing his enormous head against Jacaerys, nearly sending him stumbling.
"Alright! Well done!" Jacaerys hugged the dragon's head, pressing against the rough, warm scales.
Then, hands and feet gripping the old neck strap, he climbed with all his strength.
The familiar posture, the touch, the control of the dragon—it made him almost want to rise into the sky and howl.
Meanwhile, Lucerys and Joffrey, aided by Robin and Tom, quickly freed Arrax and Tyraxes.
The two young dragons were equally excited, circling their masters, rubbing heads affectionately, emitting playful, high-pitched cries.
"Go! Go!" Gyles signaled the way forward, his face taut with tension.
Three young dragons carried their masters, and under Gyles' guidance, they moved quickly through the zigzag passage into a relatively wide arched corridor leading to the main hall of the dragon's lair.
The sound of footsteps, dragon claws clicking on stone, and low, restrained roars of the young dragons echoed through the tunnels.