Chapitre 34: The Dance Macabre
The skies above King's Landing trembled as Aegon the Winged soared high atop his serpentine dragon, Ophiuchus. Turning to the four dragon riders following him, he barked a command:
"Head to the Dragonpit. Remain mounted until I return. I have a performance to complete."
Before they could respond, Aegon broke away. Ophiuchus' agility and speed left them no time to react. The dragon twisted gracefully through the air, descending with precision toward the Red Keep. Moments later, they cleared the gates. This was where Aegon intended to make his first appearance. Standing on Ophiuchus' forehead, he raised his arms dramatically.
"Now, my beautiful Ophiuchus, sing. Sing, my beauty, sing!"
The dragon obliged with a deafening roar, a sound that rattled chains and shattered glass. Aegon leapt from her head, spreading his wings wide as he descended, his silhouette cutting through the golden light of the setting sun. He landed with grace before two knights stationed at the gates.
"Make way for your prince," Aegon commanded with pure confidence.
The knights hesitated, stunned by the spectacle. With a flurry of spins and two sharp claps, Aegon's theatrical display left them flabbergasted. Muttering to themselves, they opened the gates without question. Aegon smirked as he strode forward, humming a tune that carried through the courtyard.
His voice grew louder, and soon the song took form:
> "Oh great sea dragon, guide my path,
> Glistening with hues of ocean's wrath.
> With fire bright and songs so merry,
> I take flight—your strength I carry.
> Oh great serpent, cut through skies and seas,
> Leviathans so bold, you prince's steed."
The melody echoed through the castle, reaching every corner. Lords and ladies paused to listen; windows swung open as servants and courtiers craned their necks to catch sight of the singer. Even Otto Hightower, seated in his chambers, felt a chill run down his spine. The lords gathered for the Great Council exchanged uneasy glances. The song—an ode to the exiled prince—felt like a challenge.
As Aegon approached the inner castle, three members of the Kingsguard stood waiting. At their head was Lord Commander Harrold Westerling.
"My prince," Harrold greeted, bowing slightly. "You have returned."
Aegon's smile widened. "Indeed, I have. Fetch Aegon's crown and King Viserys' crown. The queen shall choose which one she favors."
Harrold's brows furrowed in surprise. "My prince, the queen?"
"Yes," Aegon said firmly. "She has come to take her throne. Now, shall we proceed?"
Before they could move, a figure emerged from the corridor. Tyland Lannister, the Master of Ships, strode toward them, his golden hair catching the light.
"Ah, the golden kitten himself," Aegon quipped, his tone dripping with mockery. Tyland flinched at the nickname but quickly recovered.
"My prince," Tyland began, "the Small Council has convened a Great Council. Many lords of the realm have gathered to see the king's firstborn son receive what is his."
Aegon let out a loud, cutting laugh that echoed through the hall. He strode past Tyland without sparing him a glance.
"How sweet," Aegon said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "They think they hold power. Gods, Lord Lannister, you are the funniest thing I have ever seen. Pussycat, pussycat, oh, purr for me."
As he sang, the mocking tune carried through the halls. Ladies-in-waiting giggled and swayed to the rhythm, their whispers adding fuel to the spectacle. Tyland's face turned crimson, his composure cracking under the weight of the humiliation. Aegon continued on his path, his voice rising again in song:
> "Oh sweet lords, please make my day,
> I wish it so, come what may!"
Aemond, meanwhile, stood by the cabin window, staring out at the open sea. His posture was tense, his gaze distant.
"We heard dragons," Aemond said, breaking the silence. "The ships will be coming soon after. Once they arrive, we will join them at the Dragonpit. That way, we don't feel so hunted."
Aegon scoffed, his tone laced with mockery. "So I can lose all this armor? That's what I'm hearing from you, brother. That is what you said, correct?"
He turned his head slightly to look at the Moon Fairy. "My lady, did I hear that right?"
The woman giggled softly, nodding as she continued to stroke his hair. Aegon smirked, his expression one of amusement and indifference as he relaxed further into the silken pillows.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone