Capítulo 26: The Lady Of The Isles
Bloodstone Isle: The Blood Fort Shores
The shores of Bloodstone were alive with activity. Fires blazed, illuminating the growing outpost as hundreds of men stood in orderly columns stretching toward the castle. Nearby, a colossal serpentine dragon lay coiled, its shimmering scales reflecting the flames. Atop the beast sat a tall figure clad in crimson plate armor, studded with seafoam-green scales. On his breastplate, a serpent in a figure-eight was engraved—a symbol the pirates knew all too well. Whether they called him "Sky Snake" or "Sea Dragon," the man who bore this emblem was their bane: Aegon the Winged, terror of the Triarchy.
From his perch, Aegon surveyed the scene. These men, once pirates themselves, were now his prisoners—or, as he preferred to say, his workers in the "betterment" of the Dragon Isles and his marauders' fleet. His voice cut through the din, commanding and fierce:
"Now, you lazy pirate scum, the future lady of the Dragon Isles is approaching! I've cleaned you up, given you purpose. Now make this place look worthy of her presence."
In the distance, a roar echoed through the darkening skies. Aegon whispered to his dragon, a sly grin on his face:
"Show her the way, beautiful."
Then, louder, in High Valyrian:
"Dracarys, Ophiuchus!"
The serpent-like dragon rose, its body undulating like a snake, and unleashed a piercing shriek. A tight beam of blue fire erupted from its maw, streaking into the sky and parting the clouds at an impossible height. The dragon roared again, a haunting melody that seemed to sing to the heavens. Aegon chuckled.
"You always sing so beautifully," he murmured to his mount.
Moments later, another dragon appeared—this one blueish-white, its wings gleaming like silver in the firelight. Dreamfyre circled the fort, its shadow massive over the outpost below, before landing gracefully near the serpentine dragon, who rose to its full length as if to flaunt its size. A young woman with silver hair and violet eyes dismounted Dreamfyre, her figure small beside the towering beasts.
Aegon, ever theatrical, spread his wings and leaped down from his dragon, landing gently on the sandy ground. His arms spread wide, he called to her, his voice bright with boyish excitement:
"Welcome to the Dragon Isles!"
Helaena smiled as she approached, her riding leathers catching the light of the fires. Without hesitation, she ran into his arms, disappearing into his embrace. Behind him, his men strained to catch a glimpse of the scene, though her much smaller frame was hidden by the towering prince.
"The Dragon Isles, is it? That's the name you chose, Pirate Prince?" Helaena teased, her voice playful. "Or should I call you the Dragon Lord of the Blood Fort? Your name has grown quite famous in Westeros."
Aegon laughed, his confidence unshakable.
"You should hear the names they give me in Essos. They adore me there."
Before the banter could continue, Archmaester Koren stepped forward, bowing respectfully.
"My prince and princess, I know you have not seen each other in years, but if I may suggest, we retire to the safety of the castle."
Westeros: The Red Keep
Chaos reigned within the Red Keep. Knights stormed through halls, dragging individuals from their chambers. Torches lit the night as patrols prepared to sweep the Dragonpit. Leading one such group were two white-haired men atop their steeds. The elder, dressed flamboyantly in black and red embroidered with scale patterns, bore a sword at his hip. His younger companion wore simple black, accented with purple.
Prince Aegon Targaryen smirked as he turned to his brother.
"So, how long must we play the worried siblings, brother?" Aemond asked, his tone sharp with frustration.
"Calm yourself, Aemond," Aegon replied, his tone casual. "We owe him this much. He saved us from being groomed to hate each other. Look at us now—we visit our nephews on our own ships because of his generosity."
Aemond scowled. "You two are deplorable."
Aegon grinned, unfazed. "And handsome. Don't forget handsome."
As their group neared the Dragonpit, Aemond addressed the knights.
"You four, search the perimeter. Ser Criston, you're with us. We're heading inside."
Aegon chuckled, his tone relaxed. "Don't fret, brother. We'll see him again soon enough. No doubt he'll send more gifts our way—maybe even an invitation to join one of his raids near the Triarchy. I've heard tales of courtesans' pleasure ships in Braavos. They love him there."
Aemond raised an eyebrow. "Do you think he'd invite us?"
"Of course. He knows what we want and never asks for anything in return. You and Daeron thirst for battle; he'll surely call on you. As for me, I'll be seeking a new wife. Perhaps the Vale or the Reach—I hear the Lady of the Vale loves women, and I do too. A perfect match, wouldn't you say?"
Aemond rolled his eye, hiding his thoughts. He's smarter than he lets on. Yet his mind wandered to Aegon the Winged, whose power and ambition loomed large. If he ever unleashed his full strength, even Essos wouldn't be safe.
Bloodstone Isle: The Blood Fort Throne Room
Inside the Blood Fort's grand hall, a throne of crimson marble dominated the space, flanked by banners of pirate and mercenary groups Aegon had conquered. Helaena gazed at the spectacle, her violet eyes wide with wonder.
"I'll make you your own throne of rose quartz," Aegon said proudly. "I'm still waiting on a large enough slab, but for now, the Blood Throne will do. Beautiful, isn't it?"
Helaena laughed softly. "You made it yourself?"
"Aye," Aegon replied, his excitement evident. "I've found islands south of here with distinct marble—five shades of color, to be exact. Two more types came from Braavos. I'll carve statues of the Seven Gods from them, one color for each god."
Her gaze shifted to the banners. "And these flags?"
Aegon grinned. "The spoils of my victories. Pirate crews and mercenaries now turned into the first line of defense against the Triarchy. Their ships, their gold, their slaves—everything is mine now well the slaves are the people who built their homes here free men of course."
Helaena chuckled. "You speak of gods and thievery in the same breath. No, wait—what do you call it in your letters? 'Appropriation.'"
Her teasing softened as her eyes landed on the throne's inscription:
"Watch unto me, son of the skies and seas."
Arrogant yet poignant, the words were both a boast and a promise. She murmured, barely audible:
"Worry not—I will watch you."
Aegon's gaze softened, his towering presence no less imposing but infinitely tender.
"Yes, you will," he replied, his voice filled with love.
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