Vermithor's colossal form blocked out the sun as the great dragon soared over the bay, growing visibly larger with each passing moment. Aboard the Ratcatcher, Tom gazed in awe as Vermithor's shadow engulfed them. Over the years, Vermithor's size had grown immense, now surpassing that of Vhagar and rivaling the legendary Black Dread. As the dragon gradually descended, the force of its wings churned the sea into a tempest, whipping up waves so ferocious that a smaller ship might have capsized. Only the Ratcatcher's considerable size kept it from succumbing to the dragon's might.
"Master, a dragon..." A sailor with wave tattoos on his face dropped to his knees in despair. Hoegon and Ben stood pale-faced, watching Vermithor approach with terrifying proximity. Their ship had already reached its limits; there was no escape. All they could do was watch as the dragon loomed closer until it hovered ominously above them.
Tyraxes was a step behind, only catching up to Vermithor as Draezell piloted the great bronze beast over Hoegon's ship. The young purple dragon, despite its size, seemed no more than a rat beside Vermithor — a comparison perhaps exaggerated, yet the disparity was undeniable.
Vermithor let out an earth-shaking roar aimed directly at the galley. The sailors who had managed to stay upright crumbled to their knees, leaving only Hoegon and Ben trembling but standing on the deck as the dragon began to lower itself further.
"Prince Draezell, what are you waiting for?" Joffrey shouted. "If you won't act, I'll have Tyraxes send them to the depths! Do these fools even know how to spell 'death' after stealing my brother's dragon?" Joffrey's fury was barely contained; he wanted nothing more than to command Tyraxes to unleash its fire and send the thieves' ship to a watery grave. Yet with Vermithor present, he knew this was not his decision to make.
Just then, Caraxes' piercing cry resounded over Blackwater Bay. Daemon, mounted on the Blood Wyrm, rose from the other side of Dragonstone, flying toward the scene.
"Speak, Hoegon and Ben," Draezell demanded, his brow furrowing. He knew these men. After his father, Claelorius, had elevated House Vaelarys through his cunning strategies, many former leaders of the Tiger faction's dragonlord families in Volantis had sought to ally with them. They conveniently ignored the fact that they had once scorned House Vaelarys for "kneeling to the craven Elephants". However, those self-proclaimed dragonlords nobles were kept at a distance by his father.
As for these two dragon thieves, Draezell was well-acquainted with them. Hoegon Bellerys was the heir of House Bellerys, which held twelve seats in the Volantene Senate. Even Hoegon himself was a senator and a prominent member of the Tiger faction. The Bellerys had supported the acquisition of Vaelarys lands and mines during Draezell's difficult years. Ben Ulnar, on the other hand, was a curious case. Draezell couldn't understand why someone like Ben, one of the Tiger faction's few pragmatists, would involve himself in such a scheme.
Unlike many dragonlord families, House Ulnar had never been prominent, even during the height of Valyria's Freehold. Their influence in Volantis stemmed not from past glory but from their deep-rooted presence in the city's politics and economy.
"Ben, what are you doing with Hoegon?" Draezell patted Vermithor's flank, signaling the dragon to lower its head as he addressed them from the saddle, his tone tinged with curiosity.
"Prince Draezell," Ben called out, his voice steady despite the grim situation. He sighed inwardly before speaking loudly, "The dragon. This is all because of the dragon."
Hoegon picked up where Ben left off, his tone brimming with indignation. "That's right. It's the dragon! Draezell, I admit it — we're jealous. Why is it that your House Vaelarys is so lucky as to regain a dragon? And after obtaining such a prize, why do you not remain in Volantis but instead come to this savage land? Draezell, tell me — what is so great about Westeros?
"You have the dragon, we have the wealth, and we share the blood of dragonlords! Why can't we work together to restore the glory of the Forty Families? A thousand dragonriders soaring through the skies, ruling the world as in days of old!"
Hoegon gestured wildly — at Joffrey, at Daemon, and at the scene around him. He roared, "Why was it the Targaryens who survived? Why is it that they, with their dragons, did not join us over a century ago when we could have swept across the continent with the might of the Ten Thousand Tigers? Why did you betray us, refusing to aid us and destroying our armies instead? You Targaryen bastards! Do you even understand the despair of the dragonlord descendants who stood helpless as Aegon's flames annihilated our Tiger Cloaks? Do you understand how desperately we longed to soar through the skies like our ancestors? A dragonlord family without dragons is nothing but a mockery!"
Hoegon, his eyes bloodshot, shoved aside Ben Ulnar, who had been trying to hold him back. His voice was hoarse, but the desperate silver-haired man still attempted to make himself heard by the three dragonlords atop their dragons.
"Draezell, remember this: our arrival is because of you. It's because you and your brothers mounted dragons that we have hope. Oh, for us, families who lost our dragons centuries ago, to have a chance at dragons again? The glory of our ancestors could once more shine through us. Draezell, and you others, Targaryen bastards, the Black Walls hold more dragonlord families than just ours. We are merely the first to arrive. Guard your dragon eggs well, guard your wild dragons. For centuries, we intermarried, siblings wed siblings — not for love, but so that one day we might restore the glory of Valyria!"
"You dare threaten us?" Tyraxes roared, his voice echoing with fury. Joffrey, meanwhile, simply stared at the crazed Hoegon Bellerys in stunned disbelief. 'Was this man insane? Where had he found the courage to threaten three dragonlords?'
"Yes, I am threatening you." Hoegon's red-rimmed eyes locked onto Draezell, who remained silent. "I understand why you didn't stay in Volantis. I understand that Volantis, mighty as it is, could not withstand the terror of dragons, nor the greed of other Free Cities that covet them. Ben's ancestor was slain in his own manse by a slave — one who, in ordinary times, wouldn't even dare to lift his eyes to a dragonlord. That slave not only killed Ben's ancestor but also his young son and the infant dragon that had just hatched. Even with three dragons, the looming threat of siege, assassination, and Targaryen retaliation is too great a burden. I understand. But I still envy you. That envy has driven me mad."
Hoegon refused to let Ben Ulnar speak, as if the man's calm voice might shatter the fervent atmosphere he was trying to build. "Go ahead, Draezell. Kill us. But remember this: the descendants of the dragonlords olf old will never abandon the hope of their family's revival. Dragons are everything to us."
Even the most impulsive of the three dragonlords, Joffrey, stood motionless, looking at Hoegon as if he were a fool. Arms spread wide, Hoegon seemed stunned for a moment but then shouted again, "Do it! To die by dragonfire is an honor for a descendant of the dragonlords. Do it!"
Draezell sighed, exasperated, as he looked at the madman before him. "If you understand why I came here, why persist in stealing dragons?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer. He smiled faintly as he spoke, "Everything you mentioned — you'd face the same, perhaps worse, if you rode dragons. The attacks would be more covert, more lethal. Hoegon, you know better than I do how diluted and fragile the so-called dragonlord families in the Black Walls truly are."
"We only want dragons," Hoegon declared without hesitation. "If we can ride them, even if death comes the next moment, we'd die willingly. As long as our people reclaim the right to ride dragons, one day, the dragonlord families will restore the Freehold of Valyria. And when that day comes, Braavos' bastard descendants, the savage Dothraki, the barbaric Westerosi, even Yi Ti's golden empire, will all kneel at our feet. The masses will be enslaved, and I will ride high above them as their king."
Hoegon's voice trembled with fervor as he recited an ancient Valyrian poem: "This is what we desire. Come, Draezell, burn us with dragonfire. Our bloodline was born of fire, and it will end in fire."
"Shut your mouth, Hoegon," Ben Ulnar finally interjected, breaking Hoegon's tirade. "Look closely — does it seem like he's about to burn us?"
Hoegon opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, there was a deafening crash. The ship rocked violently, throwing Hoegon off balance and onto the deck.
The Ratcatcher had rammed into their vessel, and Droko, arakh in hand, leaped aboard. With one swift motion, he cleaved through a slave's neck. The Dothraki warrior, bloodied blade in hand, was followed by a fully armed Tom, wielding a warhammer, and a host of silvercloaks, including armored figures like Dennis. Even Adam and Erin had joined, each gripping a sailor's curved blade, having thrown on simple clothes to blend in.
Joffrey froze when he caught sight of Erin and Adam. His gaze then shifted to the short, hooded woman by the ship's wheel, and he seemed to realize something.
Before Hoegon could stand, Droko grabbed him by the hair and, with a single swing, decapitated him. Holding Hoegon's lifeless, silver-haired head aloft, Droko paraded it before Draezell as if presenting a trophy to the great khal.
Draezell smiled and nodded in approval. Droko, giddy as a child, bounced on his heels and showed the head to everyone aboard before tossing it into the sea at Draezell's signal.
Even then, Ben Ulnar didn't summon the soldiers hidden below deck. Instead, he stood calmly amidst the chaos.
"Ben, I can see there are men below deck. Are you surrendering?" Draezell asked. There was a hint of respect in his tone for the calm and composed dragonlord.
"No, my prince. Though I didn't agree with Hoegon's methods, I still came with him." Ben's gaze met Vormithor and the dragonriders on its back as he spoke slowly. "Hoegon was right, Draezell. Your success has rekindled hope among the remaining dragonlord families. You've proven it's still possible for us to claim dragons. That is an undeniable fact."
Ben swept his eyes over the three dragons.
"Are you prepared to face those who dream of restoring their ancestors' glory — and those who dream of rising to it in one bound?"
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