Hugh stood over the wounded beast.
"A living dragon is worth far more than a dead one. Move everyone. Throw overboard anything that must be thrown. Drag the brown dragon onto the deck first." His voice carried across the deck, deep and steady.
At his command the men scattered, shouting orders of their own as they rushed to obey. The Harpy was a great ship, broad of beam and tall of stern, yet even she seemed small beside the body of the brown dragon they struggled to save. Sheepstealer dwarfed her, wings dragging in the water like torn banners.
The work lasted until the sun bled into the horizon. At last, with the dragon's grudging cooperation and a dozen men straining on each rope, they heaved her bulk onto the deck. The ship groaned beneath the weight.
Much of the cargo had already been thrown to the sea, but even stripped nearly bare the Harpy rode low, her draft perilously deep. Sheepstealer's wings still trailed over the rail, her tail dipping into the dark water. One hard swell and it looked as though she might slip beneath the waves entirely.
The fat man wiped sweat from his brow, scowling at the sight. "Captain, we cannot sail flaunting a dragon this size."
Another man nodded, worry etched across his face. "He speaks true. Targaryen banners fly again over the Stepstones. War burns anew. A dragon of this size is too easy a prize."
The Stepstones had been granted to a Targaryen prince and war with the Triarchy was inevitable. A dying dragon was a prize neither side would allow the other to claim.
House Targaryen would never suffer one of their sacred beasts to fall into the hands of Essosi princes. Yet the Triarchy would pay any price to seize her. In the worst telling, the Triarchy might even allow some half-forgotten Valyrian descendant to attempt a bond with the wounded dragon. If they succeeded, if Sheepstealer bent her head to them, the ancient claim that only Targaryen blood could tame a dragon would be shattered. The blow to House Targaryen would be fatal to its very myth.
Hugh felt the weight of that possibility settle in his gut. He narrowed his eyes and approached the dragon.
She lay still, her sides rising in shallow breaths, her eyes squeezed shut. But the moment Hugh neared her head, Sheepstealer's eyes snapped open. Cold golden pupils, thin as knife slits, fixed on him. Killing intent radiated from her in a palpable tide.
If he made one wrong move she would burn him alive.
"Calm yourself. Easy now." The words slipped from him in pure High Valyrian, sharp and melodic.
Sheepstealer flinched, not from pain but surprise. The murderous fire in her gaze wavered. Seeing it, Hugh stepped closer until scarcely a pace remained between them.
"I mean you no harm. Trust me. I will feed you."
His hand moved slowly, openly, until his palm brushed the dragon's warm scales. Sheepstealer watched every inch of motion. When his hand finally settled upon her hide, she exhaled and closed her eyes, weary but no longer poised to strike.
A faint spark brushed Hugh's mind, a whisper of connection, thin as a thread but undeniably there. He let out the breath he had been holding.
"From today onward, we are one," he murmured, unable to keep a smile from his face.
Sheepstealer's eyes opened again. She glared at him with unmistakable displeasure, as if the very notion offended her.
The men around them went silent, shocked senseless. The fat man stared first at Sheepstealer, then at his young companion.
"Boy, hit me. I must have seen that wrong."
The youth released a long breath, grinning so widely it looked painful."We are about to soar. Do you remember what I told you when we were chained as ship slaves?"
"Of course. You said follow the right man and even a pig can fly," the fat man muttered.
"The Captain speaks High Valyrian. His hair is silver and his eyes are purple. When he found us, he had only one warship, yet that ship held five hundred suits of armor and tens of thousands of gold dragons." Excitement glimmered in the boy's gaze, bright as a star. He saw a future rising before them.
The fat man clicked his tongue. "Seven hells, boy. Speak plainly. The Leader has tamed the dragon. That is enough. We are invincible now."
The boy looked at him with open disdain. "Idiot. I do not have the patience to explain."
The fat man scowled but had no answer.
Hugh did not hear them. His focus remained on the dragon as he stroked the warm scales along her jaw.
"Krestin. You, the boy, and the fat man. Roast all the goats. Quickly."
Krestin winced. "Captain, may we keep one?"
"No. We will dock soon. Endure it for now. When we do, I will give all of you three days and nights in the brothel." Hugh's gaze never left Sheepstealer. "She needs food. Strength must come first."
The promise of pleasure lifted the men's spirits, though Krestin still looked regretful. Hugh's hand slowed over the dragon's hide as a new thought struck him.
"Wait. you two, stay here. Send the rest away. Sheepstealer is in no condition for gawkers. We need a quiet place for her to heal."
The boy nodded at once. "Understood. It will be done."
Everyone knew how well the boy and the fat man worked together. Whenever the boy executed someone, the fat man hauled the body to feed the fish. They would handle this task cleanly.
*
Ten days passed.
Bloodstone.
A deep rumble shook the island as Vhagar descended from the clouds. Dreamfyre circled behind her, and Tessarion alit moments later, her blue wings folding with liquid grace.
Inside a command tent pitched near the cliffs, Aegon Targaryen set aside a cup of water and regarded the man before him. His expression held a touch of amusement.
"So you sailed all the way to Bloodstone only to question me?"
He had not expected such a visit. A few burned granaries and fields had hardly seemed significant enough to draw the rebel leader across the Narrow Sea.
"You have a bold heart," Aegon continued. "After seizing the Lango Highlands at last, you dare walk straight into my camp. If you die here, another man will take your place before nightfall. Does that not concern you?"
Hidolf stood firm beneath the prince's gaze. "I came to ask only one thing. Will you support us in our war against the slave masters?"
He met the question with a question of his own, unflinching.
Aegon leaned back, thoughtful. "To speak truth, I do not believe your rebels can stand against the slave lords. Yet the enemy of my enemy is my friend. If you seek aid, do you believe your rebels require it?"
Before Hidolf could answer, the tent flaps burst open.
"Brother! Listen to me. I destroyed at least twenty pirate ships today, and killed hundreds. Praise me!" Aemond strode inside, flushed with triumph.
His boast had scarcely left his lips when Daeron came charging in after him. "Do not believe him! He lies! I was the first to spot the pirates. I burned several ships myself!"
Aegon closed his eyes for a long moment. The silence grew heavy. These two fools. They would be the death of his patience.
Hidolf, however, seemed awed rather than offended. In the ten days it had taken him to reach Dragonstone from Tyrosh, he had seen firsthand what dragonriders could do. Pirate ships had been torn apart everywhere he sailed. Those who survived whispered endlessly of the destruction.
Prince Aegon's encirclement of the Stepstones had not unfolded as the pirates imagined. They expected dragons to drift over the sea with the royal fleet, searching blindly for targets.
Instead, the dragons hunted from the sky. They found pirate coves hidden among the rocks and forests. Once a lair was discovered, the fleet would anchor offshore. Soldiers poured across the sands in tight, disciplined ranks, moving with a precision Hidolf had never seen. Dragonfire above and steel below left the pirates scrambling in terror.
Hideout after hideout fell. Soon the Stepstones crawled with fleeing ships. Only the first channel remained open.
Every vessel fleeing north steered for that single narrow waterway. The second and third channels had been sealed. Any ship seen outside the first channel risked being reduced to ash by dragons circling in the clouds.
Hidolf himself had nearly died. A light-blue dragon had almost burned his ship to cinders before he turned toward the first channel. Passage was taxed at ten percent, but even that was better than falling into the hands of pirates or the Triarchy. The Triarchy could be worse than pirates by far. Most pirates wanted only gold or silver. The Triarchy wanted slaves.
Aemond finally noticed Hidolf standing in the corner. His grip on Daeron loosened as he stared. "Brother, who is this man?"
"The leader of the Rebel Army," Aegon replied. "He has come to question me."
"Question you?" Aemond blinked. "Guards! Remove him and feed him to Vhagar!"
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A/N: Aegon's ambition has begun to stir.As his power grows, so do his foes, traitors, and enemies rising with blades already drawn.
Will he truly succeed… or be crushed before he can claim it all?
If you want to find out, read ahead on Patreon. 19 advance chapters available, the first 2 are free.
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