Chapter 24: Thunder and Clear Skies
Location: Blackwater Bay
Year: 92 AC
The Ashen Gale cut cleanly into Blackwater Bay under clear skies. Her dark hull and muted gray sails stood out against the brighter merchant vessels as she eased toward one of the quieter docks. The crew moved with practiced efficiency, preparing to unload everything from the smaller trade goods they had carried all the way to Vaelros's personal cargo bound for his new home in King's Landing.
Vaelros stood on the deck with his wand in hand. One by one he sealed the most important crates with complex, nearly invisible wards. The magic left no flash only a faint shimmer that settled into the wood like a lock. Inside those boxes were relics from Old Valyria, carefully written medicine recipes, books on Valyrian steel theory, and his own growing journals of magical
research. He worked quickly but carefully. Some of what he had brought back was too valuable, and too dangerous, to risk leaving unguarded.
When the last seal was set, he slipped the wand away and nodded to the waiting guards.
"Take them under heavy guard. Nothing leaves your sight."
The men moved at once.
Above the city, a dark shape wheeled through the clear sky. A thunderous roar rolled across the bay and over the rooftops of King's Landing. People on the docks and in the streets looked up, shielding their eyes. The shape was unmistakably a dragon large, black, and marked with gold—but it was not one they knew. Conversations stopped. A few older sailors made the sign of the Seven. Most simply stared.
Deep inside the Dragonpit, the oldest and
largest of the dragons stirred.
Vhagar lifted her massive head and answered the distant roar with a furious bellow of her own. The sound shook dust from the high stone ceilings and set the younger dragons shifting uneasily in their chains. Handlers scrambled to keep order.
Prince Baelon Targaryen was already on his way to the pit, seeking a short flight to clear his mind after the weight of recent losses and the endless demands of court. The unfamiliar roar reached him before he arrived. He looked up, frowning, searching the sky for a familiar shape. No wild dragon should have been this close to the city.
When he entered the Dragonpit, he found Vhagar restless and angry, her great bronze-green form shifting and growling low in her throat.
"What in the Seven is going on today?"
he muttered, moving carefully closer in an attempt to calm her. The old dragon's eyes remained fixed on the high openings above, as if she could still see the interloper in the sky.
By the time Vaelros reached the house on the hill, the last of the sealed crates were being carried inside under guard. The place was quiet and solid, with a clear view of the bay. Serenya stood waiting at the entrance, arms open.
He crossed the space in a few long strides and swept her up into a fierce hug, lifting her off the ground for a moment before setting her down again
"Mother." His voice was warm with relief. "I'm so happy to see you. The things I've seen… the fights, the adventure… it was beautiful. That's all I can say. Just beautiful."
Serenya laughed softly against his shoulder, then pinched his arm when he finally let go.
"Keep your manners, and keep your men in line," she said with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Come inside. We have a feast waiting."
Two figures approached behind him. The first was a sharp-featured man with Lannister coloring and clear blue eyes. The second was broad and heavily built, wearing a thick fur mantle that marked him as a man of the North.
Vaelros gestured between them.
"Mother, this is Ser Calen Hill and Tharn. Calen, Tharn this is my mother, Serenya. Try not to embarrass me."
Serenya's smile turned slightly wicked as she looked the two men over.
"You both kept my son alive through that cursed land. That already earns you a place at my table. Come. Eat. Drink. And tell us every wild story you have."
She linked her arm through Vaelros's and led them inside as the last of the afternoon light spilled across Blackwater Bay. High above, a distant dragon's roar still echoed faintly against the clear sky, answered once more by the deeper fury rising from the Dragonpit.
The Ashen Gale had come home.