Bringing the Dawn

LVI.

Torghen Hill

Volantis, 301AC

His mother used to tell him that a new moon at the beginning of the year was a good omen, whether that was true or not though, no one could say. The beating sun over Old Volantis making his clothing stick to his body with sweat, having long gotten used to such a feeling and therefore did not attempt to stop such a thing. What was the use in it? He knew the moment he removed his clothing, washed, and changed, it would take a couple of hours tops for the sun to work its magic and he would be right back where he started again.

The streets of the city that were behind the famous black walls which separated those with the blood of Valyria to the outside of the city was like night and day. Within the walls, everyone walking around had either purple eyes, silver-gold hair, or there were even the lucky few who possessed both as their blood was so noble. Or in their beliefs- noble. Scoffing simply at the thought because all they needed to do was to go to a pleasure house in Lys to see they were not the only people who could trace their blood to Old Valyria.

Slaves walking around with collars on their necks adorned with pendants of Valyrian steel to signify these slaves were 'high up', but slaves nonetheless. The tattoos on their cheeks confirming which type of slave they were. Soldier? Pillow? House? There seemed to be slaves for everything, it not even shocking him anymore that it was common knowledge that every nobleman in this blasted city could always name five slaves to them and them only. It was disgusting, but it was something he'd had no choice but to get used to when he had been exiled from Westeros by the Stag King.

At least he was dead, and with it the ending of his exile. Not officially of course, but an end to it. The sooner he got out of the damned Free Cities of Essos, the better. Granted, they weren't all bad, but there was a lot that outweighed the good and Torghen had long come to the conclusion he would rather live in the vilest area of Flea Bottom than live here.

In a few days they would be setting sail for Westeros, something that had been carefully planned for eighteen years. First, they had planned with Rhaegar but he had died. Then, they had planned with Rhaella but she had died. Then, they planned with Ser Willem Darry and he also died. But now, now they were finally planning with people who with luck would survive until the Iron Throne was back in House Targaryen where it belonged. The throne had been forged by Aegon the Conqueror, it symbolised everything to do with the monarchy of Westeros. If the man were still alive, he knew he would rage at what had happened.

Nay, there was a common cause now, one that had been built up over nearing two years. If they succeeded with their first move, they would be even closer to winning. A flash of white and orange came into his vision then, blinking rapidly and cursing quietly to himself. Out of everyone, he should be used to seeing dragons, having watched Jaeron's grow at an absurd rate. Lord Howland had believed it to be a mixture of the magic that lingered in the air of the Neck, the magic Jaeron himself possessed as a warg, and being allowed to roam freely instead of being cooped up which resulted in their rapid growth. What Maegor the Cruel had been thinking when he had commissioned the Dragon Pit to be built no one could say. If anyone did say anything about it, they at the very least would've lost their tongues.

He reached up to push his golden blonde hair off of his forehead as he turned around to where he had seen the flash. The hatchling being a few months old now and growing rapidly too. Nowhere near on the scale Rhaegon and Lyrax were growing, but still quite rapidly. Vēzos Aegon had called his dragon, the High Valyrian word for sun. Mostly orange it was- both a mixture of a burnt orange and a bright orange, with a white underbelly and bronze coloured horns that pointed backwards on its head instead of straight up alongside bronze swirls along the back. At best, the dragon tolerated him, which he was glad for.