Chapter 74: Suppressed! A Forceful Return!
Lara Rogare's breath caught as she watched Logar dismantle Sandoq the Shadow with pure technique.
This man had tamed a dragon and could fight like a demon in the dirt. Even after winning, he hadn't gloated—he'd praised his opponent like a true knight.
Watching him stand there in the square, silver hair catching the light, she felt the last of her arrogance melt away. Her heart hammered like she'd just met the prince from every story she'd ever read.
"Hah! Daughter, now that Lord Logar has proven himself, are you satisfied?"
Lysandro Rogare couldn't hide his relief. He'd nearly picked a fight with a dragonrider and lived to regret it.
Lara's cheeks burned. Her eyes were soft and shining. "Father… the Sea Burner is magnificent. I have no complaints. I'll keep my word."
Logar almost laughed. He'd only fought because the giant looked like a real challenge—he hadn't been trying to conquer anyone. But the girl was clearly smitten, and Stone Step was a frozen hellhole. If she could survive it, fine.
So after the duel, Lara Rogare joined his household as an attendant. She would serve the dragonrider for a few years—part learning, part political insurance for House Rogare while the Blacks and Greens tore each other apart.
"Very well. We'll be on our way," Logar said.
He swung onto the Cannibal's back. Nettles settled Viserys in front of her on Sheepstealer. They said their goodbyes to Lysandro Rogare.
Two dragons launched into the sky at the same moment. A small fleet of Lysene ships followed below, carrying the promised gold, the handmaids, and—quietly—Sandoq the Shadow as Lara's personal guard.
The short but eventful trip to Lys was over.
Now it was time to return to Westeros and answer Queen Rhaenyra's call.
"May this Sea Burner prove worth the investment," Lysandro murmured, watching the black and brown shapes shrink against the clouds.
At the same moment, inside the Red Temple of R'hllor, a red-robed priest stared after the departing dragons and whispered, "Dragon shadows return to the sky… the Lord of Light's glory is waking once more…"
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Dragonstone.
Jacaerys's body had arrived. The funeral was over. The entire castle wore mourning white. Even the stone paths were strewn with pale chrysanthemums. The air itself felt heavy with grief.
No one spoke above a murmur. Only the occasional soft sob echoed through the great hall.
Queen Rhaenyra sat on the Iron Throne holding little Joffrey. Her once-sharp violet eyes were dull and swollen. Her fingers clutched her youngest son's tunic so tightly the knuckles had gone white.
Jacaerys—her heir, her pride—had died with Vermax in the Gullet. The loss was crushing her.
"Mother… don't cry so hard," Baela whispered, eyes red. She stood close, trying to be strong for both of them. Inside she was breaking too.
The Black lords stood in grim silence along the walls. Corlys Velaryon leaned on his cane, brow furrowed deep. His gaze kept drifting to Hugh Hammer and Ulf the White, who lounged against a pillar in the corner. Neither man looked the least bit sorrowful. If anything, they looked impatient.
Corlys knew exactly what they were. Since claiming their dragons they had grown arrogant, demanding lands and gold like they were owed the world. Worse—he'd heard they'd been close enough to help Jacaerys when he was surrounded… and had done nothing.
" Your Grace!" Lord Celtigar finally broke the heavy silence. "We must avenge Prince Jacaerys, but now is not the time for grief! The Greens hold King's Landing and their morale is high. If we hesitate, they'll dig in and we'll never take the Iron Throne back."
Rhaenyra slowly raised her head. Pain and exhaustion warred in her eyes. She wanted nothing more than to march on the city and burn every Green banner—but her heart was shattered. She barely had the strength to stand.
And Viserys was still missing. Only Aegon had returned on Stormcloud. Her middle son was somewhere in Essos, alive or dead, she didn't know.
"Viserys… my sweet Viserys is still out there," she rasped. "How can I talk about taking King's Landing when I can't even protect my own children?"
Corlys's stomach dropped. Joffrey was too young. Aegon was wounded. If Viserys was gone too, the Blacks would have no clear heir. The alliance would fracture.
He glanced at Hugh and Ulf again. The two bastards met his stare and actually smirked—like they were watching the queen's downfall and enjoying it.
Lord Celtigar tried to speak again, but the words died when he saw Rhaenyra's broken expression.
The hall fell back into suffocating silence.
Then a thunderous dragon roar shook the castle walls.
"A dragon! Dragons incoming!" a guard shouted, bursting in.
Hugh and Ulf's heads snapped up. They started for the doors, thinking their own mounts were causing trouble.
The lords exchanged wary looks. Surely no Green dragonrider would be foolish enough to attack Dragonstone alone?
Rhaenyra and Baela both looked up, confused.
Two massive shadows swept over the courtyard—one black, one brown. The Cannibal and Sheepstealer circled once, then landed heavily on the stones outside the great hall.
"That's… the Cannibal and Sheepstealer!" Baela gasped. "It's Logar and Nettles! They're back!"
A small figure leaped from the Cannibal's back—silver hair, travel-worn clothes, face streaked with tears and dirt.
Viserys sprinted toward the hall, sobbing at the top of his lungs.
"Mother! Mother! I'm home!"