Sacking of Lys

Chapter 27: Sacking of Lys

The salt air was thick with the scent of blood and fire. Aerion Targaryen stood aboard his flagship, the Black Dawn, looking over the shattered remains of Lys as the last of his men loaded the ships with their spoils. The once-proud city, known for its opulence and debauchery, was now a smoldering ruin, its wealth stripped, its masters slain, and its streets slick with the blood of slavers.

Behind him, on the decks of their fleet, the rescued women huddled together, waiting for departure. They had not yet sailed—every ship was bound for Braavos, carrying not only their loot but also the freed captives who had suffered under Lysene chains.

Aerion turned from the destruction and strode into the captain's cabin, where his council awaited. The room was dimly lit, the flickering lanterns casting shadows on the gathered men. Ser Barristan Selmy, ever the knight, stood with arms crossed, his white hair catching the light. Aurane Waters, the fleet's admiral, leaned against the table, going over naval charts.

Barristan was the first to speak. "The raid was a success, but what now, my prince? What is our next move?"

Aerion exhaled slowly, letting his violet gaze settle on each of them before answering.

"We got everything we came for. All the gold we could carry. We freed the women and loaded the slavers onto the ships, where they will learn what it means to be at the mercy of their former chattel. Lys will not recover from this. The Rogares are gone—wiped out in a single night." He let the weight of that settle before adding, "Only Lysarra remains, and she will serve our interests well. As for the Ormollen, we gave them a reckoning of their own. Their bloodline is severed, save for what lingers in the veins of the Hightowers. If they think to stake a claim to Lys through Lynesse's daughter, let them try."

Aurane Waters, ever pragmatic, tapped his fingers against the wooden table. "And what of Driftmark? Monford Velaryon has been loyal to us. His house bled for this cause. We must return his family home."

Aerion nodded. "I intend to keep my promise. Laenor Velaryon will return to Driftmark as its rightful heir. But before we return to Westeros, we must ensure our strength."

Barristan arched a brow. "Strength alone won't win you the Seven Kingdoms."

"No," Aerion agreed. "We need more than ships, swords, and gold. We need legitimacy. And for that, we need my brother."

A tense silence fell over the council.

"Viserys," Barristan murmured, as if testing the name on his tongue.

Aerion met his gaze. "Yes. As the eldest male Targaryen, he is the one with the strongest claim. No lord in Westeros will swear to me while he still breathes. If we are to truly press our return, Viserys must stand at the head of it."

Aurane let out a breath. "And you believe he will listen to reason?"

Aerion's expression darkened. "He will, or he will be removed."

That was enough for now. They all knew what that meant.

"So we sail for Braavos," Aurane said, glancing at the maps.

Aerion traced a path with his finger. "Going by land would be safer, but the Myrish Triarch has gathered an army in the Disputed Lands. With Midas Drahar commanding their forces, the roads are too dangerous."

Barristan frowned. "Then we must prepare for pirate raids in the Stepstones."

Aerion allowed himself a smirk. "Let them come. The Stepstones are full of carrion crows, but we are not without our own weapons. And when we meet the Baratheon fleet, we will be ready for them."

Aurane raised an eyebrow. "You sound confident."

Aerion's smirk deepened. "We took something from Lys beyond gold and slaves. The alchemists left us gifts of their own."

Barristan's eyes narrowed. "Wildfire?"

Aerion shook his head. "No. Just explosives. But more than enough to send a fleet to the bottom of the sea."

There was a gleam in his eyes as he leaned forward, firelight dancing across his face.

The invasion of Westeros was drawing closer.