Hooves struck the ruined streets of King's Landing with a steady beat.
Aegon rode a snow-white stallion, clad in black armor, his silver hair stirring in the wind. Soldiers of the Blood Oath Band guarded him on either side, the sharp clink of their armor the only sound on the deathly silent street.
Once grossly overweight, Henry had shed his excess flesh during the bloody battles in Valyria and the campaigns across the Narrow Sea. Tall and straight-backed now, he kept close beside Aegon's horse.
His vigilant gaze swept the streets and alleys on either side. The mercenary's rough recklessness had given way to the composure of an army commander.
Aegon looked straight ahead, indifferent to the devastation around him.
Henry, however, could not help glancing aside. The wind pressure from King Ghidorah had torn the roofs from entire rows of houses. Broken timber and rubble littered the ground, and dark brown blood stained the flagstones.
Civilians huddled behind shattered doorframes, their eyes numb and fearful.
Soldiers dragged away debris and cleared the corpses. King's Landing had just endured a calamity of cataclysmic proportions.
As Henry surveyed the wreckage, conflicting emotions flickered in his eyes.
His thoughts drifted back to the shores of Dragonstone.
To the old man who had sought him out, his hair white as snow, his back still ramrod straight...
The two of them had spoken briefly beside the rocks.
Henry had declared his undying loyalty to Aegon without hesitation. Yet the old man had gazed at the waves of Blackwater Bay, his voice weathered and heavy:
"It is precisely because you are utterly loyal to him that you must not let him go astray. My boy, I can see what sort of man you are. You will become a great knight. Make your sovereign see reason.