The waves of Blackwater Bay lapped gently against the embankment, churning up flecks of white foam.
King Ghidorah lay quietly where the tidal flats met the sea, his three heads lowered and his six slit pupils half-lidded.
The Red Keep could not hold him, and even in King's Landing, there were few places where he could stretch out fully.
The ruins of the Great Sept of Baelor, where he had briefly settled before, were now bustling with construction. They were being rebuilt into a magnificent cathedral dedicated to the "Dragon God," making them unsuitable as well.
Aegon had considered the abandoned Dragonpit on the Rhaenys Hills, but that had been built for ordinary dragons.
A new one would have to be built-a place worthy of him, and a symbol of the new age.
At that moment, Aegon stood beneath the jaw of King Ghidorah's central head, gently wiping his pale gold scales with a piece of tanned leather.
His movements were careful and focused.
King Ghidorah obligingly lowered his neck, a deep rumble resonating in his throat.
An attendant hurried over from the direction of the Red Keep, only to be stopped by the guards.
Aegon did not turn around. He merely raised a hand and waved.
The guards let the attendant through. He approached and dropped to one knee.
"Your Highness, Lord Jon Connington is waiting in the Red Keep's study. He says he has urgent matters to report in person."
Aegon's hand paused briefly.
He nodded and patted the scales beneath King Ghidorah's jaw.
The dragon raised his heads and nuzzled his palm. Then his wings slowly spread, and his mountainlike body rose silently from the ground, ascending into the sky.
Aegon turned and headed toward the Red Keep.
The candles in the study had already been lit.