[94] The Greatest Knight

Chapter 94: The Greatest Knight

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Ser Barristan and Grey Worm both realized something was wrong when they reached Aegon's living quarters. The door hung ajar, swinging slightly in the hot Meereenese breeze. Inside, drawers were emptied, clothes scattered, and personal effects missing. Barristan's hand instinctively moved to his sword hilt.

"Search the other rooms," he ordered the six Unsullied who accompanied them.

Grey Worm moved with silent efficiency, directing his men with hand signals. Barristan paced the main chamber, examining the scattered evidence of hasty departure. A discarded blue hair dye bottle lay tipped on its side, staining the stone floor.

"Nothing, Ser Barristan," Grey Worm reported, his Common Tongue stilted but clear. "He gone."

Barristan swore under his breath. "The Golden Company commanders?"

"We will check," Grey Worm replied.

They marched to the section of the pyramid reserved for the sellsword officers. Most of the rank-and-file remained in their quarters, looking confused and directionless – but Harry Strickland, Jon Connington, and the other commanders were nowhere to be found.

"The dragon," Barristan said suddenly, his heart sinking. "We must check the dragon."

The pit where Rhaegal was kept was a short distance from the Great Pyramid. As they approached, Barristan couldn’t hear the familiar sound of a dragon chained within. Barristan's worst fears were confirmed when they entered the massive chamber.

Rhaegal's restraints lay empty and broken on the stone floor.

"The Queen's nephew is a snake," Grey Worm said, his face hardening.

Barristan felt sick. The so-called Aegon Targaryen, fearing a confrontation with Viserion the Gold Dragon atop Rhaegal, had fled Meereen. The boy who claimed to be Rhaegar's son – a prince Barristan had sworn to protect in what felt like another lifetime ago – was nothing but a pretender?

Or was he indeed Aegon, and just fled out of fear?

Perhaps he’s just out for a stroll with Rhaegal…? That could also be the case.

Barristan couldn’t tell. Rage bubbled in his blood, making it hard to think straight.

"Quick," Barristan said as they exited the dragon pit, Grey Worm and the Unsullied squad walking fast toward the pyramid again. "We need to notify the Queen and then chase whichever direction that boy fled."

"Doesn't this," Grey Worm started, hesitating, "Doesn't this confirm Viserys Targaryen's claim that this Aegon is a fake?"

Barristan didn't answer, fearful of what Daenerys' reaction would be. The Queen had invested hope in this supposed nephew – another Targaryen to share her burden. This betrayal would crush her, especially coming so soon after her brother's assault.

They chose an alleyway to make faster progress back to the Great Pyramid.

The narrow passage wound between tall buildings, offering shade from the merciless sun but also limiting visibility. Barristan's instincts, honed by decades of knighthood, prickled with warning.

"Stop," he commanded, hand flying to his sword hilt. "We're surrounded."

All around them, from both exits, Sons of the Harpy appeared, golden masks catching the dim light as they blocked the alley. Each carried curved daggers or short swords, and they outnumbered the Queen's men three to one.

"Dammit all," Barristan drew his sword in one fluid motion. The six Unsullied instantly formed a protective formation around Barristan and Grey Worm, spears leveled outward.

The Sons of Harpy didn’t bother trying to speak. The first harpy rushed forward with a wild cry. An Unsullied spear took him in the throat, but two more followed. The alley erupted into brutal chaos.

Barristan moved with the speed and precision that had made him legendary. His blade sang through the air, finding gaps in armor and flesh with deadly accuracy. One harpy fell, clutching at his opened belly. Another lost his sword hand before Barristan's backswing opened his throat.

Grey Worm fought with efficient brutality beside him, his spear a blur as he impaled a harpy through the chest and kicked the corpse free to engage the next attacker.

The six Unsullied fought fearlessly. One drove his spear through two attackers with a single thrust, but another found his throat. Another Unsullied wielded his broken spear shaft as a staff, crushing a harpy's skull before a dagger found his heart.

One by one, the Unsullied fell, overwhelmed by the sheer number of attackers pouring into the alley.

"Back to back!" Barristan shouted to Grey Worm as the last Unsullied collapsed.

They fought on, surrounded by the bodies of fallen men. Barristan's sword arm grew heavy, his breath coming in short gasps. A shallow cut across his forearm leaked blood, and another slash had torn through his white cloak. Grey Worm bled from a gash on his forehead, but his spear continued to claim lives.

Barristan cut down a harpy who lunged for him, then barely parried a thrust aimed at his throat. His reactions were slowing. In his prime, none of these men would have touched him, but time was merciless. Age had finally caught up with Ser Barristan the Bold.

He didn't see the harpy who circled behind him, spear raised to strike between his shoulder blades.

"Careful!" Grey Worm yelled, but it was too late.

Barristan tensed, anticipating the pain of cold steel piercing his heart. Instead, he heard a wet thud and a gurgling cry.

A gleaming spear had intercepted the attack, its blood-slick tip protruding from the harpy's chest. Behind the dying man stood an armored figure in burnished red plate adorned with black dragonglass rubies – armor Barristan had not seen in decades.

"I didn't want to step in," Viserys Targaryen said, yanking his spear free as the harpy crumpled, "but it irritates me to see mere slaves daring to harm the greatest swordsman the Seven Kingdoms has ever seen."

“Ah…”

“Rest easy, Ser. I’m here.”

What followed defied belief. Viserys moved through the remaining harpies like a dancer among statues. His spear whirled, stabbed, slashed, and pierced with inhuman speed. The red armor gleamed as he pivoted, every movement economical yet devastatingly effective.

A harpy lunged as Viserys sidestepped and drove his spear through the man's eye socket. Two more attacked simultaneously – his spear shaft cracked one mask while the point opened the other's throat. Four charged together – Viserys leapt impossibly high, coming down with his spear driving through one man's skull before sweeping the others off their feet and dispatching them with precise thrusts.

Barristan watched in stunned silence.

The fighting style was unlike anything he'd ever witnessed – no knight or sellsword moved with such deadly grace. Within moments, every harpy lay dead or dying, and Viserys stood among them, not a drop of sweat on his brow.

“That’s the last of them,” he said as the spear vanished from Viserys's hand as if by magic.

He approached Barristan, who looked up at him, eyes wide in wonder. For a moment, in that red armor, Barristan could almost believe Rhaegar himself stood before him.

"Thank you for the help, uh, Prince Viserys," Barristan managed, his voice hoarse. Even so, he remained loyal to the Queen he had given his oath to. So he didn’t refer to him as Your Grace like the rest of Westerosi Knights would have. "I fear we would have fallen without your aid. But… Grey Worm needs medical attention immediately. Will you help him, please?"

"You need medical help too, Ser," Viserys said, grabbing the unconscious Grey Worm by an arm and dragging him near Ser Barristan. He held the old knight by his arm too and then said, "Don't move too much, don’t panic."

Then, to Barristan's astonishment, wings sprouted from Viserys's back – great draconic appendages that unfurled like leather sails. So the rumors weren’t a lie.

With a powerful downward stroke, Viserys launched them skyward, soaring above the buildings toward the Great Pyramid.

****

I soared toward the highest level of the Great Pyramid, wings beating powerfully against the hot Meereen air. The unconscious Grey Worm hung limp in one arm while Ser Barristan, still awake but weakened, clung to my other side.

The old knight's eyes were glazed with pain, but he maintained his composure even as we flew hundreds of feet above the city.

"Almost there," I told him as we approached the massive structure.

The audience chamber's large window loomed ahead – perfect for my entrance. With a final powerful stroke, I sent us gliding through the opening and landed in a crouch, careful not to jostle my injured passengers.

Daenerys sat upon her ebony throne, looking every bit the queen in her white and gold tokar. Her splinted arm was a reminder of our last encounter. Ser Jorah Mormont stood faithfully at her side, and his sword immediately cleared its scabbard when he saw me.

"Khaleesi!" he shouted, stepping between us.

Missandei's hands flew to her mouth, a gasp escaping her lips as she saw Grey Worm's bloodied form. Even the usually unflappable Tyrion Lannister – so that's where the little Imp had disappeared to – frowned deeply, his mismatched eyes growing wary at my sudden appearance.

Unsullied guards rushed out from the corners of the room, surrounding me with spears pointed at my chest. Still crouching with my injured cargo, I found myself the center of a circle of deadly steel.

"How DARE you hurt my commanders?!" Daenerys shouted, her eyes blazing with fury as she rose from her seat. Her good hand gripped the arm of her throne so tightly her knuckles whitened.

I shrugged, gently laying Barristan and Grey Worm on the cool stone floor. "Always so quick to judge me, sister," I replied, straightening to my full height as I found myself looming over everyone in the room. The System had granted me great height beside my explosive strength, and I used every bit of that to intimidate the fools around me.

The old knight coughed weakly, raising a hand to stay the Unsullied spears. "Your Grace," he managed, his voice pained but clear, "Prince Viserys didn't harm us. He... saved our lives. The Sons of the Harpy ambushed us in the alley. We would have fallen if he hadn't arrived."

Daenerys's expression faltered, confusion replacing rage for a moment.

"It is a waste that the finest knight alive is serving you, and it'd have been a greater waste for him to die for you," I said, brushing dust from my armor. "So I saved him. I happened to save the Unsullied commander, too. Anyways, don't waste time arguing with me and take them to the medics. It takes a lot to make an unsullied go unconscious, and this one's particularly strong. It's an emergency."

My sister breathed heavily, clearly struggling with how to respond. Finally, she gestured to her guards. "Take them to my chambers. Summon the healers immediately."

Four Unsullied carefully lifted their injured commander while two more helped Barristan. As they carried them away, Daenerys turned her attention back to me, eyes narrowed.

"If you're expecting gratitude, you'd be disappointed. Leave."

"A Queen who can’t say thank you for saving the best of her fighters is not so Queen at all. Here I thought you'd at least offer me tea," I shrugged, the wings on my back retracting into thin air. "And no, I'll be staying for a bit until Ser Barristan receives immediate medical attention. I think he has a fun report to make that you'll enjoy."

"…." She wanted to argue but just scoffed and turned to Missandei. "Serve him tea with the best poison we have. Make sure it melts his bones."

"Such a fiery sister I have," I said, amused by her futile venom. I turned my attention to the small man watching our exchange with calculating eyes. "Dany, you've been working with dirty Lannisters?"

"Do not insult my advisor, brother," she snapped.

I smiled at that. "Fine, since you called me brother, I shall entertain your request." I faced Tyrion fully. "Anyhow, it has been a while, Lord Tyrion. Do you remember me?"

Tyrion nodded slowly, his expression guarded. "Yes. Who would have thought the eccentric sellsword claiming to be from the Second Sons was actually Viserys Targaryen?"

“It wasn’t totally a lie. The Second Sons do serve me,” I said. Although currently they were in Dorne, cast out of the city and forced to stay in the sands.

I stared at Tyrion, recalling our brief encounter in King's Landing, and pondered his fate.

My thoughts were cut short by Daenerys shouting for me to go drink my tea and die. I laughed and allowed Missandei to lead me from the chamber, leaving my sister fuming on her throne.

I couldn’t wait for Ser Barristan’s report. I couldn’t wait to see my sister’s stupid face when she realized the truth.

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