Above the skies, Aemond withdrew his gaze and looked toward Rhaenys.
"Vhagar."
The giant dragon beneath him moved.
She no longer paid any attention to the clash between Syrax and Lothorne, and instead lunged straight toward Meleys.
Meleys desperately tried to fly, but her right wing was ruined. She could no longer get airborne.
All she could do was slash wildly with her left claw and tear savagely with her jaws, but Vhagar was too large.
Far too large.
Vhagar's body was more than twice her size.
Her claws were bigger than Meleys's head.
Her jaws could bite through Meleys's neck in a single snap.
But Meleys did not flee.
She knew she could not escape.
All she could do was fight.
Fight with her life.
Vhagar swooped down and bit toward Meleys's throat.
Meleys suddenly twisted her head aside. Vhagar's fangs scraped past her neck and sank into her shoulder instead.
Crunch.
The sound of bones shattering.
Blood burst forth.
Meleys screamed in agony, yet she did not retreat. She snapped back toward Vhagar's neck.
The two dragons tangled together in the sky.
Their claws locked against one another, tearing and rending.
Their jaws clamped down, biting and gnawing at each other. Blood rained from the heavens, impossible to tell whose was whose.
Lightning illuminated their silhouettes.
Two dragons fighting for their lives.
Vhagar's claws ripped across Meleys's abdomen, carving open wounds so deep that bone could be seen beneath the flesh.
Meleys's entrails were nearly spilling out, yet she still bit down.
Meleys's claws raked across Vhagar's face, leaving long bloody gashes behind.
One of Vhagar's eyes nearly got clawed out, and the pain made her thrash her head violently.
They bit and tore at each other, rolling through the storm from high above down toward the lower skies, then climbing back upward again.
Rain poured over their bodies, washing across the blood flowing from their wounds and scattering it everywhere.
On the ground below Dragonstone, people stared upward at the sky.
Those hiding among the fortress ruins, inside the Dragonpit, or cowering in corners all poked their heads out to watch that unimaginably brutal dragon battle.
"Seven save us…"
someone muttered.
Lightning flashed again and again across the heavens.
And with every flash, the two dragons could be seen locked together.
Crimson and gray-green.
Biting, rolling, twisting together as they plunged downward.
Then came a thunderous crash.
The two dragons lost balance and crashed toward the fortress ruins.
BOOM!!!
Black stone shattered apart as clouds of dust exploded upward.
Half of the fortress's tallest tower collapsed from the impact, broken stones and roof tiles pouring down like rain.
The tower had already been on the verge of collapse. That impact finished it off completely.
Through the smoke and dust, Meleys burst out first.
Her entire body was drenched in blood. Her right wing hung limp while her left wing beat frantically. Madness burned in her eyes—the madness of a dying dragon.
She no longer cared whether she would survive.
All she wanted was to get Rhaenys out of danger before she died.
Vhagar burst from the ruins right behind her.
She too had gained several wounds. Some of her scales had been torn open, blood streaming down her body.
But her speed had hardly slowed at all.
She was simply too enormous. Wounds like these meant little to her.
Meleys desperately climbed higher, trying to widen the distance between them.
But she could no longer fly fast enough.
She was too slow.
The Red Queen kept glancing back at Vhagar.
Vhagar was gaining on her.
Then—
A black shadow shot in from the side.
Lothorne.
He had already shaken off Syrax and now lunged toward Meleys.
His speed was terrifying.
His jaws clamped onto Meleys's right hind leg.
Then, in midair, he twisted into a savage death roll, using the momentum of the spin—
And suddenly jerked his head violently.
Crunch.
Meleys's right hind leg was torn clean off and fell from the sky.
"No!!!"
Rhaenys's scream atop the Red Queen was utterly heart-wrenching.
Meleys shrieked in agony and lashed out with her left hind leg at Lothorne's head.
One kick. Two kicks. Three—
Lothorne's snout was kicked bloody and mangled.
Roaring in pain, Lothorne released his bite and retreated backward.
But Meleys was finished.
Half of her right wing was already destroyed, and now she had lost her right hind leg as well. Her entire body was soaked in blood.
She swayed in the air, barely able to remain aloft.
Rhaenys lay against her back, tears streaming down her face.
"Old girl… old girl…"
Meleys turned her head and looked back at Rhaenys.
Within those golden eyes were too many emotions to describe.
It was a farewell.
Rhaenys wrapped her arms around her neck and pressed her face against those warm scales.
"Old girl… thank you… thank you for staying with me all these years…"
Even at death's door, Meleys let out a low rumbling purr—the sound she made when she was happy.
Vhagar lunged forward.
Her jaws clamped around Meleys's throat.
And Meleys bit into Vhagar's neck as well, using the last of her strength to drive her teeth deep into that massive neck while blood poured from between her fangs.
Vhagar trembled violently from the pain.
Still biting down on Meleys's neck, the ancient dragon twisted her entire body and wrenched hard.
Crunch.
Meleys's head was torn clean off in a single bite.
Vhagar released her jaws, and the severed dragon head fell from the sky.
Rhaenys clung to the headless corpse as it plummeted downward.
She did not scream.
Did not cry out.
She merely closed her eyes.
Meleys was dead.
She no longer wished to live either.
The wind roared in her ears, mingling with the sound of rain and Vhagar's thunderous roar.
Then—
BOOM!!!!
The headless dragon corpse smashed into the fortress ruins, kicking up a massive cloud of dust and debris.
Rhaenys was thrown from the dragon's back and crashed into a pile of shattered stone.
Her leg was broken.
Her ribs were broken.
Blood covered her face.
Coughing up blood, Rhaenys slowly opened her eyes.
She saw the dragon's head lying not far away.
It had rolled into the nearby ruins, its eyes still open.
Those golden pupils had already lost their focus, yet something still seemed to linger within them.
"Old girl…"
Her lips moved faintly.
"No!"
Rhaenyra's scream echoed across the heavens.
High above, she clung to Syrax's back, staring at the headless dragon corpse in the distance as tears mixed with the rain streaming down her face.
"Aunt… Aunt…"
No one answered her.
Only the torrential rain poured down endlessly.
Rhaenyra wanted to rush over there.
But she could not.
Lothorne was still watching from nearby, ready to pounce at any moment.
Rhaenyra wrapped her arms tightly around Syrax's neck, trembling violently.
The Queen Who Never Was.
She had never worn a crown in her life, yet her pride had outweighed any crown in the world.
And now she was dead.
Dead at Aemond's hands.
Dead on Dragonstone.
Above the skies, Aemond's expression turned complicated. He withdrew his gaze from the crash site and looked toward Rhaenyra in the distance.
"Vhagar!"
The giant dragon turned and lunged toward Syrax.
Rhaenyra shuddered violently.
"Syrax, run!"
The yellow she-dragon beat her wings desperately and fled eastward.
But she was not fast enough.
Meanwhile, the wounded black dragon, Lothorne, had already climbed high into the skies.
Rhaenyra knew that the next time that cunning black dragon appeared, it would likely be for a killing blow.
Vhagar flew steadily behind them, unhurried.
"I can't die yet!" Rhaenyra screamed, despair filling her voice.
She thought of little Jace, Luke, Joff, little Aegon, little Viserys…
Daemon, where are you?
Aemond gave no answer.
He merely stared at her as though looking at a corpse.
Then, at that moment—
A dragon's roar thundered from the side.
Blood red.
Caraxes.
The Blood Wyrm.
Aemond turned his head.
Daemon.
At last, he had arrived.
Unfortunately for him, he had arrived too late.
Daemon said nothing.
His dragon was not fast enough now. Its left wing was injured—the wound left behind by Sunfyre's bite.
A cold smile curled at the corner of Aemond's mouth.
"Perfect timing."
Just as he was about to command Vhagar to turn and engage, suddenly—
Lothorne let out a warning roar.
Aemond followed the black dragon's gaze.
In the eastern skies, a silver figure burst through the clouds.
Silverwing.
Saera's dragon.
And behind her was a bronze giant barely managing to stay airborne.
Vermithor.
The Bronze Fury.
Aemond fell silent.
Silverwing was in good condition and flying quickly.
Vermithor was struggling to fly, but he was still airborne.
If they caught up and joined forces with Daemon…
Aemond lowered his gaze toward Vhagar.
Vhagar was covered in wounds.
Several deep gashes marked her neck where Meleys had bitten her, blood still pouring from them.
Multiple patches of scales along her abdomen had been torn open, leaving mangled flesh exposed beneath.
A long claw mark stretched above her right eye as well, dragon blood covering half her face.
She was already exhausted.
She had fought for too long and bled too much.
Could she fight another battle?
Yes.
She still could.
But if she had to face Silverwing and Vermithor on top of the Blood Wyrm…
Lothorne was injured as well.
Meleys's kicks had smashed his snout bloody. One eye was swollen shut, while the other was bloodshot.
His flight had become uneven, his balance compromised. He could still fly and still fight, but his condition was far from good.
Aemond let out a quiet sigh.
"Withdraw."
Vhagar turned westward and flew away.
Lothorne followed closely behind.
Daemon sat astride Caraxes, staring at the two retreating dragon silhouettes, trembling with fury.
He had seen it.
He had seen Meleys's corpse.
He had seen Rhaenys lying broken among the ruins.
He had seen his wife fleeing in humiliation while being hunted through the skies.
And the culprit was right there before him.
He wanted to pursue them.
But Caraxes's wings were injured, and he could not fly fast enough.
That bite from Sunfyre had damaged his left wing.
Every beat of his wings tore the wound open further, sending more blood pouring out.
Caraxes desperately tried to give chase.
But he could not catch them.
"Fuck!" Daemon roared. "Fuck!"
He suddenly turned toward Saera atop Silverwing.
"Chase them down!" he shouted. "Go after them!"
Saera froze for a moment.
She looked at the two retreating dragon shadows, then back at Daemon.
She remembered the battle at Dragonstone.
She remembered how Aemond had killed Valos.
How he had killed Miraxes.
How he had faced five dragonriders alone and still won.
She remembered the blood falling from the sky, the screams, the charred corpses burned black by dragonfire.
A shiver ran through her body.
"I… I…"
"Chase them down!" Daemon roared again.
Grinding her teeth, Saera urged Silverwing forward.
But she did not fly particularly fast.
It was not because Silverwing could not fly faster.
It was because she did not dare.
Deliberately, she held back her speed.
Daemon narrowed his eyes as he watched her back, his fury gradually turning into something more complicated.
This bastard-born girl… was she trying to preserve her strength?
Or was she afraid?
He did not know.
He only knew that if Caraxes had not been injured, if Silverwing had truly been willing to pursue them, if Vermithor could still fight alongside them—
And with Syrax as well—
They would have had four dragons.
The battered Vhagar and Lothorne only had two.
They could never have won.
But now…
All he could do was watch those two dragon silhouettes grow farther and farther away before finally vanishing into the storm clouds.
"Fuck," Daemon cursed under his breath as he looked toward Saera ahead of him, who clearly had no intention of risking her life.
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