A Song of Ash and Mirror Flame
Arc XIII: Wings of Blood and Flame
I. Daemon Targaryen – POV
The courtyard bored him.
Politics bored him.
Acceptance bored him.
But a new dragon?
That did not.
Daemon Targaryen stood on the terrace overlooking the sea, silver hair loose in the wind.
The mirror-scaled beast rested beyond the walls like a coiled secret.
Beautiful.
Wrong.
"I do not like mysteries," Daemon muttered.
Footsteps approached.
Rhaenyra Targaryen joined him.
"You're thinking of challenging him."
Daemon smirked.
"Of course I am."
She crossed her arms.
"Then I am coming."
He gave her a sideways glance.
"Trying to impress your new uncle?"
She smiled faintly.
"Trying to see if he survives you."
Daemon laughed.
Good.
This would be interesting.
II. Benedarion – POV
He felt them before they spoke.
Dragons sense dragons.
And riders sense intention.
Daemon approached openly.
Rhaenyra beside him.
"We fly," Daemon announced simply.
No insult. No threat.
Just challenge.
Benedarion tilted his head slightly.
"Race?"
Daemon's grin widened.
"To the cliffs of Dragonstone and back."
Rhaenyra stepped forward.
"And I fly as well."
Three dragons.
Three bloodlines of Baelon.
The sky would remember this day.
III. The Flight
Caraxes screamed first.
Long. Warped. Violent.
From the Dragonpit, the Blood Wyrm erupted skyward in a coil of red.
Syrax followed — golden and radiant.
Then Yggdrasil moved.
Not explosive.
Not frantic.
He stepped forward.
Wings unfurled like mirrors catching the sun.
And leapt.
The city gasped below as three dragons tore across the sky.
IV. Rhaenyra – POV
Wind tore at her hair.
Syrax roared joyfully beneath her.
Caraxes twisted wildly ahead, Daemon riding like a mad god.
Then—
She saw him.
Yggdrasil did not flap wildly.
He cut through the air.
Silent. Precise.
His scales reflected sky and sea, nearly invisible until light struck him.
"He flies differently," she whispered.
Not rage like Daemon.
Not exuberance like herself.
Control.
Ancient control.
They reached the cliffs nearly together.
Caraxes dove sharply.
Syrax wheeled wide.
Yggdrasil rose.
Higher.
Higher than either.
Then folded his wings briefly—
And plunged in a perfect arc back toward King's Landing.
Rhaenyra's breath caught.
Show-off.
V. Daemon – POV
Caraxes screamed in frustration.
Daemon narrowed his eyes.
The mirror dragon was not faster.
He was smarter.
He used currents.
Angles.
Efficiency.
When they returned above the Red Keep—
Yggdrasil landed first.
Not by much.
But first.
Daemon dismounted slowly.
Studied him.
Then laughed.
Loud and genuine.
"Well done, brother."
Not mockery.
Not sarcasm.
Respect.
VI. The Meeting of Dragons
Caraxes slithered closer.
Neck coiling. Tongue tasting the air.
Yggdrasil did not retreat.
He lowered his head slightly.
Not submission.
Acknowledgment.
Caraxes hissed once — testing.
Yggdrasil's scales shimmered faintly, reflecting red along their mirrored surface.
Syrax landed gracefully beside them.
Golden warmth against mirrored silver.
For a tense heartbeat—
All three dragons stood within flame's reach.
Then—
Syrax nudged Yggdrasil lightly.
Curious.
Caraxes snorted but did not strike.
A silent agreement passed.
Not enemies.
Not yet.
VII. Rhaenyra – Private Conversation (POV)
The gardens were quiet at dusk.
She found him near the heart tree again.
"You planned to win," she said without greeting.
He smiled faintly.
"I planned to survive."
She studied him carefully now.
Not as a rival.
Not as a prince.
But as something else.
"Why reveal yourself?" she asked softly.
"You could have stayed powerful and hidden."
He looked at the setting sun.
"Because hidden power rots."
Silence lingered.
She stepped closer.
"You frighten my council."
"I expected that."
"You do not frighten me."
His eyes met hers.
"And should I?"
A faint challenge.
She held his gaze.
"No."
Wind moved gently through the trees.
"Do you intend to claim something?" she asked quietly.
"The throne?"
"The future?"
"The dragons?"
He considered before answering.
"I intend to protect what is mine."
"And what is that?"
A pause.
"My blood."
Something changed in her expression.
Not romantic.
Not childish.
Recognition.
"You sound like my uncle Daemon."
"That should concern us both."
She laughed softly.
Then her tone shifted.
"Stay close," she said.
"That is either an invitation or a warning."
"Both."
For a moment they stood in silence.
Two heirs in different shapes.
Two possible futures.
Finally she said:
"Next time we fly…"
He raised a brow.
"Yes?"
"We race alone."
He smiled fully now.
"As you wish, Princess."
She turned to leave.
Then paused.
"Welcome to the storm, Uncle."
VIII. Daemon – Final POV
From the balcony above, Daemon watched them speaking below.
He leaned against stone.
Smiling slightly.
"A brother," he murmured.
"With an ancient dragon."
His eyes darkened thoughtfully.
"This will either save us…"
Or burn us all.
And he was not entirely sure which outcome he preferred.