Drogon fought his way through the storm, towards the scent of the other dragon. He had smelled it before. Maybe the red one. Or the white one. Who was mad enough to fight his brother? Then again, maybe together they could fight him off, which was more than he had ever hoped. Beating his wings and beating his wings, he hurried along. The wind shifted, pushed him upwards and suddenly he was above the storm. It was dark up here. A moon shone.
"What…," mother muttered and looked around. Night, although a second ago it had been day. A cold chill cut through her thin robe. Was this… were they… before she could do much more than wonder, Drogon dove back into the storm.
Drogon had to hurry, he knew it. Get to the other dragon before it was too late. Who knew how long he could hold out against his crazy brother? He spotted them. It was the white one, bleeding from multiple wounds by now, flying away from his crazy brother; his rider looked nearly mad. Viserion followed right after, the ice man standing on his back, ready to jump.
Drogon didn't roar, although he really wanted to. He just hurried on, eyes focused on his goal. At the last moment, Viserion turned his head and saw him. The fucker dove right beneath his claws, the ice man holding on to one of his horns. A scuffle ensued, Drogon snapped and clawed at his crazy brother, trying to get the ice man, while Seasmoke turned and breathed fire.
Viserion did not mind, of course. What was fire, what were wounds? They were for things of the living. Things with thoughts. He breathed fire himself. Laenor screamed and the white one shrieked away, which only left his black brother. Viserion turned and twisted in ways no dragon ever could and clawed for – mother – the girl. Daenerys screamed and ducked away the best she could. This time, he would get her! This time, he would end it! The ice man climbed along his back again, ready to jump onto his black brother.
Drogon roared and twisted, trying desperately to get away. If the ice man was on his back, he would get mother and then – Viserion let him go, at least it seemed like it. One moment, his hold was a cold snare, the next it loosened. Drogon ripped free and folded his wings, just as Rhaegal had earlier, and dropped. Viserion dove right after him, his claws shimmering. Daenerys stared at her dead dragon, snowflakes whirling all around him. It was her dream. He would get her. Closing her eyes, she turned away, holding onto Drogon.
---
Dreamfyre fought her way through the storm, the damn snow, gales blasting at her. She dropped, Helaena screaming on her back, until she could catch herself. Damn unstable currents! Maybe she should turn, bring her baby back to –
The smell of blood hit her. Seasmoke, a little, yes and – she breathed in again, just to be sure. It smelled like one of her hatchlings. Roaring, she dove towards it, looking for her dragon baby, which was impossible in the storm. Just white and white. Most dragons did not mind for their little ones as soon they were hatched, hell, most did not even care once they were laid, but damn them. They were hers! She had laid them and looked after them. Watching them hatch and grow and fly was one of the greatest joys. Just like watching her little Helaena grow bigger and stronger.
A gale forced her up again, then down, then up. She really ought to –
The scent of another of her hatchlings filled the air. Close to Seasmoke, this time. Another smell danced on the wind, which she could not place. Something sweet. Rotten meat, maybe? No, no, that was not it… Another gale hit her and forced her way down towards the water. Dreamfyre roared and snapped at nothing. Damn the winds!
---
While Dreamfyre was battling with the storm, Rhaenyra hurried along the beach towards the Dragonmount. If anything happened to Helaena… better join them up there. Flying into a storm was not exactly a good idea but nothing right now was exactly a good idea. She had to look out for her. Protect her slightly crazy sister. No. She was not crazy, just impulsive. Rhaenyra smiled. Just like her when she had been a little older. Had to run in the family. A strange dragging sound filled the air. Frowning, she stopped and turned towards it. A man was dragging himself up onto the beach. With only one arm. Waves lapped up over his body hiding – His legs were missing. Half his skull was missing too, now that she looked at him proper. One blazing blue eye stared at her. Rhaenyra stared back, frozen in place.
A second.
Another second.
Maybe forever.
The thing was getting closer.
"Princess!" One of her guards yelled and ran at the thing coming out of the water. She watched him stab at it with his spear, and it just moved on.
Wights. It was a wight. It was a fucking wight. On her island. On… If she stared at it longer, she would lose her mind.
Finally, she ripped herself free. Rhaenyra hitched up her dress and ran for her life.
---
Syrax was oddly annoyed by it all. One moment she had napped in her warm cave, and then Rhaenyra's panic swept over her, worse than she had ever felt. Rushing out of the caves, she threw herself into the air – flying! Just like that! Normally, she got pets before flying, more often than not even food – and made her way to Rhaenyra, who scrambled onto her before she could even kneel.
"Fly!"
Throwing herself into the air again, she saw what had been following her. A horrendously smelly man.
---
With her eyes closed, her body pressed as flat as she could against Drogon's warm scales, Daenerys waited for her death, waited for Viserion to get her. Claws or fangs, either way. He would just pick her off Drogon's back and be done with it. And then… then whatever came after the blue eyes. Would Drogon still listen to her when she was dead? Or would he burn her? Could she even burn? Tears started to roll from her eyes, while she saw herself. Blue eyes, still riding her dragon.
---
Dreamfyre fought against the storm, without any success at all for the longest time. Whenever she tried to get any higher than what she currently was, there was a gale pushing her down. Just as if the storm had turned on her specifically, trying to keep her away from her child. Growling and grumbling, she kept on trying, until she blew past the prior height. One of her hatchlings, a black one, came tumbling down towards her, and behind him – she stared at it, unsure what it was. Being downwind, she was certain it was not a dragon, despite appearances.
---
Laenor stared after the two dragons. The white one… it was not exactly alive, was it? It could not be alive. The way it had moved… No dragon could move like that. Not ever. And the man of ice with his glowing blue eyes…
Part of him wanted to run. Order Seasmoke to leave, to just fly away, be done with it, get to safety, wherever safety was. Everything he had seen was too crazy for any one person. Who would believe him anyway?
…but…
Daenerys had saved them. If Drogon had not come…
Seasmoke went into a dive. He would repay her in kind, yes, he would save her, but by now they were leagues away. He watched the distance horrified. Only because he had hesitated a few moments. Dreamfyre of all dragons came into view below the two. What was the Hightower girl doing here?
Another dragon roared. Looking up, he saw a shadow pass over them. It was huge. Maybe bigger than Vhagar, even. Whatever it was got blocked out by the snow. Just a white, dancing wall. Claws reached for them, just as huge as the shadow, moving faster than they fell. Seasmoke swerved away at the last second, and it grabbed the – dead, call it what it had to be. Dead! – dragon. The dead thing roared and screeched, trying to get free. The ice man turned, looked up, and jumped off his dragon.
---
Ever more wights were scaling the beaches of Dragonstone. Rhaenyra stared at them in panic, something between disbelief and utter horror fighting for the better. Here a walking skeleton, there a woman, nearly looking okay, despite the fact her eyes were blue, there a child which had been partly torn to pieces. All still walking. All coming.
"Dracarys!"
Syrax breathed fire at them. For half a heartbeat, she was worried it would not work, despite Daenerys saying fire was for the wights. That they would just keep on walking. What was fire to half a missing body? Surely barely an inconvenience.
It worked. The torn-up girl disappeared in flames. Circling the island, they burned everything they could.
Some of her guards had gathered close to the beach and tried to fight off the dead. Huffing lowly, Rhaenyra had Syrax land. Her dragon snapped the closest best thing which was killing their men and threw it away, followed by breathing fire.
"Get back to the castle!" Rhaenyra yelled at them. The horde of dead turned and ran at them, fully ignoring the guards. As if they had waited for Syrax to land. "Dracarys!" Part of them dodged the fire. Swerved away, ducked, anything. One reached them, starting to climb onto Syrax.
"Fly. Fly, fly, fly!"
---
Helaena stared at everything at the same time, barely able to take it all in. The black dragon – which was last dragon, she was sure of it. It just had to be! – diving for its life, coming right at them, the man with blue eyes falling through the air, the blue eyed dragon, trying to rip itself free from a claw, Seasmoke diving for them, and the shadow towering above them all.
The snow shifted and she saw black scales, going on and on. Part of a wing. Balerion. It had to be Balerion. Come for them to stop whatever it was. Which was insane, even for her. Balerion was dead, for years now. His skull was in the Red Keep. She had seen it, time and time again. It could not be him. Yet, if the last dragon and its rider were here… It made just as much and not at all sense as anything else right now.
No. Dead dragons could not fly. Unless their eyes were blue, that was. Closing her eyes, she shook her head and screamed, willing it to go away.
Dreamfyre shot upwards and snapped the ice man out of the air. Whatever it was, she would not let it get away. Whatever rode dead dragons could not be good!
Shaking it, she tried to rip it apart, to fling it away like the bug it had to be, but nothing happened. Her fangs did not work on it; it felt as if she was biting on ice-cold, unforgiving rock. It stared at her, she could feel it; then it started to wiggle, trying to get away, even stabbing something biting cold into her face. It cut through her scales as if they were nothing, but she did not roar. She would not let it get away! The claws of the big dragon closed around her head, closed around it. Dreamfyre let it go at the last second and ducked down. Wings beat and the claws shot upwards, taking the ice man and the dead dragon along with it.
The gales stopped. Snowflakes still tumbled down around them, but the air calmed. As if the storm was gone.
---
The yelling and screaming of their guards drew Jace down from his room. Some ran past him, barely giving him any mind, even running into him, shoving him around. Reaching the yard, he watched them bar the gates.
"Archers on the walls!" "We have to light them up." "You" a knight essentially pointed at half the men in attendance, "stay and guard the gate." "What if they get through?" "Get torches! Light up a spear!"
"What is going on?" Jace asked but was utterly ignored. The man who had given orders just ran towards the closest stairs up the walls. The other men started to light up more torches.
Jace tried again but was still ignored. Turning on his heels, he ran back through the corridors, watching how concerned servants looked around. They were thinking the same as he did, surely. What in the hells was going on?
Finally reaching a window barely above the walls, he did not see anything of note. Just the ocean further out, a fading storm. Seasmoke was flying towards them, just as Drogon a little behind him and… Dreamfyre? Partly leaning out the window, turning his head, he tried to see more. Their men at arms would not descend into chaos because his father came back.
Syrax came into view… snapping at herself? Then she breathed fire at her flank.
"Mother. Mother!" What was going on?! But his mother too did not hear.
---
Rhaenyra stared at her island beneath her, not even registering her son's yells. They were coming like a wave. Ever more dead scaled the beaches. How many more could there be?
Best not to think of it. Only killing them was important. She would fly Syrax down a bit and –
Some of them made their way towards the Dragonmount. Rhaenyra followed right after. The big dragons she did not worry about, but they could kill her dragonkeepers, smash the eggs, and kill their little ones. Vermax and Arrax could not defend themselves against a horde.
Hurrying along, Syrax flew lower and burnt as many as she could on her command. Still too many. Way, way too fucking many. They reached the caves before they did. Hovering above the entrance with her freaked-out dragonkeepers below, Rhaenyra had Syrax breathe fire, again and again and again, but they just kept on coming.
---
The noise made him wake up. Something was sneaking up on him. Another one of those insidious mind-breakers trying to claim him? Oh, they would get what was coming for them!
Then the smell hit him. It was not one of the mind-breakers. Unless they dragged a month-or-two-old-dead cow along. It smelled horrendous! Why would he want to eat that?! If they wanted to distract him with food, they better –
It was not a mind-breaker. It had two legs, yes, but there the similarities ended. The Cannibal stared at it. Watched how ever more crawled into his cave, closed in on him; they even tried to poke him with a pointy thing to no avail. Grumbling, he breathed fire. He would not bite something that stunk so badly.
Only when they were gone, the smell did not go away. Crawling out of his cave, he found an endless amount of the smelly two legs. Roaring, he defended the entrance to his cave and then took off from the ground, burning more of them. He would not let his island get overrun by whatever they were. Bad enough he had to share it with broken dragons.
---
Daenerys saw it first, recognizing the way they moved. Her blood ran cold. Bad memories tried surfacing. The way her Dothraki had been swallowed, the few Unsullied who were left running for their lives and dying either way. How villages disappeared as Drogon flew on. It looked oddly fluid from afar, like a never-ending wave. It had to be thousands upon thousands of wights moving all over Dragonstone.
Drogon swayed slightly to the left and flew closer to Seasmoke. "We have to…" She started to yell and trailed off. She had to get to Rhaegal. He had to be here somewhere, but the ocean was huge. Maybe he had been blasted away by the wind, maybe he was somewhere in the water.
"What?" Laenor yelled back.
"Get to Dragonstone! Do not land whatever you do. Burn them!"
"What?!"
She did not reply. Only had Drogon dive and fly closer to the water, looking for her child. He would be hurt, wouldn't he be? Viserion would not have let him get away unscathed. He would be bleeding, getting weaker and weaker. Maybe he was drowning.
"Drogon. Find Rhaegal!"
Hopefully, it worked. Her dragon flew on. Daenerys looked up to check Seasmoke was still flying for Dragonstone. He was. The light blue dragon, who reminded her oddly of her children – something she ignored for the time being. It was something for later, if anything ever was – was way ahead of them, flying close to the waves as well.
---
Jace ran through the corridors once more, slight panic catching up to him. He still did not know what was going on. He had watched his mother fly away, and then archers started to loose fire arrows onto whatever happened behind their walls.
If only Vermax was bigger! If only he could fly him. He would be beside his lady mother killing whatever needed killing, but Vermax was not bigger. He was small, way too small to be any help right now. Besides, he could not even get to him.
Ripping open the door to Luke's room, he found his brother hiding in his bed.
"Come on! Get out of there!"
"What is going on? I saw mother from my window. Syrax was breathing fire."
Oh, the gods. It really had to be bad.
"Come!" Jace nearly snapped and proceeded to drag his brother along. Only a little down the corridor, Luke walked on his own, trailing a bit behind him while they ran along. He only saw worried servants.
Finally, he saw a guard when they turned a corner. He was running away from them. Probably to figure out what the hells was going on.
"Stop, by order of the Prince!" Jace yelled, hoping he sounded more grown-up than he thought he did.
The man stopped and turned, looking at him.
"Come!" Jace ordered. The man, Ser Gawen, followed them. When they reached Joffrey's room, Jace grabbed a torch off the wall, told Luke to do the same, and slipped inside.
---
Dreamfyre shot along above the waves, following the scent of her other hatchling, trying to ignore all else. His blood in the water, drifting here and there, throwing her off course before she realized he was not there. He had to be here somewhere!
Roaring annoyed, she just hurried on, following the scattered scent.
Helaena stared at the waves the entire time. Sometimes, when the water was shallower, she could see things moving down there. Sometimes they even looked up at her, eyes bright and blue, climbing on top of each other to get to her. Dead in the water. Endless and endless, by the looks of it. She had not dreamt of that. Maybe she would have never jumped onto Dreamfyre if she knew of it. She would have just stayed with Rhaenyra and… had the black dragon die? Looking up, she focused on the horizon. Better than staring at the blue eyes.
---
Seasmoke stared at the masses of stinking dead two-legs in utter disbelief. They were overrunning their beautiful comfy island. How could they dare?! How could they even move? Not that it was that important right now, but normally dead things stayed… dead. Where they back at home too? The island where he had hatched.
The old wild dragon flew along in front of the wall, breathing fire.
"Dracarys!" His Laenor yelled and he stopped the pondering and breathed fire. The dead vanished in it. Somehow, it brought him more joy than he could put into thoughts. Roaring at them, he flew lower and burned them. Some only caught a little fire as he passed by; they started to run around in a panic. Good. Burn!
---
The wetnurse stared at them, hugging their little baby brother.
"What is going on?" She asked. As they all did.
"I do not know," Jace told her truthfully and turned to their guard. "Can you barricade the door?"
"Of course, my prince."
My prince. It felt so strange. Normally, he was not called by his title. He had never used his rank before either. He was introduced with it, yes, people used it concerning formal matters, but normally only his mother and father were talked to with their titles.
Their guard piled the furniture of the room in front of the door, essentially everything, which was not too heavy. Jace had half a thought to try move the bed of their wetnurse or one of the shelves, but they looked too heavy for one man alone. As if them helping would matter much.
He turned to Luke. "If something gets through this door, throw the torch."
"What –"
"I heard them in the yard, Luke. You saw mother yourself. Whatever it is, we have to burn it." He eyed the door once it was barricaded, grabbing his torch a bit tighter. He would wield it like a sword, stabbing at whatever it was with the fire. They would not get his brothers!
---
Rhaegal had managed to get to a tiny rock protruding from the waves with the last of his strength. The dragon island was so so close yet so far away. Just some 100 wing beats, maybe even less. But he knew he could not make it, not anymore, not right now. His time was running out.
While he was busy burning the fuckers in front of him, he felt however many more climb onto his back. They were scaling the rock he was sitting on, climbing onto him, clawing at his scales or ripping at his delicate wings. Even climbing onto his tail, not letting go no matter how much he shook it. If only he could jump into the air and shake them off. But he could not. He only saw himself crashing into the waves and never making it out alive. Ever more dragged on his tail. Some started to crawl beneath him, attacking his softer belly. Rhaegal crushed them – not that it helped much. Pieces just kept on moving. Like tiny worms in a cadaver. Barely there, but maddening.
Beating wings got closer. He heard them but could not look up, busy breathing fire, busy clawing at the dead beneath him while keeping his balance. He could not slip. Anything but slip. Please, let it be mother and Drogon. If it was the other brother…
If it was the other, this was it. He would have blue eyes too.
Fire bathed him from above. Not Viserion. His brother would have jumped him and ripped him to pieces.
"Rhaegal!"
It was mother. It was mother, it was mother, it was mother! They would get out of here somehow.
When the fire ceased, he looked up and stared. It was not mother, nor his brother for that matter. A light blue dragon hovered over him, looking down at him. She looked oddly like his brothers. He looked at her confused. How could there be another dragon? And where was mother? He was sure he had –
Drogon came into view. He flew lower, as low as he dared to, and mother reached out for him. Rhaegal growled happily and raised his head, leaning forward, trying to get to her. Finally, his head brushed against her fingertips. Mother smiled, tears running down her cheeks, which was odd – why was she sad? – and stroked along his scales. He rumbled all happy.
Mother. Drogon. Something grabbed his tail again. Rhaegal bared his fangs, hissed, and whirled his head around, breathing fire. Damn fuckers!
---
"Get Vermithor outside," Rhaenyra said, watching the endlessly coming waves of wights. Syrax was getting tired, she knew it. Her breathing fire got shorter, the moments before she started again got longer, even her wing beats got slower. She had not wanted to land again, not after last time, but she feared soon she would not have much of a choice. She had hoped they would stop coming, that burning some hundreds would be enough, but it had not. Gods, they had to have overrun the castle by now. Broken through the wooden gate and… her sons… all her people…
Where they at Driftmark too? Where they at Kings Landing? Creeping out of the water along the Blackwater?
"Pardon, my Princess?" One of the dragonkeepers asked.
"You heard what I said."
Several men scurried away without a second word. The others just watched on.
Minutes later, it felt like forever to her, she heard hurried steps and deep growls. Then roaring. A scream and quiet. Rhaenyra closed her eyes. Her man was dead, maybe more than one. She had murdered them. She ought to offer their families pay if they had any. At least a small token of gratitude.
In the quiet that followed, she wondered if Vermithor had just turned back. Gone back to his lair within the caves and snuggled beside Silverwing.
He did not. The head of the bronze fury emerged from the cave, then more of his body. Rhaenyra turned in her saddle to look at him, watching him stare.
"Vermithor, dracarys." He stared at her, rumbling deeply. I do not take orders from you.
"Dracarys," she tried again. He was still staring at her, staring and staring. Maybe measuring her, how she could dare command him, maybe judging her, maybe trying to remember who exactly she was. His head moved, and he stared at their surroundings. The dead, coming and coming.
Grumbling lowly, Vermithor breathed fire.
---
In the end, it felt oddly easy.
Flying along the beaches, Vermithor bathed the entire area in flames without any trouble at all. Just making them vanish. To him, the dead seemed barely an inconvenience. Curious, yes, annoying, sure, and gone the next second.
Soaring higher, Rhaenyra looked around, trying to get her bearings, trying to assess the situation. They had not breached the gate. Seasmoke and Laenor were hovering over it – when had they come back? – breathing fire, trying to keep them at bay. The Cannibal of all dragons was flying circles around the castle, burning everything in sight. Silverwing flew past her. She eyed the chaos for all but a moment, roared and breathed fire as well. The wights just vanished in the flames.
Dreamfyre was not here. Where was her sister? Rhaenyra looked around in an odd panic. Please, to all the gods, let her be alright. If something had happened to her…
Where were Drogon and Daenerys, while she was at it? Not on Dragonstone, by the looks of it. Neither of them.
Movement caught her eye. Turning in her saddle, she stared. Dreamfyre, hovering over the water, breathing fire. Why were they still out at sea? Why…
Dead in the water. Had to be. How many fucking more could there be?
---
Swimming through the dead-infested water as good he could, Rhaegal felt how they tried to latch onto him. Drag him down, make him drown. It would be now or never for them. If he had been alone, maybe it would work. But he was not alone.
Drogon dropped into the water beside him, diving around him, grabbing the dead which had latched onto him with his claws and fangs, and dragged them up, out of the water. The other dragon breathed fire the second he was out, making them vanish.
"Go on! Just a little!" Mother yelled from above. Rhaegal could not tell. The water seemed endless, waves lapping up at his head, blurring his vision. Jumping into the water in the first place had seemed insane. But mother had asked him to. Told him he would be alright. Promised, even, whatever the word meant. He would be alright. He remembered staring at her, sitting behind the other dragon girl on the light blue dragon and thinking she had lost her mind. But he was alright. Mostly, anyway. As alright as he could be. Drogon dragged another round of dead off him and moments later, they were gone for good.
Another dragon crossed over him, which seemed insane. How could there be so many dragons?
---
Helaena beamed when her sister came for her. Aegon had never bothered when they flew somewhere together. He just flew ahead, sometimes behind, depending on his mood, and that was it. Never asked her how she was doing, how Dreamfyre was, anything. And now Rhaenyra was doing all of that!
"We are fine!" Helaena yelled at her, right before Dreamfyre roasted another round of dead. Watching them disappear in fire was oddly satisfying, to be honest. "I think they hurt Dreamfyre a bit," she admitted. Rhaenyra could probably see it.
"We will look after her! She will be alright."
How could she be so nice? She had not even really yelled at her! Not scolded her for flying into a storm, which she was still expecting. Her mother would do it. Yell at her how she could just fly away, that she had been worried and... Was her mother sure talking about this Rhaenyra and not someone else named Rhaenyra? Her name had to be popular.
---
There was one last big wave of dead when Rhaegal dragged himself out of the water, followed by a few here and there, quickly roasted by one of the many dragons, and then nothing. The Cannibal circled over the island for a while, looking for any new smellly two legs. Vermithor and Silverwing took residence on one of the beaches and growled at waves, waiting. Sheepstealer flew back to his cave.
Daenerys partly hugged Rhaegal's head, leaning against him. She had her eyes closed. Some part of her could still not believe that she was alive and well, that she had Rhaegal back. That he was alive and well. Maybe she was dead after all. After everything, this might be a heaven. Not one she would expect, but it was good. She had her child back. Rhaegal nudged her carefully and grumbled, which made her smile.
Drogon landed beside them, nudging his brother and then her.
---
Watching Daenerys pet the green dragon, Rhaenyra couldn't help but stare. Two dragons. She had never lied to them.
Two fucking dragons.
How could anyone in this world control two? No. Even worse. Three, before whatever happened to the third. One rider and…
Maybe… Did she only ride Drogon and the others followed suit? Which was impressive enough. Now was not the moment to ask, though. Stepping closer, she touched Daenerys shoulder.
"If you need anything…," she said quietly.
Daenerys looked at her and nodded. "Thanks."
"Rhaenyra?" Laenor asked. She turned, looking at her husband. Seasmoke had landed nearby. "Can we talk?"
Oh, the Gods. Harrenhall. Lyonel. Harwin. With everything going on, she had forgotten about it all.
Notes:
I definitely took some liberty with the Night King here. Taken "He brings the storm" way too literal. If he can throw a storm at Winterfell he may as well control it some more.
Next chapter will be back to business. Some last cleanup, Rhaenys coming back, and all the complicated talks.