That was the "Red Queen," Meleys.
Up in the sky, that ferocious dragonflame poured down.
It was not a probe, not a warning—it was a full-force strike.
Crimson fire cascaded like a waterfall over Vhagar, over Aemond.
Vhagar's scales sizzled under the heat, giving off a scorched, acrid smoke. Aemond himself was swallowed whole by the flames.
Rhaenys, astride Meleys, stared fixedly at the sea of fire.
She waited.
She had meant to wait for Daemon.
But just now had been the best chance.
From the moment Meleys circled back, she had been waiting for this opportunity.
Waiting for Vhagar to land, waiting for Aemond to be distracted—waiting for the perfect moment.
And now she had it.
Burn him.
Burn this wretch.
Burn the murderer who killed her grandson.
The flames gradually died down.
Vhagar let out a furious roar toward the heavens.
And the man upon her back—
Aemond lifted his head, smiling up at his aunt, Rhaenys.
His armor had melted in many places, parts of it eaten away, exposing the skin beneath.
Some of that skin was reddened.
But he had not died.
He smiled and said, "You're quick, aren't you, aunt?"
Rhaenys's pupils shrank sharply.
How was this possible?
She had heard Saera mention it—that Aemond did not fear dragonfire.
Saera had said that on Dragonstone, Aemond had been burned by dragonfire, yet it had only scorched the surface.
But Rhaenys had dismissed it at the time.
She had thought the bastard was lying to cover his failure.
Unburnt?
No such person had ever existed in Targaryen history.
There were tales in Valyrian legend—of the purest dragonlords of Old Valyria, whose blood had reached its pinnacle, said to be able to bathe in fire and not perish.
But those were only legends.
Just legends.
And now…
She muttered unwillingly, "How is this possible…"
Rain poured down, drenching her face, drenching Meleys.
Aemond stood upon Vhagar's back, looking up at her.
Rainwater streamed down his face, washing away the soot and revealing a young yet somber expression.
"Aunt," he said, his voice not loud, yet cutting through the rain, "You didn't hold back at all, did you?"
Rhaenys snapped back to herself.
"Aemond!" she shouted. "You're destroying House Targaryen!"
Aemond smiled.
"Aunt, which Targaryen do you mean?"
"Or do you mean your Velaryons?"
Rhaenys spat in disgust, "Kinslayer!"
Aemond's smile vanished.
"Killing three bastards," he said, his voice cold as ice, "doesn't count as kinslaying…"
He paused.
"Surrender to me, aunt. I don't want to kill you."
Rhaenys shook her head.
"They were your nephews!" she shouted. "When did you decide to kill them?"
Aemond fell silent for a second.
Lightning lit up his face.
There was a strange expression on it—something like reminiscence, something like mockery.
"Long ago," he said. "Since that night on Driftmark."
Rhaenys fell silent.
That night on Driftmark?
He held a grudge for that long?
But the one who lost an eye had been Jacaerys!
That had been three years ago.
"What did they ever do to you that you had to kill them?" Rhaenys asked.
Aemond let out a faint laugh.
"Bastards don't deserve to ride dragons."
"Their very existence is a disgrace to House Targaryen."
"Everything I've done… is for the family."
Rhaenys pointed at him angrily.
"They are your sister's sons!"
"Yes," Aemond replied, "brown-haired bastards."
"Aemond, you were born rotten to the core!"
Aemond shook his head.
"I'm only correcting a mistake."
"We are made by our blood. A Targaryen without a dragon is no different from a common man…"
Rhaenys fell into silence.
Aemond continued, his tone calm.
"Why?"
Rhaenys looked at him, puzzled.
"Why should bastards sit above true Targaryens?"
"You're too extreme!" Rhaenys stared at him, already prepared.
"Aemond! You kinslayer! You deserve to burn in the seven hells!"
If Aemond made any sudden move, she would immediately order the Red Queen to dive and tear him apart below.
Vhagar had not taken flight—she believed Meleys could do it.
Even if it meant dying together…
She would never allow this madman to rule the Seven Kingdoms.
But she could still wait a little longer. Daemon would be here soon…
Aemond's expression was indifferent as he looked up at Rhaenys.
"Traitor. You have no right to judge me."
"Rhaenys Velaryon."
Rhaenys trembled with rage.
"You're courting death, boy."
Aemond smiled. "Aunt, you're still too ruled by your emotions. Why not strike me down now?"
"Rhaenys… afraid of this, afraid of that?"
"You're nothing special after all."
Rhaenys frowned, anger flaring as she shot back, "What do you mean?"
Rain hammered down, drenching them both.
Aemond suddenly said, "You're waiting for Daemon, aren't you?"
"Trying to deal with me perfectly?"
"One who means to accomplish great things cannot cling to his own life…"
Rhaenys froze.
"Sorry," Aemond said, the corner of his mouth curling into a strange smile, "but I was stalling for time too."
Rhaenys suddenly looked up.
Above them—
Lightning split the sky.
In that blinding white flash, a black shadow came diving down from the clouds.
Lothorne.
That cunning black dragon had been hiding within the storm clouds the entire time.
Now it plunged downward, fast as a black bolt of lightning. Its head was savage, its eyes filled with killing intent.
It did not breathe fire.
It dove straight at Rhaenys.
Its jaws snapped down.
"Meleys!"
Rhaenys's reaction was astonishingly fast.
At the last instant, the Red Queen twisted violently in midair. Lothorne's jaws grazed past Rhaenys's helmet and instead bit deep into Meleys's right wing.
Crack.
Even the pounding rain could not drown out the sound of bones shattering.
The "Red Queen," Meleys, let out a shrill scream.
Blood burst forth, scattering downward with the rain. Lothorne clamped onto her right wing and refused to let go, its entire body hanging in the air as it thrashed wildly like a crocodile tearing into prey.
The two dragons rolled, tore, and tangled together in the sky.
Meleys was larger than the black dragon. She clawed frantically at Lothorne's belly with her left talon, carving deep gashes into it.
The wounds were so deep that pale white bone could be seen beneath the flesh.
Lothorne roared in pain, but it did not release its bite.
Instead, it bit down even harder, its fangs sinking deeper.
Meleys's screams echoed across the heavens.
She twisted desperately, trying to throw Lothorne off.
But Lothorne clung to her stubbornly. No matter how she shook, it would not let go.
Rhaenys leaned out from the saddle, drew the longsword at her waist, and thrust viciously toward Lothorne's eye.
One strike.
The cunning dragon shut its eye in time, but the Red Queen's claws struck again. Blood exploded from the black dragon's head.
At last, Lothorne released its jaws with a pained roar.
But the moment it let go, it violently jerked its head aside, ripping away a massive chunk of flesh from Meleys's right wing.
The piece of flesh was as large as a man. It fell from the sky and crashed into the ruins below.
Meleys's agonized scream rang through the heavens.
Her right wing was ruined.
Aemond moved.
"Vhagar!"
The great dragon, which had been crouched upon the ground, suddenly launched into the sky and charged toward Meleys.
Dragonfire erupted forth.
Not a single stream, but an entire sea of flame surging toward Meleys.
Meleys desperately tried to evade it, but her right wing was crippled. She flew unsteadily, swaying through the storm, unable to dodge.
The dragonfire grazed across her body, scorching the scales along her belly black.
Another roar split the air.
Rhaenys lay pressed against Meleys's back, clutching tightly to her neck.
"Old girl… old girl…"
Meleys turned her head and looked at her.
Tears streamed down Rhaenys's face, mixing with the rain.
"Old girl… I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"
She knew how dire the situation was.
She had intended to stall for time until Daemon arrived.
To eliminate Aemond without losing a single dragon.
But Aemond had been stalling as well—waiting for Lothorne's ambush.
Now Daemon had yet to arrive, and she was already trapped in a dead end.
"Old girl, hold on a little longer… just a little longer…"
Meleys let out a low growl.
And right then—
A dragon's roar rose from below!
Syrax.
The massive yellow she-dragon burst forth from the Dragonpit, a rider upon her back.
Rhaenyra Targaryen.
"Aunt!"
Rhaenyra's voice pierced through the rain.
Syrax lunged at Lothorne and bit down on its hind leg.
Lothorne had been focused entirely on Meleys, preparing for a second attack. It had not noticed the threat from below.
The bite landed solidly, tearing away a chunk of flesh from its hind leg.
Lothorne roared in pain and violently twisted around, lunging back at Syrax.
The two dragons tore into each other in the sky.
Lothorne was smaller than Syrax, but faster, fiercer, and far more savage in its desperation.
Its claws raked across Syrax's face, carving bloody wounds into her scales.
Its fangs sank into Syrax's neck, tearing viciously.
But Syrax did not fear it.
She was slightly larger than Lothorne.
She clamped her jaws around Lothorne's neck and refused to release it. No matter how the black dragon clawed or bit at her, she would not let go.
Blood streamed down her neck, down her face, but still she held on.
"Rhaenyra! Go!" Rhaenys shouted.
But Rhaenyra did not retreat.
She only stared fixedly at Aemond.
The murderer who had killed her two sons.
The monster who had destroyed her family.
The beast now willing to commit kinslaying as well.
Aemond turned and glanced at her.
There was no anger in that look, no hatred.
Only a cold, detached gaze.
As though he were looking at a corpse.
"I may not kill you today," Rhaenyra shouted, "but one day, I will cut off your head with my own hands!"
"I'll hang your head from the walls of King's Landing and let the whole realm see what becomes of a kinslaying beast!"
Aemond smiled faintly.
"Sister."
"I'll be waiting."
---
I will post some extra Chapters in Patreon, you can check it out. >> patreon.com/TitoVillar
---