Chapter 88: The Day the Dragon Fell
Vhagar sensed the arrival of her kin. Though old, the ancient dragon could still clearly distinguish those she had met before, especially the familiar one that had made her heart tremble, and those little, crunchy things that had spoiled her mood by borrowing that fellow's prestige.
The dragon slowly looked over. If she hadn't already had a rider, she would have spewed fire long ago. But now, she could only glare fiercely at Arrax, letting out a roar that made the entire castle tremble. Arrax shivered in fear, but still glared back. After all, he listened to Vermithor roar every day in Dragon Nest City, and that dragon's roars when protecting food were far more terrifying than Vhagar's. Lucerys stroked Arrax's neck, signaling him not to be afraid. Then, he walked straight towards the guards of Storm's End.
"I come on behalf of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, to deliver a letter from Her Grace to Lord Borros," Lucerys announced loudly.
The two Baratheon vassal knights exchanged glances, nodded, and led Lucerys into the hall of Storm's End. This castle possessed an incredibly vast hall. Legend had it that in the ancient Dawn Age, Durran, the first Storm King, "Godsgrief," fell in love with Elenei, the daughter of the sea god and the storm goddess. However, her divine parents were furious about this marriage. At Durran's wedding, the storm goddess manipulated lightning, gales, and torrential rain, while the sea god raised giant waves thousands of feet high, destroying Durran's castle. All of Durran's family and guests attending the wedding perished in the sea, with only Durran himself surviving under the protection of Elenei's magic.
The enraged Durran declared war on the two deities at the current location of Storm's End. He stubbornly built six castles on the original site, but all were destroyed by storms, until the seventh.
Legend says that the Children of the Forest from the forests and Brandon the Builder, who was still a young boy, wove magic into this newly built castle. Thus, this magnificent castle, with walls 100 feet high and 40 feet thick at their broadest, and 80 feet thick on the seaward side, rising 150 feet above sea level, was eternally established here. Regardless of the storms howling over Shipbreaker Bay, this castle remained unyielding. Legend has it that Durran ruled the Stormlands here for a thousand years, founding the proud Durrandon family, which ruled the Stormlands until Aegon came riding a dragon.
The last Storm King, Argilac the Arrogant, bravely fell in battle beneath the sword of Orys Baratheon, the first Hand of the King, who married his only daughter, inherited his ancestral castle and sigil, and the bloodline of the Storm Kings. From then on, House Baratheon of Storm's End became one of the most successful new noble houses since Aegon's Conquest.
As Lucerys stepped into the vast, cold hall, lit by numerous torches yet still feeling empty, he saw everything he wished not to. Lord Borros Baratheon sat expressionlessly on the ancient throne of the Storm Kings, looking at the soaking wet Lucerys. His maester and four black-haired daughters stood to one side, while Prince Aemond smiled beside one of the black-haired maidens. The prince's remaining eye was narrowed, but Lucerys could feel the intense malice in Aemond's gaze.
"Prince Lucerys, welcome." Borros Baratheon sat on the throne, not moving an inch. "I wish to know your purpose, and I must apologize to you." He glanced at Prince Aemond. "The storm came suddenly, and Storm's End cannot welcome you, Prince Lucerys, with feasts and tourneys as it did Prince Aemond."
"My Strong nephew might need to dry his soaked clothes before attending your feast, Lord Borros," Prince Aemond said with a smile, his single eye scrutinizing Lucerys's drenched attire, his grin widening. "Look at you, you poor wretch, did you get caught in the rain? Or did you piss yourself in fear?"
Lucerys ignored Prince Aemond, carefully taking out the letter from his embrace, which was not wet at all. "Lord Borros, I come on behalf of my mother, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name."
Before he finished speaking, Aemond's voice rang out again: "The bastard of Dragonstone, the despicable usurper." He stepped forward a few paces. "Aegon II, crowned in King's Landing, is the rightful king."
"Go back!" Borros roared from the throne, summoning guards to separate the two princes. Lucerys expressionlessly extended his hand, passing the letter to the Baratheon vassal knight.
The knight quickly handed the letter to Lord Borros, who was clenching his jaw tightly, clearly suppressing some emotion, though he never revealed it. However, the lord's illiteracy was something he couldn't hide.
Borros broke the wax seal, pretended to read for a moment, then immediately turned his gaze to the maester. The maester rushed to the lord's side and quietly read the contents of the note.
"In the name of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the First Men, and the Rhoynar, and Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, I hope you will uphold the oath you once swore before the king and me, to defend my sacred and inviolable rights. Let the usurper pay the price he deserves."
Borros frowned slightly. An oath? That was an oath his father had sworn, twenty-four years ago. He had forgotten if he himself had sworn an oath, let alone what benefits there were.
But there was also a question: since Lucerys dared to come to Storm's End alone, it meant Rhaenyra had the confidence that he would definitely agree to her demands. Why? Could it be… Borros's hand, stroking his beard, suddenly paused. He thought of a name.
Dragonzel Varezes.
Could it be that he stood with Rhaenyra's faction? That would be a huge problem. Dragon Nest City to Storm's End was practically a dragon's wing-beat away. Dragon Nest City had three battle-ready dragons, while the one on the Iron Throne in King's Landing only had four on paper, one far away in Oldtown, and one whose rider was not a warrior at all.
Lord Borros flinched, then carefully handed the letter to the maester. His attitude improved somewhat. "Prince, if I am willing to stand with the Queen."
"The bastard of Dragonstone," Aemond corrected, "As long as my brother is on the Iron Throne, she will never be any damn queen." The one-eyed prince saw Borros's wavering, but he was also helpless. If Otto couldn't bring back the hundreds of warships and tens of thousands of troops he claimed from the east, if the southern army couldn't quickly advance into Horn Hill, then with three dragons, even if only Vermithor went north to fight, the Greens would be utterly defenseless.
Borros frowned and glared at Aemond. "Prince, I mean no offense, but Rhaenyra has also completed her coronation ceremony, and she is indeed King Viserys's chosen heir. Even if I do not approve of a woman sitting on the throne and calling me like she calls her hunting dogs, I cannot disrespect a crowned queen."
The crude lord was now incredibly calm. He said as gently as possible, "Prince Lucerys, I have four daughters. Which one do you think you can marry?"
Lucerys frowned slightly; he had anticipated this situation: "My lord, I regret that I cannot discuss marriage, nor can I decide for my brothers." He looked into Borros's eyes: "I am already betrothed to my cousin Baela Targaryen, and my elder brother is already betrothed to Baela's sister. My younger brother Joffrey will be wed to Princess of House Martell in the future. Aegon is already betrothed to Lady Samantha Varezes, and my youngest brother Viserys will likely be betrothed to Lady Daniela Varezes."
"Alas," Lord Borros looked at Aemond, "Your uncle Prince Aemond has promised to marry one of my daughters, so I promised him an army of six thousand men as a dowry. I apologize, Prince, I have no intention of participating in the struggle for the Iron Throne. The loyalty of House Baratheon will only be given to the true king of the Iron Throne."
Lord Borros suddenly stood up and looked at the two princes: "The Baratheon banner will neither turn green nor black. Prince Aemond, I will appoint my proxy knight, Ser Davos Baratheon, to lead my dowry to join your army."
"My lord, this already signifies your support for the usurper." Lucerys unceremoniously exposed Borros's facade; even without raising a banner of the crowned stag, anyone with eyes would understand that six thousand Stormlands troops meant Borros had joined the Greens.
"Prince Lucerys, I will also not interfere with Prince Dragonzel's army heading north." Borros dared not show any anger. "I will have my vassals provide him with supplies. My loyalty is to the Iron Throne, not to schemers and ambitious blood relatives warring amongst themselves!"
Borros suddenly slammed the armrest of the throne as if in a rage: "Now, both of you, the time for hospitality at Storm's End is over. Go back and tell your respective king and queen that if they want Storm's End's loyalty, they must prove they can sit on the Iron Throne."
Aemond glared resentfully at Borros, but although the lord was shameless, the six thousand troops that had been agreed upon were not fake. This was enough; only that annoying Strong…
Seeing that Borros's final decision was to effectively side with the Greens without offending either, Lucerys didn't want to stay for another moment. He immediately wanted to go to Dragon Nest City to find his knight; with Silverwing, even Vhagar wouldn't dare do anything.
Watching Lucerys turn and leave, Aemond felt an inexplicable fire burning in his heart. No matter how he tried to tell himself to calm down, he couldn't.
"Stop, Strong!" Aemond finally couldn't suppress that terrible nameless rage. He tore off his eye patch, revealing the sapphire prosthetic eye gifted by Dragonzel. "It's time to pay your debt, Strong. Is that on your waist a toy? Did Valarr only teach you to play with toys? Draw it out and use it to dig out an eye. Don't worry, I won't charge interest; one is enough. You can choose between the left or right eye."
Aemond strode to catch up with Lucerys and twisted him around. In terms of strength, nineteen-year-old Prince Aemond was far superior to thirteen-year-old Lucerys. Although Lucerys had also been trained well in martial arts by Valarr, he was indeed at a disadvantage due to his age. He wasn't as resilient as Jacaerys, so he could only turn around and coldly look at Aemond.
"Aemond, I won't fight you." Lucerys forcefully shook off Aemond's hand. "I am a messenger, not a knight."
"Coward, craven, traitor." Aemond said viciously: "Bastard Strong, if you don't dig out your eye, I'll chop off your head and see if your slut mother will mourn for you." With that, Aemond was about to draw his sword. Lucerys also pressed his hand to his sword hilt.
"Get out! Don't bleed under my roof." Borros's roar echoed through the entire hall. "You are my guests. You are not allowed to draw blades under my roof. Get out, all of you!"
Lucerys glared at Aemond, then turned and ran towards the courtyard. Arrax was anxiously waiting there. Lucerys hugged the little dragon's neck: "Don't be afraid, Arrax, let's fly quickly. We'll be safe once we reach Dragon Nest City." He then immediately jumped onto the dragon's back.
Outside the castle, the storm still raged. Raindrops the size of beans and gales strong enough to blow a person away struck together, almost making Lucerys unable to breathe.
"Arrax, take off!"
The little dragon struggled to flap its wings and take off from the courtyard. The severe weather significantly affected the little dragon's flight speed.
Aemond watched hatefully as Lucerys mounted the dragon. He turned to Borros. "You are also a traitor, my lord. If it weren't for your daughter and the dowry, Vhagar would have already burned Storm's End."
Borros's face turned green then pale, unsure what to say. A gloomy female voice broke the awkward atmosphere in the hall.
"Your Highness, are you a warrior or a messenger?" It was Lady Maris, the ugliest of the four girls, and the first girl Aemond had rejected.
"Of course I'm a warrior?" Aemond looked at the girl with some surprise.
"I thought you had lost your balls, not your eye, Your Highness. He is not a warrior, but you are a warrior." Maris shook with laughter: "Luckily you didn't choose me; I prefer a whole husband."
"Maris, shut up!" Lord Borros said in fear. He looked fearfully at the livid Aemond. The prince said nothing, turning and walking towards the courtyard.
Another thunderous roar shook the entirety of Storm's End. Borros rushed furiously to his daughter and slapped her: "Do you want to kill all of House Baratheon?" The lord looked in terror at the darkness outside the door. "Seven Hells!"
In the storm, the little dragon couldn't fly fast at all. Lucerys quickly heard the sound of Vhagar's wings flapping. It had caught up to Arrax.
Scorching dragonflame swept past Arrax, barely missing engulfing the little dragon entirely. If the little dragon hadn't been agile enough, that would likely have been the outcome.
Lucerys knew he probably couldn't escape. This damned storm had little effect on Vhagar but was a disaster for him. Arrax swayed like a broken ship in the storm, completely unable to utilize its speed advantage.
"It's time to be a knight." Lucerys calmly raised his head, looking at Vhagar, who was almost upon him, and Aemond, who looked like an ant on its back. "Great-uncle Valarr, I'm sorry I can no longer serve you. Arrax, are you willing to fight with me?"
Arrax responded with a cheerful dragon roar, but Lucerys could hear the sadness and anger in the roar. The little prince fastened the straps on the dragon saddle and resolutely pulled the gauntlet.
"Arrax, attack!"
The little dragon suddenly climbed, battling the strong winds and rain. Aemond was stunned for a moment, then immediately understood what his nephew intended to do and quickly lay flat on the dragon saddle: "Vhagar, target Arrax."
The old dragon roared, suddenly raised its head, and unleashed another burst of dragonflame. Unfortunately, it still missed Arrax. The grayish-white little dragon suddenly descended from the sky, a stream of dragonflame heading straight for Aemond on the dragon's back.
Aemond hastily twisted the gauntlet, and Vhagar's massive body moved clumsily. Arrax's slender dragonflame landed on Vhagar's scales. The old dragon was instantly enraged, flapping its wings and catching up to Arrax, who had just adjusted its direction in the thunderstorm, biting down.
Arrax skillfully turned its body and unleashed another burst of dragonflame at Vhagar's wing. Although Arrax's dragonflame was slender, it was still dragonflame. The scorching flames directly put a small hole in Vhagar's wing, but the old dragon was too large; a small hole caused no significant damage.
"Arrax, dracarys." Lucerys, lying on the dragon saddle, gave the command. Arrax accelerated towards Vhagar's wing, scratching, biting, and breathing fire. In the blink of an eye, it left several wounds on Vhagar's wing. Vhagar was enraged. The dragon flapped its massive wings, instantly fanning the little dragon sideways. The old dragon seized the opportunity and sprayed a burst of dragonflame at Arrax, who hadn't had time to turn around.
Arrax struggled to raise its body, taking the dragonflame with its belly.
"Arrax, no!"
Arrax's grayish-white scales instantly turned scorched yellow. The little dragon struggled to flap its wings to extinguish the flames on its body. Its body was almost cooked by the dragonflame, and its wings were instantly tattered, plummeting towards the sea, while Lucerys only suffered some burns.
Following the dragonflame was Vhagar's gaping maw.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Lucerys fell from the dragon's back. He calmly watched Vhagar chew Arrax's head to pieces and swallow it, calmly watching Aemond laugh as he and the shattered dragon corpse fell, as if looking at a dead man.
Goodbye, brother, younger brother, mother, great-uncle, and little snow rabbit. The big chipmunk broke his promise.
Lucerys closed his eyes, his hand still tightly gripping the gauntlet of the dragon saddle, like a true dragon knight. Or rather, like a true dragon knight participating in battle.
The little dragon's tattered wings and body plunged into the sea, carrying Lucerys on its back to be swallowed by the furious bay. Vhagar let out a triumphant roar.
Only Aemond's laughter remained across the entire sea. And the furious roar of the seemingly endless storm.
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