The Dragonmont, Dragonstone.
If the two titans had slammed into the crater in their locked embrace, they would have been trapped in the narrow volcanic vent, eventually baked alive or suffocated.
Vhagar realized the danger. Atop Vermithor, Aemond let out a grim laugh, staring at the maw of the volcano.
'Is this where it ends?'
Vhagar used her remaining strength to dig her talons into Vermithor's shoulders and neck. The four limbs of the two dragons became an interlocking cage.
Trailing blood and fire, they plummeted toward the abyss.
Four hundred meters to the ground.
At the very moment of impact, the situation changed.
A black shadow burst from the sky beside the Dragonmont.
It was Morghul.
Sensing Vhagar's peril, the young black dragon dove, wings tucked, slamming into the two descending behemoths.
The force of the impact was minor compared to the mass of the elder dragons, but for a pair that had completely lost their balance, this small external force was the lever.
Vhagar's descent tilted. The trajectory of the fall shifted.
Then, the dazed Morghul reached out with a foreclaw, one that appeared twisted and broken from the impact, and hooked into the saddle on Vermithor's back.
He is trying to catch his master, Aemond!
The two great dragons did not fall into the fire; they slammed into the jagged rock wall at the crater's edge.
BOOM!!!!
The impact shook the entire island. A fifty-foot crater was gouged into the black rock.
Boulders fell like rain, and a massive plume of volcanic ash shot into the sky.
The dragons were embedded in the cliff, their blood flowing like streams down the rock, hissing into white steam against the heat.
Moments ago
Aemond, still on Vermithor's back, saw the rescue.
As the titans hit the wall, he lunged, grabbing Morghul's claw with one hand while gripping Blackfyre in the other.
Morghul let out a triumphant shriek and began to glide downward, not flying, but falling at a controlled angle.
They skidded across the volcanic ash plain below for dozens of feet before coming to a halt in front of a cluster of black rocks. Aemond leaped down, rolling to shed the momentum.
He stroked the black dragon's neck, his voice raspy.
"Thank you, Morghul."
Nearby, the riderless dragon Seasmoke burst from the Dragonmont, letting out a roar before unfurling his wings and fleeing toward the East.
Exhausted and grounded, Aemond could only watch him go.
The battlefield shifted to the ground.
Three hundred feet ahead, Vhagar and Vermithor were still struggling against the cliffside. Both were mangled and spent.
Vhagar had finally managed to pin the Bronze Fury beneath her weight.
She gathered fire in her throat, ready to finish it.
But Vermithor was Vhagar's first hatchling. Even in her unbridled rage, the ancient matriarch hesitated.
The two dragons lay there, huffing and wheezing. Vermithor let out a howl, calling for his mate, Silverwing.
Above them, Sara struggled to control the silver she-dragon.
Silverwing refused to abandon Vermithor, circling the peaks and wailing in distress.
---------
The Ash Plains.
Nearby, the other side of the battle reached its conclusion.
Sunfyre and Grey Ghost had also fallen. They lay on a flat stretch of volcanic rock.
Sunfyre was pinned over Grey Ghost, his left wing snapped, and his belly torn.
Grey Ghost was in a wretched state, chest crushed, right wing broken, and his neck gripped in Sunfyre's jaws.
Both were alive, but their movements were the sluggish twitches of the dying.
Sunfyre tried to breathe fire, but only black smoke emerged; Grey Ghost tried to claw back, but his limbs fell limp halfway.
Finally, the golden dragon released his grip.
Sunfyre's protective instinct had spared Aegon.
The golden dragon had cushioned the fall with his own body.
Aegon had been thrown clear into a soft bank of ash. Now, he struggled to his feet, limping toward his dragon.
His face was a mask of blood, and his right leg was clearly broken.
"Sunfyre... Sunfyre..." Aegon's voice was a whisper.
The golden dragon's vertical pupil turned toward his rider, letting out a low, whimpering hiss.
Sunfyre tried to raise his head, but the injury to his neck was too severe; he could only nudge Aegon with his tail in a gesture of comfort.
Mirax, the Dragonseed on Grey Ghost, was not so lucky.
He had been flung into a jagged volcanic rock.
Aemond could see the silver hair matted with blood; the body was twisted and motionless.
He was dead.
Then, a new terror emerged from the depths of the Dragonmont.
Vhagar sensed it first. Vermithor turned his head.
From the main cave entrance, a charcoal-black head appeared. Scales like jagged mountain peaks, edges sharp as knives.
The jaw was wide, filled with a chaotic mess of sword-like teeth.
It was Cannibal.
The oldest and largest wild dragon on the island. He had never been tamed.
He fed on goats, fish, and most notoriously, other dragons and their eggs.
He had a long history of clashing with Vermithor, once specifically for eating Silverwing's eggs.
The Cannibal scanned the field with murky, pale-yellow eyes.
He saw the wounded titans Vhagar and Vermithor.
Being a scavenger and a coward at heart, he wouldn't risk a fight with them, even in their weakened state.
Instead, his eyes locked onto the mangled forms of Sunfyre and Grey Ghost, younger, easier prey.
Finally, his gaze fell on Aemond, the blood-soaked human holding a Valyrian blade.
The Cannibal watched him for a few seconds, then made his choice.
He began to stalk toward the two young, grounded dragons.
"Save Sunfyre!!" Aegon shrieked toward Aemond.
"Save us!!!"
Aemond hesitated. To save them meant facing the Cannibal on foot.
But he remembered Aegon's suicidal charge to save him just moments ago.
The "cowardly" brother had shown the blood of the dragon.
"Vhagar! Release Vermithor! To me! Now!"
Vhagar obeyed. She released the Bronze Fury.
Vermithor, sensing the shift, did not counter-attack.
He heard Silverwing's cries from above and let out a roar of his own.
The bronze titan used his remaining strength to drag himself from the cliff.
He didn't attack; instead, he hobbled toward Vhagar's side, and both titans roared at the approaching Cannibal.
Faced with the combined, albeit wounded, might of Vhagar and Vermithor, the Cannibal realized the feast wasn't free.
He hissed, backed away slowly, and vanished back into the shadows of the volcano.
Aemond exhaled. Vermithor turned to look at him.
The dragon lowered his head and nudged Aemond's shoulder.
"A pity," Aemond whispered, looking at the bronze titan.
"I cannot tame you."
Vermithor didn't seem to care that Aemond had killed his rider.
He let out a roar toward the sky, and Silverwing responded.
The Bronze Fury beat his wings, wobbling and staggering as he took to the air to follow his mate.
He turned his attention to the battlefield's only remaining prize: Grey Ghost.
The pale dragon lay in the ash, wailing.
Aemond approached. Without a rider, the dragon did not attack; it was too broken to resist.
Aemond drew Blackfyre and made a shallow cut in his own palm.
He allowed his blood, the blood that had accelerated the growth of his own dragons, to drip into Grey Ghost's mouth.
If his blood could spark growth, it could mend.
After a moment, Grey Ghost stopped wailing and fell into a deep, healing coma.
Sunfyre, Morghul, and Vhagar all watched Aemond, their roars echoing across the silent, blood-stained island as the sun rose over the smoking peaks of Dragonstone.
-----
New Fic posted [Akame Ga Kill: I Own a Tavern]
"They say a tavern is a place for stories, but in the Capital, it's usually where they go to die. I just wanted to sell drinks, not souls."
The day Lucian woke up in the slums of the Empire with nothing but Tavern Deed he knew the rules: stay low, get rich, and avoid the main cast. He prepared for a quiet life of brewing and building.
But when the tavern doors swung open, fate brought the most dangerous people in the Empire to his bar.
"Is this supposed to be ale? It tastes like a war crime," Leone grumbled, slamming her empty mug down with a toothy grin.
"A beverage that bites back?" Esdeath's eyes flashed with a terrifying interest.
"I find your lack of fear... amusing, Owner. Perhaps I'll keep you.
The quiet life is over before it even began.
He knows the tragedy that awaits this world, and he has no intention of letting his best customers die especially when they haven't paid their tabs yet.