In the sky, the golden dragon plummeted, a burning golden meteor.
Aegon II clung desperately to its neck, feeling the wild wind howling past his ears as the sky and earth spun violently before him.
Falling through the void, Sunfyre used the last of his strength to coil his body, seeking to shield Aegon within his embrace.
A thunderous crash shook the earth in the forest, dust and smoke billowed upward. Every soul on the battlefield heard that deafening sound.
The Green soldiers ceased their flight and looked toward the woods.
There, a thick plume of smoke was slowly rising.
"His Majesty's dragon... the dragon has fallen..."
"It's the golden one..."
"The King! The King was still on his dragon!"
Cries of alarm erupted from the ranks. Gwayne Hightower reined in his horse, staring at the forest with a face of ashen stone.
The King had fallen. Would he die? Should he attempt a rescue? But those two dragons still loomed in the sky...
He looked up. Meleys and Caraxes were hovering in the air, watching the forest. What were they waiting for?
On the battlements, Lord Staunton gripped the wall tightly, observing the aftermath of the draconic war.
"A dragon fell..." the knight beside him murmured.
"The golden one. That is the dragon of the Green King."
Staunton said nothing. He watched the two Black dragons in the sky, and suddenly an ominous premonition washed over him.
Why had they stopped? What were they waiting for?
High above, Rhaenys reined in Meleys, staring at the forest.
"Is he dead?" Daemon called out, flying alongside her on Caraxes.
Rhaenys was silent for a moment.
"I don't know," she shouted back, "but..."
She suddenly stopped. A strange sensation flooded her heart.
Something was wrong. She jerked her head around, scanning the surrounding sky.
It was empty. No Vhagar. No Morghul. No Aemond.
"Daemon," her voice trembled, "where is Aemond?"
Daemon froze. Aemond? That's right, where was Aemond?
This was the war he had organized; his deployment, his army. He should have been here, riding Vhagar, facing them in battle.
But he was gone. From start to finish, he hadn't appeared.
What could possibly be so important that he would not participate in this Battle of Rook's Rest?
"He..."
Daemon's words cut off, his face turning incredibly grim as a realization struck him like lightning.
Dragonstone. Rhaenyra.
"Fuck!" he cursed, yanking the reins of the Blood Wyrm.
"Rhaenys! Dragonstone!"
But Rhaenys did not move. She stared at the forest, at the smoke from the crash, and a memory flashed through her mind.
That child, Aegon Targaryen. The eldest son of Viserys I.
No matter what Aegon had done, he did not deserve to die here. He was a Targaryen. He was not that damned Aemond...
"Rhaenys!" Daemon roared.
"Aemond might be raiding Dragonstone! Why are you still standing here thinking?"
Rhaenys took a deep breath, snapping back to reality.
"I'm going back to Dragonstone first!"
Daemon nodded, glancing at Caraxes's injured left wing.
That frantic Sunfyre had managed to wound it; he could still fly, but his speed had dropped significantly.
The Blood Wyrm was furious and confused, letting out an angry roar; he wanted nothing more than to tear that golden dragon to shreds.
The two giant dragons turned and flew toward the east, quickly vanishing into the cloud layer.
- - - - - -
In the forest, the smoke gradually cleared. Sunfyre lay on a patch of scorched earth, his golden scales covered in mud and blood.
When he fell from the sky, his entire body had curled into a circle to protect Aegon in the center.
Now Sunfyre was at death's door, letting out helpless, low-pitched wails of agony. He used his last bit of strength to gently nudge Aegon with his snout.
But Aegon, still strapped to the dragon, had fallen unconscious.
Blood leaked from his nose and mouth; his whole body was convulsing.
"Your Majesty!"
Ser Criston Cole was the first to charge in. He vaulted off his horse and stumbled to Aegon's side, frantically undoing the leather straps of the dragon saddle.
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!"
Aegon did not respond. Cole's heart sank to the bottom of the abyss.
He remembered the charge Dowager Queen Alicent had given him not long ago.
He had promised. He had sworn to protect the King. But now...
Cole whipped his head around and roared at the soldiers catching up, "Quick! Find a litter! Find a Maester! Now!"
The soldiers scattered in a panic. Cole knelt by Aegon.
Looking at Aegon II's pale, blood-spitting face, a surge of intense fury rose within him. Aemond! Where the fuck are you?!
In the distance, the routed Green army was beginning to regroup in the forest. Gwayne rode up, watching the scene, his expression so dark it seemed ready to drip.
"Ser Criston, the King, he..."
"He's still alive," Cole gritted out.
"But..."
He didn't finish. Everyone knew that surviving a fall from such a height was already a miracle.
Gwayne was silent for a while, then suddenly asked, "The King won't die, will he?"
Cole did not answer. Gwayne stared at him: "Will he die or not?"
Cole looked up at him, his eyes completely bloodshot.
"You're asking me? Who should I ask?"
He let out a sigh, looking down at the unconscious Aegon II.
As an experienced knight, he knew very well: after a fall like that, the fact that Aegon was unconscious and vomiting blood meant massive internal bleeding...
May the Seven protect him...
- - - - - - - -
In the distance, on the walls of Rook's Rest, Lord Staunton watched the Black dragons vanish over the horizon and the routed Green army retreat into the forest. His heart was a mess of conflicting emotions.
Had he won? Had he held out?
Yet he could not feel a shred of joy. The two Black dragons had flown away, not because they were losing, but because there was something more important.
What could it be?
The Lord did not know. He only knew it wasn't over.
Thinking of this, he slammed his fist into the stone wall in anger. He felt some regret now; out of old loyalty to Queen Aemma, he had consistently supported Rhaenyra.
Now, he admitted there was an element of gambling in his choice.
He had gambled that Rhaenyra would win, and after the war, he would be the only vassal in the Crownlands who had supported her.
The rewards would surely be immense. But now, he felt a lingering fear.
Who knew the Blacks were so unreliable? To stop fighting halfway through, what was he supposed to do?
In the forest, the last rays of the setting sun filtered through the leaves.
Aegon lay on a physician's litter, his face deathly pale, blood constantly bubbling from the corners of his mouth.
Sunfyre, the "One-Eyed Dragon," lay curled in a mangled heap, mortally wounded.
He did not stop the men; his remaining healthy right eye watched mournfully as his master was carried away.
"ROAR!!!"
Sunfyre unleashed a painful, heart-wrenching howl toward the sky.
Cole walked beside the litter, silent.
Gwayne remained on his horse, watching the sky as it grew dark in the distance.
Aemond, where are you really? What are you trying to do?
Just from that sudden raid, at least seven to eight hundred men had been burned to death.
If Daemon and Rhaenys hadn't suddenly retreated, the entire army would have utterly collapsed.
However, for now, Staunton's troops posed no threat to them; most were just conscripted peasants.
Gwayne glanced at the critically injured Aegon II and took a deep breath.
He didn't know how he was going to explain this to his sister, Alicent...
-----
A/N:
If you are enjoying the start of the story.
Drop some stones to help this book reach higher.
You can read upto 20+ Chapters. + Images
You can also read "+2 Free Chapters".
www.patreon.com/
LastDreamer