As night fell, dark clouds began to mass over Dragonstone. These were no ordinary clouds; they were storm clouds pressing in from the sea, as black as ink.
The sea breeze grew sharp and cold, whipping the quartered banners of the Black faction atop the castle walls until they snapped violently.
The garrison of Dragonstone looked up at the sky, cursing under their breath.
In such wretched weather, even rats knew to hide in their holes, yet they were forced to stand on the battlements and endure the drenching rain.
Then came the lightning.
When the first bolt struck, the defenders were still eating their dinner. The light was so bright it was blinding, and everyone froze for a heartbeat.
By the time the second bolt struck, they had already seen the dragon.
Vhagar.
The largest dragon in existence burst through the cloud layer.
Her wingspan was vast enough to shroud half the castle; every beat of her wings kicked up a gale that made it difficult for the soldiers on the walls to remain standing.
Her draconic eyes flickered with a tyrannical light, burning like two ghost fires as she stared coldly down at the fortress from the black clouds.
And upon her back sat a figure.
Aemond.
His silver hair whipped wildly in the gale.
"Enemy raid! Enemy raid!"
The sentry's cry had barely left his lips before it was swallowed by the thunder. Vhagar had already dived.
She wasn't there to breathe fire, at least, not yet. She was there to collide.
The gargantuan beast slammed her sheer physical weight directly into the main tower of Dragonstone.
It was the highest structure in the castle, standing firm for centuries, having witnessed the birth and death of countless Targaryens.
Now, it fell.
Under the immense force, the fireproof black stone began to fracture, and the tower collapsed with an agonizing roar.
Stones, wooden beams, and tiles rained down like a deluge; the soldiers below were buried before they could even let out a scream.
A cloud of dust rose dozens of yards high, mixing with the torrential rain as it poured back down to the earth.
"Seven save us..."
A soldier on the wall, having narrowly escaped death, collapsed to the ground. He stared at the scene, utterly paralyzed.
This was the landmark of Dragonstone, the ancestral seat of House Targaryen. Now, it was being destroyed.
Aemond rode upon the dragon's back, his silver hair dancing in the storm.
"Rhaenyra!"
His voice pierced through the sound of the rain and the thunder.
"Rhaenyra!!"
No one answered. The torrential rain only began to pour harder.
Vhagar landed upon the ruins, her massive talons crushing what remained of the stone walls. Under her feet, the ancient stones were like clay, shattering at a touch.
Aemond leaped from the dragon's back and stepped into the ruins of the still-smoking bedchamber. He kicked aside a corpse and looked down.
It was a flattened body, but it was not Rhaenyra. He kicked aside another piece of debris, found another body, still not her.
He walked through one destroyed room after another, kicking aside corpse after corpse. Soldiers, servants, handmaids.
Some were crushed, some were struck down.
Their faces were contorted, eyes still open, staring in death.
Aemond was searching. Searching for his silver-haired sister.
Searching for the woman wearing the crown. Searching for the woman he was meant to kill.
Nothing. Nothing. Still nothing.
"Rhaenyra!"
His roar echoed through the ruins of Dragonstone. In the sky, a flash of lightning illuminated his face.
On that face, there was only a cold, nearly insane obsession.
She had to be here. She could only be here.
If she wasn't in the bedroom, she was in the hall. If not the hall, then...
He suddenly looked toward the lower section of the castle.
The Dragonmont.
He looked up at Vhagar; she looked down at Aemond. He spoke softly.
"Dracarys."
Vhagar inhaled, then exhaled, opening her massive maw.
Green flames surged forth. It wasn't a stream; it was a flood.
It poured into the ruins of the castle, into every room, every corridor, and every place where people might still be hiding.
The flames snaked through the cracks, into the basements, into the wine cellars, and into every corner that could harbor a person.
The screams began. Not a few, but a chorus. The soldiers, servants, and handmaids hiding in the ruins were engulfed by the green fire.
Some ran out engulfed in flames, collapsing into charred husks after a few steps.
Others had no chance to run at all, incinerated where they stood. Some tried to extinguish the fire with blankets, with water, with anything they could find, but it was dragonfire, not a common flame.
It could melt stone and fuse steel; what chance did a human have?
The fire ravaged the ruins for minutes. When the green flames finally died out, Vhagar seemed slightly weary.
Not a single scream remained in the ruins of Dragonstone.
A hundred people? Two hundred? No one could count.
All that was known was that after the fire faded, a pungent, sickly-sweet scent permeated the ruins, the smell of charred flesh.
Aemond stood upon the ruins, letting the rain drench him. His face was devoid of expression.
- - - - - - - - - - -
The Caverns of the Dragonmont
Inside the Dragonmont, Rhaenyra clutched young Aegon's hand tightly.
Little Aegon, too young to understand what was happening, looked at his mother with a bewildered gaze. Little Viserys was being held by a trembling handmaid nearby.
Muffled thunder roared from overhead, and stone dust sifted down from the ceiling. The entire cave was shaking as if it might collapse at any moment.
"Your Grace!" the handmaid beside her cried in terror.
"Your Grace, we cannot go out!"
Rhaenyra brushed her hand away and took a step forward.
Then another. Then she stopped. Not out of fear, but because she heard them.
The screams. The sounds of people being burned alive filtering down from above. One. Two. Ten.
A hundred. She couldn't tell how many. She only knew they were her people. People who were in that castle because they were loyal to her.
"Your Grace..." the handmaid's voice shook.
"He is looking for you... He is looking for you..."
Rhaenyra did not answer. She simply stood there, one hand resting on her pregnant belly and the other propped against the stone wall, listening until the screams gradually faded.
One by one. Then... silence. Absolute silence.
"That bastard killed them..." Rhaenyra murmured.
"He killed everyone..."
"Your Grace!" another attendant ran over, his face pale with horror.
"It's Vhagar up there! It's the kinslayer Aemond! He is up there! He is looking for you!"
Rhaenyra turned her head and looked at him calmly.
"I know."
The attendant froze.
"I know he is looking for me. Let him look."
She turned and looked behind her. Syrax. The massive yellow she-dragon lay on the ground, letting out an uneasy, low growl.
Beside her were several recently laid dragon eggs, grey, orange, and green.
Syrax had already sensed the danger, sensing the killing intent of the gargantuan beast above, but her rider would not let her move.
Rhaenyra walked over and gently stroked Syrax's neck.
"It's all right," she whispered. "It's all right."
Syrax nuzzled her, a low purr vibrating in her throat.
She was trying to tell Rhaenyra, "Don't be afraid, I am here."
But Rhaenyra knew things were not all right. Aemond was here.
He was here to kill her. She should have been in her bedroom; that was where she stayed at this time every day.
After dinner, she would go to her room to rest, read, or daydream while waiting for Daemon to return.
But today, she had wanted to see Syrax. She had wanted to choose a dragon egg for the child in her womb.
That single whim had saved her life. If she had been in the bedroom... she didn't dare follow that thought.
Another loud crash came from above, followed by Vhagar's roar.
The sound was so close it felt as if it were right overhead, so close that even Syrax looked up nervously, letting out a threatening growl.
"He has killed many more," Rhaenyra said mournfully.
The handmaid's face was deathly pale.
"Then... then you..."
"If I were there," Rhaenyra sighed, "I would already be dead."
Aemond stood on the ruins above, the rain drenching him. His silver hair clung to his face, obscuring half of it.
In the eye that remained visible, a light made one shudder.
She wasn't there. Not in the bedroom, not in the hall, not anywhere she was supposed to be. Where was she then?
He looked up at the massive stone doors nearby.
The Dragonmont, then... the only place left.
Vhagar sensed her master's thoughts. She let out a low growl and turned her head toward the stone doors.
"Vhagar." Aemond climbed back onto her.
"To the Dragonmont."
Vhagar unfurled her wings. Suddenly, Aemond looked up.
Lightning illuminated the sky. In that blinding white light, a scarlet shadow was diving from the black clouds.
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A/N:
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