It was the Red Queen, Meleys.
In the sky, a fierce blast of dragonfire poured down. It was not a test, not a warning—it was a full-force strike. Crimson flames cascaded onto Vhagar like a waterfall, and onto Aemond.
Vhagar's scales hissed, giving off scorching smoke. Aemond's entire body was engulfed in flame.
Rhaenys rode on Meleys's back, watching the sea of fire.
She had waited a while. She had wanted to wait for Daemon to arrive. But now—this was the best opportunity. From the moment Meleys had turned back, she had been waiting for this moment. Waiting for Vhagar to land, waiting for Aemond to be distracted, waiting for the most perfect moment. Now she had waited.
Burn him alive. Burn that evil seed. Burn the kinslayer who had murdered her grandchildren.
The flames gradually dispersed.
Vhagar let out a furious roar, soaring into the sky.
And the man on her back.
Aemond looked at his aunt Rhaenys, a smile on his face. Most of his dense silver armor was burned and melted; the skin beneath was exposed in some places. On the skin were red patches, but he was not dead.
He said with a smile. "You're quite fast, aren't you, Aunt?"
Rhaenys's pupils abruptly contracted.
How was this possible?
She had heard Syrax say that Aemond was not afraid of dragonfire. Syrax had said that in the battle at Dragonstone, Aemond had been bathed in dragonfire, but only his skin had been scorched. She had scoffed at the time. She had thought that bastard was lying to cover his failure.
Not burned?
In Targaryen history, there had never been such a man. There was a legend of Valyria—the purest blood of ancient Valyria, it was said that this bloodline had reached its limit and could bathe in ash without dying. But that was only a legend. Just a legend.
But now...
She could not help but murmur, "How can this be..."
The rain poured down on her face, on Meleys.
Aemond stood on Vhagar's back and looked at her. Rain streamed down his face, washing away the soot, revealing a young but grim face.
"Aunt," his voice was not loud, but it pierced the sound of the rain. "Do you truly have not a drop of mercy?"
Rhaenys suddenly came to herself. "Aemond!" she roared. "You are destroying House Targaryen."
Aemond smiled. "Aunt, which Targaryen do you speak of? Or you—Velaryon?"
Rhaenys roared with disgust, "Kinslayer!"
Aemond's smile vanished. "Killing three bastard children," he said, his voice cold as ice, "does not count as kinslaying..."
He paused.
"Surrender to me, Aunt. I do not want to kill you."
Rhaenys shook her head. "They were your nephews!" she roared. "When did you first feel murderous intent toward them?"
Aemond was silent for a moment.
Lightning illuminated his face.
On his face was a very strange expression, as if remembering—and laughing.
"Very early," he said. "From that night on High Tide."
Rhaenys was silent.
That night on High Tide? This boy had held a grudge that long? But it was Jacaerys who lost an eye! That was three years ago.
"What did they do that you had to kill them?" Rhaenys asked.
Aemond smiled. "A bastard son is not worthy to ride a dragon. They are a shame to House Targaryen, living. Everything I do is for the family..."
Rhaenys accused angrily. "They are your sister's sons."
"Yes, just bastards with brown hair."
"Aemond, you are such a natural-born villain!"
Aemond shook his head. "I am merely correcting another mistake. We are made by blood. Targaryens without dragons are no different from common mortals..."
Rhaenys fell silent.
Aemond continued, his voice calm. "Why?"
Rhaenys looked at Aemond in confusion.
"Why! Can a bastard son ride above us true Targaryens?"
"You are too extreme!" Princess Rhaenys stared at him, she was ready. "Aemond! You are a kinslayer! You truly deserve the seven hells!"
At that moment, if Aemond did anything rash, she would immediately order the Red Queen to destroy Aemond below. Vhagar had not taken off, and she believed the Red Queen could handle it. Even if they died together... she would never let this madman rule the Seven Kingdoms.
But you can wait—Daemon will be here soon...
Aemond looked indifferent, looking at Rhaenys in the sky.
"Traitor, you are not worthy to accuse me. Rhaenys Velaryon."
Rhaenys trembled with rage. "You are seeking death, boy."
Aemond smiled. "Aunt, you are still too emotional. Why did you not kill me immediately? Rhaenys, are you afraid of this or that? You are no more than this."
Princess Rhaenys was puzzled and angrily retorted. "What do you mean?"
The rain poured down on the ground and on both of them.
Suddenly Aemond said, "You are waiting for Daemon to come, aren't you? Want to finish me off perfectly? Those who do great deeds cannot spare their lives..."
Rhaenys was stunned.
"Forgive me," Aemond said, a strange smile appearing at the corner of his lips. "I have also been stalling for time with you."
Rhaenys abruptly looked up.
Above.
Lightning illuminated the sky.
In that blinding white light, a black shadow descended from the heights.
Lothron.
The cunning black dragon had been hiding in the clouds. At this moment, he plunged downward like black lightning. His dragon head was hideous, his eyes full of murderous intent.
He did not breathe fire—he flew straight toward Rhaenys's position.
A test.
"Meleys!"
Rhaenys's reaction was astonishingly fast. The Red Queen twisted her body at the last moment; Lothron's mouth brushed against Rhaenys's helm and bit her right wing.
Crack.
The sound of breaking bones could not be drowned even by the rain.
The Red Queen let out a piercing roar. Blood gushed out, mixing with the rain. Lothron bit the right wing and would not let go; his whole dragon body hung in the air, thrashing desperately like a crocodile biting its prey.
The two dragons rolled, tore, and tangled in the air.
Meleys, larger than the black dragon, desperately clawed at Lothron's belly with her left paw, scratching bloody wounds. The wounds were deep—deep enough to see the white bone within.
Lothron felt the pain and roared, but did not let go. He bit harder, his teeth sinking deeper.
Meleys's cries echoed through the sky. She desperately shook her body, trying to throw Lothron to the ground. But Lothron had bitten her so fiercely that she could not shake him off.
Rhaenys leaned out from the dragon's back, drew a longsword from her belt, and prepared to stab Lothron in the eye.
The sword.
Wily Lothron closed his eyes, but the Red Queen's claws attacked again, and the black dragon's whole head gushed blood.
Lothron finally released his bite and let out a pained roar.
But when he released, he suddenly jerked his head, tearing a large chunk of flesh and blood from Meleys's right wing. That chunk of flesh and blood was the size of a man; it fell from the sky and crashed onto the ruins.
Meleys's cries echoed through the sky.
Her right wing was crippled.
Aemond moved.
"Vhagar!"
Vhagar, who had been lying on the ground, suddenly lunged and pounced on Meleys.
Dragonfire burst forth. Not a stream—a torrent, rushing toward Meleys like a sea of fire.
Meleys struggled to dodge, but her right wing was useless; she flew unsteadily and could not evade at all. Dragonfire touched her body, burning the scales on her belly.
Another roar.
Rhaenys lay on the dragon's back, embracing Meleys's neck.
"Old girl... old girl..."
Meleys looked back at her.
Rhaenys's tears streamed down, mixing with the rain.
"Old girl... I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."
She knew how dangerous the situation was. She had planned to stall and wait for Daemon to arrive. To destroy this Aemond without losing either dragon. But Aemond had also been stalling, waiting for Lothron to launch a sudden attack. Daemon had not yet arrived, and she was in a desperate situation.
"Old girl, hold on a little longer... hold on a little longer..."
Meleys let out a low rumble.
Now!
From below came a dragon's roar!
Syrax.
The great yellow she-dragon burst out of the Dragonpit, a man riding on her back.
Rhaenyra.
"Aunt!"
Rhaenyra's voice pierced the rain.
Syrax lunged at Lothron and bit his hind leg.
Lothron had been watching Meleys, preparing to launch a second attack, and did not notice her below.
This bite was fierce; a chunk of flesh was torn from Lothron's hind leg.
Lothron let out a pained roar, abruptly turned, and began to fight back against Syrax.
The two dragons bit at the air.
Lothron was smaller than Syrax, but more agile, fiercer, more ruthless. His claws raked Syrax's face, scratching bloody wounds. His teeth sank into Syrax's neck, tearing desperately.
But Syrax was not afraid. She was slightly larger than Lothron. She bit Lothron's neck and would not let go—no matter how much Lothron clawed or bit, she would not release. Blood streamed down her neck and face, but she simply bit down to the death and could not release.
"Rhaenyra! Go!" Rhaenys roared.
But Rhaenyra did not leave.
She simply looked at Aemond.
The kinslayer who had killed her two sons. This demon who had destroyed her family. The beast who still wanted to kill his own kin.
Aemond looked back at her.
In that eye was no anger, no hatred—only a cold, almost indifferent light. Like looking at a dead man.
"I cannot kill you today," Rhaenyra continued to roar, "but one day I will cut off your head with my own hands! I will hang your head on the walls of King's Landing! Let everyone see what happens to the monster who killed his kin!"
Aemond smiled.
"Sister. I will wait."
╔══════════════════════╗
📘 Want more?
Join me on Patreon for bonus chapters
and early access!
🔗 https://www.patreon.com/cw/OverlordD
╚══════════════════════╝