In the sky, Aemond looked away from Rhaenyra and turned to Rhaenys.
"Vhagar."
The dragon beneath him moved. She no longer cared about the battle between Syrax and Lothron, and went straight for Meleys.
Meleys struggled desperately to fly, but her right wing was useless—she could not fly. She could only desperately claw with her left paw and bite with her mouth, but Vhagar was too large. Too large. Vhagar was more than twice her size. Her claws were larger than Meleys's head. Her mouth could bite through Meleys's neck in one go.
But Meleys did not flee. She knew she could not escape. She could only fight. Fight with all her might.
Vhagar lunged and bit Meleys's neck. Meleys twisted her head sharply; Vhagar's teeth grazed her neck and bit her shoulder instead.
Crack.
The sound of cracking bones.
Blood gushed out. Meleys screamed but did not flinch—she bit Vhagar's neck in return.
In the sky, the two dragons tangled. Their claws grappled and tore at each other. Their teeth bit and gnawed at each other. Blood poured like rain, impossible to tell whose was whose.
Lightning illuminated their silhouettes. They were two dragons fighting for their lives.
Vhagar's claws seized Meleys's belly, ripping wounds deep to the bone. Meleys's entrails nearly spilled out, but she still bit. Meleys's claws raked Vhagar's face, scratching bloody wounds. Vhagar's eyes were nearly blinded by it; she shook her head desperately in pain.
They bit and rolled, moving from high altitude down to low. The rain poured down on them, on the blood that flowed from them, washing the blood everywhere.
The people on Dragonstone looked up at the sky. Those hiding in the ruins of Dragonstone castle, in the Dragonpit, in the corners—all stuck out their heads and watched the extremely tragic dragon battle.
"Seven above..." someone murmured.
Lightning illuminated the sky again and again. In each flash, the two intertwined dragons could be seen. Crimson and grey-green. They bit, rolled, and fell.
A loud crash rang out. The two dragons lost their balance and crashed into the ruins of Dragonstone castle.
BOOM!!
Black stone collapsed, and smoke and dust rose. The tallest tower of Dragonstone was broken in half; debris and tiles rained down from its chest. The tower had already been collapsing, and this collision completely destroyed it.
In the smoke, Meleys emerged first. She was covered in blood, her right wing drooping, her left beating desperately. In her eyes was a mad light—the light of a dying dragon. She did not care if she died; she just wanted to get Rhaenys out of danger before she died.
Vhagar followed, rushing out of the ruins. Her body had several more wounds; some scales were torn, and blood dripped from them. But her speed was not much slower. She was too large, and these wounds were minor.
Meleys desperately climbed upward, trying to gain distance. But she could not fly fast. She flew too slowly. From time to time, the Red Queen looked back at Vhagar.
Vhagar began to close the distance.
Now!
A black shadow flashed from the side.
Lothron. He had already shaken off Syrax and pounced on Meleys. He was astonishingly fast. He bit Meleys's right hind leg.
Then, in the air, he performed a death roll with terrifying force.
Then he suddenly jerked his head.
Crack.
Meleys's right hind leg was bitten off and fell from the sky.
"No!!"
Rhaenys's roar atop the Red Queen was heart-rending.
Meleys screamed and desperately kicked Lothron's head with her left hind leg. Once, twice, thrice—Lothron's dragon head was beaten bloody. Lothron felt the pain, released his bite, and retreated.
But Meleys was done for. She had already lost half her right wing, and now her right hind leg—she was covered in blood. She was in the air, wobbling and falling.
Rhaenys lay on her back, tears streaming down her face.
"Old girl... old girl..."
Meleys looked back at Rhaenys.
In those golden eyes was too much meaning. It was a farewell.
Rhaenys embraced her neck and pressed her face to her warm scales.
"Old girl... thank you... thank you for being with me all these years..."
Even though she was about to die, Meleys let out a low rumble—the sound she made when she was happy.
Vhagar lunged.
She bit Meleys's neck.
And Meleys bit Vhagar's neck in return, and with her last strength, her teeth sank into Vhagar's thick neck, and blood gushed out.
Vhagar trembled with pain. She bit Meleys's neck, and her whole dragon body spun and twisted.
Crack.
Meleys's dragon head was bitten off.
Vhagar released her mouth, and the dragon head fell from the sky.
Rhaenys fell from the sky on the headless dragon's body.
She did not scream. Without a cry. She simply closed her eyes.
Meleys was dead, and she did not want to live alone.
The sound of wind, the noise of rain, and Vhagar's roar rang in her ears.
Then—
BOOM!!
The headless dragon body crashed into the ruins of Dragonstone castle, raising a cloud of smoke and dust.
Rhaenys fell from the dragon's back and tumbled into the rubble. Her leg was broken. Her ribs were broken. Her face was covered in blood.
Rhaenys coughed blood and opened her eyes.
She saw a dragon head nearby.
The dragon head rolled in the ruins nearby; its eyes were still open. The golden pupils had lost focus, but seemed to still hold something.
"Old girl..."
Her lips moved.
"No!"
Rhaenyra's roar echoed through the sky.
In the sky, she lay on Syrax's back, watching the headless dragon body in the distance, tears mixing with the rain.
"Aunt... Aunt..."
No one answered. Only the rain poured.
Rhaenyra wanted to rush over. But she could not. Lothron was still watching her, ready to pounce at any moment.
Rhaenyra embraced Syrax's neck, her whole body trembling.
The Queen Who Never Was. She had never worn a crown in her life, but her pride was heavier than any crown. Now she was dead. Killed by Aemond's hand. Dead on Dragonstone.
---
In the sky, Aemond's expression was complex. He looked away from where she had fallen and looked at Rhaenyra nearby.
"Vhagar!"
The dragon turned and lunged at Syrax.
Rhaenyra trembled. "Syrax, flee!"
The yellow she-dragon beat her wings desperately and flew toward the east. But she did not fly fast enough, and the wounded black dragon Lothron beside her had already soared into the sky.
Rhaenyra knew that the next time that cunning black dragon appeared, it would most likely be a fatal strike.
Vhagar leisurely flew out from behind.
"I cannot die yet!" Rhaenyra's roar was filled with despair.
She thought of Jacaerys, Lucerys, Joffrey, Aegon, Viserys...
Where are you, Daemon?
Aemond did not answer. He simply looked at her like a dead man.
At that moment.
From the side came a dragon's roar.
Blood-red.
Caraxes. The Blood Wyrm.
Aemond turned.
Daemon.
Finally here. A pity—too late.
Daemon was silent. His dragon was not fast enough at this moment; he had been wounded in the left wing, bitten by Sunfyre.
At the corner of Aemond's lips appeared a mocking smile.
"Perfect."
He was about to order Vhagar to turn and meet the fight when suddenly—
Lothron let out a warning roar.
Aemond followed his gaze.
In the eastern sky, a silver shadow pierced through the clouds.
Silverwing. Sara's dragon.
Behind her also came a bronze dragon, barely flying.
Vermithor. The Bronze Fury.
Aemond was silent.
Silverwing was in good condition and flew fast. Though Vermithor could barely fly, he could still fly. If they caught up, cooperating with Daemon...
He looked at Vhagar.
Vhagar was wounded all over. Her neck had several deep bites; blood still flowed. The scales on her belly were torn in several places, flesh and blood washed by the rain. She had also been scratched above her right eye; dragon blood covered half her face. She was already very tired—had fought so long, shed so much blood.
Could she fight again? Yes. She could still fight. But facing Silverwing, Vermithor, plus the Blood Wyrm...
Lothron was also wounded. Meleys had beaten his head to a bloody pulp; one eye was swollen and the other red. He flew somewhat crookedly, his balance off. He could still fly and fight, but his condition was poor.
Aemond sighed.
"Let's go."
Vhagar turned and flew west. Lothron followed.
---
Daemon rode on Caraxes's back, watching the two dragon shadows fleeing, trembling with rage.
He had seen it. He had seen Meleys's body. He had seen Rhaenys fall into the rubble. He had seen his wife being hunted, fleeing in disgrace. And the murderer was right before him.
He wanted to catch up. But Caraxes's wing was wounded and could not fly fast. Sunfyre's bite had damaged his left wing. Each time he beat his wings, the wound tore open and blood spilled.
He desperately wanted to catch up, but he could not.
"Damn!" Daemon roared. "Damn!"
He abruptly turned and looked at Sara on Silverwing.
"Chase!" he roared. "Chase them!"
Sara was stunned for a moment. She looked at the two dragon shadows fleeing, then at Daemon.
She remembered the battle at Dragonstone. She remembered how Aemond had killed Varros, how he had killed Meraxes, how he had single-handedly defeated five dragonriders. She thought of the blood falling from the sky, the screams, the corpses burned by dragonfire.
She trembled.
"I... I..."
"Chase them!" Daemon roared again.
Sara gritted her teeth and urged Silverwing forward. But she did not fly fast—nor slow. It was not that Silverwing could not fly fast; it was that she dared not fly fast. She deliberately slowed down.
Daemon watched her back, his eyes narrowed. Anger gradually gave way to mixed emotions.
This bastard—does she want to preserve her strength? Or is she afraid?
He did not know.
All he knew was that if Caraxes were not wounded, if Silverwing were willing to chase, if Vermithor could fight alongside them—plus Syrax—they would have four dragons against only two wounded ones, Vhagar and Lothron. They could not lose.
But now...
He could only watch as the two dragon shadows grew farther and farther, finally disappearing into the dark clouds.
"Damn," Daemon cursed, and looked at Sara, who clearly did not want to fight desperately.
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