Chapter 107: Found You
Before the Winter Wolves arrived upon the battlefields of the Riverlands, Dragonzel and Prince Daemon split apart and flew separately toward the islands of the Narrow Sea and the Crackclaw Point peninsula, intending to search those two regions according to the intelligence they had gathered. Daemon discovered the ruins of Whispering Castle and several villages still smoldering upon Crackclaw Point, yet he found no trace whatsoever of Prince Aemond or Vhagar. However, after sweeping through the peninsula, Daemon suddenly mounted Caraxes once more and flew eastward without explanation, leaving none aware of his destination, while Dragonzel continued over the Narrow Sea, seeking where exactly Aemond could still conceal himself.
Aemond himself was also enduring misery. Their original scheme had indeed been for him to ride Vhagar openly through the skies, drawing the attention of the Black dragons and buying time for King Aegon II to disappear into hiding and prepare a counterattack. But now the Black dragons truly had focused upon him. Not only focused upon him—they refused to stop chasing him.
Vhagar silently glided through the clouds. The ancient dragon had indeed burned several keeps belonging to Black-aligned lords, yet those castles had either been too small or already abandoned by their lords marching with their levies, leaving behind only sparse populations. Worse still, every time Vhagar finished burning a castle, another dragon would soon approach. Again and again Aemond had been forced to flee before battle could begin.
Dragonzel felt warmth radiating from the bloodstone hidden within his robes.
Vhagar was close.
Leaning low against the saddle, Dragonzel signaled Vermithor according to the stone's guidance. The Bronze Fury roared thunderously before banking westward through the heavens.
Aemond had once planned to ride Vhagar against Driftmark—or perhaps even Dragonstone itself—but eventually abandoned both notions, constantly shifting direction in hopes of evading pursuit. In the end, after endless twists and turns through the skies, he circled back toward the Riverlands.
Then suddenly—
A wave of scorching heat descended above him.
"I found you, Aemond."
Vermithor burst violently through the clouds. Black storm clouds churned apart around the massive bronze dragon as he descended directly upon Vhagar like a falling mountain.
"Vhagar, evade!"
Aemond yanked fiercely upon the saddle chains, forcing the ancient dragon aside just as Vermithor's dragonfire swept past them in a torrent of blazing fury.
"Vhagar—attack!"
Enraged by the flames, Vhagar ignored any thought of retreat. The old dragon twisted midair and unleashed her own inferno toward Vermithor as the Bronze Fury descended from above, yet the flames left scarcely any mark upon Vermithor's armored scales. Vermithor roared straight through the dragonfire and lunged toward Vhagar's skull. The older dragon snapped her head aside to evade the bite and retaliated with sweeping claws, but Vermithor intercepted the strike with his own talons.
"Vhagar, retreat!"
Aemond immediately realized Vhagar was failing to gain advantage—and in fact was already beginning to lose ground. He rapidly pulled upon the saddle restraints, commanding Vhagar to disengage. The old dragon roared and released another wave of dragonfire while Vermithor forced through the blaze, and then Vhagar turned westward and fled at full speed.
Dragonzel merely sneered.
He urged Vermithor forward at once.
Both dragons were colossal monsters, tearing across the skies above the Riverlands while hurling dragonfire behind them. From dawn until dusk, for days without end, Dragonzel pursued Vhagar relentlessly. The two dragons clashed seven separate times above the Riverlands, and each battle ended with Vhagar continuing her desperate flight.
Red Fork River Battlefield
The arrival of the Winter Wolves almost instantly reversed the tide of battle.
Grey-bearded northern riders roared like madmen as they smashed through the Westerlands infantry lines with battle-axes and heavy maces. These old warriors dismounted without hesitation the moment their horses lost momentum, transforming into armored infantry and throwing themselves directly into the midst of the Lannister army.
The tide shifted violently.
The Westerlands host, once dominant, slowly began to collapse backward, and Lord Jason Lannister himself immediately noticed the deterioration spreading throughout his lines.
"Knights, dismount and advance with me!"
Jason raised his longsword high. The armored knights of the Westerlands dismounted one after another, forming ranks of heavy infantry that slowly advanced against the Riverlords while more common soldiers were diverted to resist the onslaught of the Winter Wolves.
Upon witnessing the northern reinforcements arrive, the Riverlands army charged forward with the same savage fury as the Winter Wolves themselves. Their morale exploded upward as if madness had seized them, scattering the Lannister lines. Even Lord Jason himself suffered a spear thrust through the stomach amidst the chaos.
"What is that?" Alysanne suddenly looked skyward after loosing an arrow into the visor slit of a western knight.
Banji Blackwood also noticed the shadows above.
"Dragons! Dragons!"
Vhagar shrieked across the heavens.
The gigantic green dragon descended like a falling mountain, while another mountain followed close behind. Under Dragonzel's relentless control, Vermithor had already torn multiple gaping wounds into Vhagar's body, and boiling dragon blood rained from the sky like crimson fire.
"Everyone clear away! Don't touch the dragon's blood!"
Lord Forrest Frey roared the warning loudly, and identical cries echoed across the battlefield from commanders on both the Black and Green sides alike.
"Dragonzel, are you truly willing to die for that bitch?"
Aemond's voice carried exhaustion and bitterness. He knew Dragonzel was equally exhausted. They had been playing this deadly pursuit for days on end. Had Vhagar been faster, he believed he would already have escaped.
"Die for Rhaenyra?"
Dragonzel chuckled quietly to himself.
He ignored the question entirely.
"You truly think Daemon disappeared simply to search for you?"
"What do you mean?"
Aemond's thoughts instantly spiraled through endless possibilities.
Meanwhile, Vermithor slammed violently into Vhagar midair. The ancient dragon twisted savagely in retaliation, exposing claws like giant scythes, and the dragons' talons clashed continuously above the battlefield.
To the soldiers below, it seemed as though two mountains were battling in the heavens—a bronze dragon and a green dragon dancing amidst smoke and fire. Sometimes they exchanged torrents of dragonflame. Sometimes they bit and tore at each other's throats and skulls. Sometimes they crashed bodily together, ripping scales apart with monstrous claws.
At last the dragons tangled together entirely.
Vermithor's talons locked against Vhagar's claws while both dragons continuously tore at each other's heads as they spiraled downward through the sky.
"Aren't you curious how I found you?" Dragonzel shouted with a smile. "I'll tell you openly—the blood of the father, the blood of the mother, the blood of the king. Such magic can track far more than merely you. Tell me, Aemond, who else do you think fulfills those requirements?"
"Dragonzel, you motherfucker!"
At last Vermithor found an opening.
The Bronze Fury blasted dragonfire directly into Vhagar's eyes. While the old dragon recoiled blindly in pain, Vermithor lunged forward and sank his teeth deep into Vhagar's throat.
"You think we never understood your plans?"
Dragonzel pressed harshly against the saddle controls, urging Vermithor to apply more force. The bronze dragon drove his fangs deeper into Vhagar's neck while the ancient dragon screamed in agony.
"If Rhaenyra hadn't insisted upon playing noble games, and if Daemon hadn't dulled himself with age enough to reject Lord Bartimos Celtigar's advice, we would already have gathered every dragon and flown directly upon King's Landing and Oldtown alike."
"And by the way—we have eyes within your Small Council."
"By my calculations, Valarr and the fleet should already be moving toward Oldtown. Dreamfyre cannot defeat Silverwing. Or were you expecting aid from the Triarchy? Whether their fleets even manage to land depends entirely upon our mood. Do you truly believe House Varezes spent all these years merely hunting pirates and making coin? Or that we stand without allies?"
Aemond's face turned completely ashen.
"What exactly do you want?" he hissed. "I refuse to believe whatever Rhaenyra offers could satisfy you."
"Rhaenyra, hm?"
Dragonzel clicked his tongue lightly.
"What satisfies me more are Jaehaerys and Aegon. Her sons are far wiser than she is—you understand that, don't you? A position allowing me to safely develop my people from the shadows without becoming the center of the realm's attention."
"Aemond… you must pay the price."
"I'll make certain you meet the Stranger fully aware of your defeat. You should be grateful for that mercy."
"Dragonzel—I curse you and your bloodline!"
At last Aemond broke entirely.
The two dragons spiraled downward together.
Vhagar struck the earth first amidst the Westerlands army, and the impact alone shattered the surrounding formations instantly. Aemond himself was crushed beneath the dragon's enormous body while boiling dragon blood drenched him from head to toe.
"Vhagar is dead!"
Lord Rodrik Dustin raised his battle-axe high while cleaving Lord Crakehall's head from his shoulders. The grey-bearded Winter Wolves surged forward yet again amidst the smoke and debris of the dragonfall.
This time the Westerlands army completely collapsed.
Vermithor stood triumphantly atop Vhagar's corpse. The Bronze Fury continued savagely tearing into the ancient dragon's throat while dragonfire boiled within his jaws, helping scorch through flesh and bone alike.
Aemond closed his remaining eye.
The light gradually faded from Vhagar's eyes as well.
The old dragon's final struggles crushed countless western soldiers beneath her body, but eventually even those movements slowed into silence.
Vermithor finally released his bite and drove one massive claw onto Vhagar's skull. Dragonfire poured across the ancient dragon's corpse while the Bronze Fury continued ripping apart the carcass, ensuring utterly that the great she-dragon was truly dead.
Flames washed over Aemond's corpse, reducing the prince into blackened ruin.
Dragonzel sat calmly upon the saddle, surveying the collapsing Westerlands host below.
Lord Jason Lannister, pale from blood loss and still pierced through the stomach by a spear, smiled bitterly before lowering his weapon.
One after another, the western lords followed suit.
The surviving western soldiers also laid down their arms and knelt before the dragon.
Lord Rodrik Dustin glared with disgust at the knights kneeling beneath his axe and snorted coldly.
"Cowards."
Still, he did not strike.
"Lord Jason," Dragonzel said coldly from atop Vermithor, "kneeling will not solve your problems."
"I know, Your Highness," Jason answered with difficulty. "We are defeated. The Westerlands cannot withstand the wrath of either you or the Queen. We are willing to accept whatever punishment is demanded—only spare our families. We will take the black, go to the Wall, and atone for our crimes."
Dragonzel rubbed the saddle grip lightly, signaling Vermithor to continue tearing apart Vhagar's remains.
Only then did he answer:
"Punishment will be decided after the war. Your crimes shall be judged personally by Prince Jacaerys. Until then, remove your armor. Your army will march together with the Riverlands host, and Lord Forrest Frey shall serve as your custodian until the war's conclusion."
"Rest assured—we shall honor guest right."
"We are deeply grateful," Lord Jason replied weakly, his face drained white.
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