ULF
The war council was brief.
"Three dragons. One target." Aemond moved markers on the map. "Vhagar approaches from the west. Vermithor from the east. Silverwing from the south. We box Daemon in over the lake, eliminate escape routes, and destroy Caraxes together."
"Overwhelming force." Hugh's grin was too eager. "I like it."
"And if Daemon doesn't engage?" I asked. "If he retreats to Harrenhal, uses the castle's defenses—"
"Then we burn Harrenhal around him." No hesitation in Aemond's voice. "The castle's cursed anyway. Better to destroy it."
"That could take days. Weeks. Meanwhile, the Blacks regroup elsewhere."
"Then we kill them elsewhere." Aemond's single eye fixed on me. "You have objections, Dragonslayer? The man who let Rhaenys escape?"
He's using that against me. Of course he is.
"I have concerns. Daemon's too smart for a straight fight. He challenged me specifically—not you, not Hugh. Me. Why?"
"Because you killed his assassins. Personal vendetta."
"Daemon doesn't do personal. Everything is tactical." I pointed at the map. "He's drawing us somewhere. Setting something up. We should—"
"Should what? Run?" Aemond's smile was cold. "We have three dragons to his one. What trap could possibly work?"
Hugh laughed. "The bastard's scared. Wants to fly back to his queen."
Not scared. Careful. There's a difference.
But I was outvoted and outranked.
"Tomorrow, then."
"Tomorrow." Aemond rolled up the map. "Get some rest. You'll need it."
THAT NIGHT
Hugh found me by the picket lines.
The horses shifted nervously—dragons nearby always unsettled them. I was checking Silverwing's harness, running through pre-flight routines, trying not to think about what dawn would bring.
"Walk with me."
Not a request.
We moved away from camp. Beyond earshot of the guards.
"You know what tomorrow is." Hugh's voice was low. Intent.
"A battle."
"More than that." He stopped. Faced me. "Tomorrow, Daemon and Aemond kill each other."
"You're certain of that?"
"I'm certain of dragons. Of pride. Daemon wants Aemond dead. Aemond wants Daemon dead. Neither will back down." Hugh's eyes glittered in starlight. "They'll tear each other apart over that lake. And when they do—"
"We return to King's Landing as heroes."
"We return as kings." His voice rose. "Think about it. Aegon's a cripple who'll never walk again. Aemond dies tomorrow. Daemon dies tomorrow. Who's left? Rhaenyra, on an injured dragon, with a broken army. And us. Two dragonriders with the two largest surviving dragons."
He's been planning this. For weeks. Maybe longer.
"You want to overthrow the Targaryens."
"I want to replace them." Hugh stepped closer. "Why should their blood matter more than ours? We've got the same fire. Same power. Same right to rule."
"And Helaena? Her children?"
"Hostages. Legitimacy. Whatever you want to call them." He waved dismissively. "Your queen can stay queen. Your children can stay heirs. I don't care about the throne—I care about power."
He's offering me a partnership. A betrayal that benefits everyone except—
"And if Aemond and Daemon don't kill each other?"
Hugh's smile widened.
"Then we help that along."
There it is. The full truth.
I kept my face neutral. Forced calm into my voice.
"That's... significant."
"It's necessary." Hugh gripped my shoulder. "Think about it tonight. When they're both dead tomorrow, we'll have choices. Make the right one."
He walked away.
I stood in the darkness, calculating.
Hugh wants Aemond dead. Daemon wants me dead. Aemond wants Daemon dead. Three-way murder wrapped in a battle.
And somewhere in the middle, I need to survive.
THE RAVEN
The message was coded.
Helaena would understand—we'd developed the cipher together, after the assassination attempts. A way to communicate when words might be intercepted.
If I don't return, follow the plans we made. Take the children and go. Our child will be safe even if I'm not. I love you. I'm sorry.
Simple. Necessary. Possibly final.
I gave the message to my most trusted contact—a camp follower who'd served me since Flea Bottom, years ago.
"If I die tomorrow, this goes to Queen Helaena. No one else."
"And if you survive?"
"Then burn it and forget we spoke."
She nodded. Pocketed the message. Disappeared into the camp.
I returned to my tent.
Helaena's ribbon was wrapped around my wrist. Silver thread against scarred skin.
I'll come back. I have to come back.
But promises meant nothing against dragonfire.
DAWN
The morning came gray and cold.
Fog hung over the Riverlands—thick curtains of mist that would burn off by midday. In the distance, the God's Eye waited. A cursed lake for a cursed battle.
Three dragons launched from the Green camp.
Vhagar first—ancient, massive, Aemond riding with cold determination. His armor gleamed black in the early light. His sword hung ready at his side.
Vermithor second—bronze scales catching what little sun broke through. Hugh Hammer laughed as they climbed, eager for blood.
Silverwing last. I guided her into formation, taking the southern position as planned.
Helaena. The children. The child I'll never meet if this goes wrong.
The ribbon pressed against my wrist.
I'll come back.
Below us, the land fell away. Rivers became ribbons. Forests became carpet. The world shrank to toy-scale as we climbed toward the clouds.
And somewhere ahead, over the dark waters of the God's Eye, Daemon Targaryen waited with revenge in his heart.
The Battle Above the God's Eye had begun.
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