The Hill of Rhaenys, Outside the Dragonpit.
Outside the Dragonpit, the rain fell in a relentless deluge.
The three young dragons and their riders were now fully exposed to the sight and range of the watchtower sentries.
Within the towers, the initial chaos was swiftly replaced by the discipline of a well-trained garrison.
"Scorpion crews! Aim for the riders on the dragons' backs!"
"Archers, fire at will! Disrupt their flight!"
"Spearmen, block the exits! Do not let them near the base of the towers!"
The commands were broken by the howling wind, but the execution was terrifyingly efficient.
Three heavy bolts were loosed almost simultaneously from varying heights, converging on the three young dragons who had just burst forth and had yet to reach full flight speed.
"Get down!"
Jacaerys roared, flattening himself against Vermax's neck.
Bolts whistled past his head and flanks; one grazed his shoulder guard, sending a shower of sparks into the dark.
Vermax hissed in fury as the shafts clattered off his scales.
Lucerys and Joffrey followed suit, ducking low. Arrax was agile, twisting his body to weave through the volley.
However, the young Tyraxes faltered from nerves; a massive bolt grazed the edge of his right wing, shearing off several scales and eliciting a shriek of pain.
As the initial shock faded, Jacaerys's desire for destruction flared once more.
Hearing the frantic bells and seeing the silhouettes moving in the towers, he slapped Vermax's neck and hissed:
"Attack! Destroy the towers!"
He guided Vermax into a steep climbing turn, evading another wave of arrows, and dove toward the nearest sentry post.
"Vermax! Burn them all! Dracarys!"
Responding to his master's rage, a pillar of gold-red fire erupted from the dragon's maw, more robust and violent than it had been indoors.
It lashed across the upper platform of the tower like a whip of flame.
BOOM!
Despite the torrential rain, the sheer heat and adhesive nature of the dragon's breath caused the wooden structures to ignite stubbornly, spreading with terrifying speed.
Defenders shrieked, some fell as living torches, others scrambled fruitlessly to extinguish the blaze.
"Hahaha! Burn! Burn!" Jacaerys laughed maniacally in the sky.
"This is just the interest on the debt! Aemond! Come! Come and kill me!"
His roars mingled with the wind, the fire, and the bells, a symphony of excitement and madness.
Seeing his brother's success, Lucerys wheeled Arrax around and unleashed fire upon a second tower.
The flames struck the mid-section; while it didn't ignite as quickly, the impact threw the defenders into a panic, halting their return fire.
Ten-year-old Joffrey bit his lip, trying to command Tyraxes to join the fray, but the dragon's wing injury made his movements sluggish.
At that moment.
THUNG!
A heavy, low-frequency thud, far louder than a standard crossbow, echoed from below.
The Scorpions.
These massive engines, designed to repel external aerial threats, had been pivoted by the garrison commander to face the internal threat.
Heavy, iron-tipped bolts the thickness of a man's thigh tore through the rain toward Vermax.
Jacaerys, intoxicated by the thrill of destruction, reacted a split second too late. Vermax's instincts saved them as he rolled violently to the right.
The bolt grazed his underbelly, tearing away scales and flesh to leave a bloody furrow, but it wasn't fatal.
However, another bolt fired from a different angle found its mark on Tyraxes, catching the young dragon as he struggled to steady his flight.
Squelch!
The nauseating sound of steel meeting flesh.
The heavy bolt buried itself deep into Tyraxes's left hind leg, where it met the body, a spot where the scales were relatively thin.
"SCREE-HOOOO!!"
Tyraxes let out a piercing, agonizing wail. His body tilted sharply in the air, nearly throwing Joffrey from the saddle.
Blood fountained from the wound, blooming into a gruesome red mist in the rainy sky.
"Joffrey!" Lucerys screamed, his heart stopping.
Joffrey clung to the dragon's neck for dear life, his face turning deathly pale as he saw the blood gushing from his companion.
"Tyraxes! No!"
The pain and blood loss made Tyraxes's flight erratic and staggering.
This strike acted like a bucket of ice water, snapping Jacaerys out of his hate-fueled trance. He saw his brother's dragon wounded; he saw Joffrey's terror.
And in the distance, he saw the nightmare: countless pinpricks of torchlight flowing from the city and the Red Keep like a river of fire, surging toward the Hill of Rhaenys.
The entire military force of King's Landing had been roused.
If they delayed any longer, they wouldn't just lose Tyraxes; none of them would escape the closing net.
"East!" Jacaerys shouted, suppressing his lingering bloodlust.
"We go back to Dragonstone! Now!"
He took one last look at the burning Dragonpit and the chaotic towers, then yanked Vermax around, banking hard toward the black, churning waters of Blackwater Bay.
Lucerys followed, flanking the wobbling Tyraxes to shield his younger brother from further attacks.
"Joffrey! Stay close!"
The three dragons, marked by scars, smoke, and the heavy scent of blood, fled eastward into the storm.
Behind them, they left a burning Pit, a screaming city, and a Kingdom finally, irrevocably, at war.
----------
The Northern Sky.
Almost at the exact moment the first flame tore through the rainy night, two massive dragons north of the city altered their course.
Whoosh.
Each beat of Vhagar's wings pulverized the rain against her ancient, rock-grey scales, creating a continuous wake of white steam.
Vhagar was not a young dragon to be bothered by weather; two centuries of life had made her the master of every sky.
Upon her back, Aemond Targaryen allowed the gale and rain to lash against his black leathers and silver hair.
His gaze had already pierced the storm, fixed on the growing fire atop the Hill of Rhaenys and the three specks fleeing frantically toward the sea.
Aemond's expression was calm, an inhuman, predatory calm.
Helaena followed on Dreamfyre, struggling to keep pace behind Vhagar's massive wake.
She could feel the white-hot fury simmering beneath Aemond's stillness.
"Aemond..." she tried to call out, but the wind shredded her voice.
Vhagar, sensing the cold killing intent of her rider, let out a colossal roar that made the entirety of King's Landing tremble in the depths of the night.
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