It was Meleys, the "Red Queen."
High in the sky, a fierce torrent of dragonfire poured down. It wasn't a probe or a warning; it was a strike delivered with every ounce of strength.
The crimson flames cascaded over Vhagar and Aemond like a waterfall.
Vhagar's scales sizzled and popped, emitting a foul, scorched smoke. Aemond was entirely engulfed in the inferno.
Rhaenys, astride Meleys, stared fixedly at the sea of fire. She had originally intended to wait for Daemon to arrive.
But this had been the perfect opportunity. From the moment Meleys had flown back, she had been waiting for this chance.
Waiting for Vhagar to land, for Aemond to be distracted, waiting for that single, perfect moment.
Now she had taken it.
'Burn him. Burn this wicked seed. Burn the murderer who killed my grandsons.'
The flames gradually dispersed.
Vhagar let out a roar of absolute fury toward the heavens. But the figure on her back...
Aemond raised his head, a smile on his face as he looked up at his aunt Rhaenys.
His Valyrian-steel-infused armor had largely melted, exposing the skin beneath in several places. The skin was red and blistered, but he was not dead.
He spoke with a chuckle. "You really are fast, aren't you, Aunt?"
Rhaenys's pupils contracted sharply. How was this possible?
She had heard Sara mention that Aemond was unafraid of dragonfire.
Sara had said that during the battle over Dragonstone, Aemond had been caught in a blast and suffered only superficial burns.
But Princess Rhaenys had scoffed at the time, believing the bastard girl was lying to cover for her own failure.
'The Unburnt?' Such a person had never appeared in Targaryen history.
There were legends from Valyria concerning the most pure-blooded Dragonlords of the Freehold. It was said that when the bloodline reached its absolute peak, one could bathe in fire and live.
But that was just a legend. Only a legend.
And yet, here...
"How can this be..." she murmured in disbelief.
The torrential rain poured down, splashing against her face and Meleys's scales.
Aemond stood atop Vhagar's back, looking up at her.
The rain washed over his face, rinsing away the soot and ash to reveal a young yet somber countenance.
"Aunt," his voice wasn't loud, yet it pierced through the sound of the rain.
"You really didn't show any mercy at all, did you?"
Rhaenys snapped back to reality. "Aemond!" she roared.
"You are destroying the Targaryens!"
Aemond laughed. "Aunt, which Targaryens are you talking about? Or do you mean your Velaryons?"
Rhaenys roared with loathing, "Kinslayer!"
Aemond's smile vanished. "Killing three bastards," he said, his voice as cold as ice, "does not count as kinslaying."
He paused. "Surrender to me, Aunt. I do not wish to kill you."
Rhaenys shook her head. "They were your nephews!" she shouted.
"When did the desire to kill them first take root in you?"
Aemond was silent for a heartbeat. Lightning illuminated his face.
There was a strange expression on it, as if he were reminiscing, yet also mocking.
"Very early," he said.
"Starting from that night at High Tide."
Rhaenys fell silent. That night at High Tide? Had this boy harbored a grudge for that long?
But it was Jacaerys who had lost an eye!
"What did they do that made you so determined to kill them?" Rhaenys demanded.
Aemond gave a thin smile.
"Bastards are not fit to ride dragons. Their existence is a stain on the Targaryen legacy. Everything I do is for the family."
Rhaenys accused him indignantly, "They were your sister's sons!"
"Yes. Brown-haired bastards, nothing more."
"Aemond, you are truly a born monster!"
Aemond shook his head slightly.
"I am merely correcting a mistake. We are defined by our blood. A Targaryen without a dragon is no different from a common man..."
Rhaenys lapsed into silence. Aemond continued, his voice calm.
"Why should they? Why should bastards sit atop the heads of us true Targaryens?"
"You are far too radical!" Princess Rhaenys stared at him, fully prepared.
If Aemond made even a single provocative move, she would immediately command the Red Queen to strike him down.
Vhagar had not taken flight yet; she believed Meleys could do it. Even if they perished together...
She would never let this madman rule the Seven Kingdoms.
But she could also wait a little longer; Daemon would be here soon...
Aemond's expression was indifferent as he looked up at Rhaenys.
"Traitor, you have no right to judge me, Rhaenys Velaryon."
Rhaenys shook with rage.
"You are seeking death, boy."
Aemond smiled.
"Aunt, you are still far too sentimental. You didn't strike me down immediately? Rhaenys, afraid of this and that? You are no better than the rest."
Princess Rhaenys, confused and enraged, countered, "What do you mean?"
The rain hammered down on both of them.
Aemond said suddenly, "Trying to find the perfect way to finish me? One who does great things cannot cherish their own life..."
Rhaenys froze.
"Forgive me," Aemond said, his lips curling into a bizarre smile, "but I was also stalling for time."
Rhaenys looked up sharply. Above her...
Lightning lit up the sky. In that blinding white flash, a black shadow dived from the high clouds.
Morghul.
The black dragon, which had been circling for so long, had been hiding in the cloud layer.
Now he plunged, his speed like a bolt of black lightning.
His dragon-face was distorted with ferocity, his eyes full of killing intent.
'You were waiting for Daemon to arrive, weren't you?'
Morghul didn't breathe fire; he dove straight for Rhaenys's position, his massive jaws snapping open.
"Meleys!"
Rhaenys's reaction was astonishingly fast. The Red Queen jerked her body aside at the last possible moment.
Morghul's jaws grazed past Rhaenys's helmet, but he clamped down hard on the Red Queen's right wing.
CRACK.
The sound of shattering bone could be heard even over the torrential rain. Meleys, the "Red Queen," let out a piercing howl of agony.
Blood erupted, mingling with the falling rain.
Morghul bit into her right wing and refused to let go, his entire body hanging in the air as he thrashed violently, like a crocodile death-rolling its prey.
The two dragons tumbled through the sky, tearing and grappling.
Meleys was larger than the black dragon; she used her left talons to rake desperately at Morghul's belly, leaving deep, bloody gashes.
She thrashed her body, trying to throw Morghul off.
But Morghul was locked on; he could not be shaken.
Rhaenys leaned out from the dragon saddle, drawing her longsword, preparing to strike at Morghul's eye. With one thrust...
The cunning Morghul closed his eyes, but the Red Queen's claws struck again, causing blood to spray from the black dragon's head.
Morghul finally released his grip, letting out a roar of pain.
But as he let go, he jerked his head violently, tearing a massive chunk of flesh from Meleys's right wing.
The piece of meat was the size of a man; it fell from the sky and slammed into the ruins below.
Meleys's screams echoed through the heavens. Her right wing was ruined.
Aemond moved. "Vhagar!"
Vhagar, crouched on the ground, surged into the air and lunged toward Meleys.
Dragonfire erupted, not a stream, but a sea of flame flooding toward the Red Queen.
Meleys tried to dodge, but her wing was useless; she flew unsteadily and could not escape. The dragonfire swept over her, charring the scales on her belly.
Another roar. Rhaenys clung to the dragon's back, holding Meleys's neck with everything she had.
"Old girl... old girl..."
Meleys looked back at her once. Rhaenys's tears fell, washing down her face with the rain.
"Old girl... I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."
She knew how dire the situation was. She had wanted to stall for time until Daemon arrived, resolving Aemond without losing a single dragon.
But Aemond had also been stalling, waiting for Morghul to ambush her.
Now Daemon hadn't arrived, and she was trapped in a desperate corner.
"Old girl, hold on a little longer... just a little longer..."
Meleys let out a low rumble. Suddenly, a draconic shriek rose from below!
Syrax.
The massive yellow she-dragon burst out of the Dragonmont with a rider on her back.
Rhaenyra.
"Aunt!" Rhaenyra's voice pierced the rain.
Syrax lunged at Morghul, biting into his hind leg. Morghul had been focused on Meleys, preparing a second attack, and hadn't noticed the threat from below.
The bite was solid; a chunk of flesh was torn from Morghul's leg.
Morghul let out a pained cry, spun around, and lunged at Syrax. The two dragons began to tear at each other in mid-air.
Morghul was smaller than Syrax, but he was more agile, more vicious, and possessed a desperate ferocity.
His talons raked Syrax's face, leaving trails of blood. His teeth bit into Syrax's neck, tearing at her.
But Syrax was not afraid. She was slightly larger than Morghul.
She bit into Morghul's neck and refused to let go, heedless of how much he scratched or bit.
Blood flowed from her neck and face, but she held on with a death-grip.
"Rhaenyra! Go! Get away!" Rhaenys roared.
But Rhaenyra did not leave. She simply stared fixedly at Aemond.
The murderer who killed her two sons. The demon who destroyed her family.
The monster who was now committing kinslaying.
Aemond looked back at her. In that gaze, there was no anger, no hatred, only a cold, nearly indifferent light. It was as if he were looking at a dead woman.
"I may not kill you today," Rhaenyra continued to scream over the storm, "but one day, I will take your head with my own hands! I will hang your head on the walls of King's Landing! I will let everyone see what becomes of a kinslaying beast!"
Aemond smiled slightly.
"Sister. I shall be waiting."
-----
A/N:
If you are enjoying the start of the story.
Drop some stones to help this book reach higher.
You can read upto 20+ Chapters. + Images
You can also read "+2 Free Chapters".
www.patreon.com/
LastDreamer