In the sky, Aemond withdrew his gaze and looked toward Rhaenys.
"Vhagar."
The gargantuan dragon beneath him moved.
She no longer concerned herself with the struggle between Syrax and Morghul; instead, she lunged straight toward Meleys.
Meleys tried desperately to fly away, but her right wing was ruined; she couldn't gain altitude.
She could only use her left talons to rake and her jaws to tear, but Vhagar was simply too big. Too big.
Vhagar was more than double her size.
Her claws were larger than Meleys's entire head. Her maw could snap Meleys's neck in a single bite.
But Meleys did not flee. She knew she couldn't. She could only fight. Fight with her life.
Vhagar dove, snapping at Meleys's neck.
Meleys jerked her head aside; Vhagar's teeth grazed her throat and clamped down on her shoulder.
The sickening sound of shattering bone echoed through the storm. Blood erupted. Meleys shrieked, but she did not retreat; she counter-bit, tearing into Vhagar's neck.
The two dragons became a tangled mess in the sky. Their talons locked, tearing at one another. Their teeth gnashed, devouring flesh.
Blood fell like rain, indistinguishable as to whose was whose. Lightning illuminated their silhouettes, two gargantuan beasts locked in a struggle to the death.
Vhagar's claws raked into Meleys's belly, opening wounds deep enough to see bone. Meleys's internal organs were nearly spilling out, yet she continued to bite.
Meleys's talons raked across Vhagar's face, leaving brutal trails of blood.
Vhagar's eye was nearly gouged out, causing the ancient beast to thrash her head in agony.
They bit, they tumbled, fighting from the high altitudes to the low, and back up again.
The torrential rain poured over them, washing their blood across the sky.
Below, the people of Dragonstone raised their heads.
Those hiding in the ruins of the castle, in the Dragonmont, and in every corner of the island poked their heads out to witness the most brutal draconic war in history.
"Seven save us..." someone murmured.
Lightning lit the sky again and again.
In every flash, the two entangled dragons were visible: scarlet and hoary green.
They tore, they tumbled, and finally, they fell in a locked embrace.
A thunderous crash. The two dragons lost their balance and slammed into the ruins of Dragonstone.
BOOM!!!
Black stone crumbled; dust billowed.
The highest tower of the castle, already damaged, was struck and half-collapsed; stones and tiles rained down like a deluge.
From the dust and smoke, Meleys was the first to emerge. She was covered in blood, her right wing drooping while her left fanned desperately.
There was a mad light in her eyes, the light of a dying dragon.
She no longer cared if she lived; she only wanted to carry Rhaenys out of danger before she expired.
Vhagar followed immediately, bursting from the ruins.
She, too, bore severe wounds; scales were torn away, and she was drenched in blood.
But her speed was hardly diminished; she was so massive that these injuries were minor to her.
Meleys tried desperately to fly upward to close the distance.
But she couldn't fly fast anymore. She was moving too slowly.
The Red Queen looked back at Vhagar periodically as the larger dragon closed in.
Just then, a black shadow lunged from the flank.
Morghul.
He had shaken off Syrax and lunged at Meleys. His speed was terrifying. He clamped his jaws onto Meleys's right hind leg.
Then, in mid-air, he performed a sudden death-roll, using the rotational force to jerk his head violently.
CRACK.
Meleys's right hind leg was snapped off cleanly, tumbling from the sky.
"NO!!!"
Astride the Red Queen, Rhaenys's scream was soul-shattering. Meleys shrieked, her left hind leg kicking desperately at Morghul's head.
One kick, two, three, Morghul's snout was beaten into a bloody mess.
In pain, Morghul released his grip and retreated.
But Meleys was finished. Her right wing was half-useless, and now her right hind leg was gone.
She was drenched in blood, wavering in the air. Rhaenys lay flat against her back, tears streaming down her face.
"Old girl... old girl..."
Meleys turned her head to look at Rhaenys. In those golden eyes, there was far too much.
It was a farewell.
Rhaenys hugged her neck, pressing her face against the warm scales.
"Old girl... thank you... thank you for staying with me all these years..."
Even at the brink of death, Meleys let out a low purr, the sound she made when she was happy.
Vhagar lunged. She clamped her massive jaws onto Meleys's neck.
Meleys, in a final effort, bit into Vhagar's thick neck, her teeth embedding deep as blood surged between them.
Vhagar trembled with the pain. She held Meleys's neck and twisted her entire massive body.
CRUNCH.
Meleys's head was snapped off. Vhagar released her grip, and the dragon's head fell from the sky.
Rhaenys, still clinging to the headless carcass, plummeted toward the earth.
She did not scream. She did not cry out. She simply closed her eyes.
Meleys was dead, and she had no wish to live on alone.
Around her was only the sound of the wind, the rain, and Vhagar's roar.
Then, BOOM!!!!
The headless dragon corpse slammed into the ruins of the castle, raising a massive cloud of dust.
Rhaenys was thrown from the dragon's back, landing hard in the pile of rubble. Her legs were broken.
Her ribs were shattered. Her face was covered in blood.
Rhaenys coughed up blood and opened her eyes.
She saw the dragon's head not far away in the ruins, its eyes still open.
The golden pupils had lost their focus, but something seemed to linger within them.
"Old girl..." her lips moved.
"NO!"
Rhaenyra's scream echoed through the heavens.
Above, atop Syrax, she watched the headless corpse fall, her tears mixing with the rain.
"Aunt... Aunt..."
No one answered. Only the rain poured down. Rhaenyra wanted to charge forward, but she couldn't. Morghul was still nearby, watching her, ready to pounce.
Rhaenyra clutched Syrax's neck, her body shaking.
The Queen Who Never Was. She had never worn a crown, but her pride was heavier than any crown ever forged.
Now she was dead. Killed by Aemond. Dead on Dragonstone.
In the sky, Aemond's expression was complex.
He withdrew his gaze from the crash site and looked toward Rhaenyra.
"Vhagar!"
The ancient dragon turned to lunge at Syrax.
Rhaenyra trembled. "Syrax, fly! Run!"
The yellow she-dragon beat her wings desperately, flying east. But she wasn't fast enough. Nearby, the injured Morghul had already ascended to a higher altitude.
Rhaenyra knew the next time that cunning black dragon appeared, it would be the killing blow. Vhagar followed unhurriedly from behind.
"I cannot die yet!" Rhaenyra's cry was full of despair.
She thought of Jace, Luke, Joff, Aegon, and Viserys... Daemon, where are you?
Aemond did not answer. He simply stared at her as if she were already dead.
Just then, a draconic roar came from the flank.
Blood-red. Caraxes. The Blood Wyrm.
Aemond turned his head. Daemon. He had finally arrived.
Unfortunately, he was too late. Daemon was silent; his dragon was not fast enough yet; its left wing was injured, bitten by Sunfyre.
A cold smirk touched Aemond's lips. "Good timing."
He was about to order Vhagar to turn and engage when suddenly Morghul let out a warning roar. Aemond followed the dragon's gaze.
In the eastern sky, a silver shadow was breaking through the clouds.
Silverwing. Sara's dragon.
Behind her was a bronze giant flying with visible effort.
Vermithor. The Bronze Fury.
Aemond fell silent. Silverwing was in excellent condition and flying fast.
Vermithor, though struggling, could still fight. If they caught up and coordinated with Daemon...
He looked down at Vhagar. She was covered in wounds.
Her neck bore deep gashes from Meleys, still bleeding. Her belly scales were torn in several places.
A claw had raked above her right eye, and dragon blood obscured half her face. She was exhausted; she had fought long and bled much.
Could she fight another round? She could. But if she faced Silverwing, Vermithor, and Caraxes together...
Morghul was also injured. His head was a bloody mess from Meleys's kicks; one eye was swollen shut, and the other was bloodshot.
He was flying at a tilt, his balance compromised. He could still fight, but he was in no condition for a prolonged engagement.
Aemond let out a sigh. "Let's go."
Vhagar turned and flew toward the west. Morghul followed closely.
Astride Caraxes, Daemon watched the two retreating shadows, shaking with a fury that made his whole body tremble.
He saw it. He saw Meleys's corpse. He saw Rhaenys broken in the ruins.
He saw his wife being hunted like a rabbit. The murderer was right before him.
He wanted to give chase. But Caraxes's wing was injured; he couldn't fly fast. Sunfyre's bite had crippled his left wing.
Every flap tore the wound, and blood flowed freely. He tried desperately to catch up, but he couldn't.
"FUCK!" Daemon roared.
"FUCK!"
He whipped his head around toward Sara on Silverwing.
"Chase them!" he roared.
"Get after them!"
Sara froze. She looked at the two retreating shadows, then at Daemon. She remembered the battle over Dragonstone.
She remembered how Aemond had killed Vermax and Arrax, how he had faced five dragonriders alone and won.
She remembered the blood falling from the sky, the screams, and the corpses turned to ash. She shuddered.
"I... I..."
"CHASE THEM!" Daemon roared again.
Sara gritted her teeth and urged Silverwing forward. But she flew neither fast nor slow.
It wasn't that Silverwing couldn't fly; it was that Silverwing didn't dare. She intentionally slowed her pace.
Daemon watched her back, his eyes narrowing. His fury slowly shifted into a complex emotion.
This bastard girl... is she trying to preserve her strength? Or is she just afraid?
He didn't know. He only knew that if Caraxes weren't injured, if Silverwing had charged, if Vermithor could have joined the fight... with Syrax included, they had four dragons.
The wounded Vhagar and Morghul were only two. They could have won.
But now... he could only watch as the two dragon silhouettes grew smaller, eventually vanishing into the storm clouds.
"Fuck," Daemon cursed under his breath, looking toward Sara, who clearly had no intention of risking her life.