Stepstones, Grey Gallows – 132 AC

I could hear Ser Arryk's footsteps behind me, his voice laced with concern as he called my name, but I ignored him. He had been trying to reason with me all morning, as if he believed there was something left to be said, something that might stop me from doing what I knew had to be done. But I was done with words. The time for talking had long passed.

The beach of Bloodstone stretched out before me, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore barely registering in my mind. My focus was on the cave ahead, that damned cave where everything had gone wrong. Where the Cannibal had sunk his teeth into our lives and ripped apart the woman I loved.

"Your Grace," Ser Arryk called again, this time his voice more insistent. "You shouldn't be here. It's too dangerous."

Dangerous. If I had a copper coin for every time someone had told me that, I'd be richer than all the Lords Paramount combined. Danger was a part of our blood, the fire in our veins. The difference was, I didn't care about it the way others did. I'd stared death in the face too many times to be afraid of it now.

Without slowing my pace, I waved off Arryk's concern. "Go back to camp, Ser. I don't need you."

Ser Erryk, standing with a handful of Driftmark's maids—Tyla, Kate, and Alla—glanced my way as I passed, his expression tight with worry. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but one sharp look from me was enough to silence him. I didn't have time for their fretting. I didn't have time for anything except what lay ahead.

The cave.

The last place anyone had seen Lucerys truly alive.

I stepped into the cave's mouth, the air immediately cooler, damp and suffocating. There was a smell too—blood, charred flesh, and something worse. I tried to ignore it, tried to focus on the flickering torchlight that barely cut through the shadows, but the smell clung to me, as if the cave itself was rotting from the inside out.

And then I saw her.

Lucerys Velaryon—my betrothed, the woman who once carried herself with the grace and elegance of the Maiden come again. The woman who had once been the heart of Driftmark, the hope of her house. But now? Now she was nothing more than a ghost. A husk, hollow and broken.

Her face, once soft and full of life, was pale, gaunt. Dark circles rimmed her eyes, which were wide but unfocused, staring blankly ahead as if she wasn't even there. Her once beautiful curly hair was matted, tangled, falling in limp strands over her face. She was standing beside her dragon, Ghost, but it was as if she didn't even know I was there.

And Ghost…

Gods, the sight of him nearly stopped me in my tracks.

The majestic snow-white dragon, the pride of Driftmark, was almost unrecognizable. His once shining scales were now charred black, his wings torn and scarred from the fire that had nearly killed him. The burns from the Cannibal's attack had spread across his entire body, leaving patches of his flesh raw and exposed. His blood-red eyes, once so full of life, were barely open, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat as I approached them both.

Lucerys didn't move, didn't even look at me as I stood beside her. I could hear the ragged sound of Ghost's breathing, each breath a painful reminder of what had been lost.

"Lucerys," I whispered, reaching out to touch her arm. It felt wrong, so wrong. Her skin was cold, and I could feel the bones beneath, sharp and fragile. The woman I loved had withered away before my eyes, and I hadn't been there to stop it.

She didn't respond. She just stood there, staring ahead, her lips slightly parted but no sound coming out. I could feel my chest tighten, anger mixing with guilt, with fear.

"Lucerys," I said again, this time louder, firmer, as if speaking her name with force would somehow snap her out of this… this state. "Look at me."

Still nothing.

I turned to Ghost, my breath catching in my throat as I knelt beside the dragon's massive, broken form. His red eyes flickered toward me, barely holding on to consciousness, and in them, I could see the pain. The suffering. The desperate will to live, even when the world had done everything in its power to snuff it out.

For a moment, I just knelt there, my hand resting on the charred black scales of Ghost's side, my heart aching with something I couldn't even put into words. This dragon had been through hell, and Lucerys had been dragged through it with him.

I wanted to rage. I wanted to burn this entire cave to the ground, to tear the world apart until there was nothing left but ash. How dare the Cannibal do this? How dare the Gods let this happen?

But instead, all I could feel was a crushing sense of helplessness.

"You need to come with me," I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper now. "Lucerys, please."

For the first time, she stirred, her eyes flickering toward me, though it was as if she wasn't seeing me at all. Her lips trembled, and then, in a voice so weak I could hardly hear it, she spoke.

"I can't… leave him."

Her words cut through me like a knife. I had known she wouldn't leave Ghost. Of course, I had. The bond between a dragon and its rider was more than words, more than flesh and blood. It was something deeper, something no one could truly understand unless they had felt it themselves. But this… this was killing her. It was destroying her, piece by piece, and she couldn't see it.

"Ghost will be fine," I lied, my voice steady even though the sight of the dragon told me otherwise. "He'll recover. But you… you need to come with me, Lucerys. You need to leave this cave."

She shook her head slowly, her eyes drifting back to Ghost, her expression hollow. "I won't leave him."

Gods damn it.

I stood, pacing in front of her, my mind racing, my anger flaring again. I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her, to shout at her, to tell her that she was killing herself by staying here. But I couldn't. I couldn't do that to her. Not now. Not when she was already so fragile.

Instead, I swallowed my rage and knelt in front of her again, lowering my voice to a soft whisper. "Lucerys, listen to me. Ghost will be alright. I'll make sure of it. But I need you to come with me. You can't stay here."

She looked at me then, really looked at me for the first time since I'd entered the cave. Her eyes were dull, lifeless, but there was a flicker of recognition in them, like she was finally seeing me for who I was.

"Aemond…" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I… I don't know how to leave him."

I reached out, gently cupping her face in my hands, my thumb brushing against her cheek. "You don't have to leave him forever," I said softly. "But you can't stay here, Lucerys. You can't."

I don't know what I expected. For a moment, she just stared at me, her lips trembling, her eyes filling with unshed tears. Maybe I thought I could just walk into that cave, take her by the hand, and pull her back from the edge. Maybe I thought my words would be enough. That somehow, I could snap my fingers and bring back the Lucerys I knew—the one who laughed too easily and fought with the grace of the sea, who could outmaneuver anyone in a debate and make me feel like I wasn't entirely a lost cause.

But that did not happen.

Lucerys looked so small, so broken, but at least she was still here. At least I hadn't lost her completely. I couldn't shake the feeling that the woman I had loved, the woman who had once been full of life and light, was gone. And all that was left was the shadow of what the Cannibal had taken.

And now, she was looking at me with eyes that didn't even belong to her anymore. Those eyes, once so bright and full of fire, were dead. Empty. She wasn't seeing me. She wasn't seeing anyone.

"Lucerys," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, though I could feel the frustration bubbling up inside me, hot and sharp like a blade ready to cut through everything. "You can't keep doing this. You're killing yourself."

She didn't respond. Didn't even flinch. Just stood there, staring at Ghost, who was lying motionless beside her, his shallow breaths barely stirring the air. The blackened burns from the Cannibal's fire had all but consumed him, turning his once-glorious white scales into charred ruin. It was like looking at the husk of a dragon.

And maybe that's why she couldn't leave. Maybe she thought if she stayed, she could bring him back. But I knew better. Ghost was a part of her, yes, but this… this wasn't saving him. It wasn't saving her either.

"You need to take care of yourself, Lucerys," I said, stepping closer, my hand reaching out for her. "Look at you. You haven't eaten. You haven't slept. You're… you're a shell of yourself."

At that, something in her shifted. Her eyes flicked to me, but instead of the soft vulnerability I had been hoping for, there was anger. Raw and jagged.

"I can't leave him," she snapped, her voice tight, brittle, like she was holding herself together with nothing but fraying thread. "I won't."

Her words hit me like a slap, but I pushed down the surge of anger that rose in response. This wasn't her fault. She wasn't herself. I had to remind myself of that. But gods, it was hard. So, fucking hard to stand there and watch her destroy herself while I could do nothing but speak empty words.

"Staying here isn't going to help him!" I snapped, my voice louder now, the frustration bleeding into every syllable. "You're not helping anyone by doing this, Lucerys. You're only hurting yourself."

"I don't care!" she shouted back, her voice cracking. "Do you hear me, Aemond? I don't care!"

I froze, the weight of those words hanging between us like a stone. She didn't care. Of course, she didn't. How could she care when the world she had known had been ripped apart by dragonfire? How could she care when she had lost everything?

But that didn't make it any easier to hear.

"You have to care," I said, my voice quieter now, but no less urgent. "Because if you don't, then what's the point of any of this? What's the point of fighting to survive if you're just going to throw it all away?"

She turned on me then, her eyes blazing with a fury I hadn't seen in her before. "You don't understand," she spat, her voice shaking with rage. "You don't know what it's like. To lose everything. To watch him—watch him die—over and over again in my head. Every time I close my eyes, I see it. I see the Cannibal, and I see Ghost burning, and I see—"

Her voice broke, and for a moment, I thought she might crumble. But instead, she straightened, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her whole-body trembling with barely contained emotion.

"You don't know what it's like," she repeated, quieter this time, but no less intense. "You don't know."

Something inside me snapped then.

"I don't know?" I repeated, my voice rising again, disbelief and anger mixing into something ugly. "You think I don't know what it's like to lose everything? To watch people, I care about suffer. Do you think I haven't felt that same fucking helplessness, Lucerys?"

I stepped toward her, closing the distance between us, my voice tight with barely contained frustration. "I do know. But I didn't fucking give up. I didn't lie down and let it destroy me. And you can't either. You can't."

But instead of listening, instead of softening, her face hardened, and before I knew what was happening, we were shouting at each other. The words spilled out, hot and sharp, cutting through the space between us like knives.

"You're not helping!" she screamed, her voice raw, her eyes wild. "You're just—just making it worse!"

"I'm trying to save you!" I shouted back, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. "But you won't even let me! You won't let anyone help you!"

"I don't need your help!" she screamed, her voice breaking again, this time with something that sounded suspiciously like a sob. "I don't need—"

"Enough."

The word cut through the air like a blade, silencing us both instantly.

I turned, my chest heaving, to find Corlys Velaryon standing in the mouth of the cave, his face as hard as the stone around us. He looked between us, his eyes cold and calculating, before stepping forward, his voice low and controlled.

"This isn't the way, Aemond," he said quietly, though there was no mistaking the authority in his tone. "You can't help her like this."

For a moment, I wanted to argue. I wanted to push back, to tell him he didn't understand. But something in his gaze stopped me. The look of a man who had seen too much, who had lost too much. The look of a man who understood grief and suffering in ways I couldn't even begin to fathom.

He moved past me, his attention fully on Lucerys now, his expression softening in a way I hadn't expected. "Lucerys," he said gently, his voice full of something that almost resembled kindness. "Come here, child."

Lucerys hesitated for a moment, her body still tense, still on the edge of breaking. But then, slowly, she stepped toward her grandsire, her movements sluggish and hesitant, as if she were afraid to let herself go.

The moment she reached him, Corlys wrapped her in his arms, pulling her close. And just like that, Lucerys collapsed against his chest, her body shaking with silent sobs.

I stood there, frozen, watching as the woman I loved fell apart in the arms of another, and there wasn't a damned thing I could do to stop it.

Corlys glanced at me over her shoulder, his expression unreadable but firm. "Leave," he said quietly, but there was no mistaking it for anything less than an order. "This isn't the way to help her, Aemond."

For a moment, I considered arguing, considered staying and fighting for her, for us. But then I looked at Lucerys, broken and sobbing, and I knew Corlys was right. Without another word, I turned and walked out of the cave, the sound of Lucerys' sobs echoing in my ears long after I had left.

I stormed away from the cave, my boots sinking into the sand with each step, and my breath coming out in ragged gasps. The tears that had been burning in my eyes finally spilled over, hot and bitter, but I wiped them away furiously, cursing under my breath. Damn it. Damn her.

This wasn't Lucerys. This thing I had just left behind—this broken, hollow shell—was not the woman I had fallen in love with. The Lucerys I knew was fearless, brilliant, always two steps ahead of everyone around her. She wasn't some fragile creature, barely able to stand on her own two feet. She wasn't someone who would crumble at the sight of a broken dragon. She had always been stronger than that.

But now? Now she was… gone. And I didn't know how to bring her back.

I cursed again, louder this time, the words ripping out of me like poison. "Fuck!" My voice echoed across the beach, carried by the wind, but it did nothing to ease the anger boiling inside me. I wanted to break something, burn something, anything to rid myself of this fury, but all I could do was keep walking, my hands clenched into fists at my sides.

Behind me, I heard Ser Arryk's footsteps crunching in the sand, steady and patient as always. He hadn't said a word the entire time, just following me like the loyal sworn shield he was, but I could feel his eyes on me. Watching. Judging. Or maybe that was just me, projecting my own guilt onto him.

"Your Grace," he called cautiously, but I didn't turn around. I couldn't face that look of pity I knew he'd have. I didn't need his sympathy or his damned concern. What I needed was for Lucerys to snap out of whatever hell she was trapped in.

"Just leave me be, Arryk," I snapped, my voice harsher than intended. But he didn't deserve my wrath; none of this was his fault. Still, I couldn't help but unleash some of the fury boiling inside me.

He hesitated. "I can't do that, Your Grace. My duty is to protect you."

I let out a bitter laugh. "Protect me from what? The sea? Myself? Trust me, there's nothing here that can harm me any more than I've already been harmed."

He fell silent, trailing a few paces behind as I continued down the shoreline. The waves crashed violently against the rocks, mirroring the turmoil inside me. I clenched and unclenched my fists, trying to steady my breathing. But the image of her—of Lucerys—kept stabbing at my mind like a dagger.

That woman back there wasn't my Lucerys. She was a ghost wearing her skin. My Lucerys was fearless, a force of nature who could stare down a dragon without flinching. Not this hollow shell, broken and beaten, clinging to a dying dragon in a damned cave.

"Seven Hells!" I roared, kicking a piece of driftwood into the frothing sea. The frustration, the helplessness—it was suffocating. I was a prince of the realm, a dragon rider, and yet I was powerless to help the one person who mattered most.

I came to a stop, my chest heaving as I tried to suck in air, my throat tight and raw. My fists were trembling, and I had to squeeze them tighter just to keep from completely losing control.

"This isn't her," I muttered, my voice cracking as I finally gave in to the tears. "That… that thing in the cave isn't Lucerys. She's not—" My voice broke off, and I shook my head, frustrated with myself for even speaking the words aloud. As if saying them would make them more real.

Ser Arryk stopped a few paces behind me, his presence as steady as ever, though I could sense his discomfort. He was a man of few words, but I knew he was waiting. Waiting for me to do something, say something, be something that wasn't this mess of frustration and grief.

I turned to face him, wiping my eyes, my chest still heaving. "How do I help her, Arryk?" I demanded, my voice sharp with desperation. "Tell me, how do I bring her back? Because this… this is killing me."

Ser Arryk looked at me, his expression softening in a way that only made my chest tighten even more. There was pity in his eyes, and gods, I hated that. I didn't want his pity. I didn't want anyone's pity. But I couldn't blame him. How could I, when I was standing here, crying like a child over a woman who might never come back?

"I don't know, Your Grace," he said quietly, his voice low and full of something like regret. "I wish I had the answer for you. But this… this isn't something you can fight. It's not something you can fix with a sword or with words."

I clenched my jaw, my fists tightening again as I turned away from him, staring out at the sea. The waves crashed against the shore, relentless and uncaring, and for a moment, I wished I could just let them take me. Let them pull me under and drown this useless feeling inside me.

Ser Arryk finally dared to speak again. "Perhaps, with time, she'll heal."

I spun around to face him, my eye blazing. "Time? How much time does she need? It's been eight moons, and she hasn't improved. If anything, she's worse!"

He met my gaze steadily, though I could see the sympathy etched in his features. "Grief affects everyone differently, Your Grace. Her Highness has gone through something traumatic."

"We've all suffered!" I shouted. "But we don't all lose ourselves because of it."

He sighed softly. "Some wounds cut deeper than others."

I ran a hand through my hair, exasperated. "I can't just stand by and watch her waste away. There has to be something I can do."

Ser Arryk hesitated before responding. "What would you have me say?"

I looked at him desperately. "Tell me how to help her. There must be something."

He shook his head slowly. "I wish I had an answer. Sometimes, all we can do is be there for them, even if they don't seem to notice."

I clenched my jaw, turning away from him to glare out at the tumultuous sea. "That's not good enough."

"It's all we have," he said quietly.

The waves crashed relentlessly, each one erasing the footprints we'd left behind. I hated this feeling—this utter lack of control. If it were an enemy I could fight, I would have drawn my sword without hesitation. But this? This was a battle I didn't know how to wage.

"Ghost is the key," Ser Arryk ventured after a moment. "Their bond is strong. If the dragon recovers, perhaps she will too."

I scoffed. "And what if he doesn't? What then?"

He looked down, unable to meet my gaze. "Then we may have to accept that she might not return to who she was."

"Unacceptable," I growled. "I refuse to believe that."

Silence stretched between us, filled only by the howling wind and crashing waves. Finally, I spoke again, my voice barely above a whisper. "She was the only one who ever saw me for who I am. Not the prince, not the second son, not the rider of Arrax. Just me."

Ser Arryk nodded slowly. "And that's precisely why you can't give up on her."

I let out a heavy sigh. "But how do I reach her when she won't even look at me? When she chooses a dying dragon over her own life?" I looked back toward the cave, the dark maw that seemed to swallow all light and hope. "Do you really think she'll come back to us if Ghost recovers?"

He paused before answering. "I believe it's possible. Their fates are intertwined."

"Then we need to focus on healing the dragon," I said decisively. "There must be something we can do."

"The maesters have tended to him as best they can," Ser Arryk reminded me. "But dragon healing is a complex and uncertain art."

"Then we find someone who knows more," I insisted. "Dragonkeepers, Valyrian texts—whatever it takes."

He inclined his head. "I'll send ravens immediately."

"Good." I felt a flicker of hope ignite within me. "We can't just sit here and do nothing."

"Agreed," he said. "In the meantime, perhaps you should rest."

I shot him a withering look. "Rest? I don't think I could sleep even if I wanted to."

"Even so, wearing yourself thin won't help anyone."

I knew he was right, but admitting it was another matter. "I'll consider it," I grumbled.

We stood there for a moment, the tension easing slightly. I could feel the weight on my shoulders, but at least now there was a direction—however uncertain—to move toward.

"Thank you, Arryk," I said reluctantly. "For... everything."

He gave a modest nod. "It's my honor to serve, Your Grace."

I managed a faint smile before turning my gaze back to the sea. The sun was beginning to set, casting the sky in hues of orange and purple. It would have been beautiful under different circumstances.

"Do you think she hates me?" I asked suddenly.

He looked surprised. "Why would you think that?"

I shrugged, the vulnerability of the question making me uncomfortable. "Because I wasn't there to protect her. Because I couldn't save Ghost. Because I keep pushing when she needs me to just... be."

"I don't believe she hates you," he said firmly. "She's lost and in pain. But deep down, she knows you care."

I sighed. "I hope you're right."

We started walking back toward the camp, the makeshift tents fluttering in the evening breeze. Soldiers moved about, tending to duties, casting curious glances our way but knowing better than to approach.

As we neared my tent, I placed a hand on Ser Arryk's shoulder. "Send those ravens tonight. I don't want to waste any more time."

"Of course, Your Grace."

"And Arryk?" I hesitated. "Maybe keep this between us. I don't need everyone knowing..."

He offered a reassuring smile. "Discretion is part of the job."

I gave a curt nod before making my way out of the camp and back to the Crimson Castle. I knew I promised Arryk to rest, but I couldn't stand it.

I couldn't stand it.

Standing there on that beach, knowing Lucerys was collapsing in that cave, knowing I couldn't do a damned thing to fix it—every breath I took felt like swallowing fire. The helplessness, the rage, it was eating me alive. I wasn't made to sit on my hands and hope.

Hope? Pray? No. That wasn't me. I needed to act, to fight, to burn something down. Someone needed to pay for this, and if I couldn't help Lucerys by staying. I was done waiting for things to change, done watching as everything I cared about crumbled around me while I stood there, powerless.

No more.

Daemon Targaryen. He was the one man in all of Westeros who understood. He'd burn half the world down if it meant protecting the people he loved. And that was what I needed now. Fire. Destruction. I needed war.

When I reached the castle, the guards barely had time to open the gates before I was stomping through the halls, my boots echoing off the stone. Daemon was in the war room, of course, surrounded by maps and flames, plotting his next move. He barely glanced up when I barged in, though I could feel his attention shift in that way he had—the way that made you feel like prey in the presence of a dragon.

"Aemond," he drawled, not bothering to look up from the map spread out before him. "I assume this is about Lucerys?"

I clenched my fists, trying to keep my voice steady. "I need to be deployed."

Daemon's eyebrow lifted, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before his usual sardonic smirk settled in place. "Deployed?" He glanced up at me, eyes glittering with amusement. "And here I thought you'd be glued to her side, watching over her like a lovesick fool."

The words stung, but I bit back my anger. I wasn't here for his games. "Lucerys doesn't need me by her side," I snapped. "I need to burn something."

Daemon's smirk didn't falter, but there was a flicker of something darker in his gaze. "The Triarchy."

"Exactly." My chest heaved, the anger spilling out despite my best efforts to contain it. "I want them dead, Daemon. I want to burn their ships to ash. I want them to know what happens when they cross us—when they cross me."

Daemon studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. For a man who reveled in chaos and destruction, he had a way of making you feel like you were the reckless one. But then, something shifted in his gaze, a glint of approval, and he nodded slowly.

"Well," he said, a cruel smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "you're in luck. Vaemond Velaryon's fleet is preparing to engage the Triarchy at Grey Gallows. And they could use a dragon rider."

A thrill shot through me, the fire in my veins roaring to life. Finally. Finally, I had something to do. Something that would make a difference.

Daemon's eyes gleamed as he stepped closer, his voice low and full of promise. "You want to make the Triarchy suffer? You want to see them burn? Then fly with Vaemond's fleet. Burn their ships. Show them what it means to cross a Targaryen."

That was all I needed to hear. I didn't wait for more instructions, didn't need any further details. I turned on my heel and strode out of the room, my heart pounding in my chest, the flames of my rage fueling every step.

Arrax was waiting for me at the edge of the castle grounds, his pearl-white scales gleaming in the sunlight. He let out a low growl as I approached, sensing the fire in my blood, the same fire that burned within him. We were bonded, he and I—both creatures of destruction, both born for this.

I climbed onto his back, my hands gripping the reins tightly. I could feel the anticipation in him, the eagerness to take to the skies, to unleash the fury that only a dragon could bring. And I was more than ready.

"Soves," I muttered, barely loud enough for anyone but Arrax to hear. "Fly and burn."

With a mighty beat of his wings, Arrax lifted off the ground, the wind whipping through my hair as we soared into the sky. The world below fell away, the castle shrinking into nothing as we climbed higher and higher, until all that was left was the open sky and the endless horizon.

I urged him faster, pushing him toward the Grey Gallows, toward the fleet waiting below. I could see the ships in the distance now, the sails of the Triarchy fluttering in the wind, and my blood boiled at the sight.

This was what they deserved. Fire. Destruction. They would pay. Every last one of them.

As we neared the fleet, I felt the heat rising in Arrax, his body thrumming with the same need for vengeance that consumed me. I pulled back on the reins, guiding him lower, closer to the ships below. The sailors on deck were scrambling now, shouting orders, but it was too late. They had no idea what was coming for them.

I leaned forward, my voice low and cold as I gave the command. "Dracarys."

Arrax roared, the sound shaking the very air around us, and then the flames came—hot and bright, a torrent of fire that engulfed the ships below. The sails went up in seconds, the wood cracking and splintering as the fire consumed everything in its path. Men screamed, leaping into the water in a futile attempt to escape, but there was no escaping the wrath of a dragon.

I circled back, Arrax unleashing another stream of fire, and then another. I didn't stop. I wouldn't stop. Not until every last one of those ships was nothing but ash on the wind.

They would learn. They would all learn.

By the time we were done, the sea was littered with the wreckage of their fleet, the air thick with the smell of burning wood and flesh. I hovered above the destruction, my chest heaving, my heart still pounding with the adrenaline of the fight.

But even as I looked down at the flames, at the devastation I had wrought, there was no satisfaction. No sense of victory.

Because no matter how many ships I burned, no matter how many men I killed, it wouldn't change what had happened to Lucerys. It wouldn't bring her back.

But Gods help me, I would keep burning the world until it did.

This was only the beginning.

For days, I flew with Vaemond's fleet, circling above like a shadow of death, raining fire down on the Triarchy's navy. They thought they could hide in their caves, those cowards, burrowing into the rock like rats. It was infuriating. Every time Arrax swooped down, they'd scatter into their tunnels, thinking stone would protect them from dragonfire. And maybe it did, but it wouldn't save them from what was coming next.

Daemon had sent ravens, commanding me to keep away from the more dangerous fights. The Dornish navy had scorpions—massive siege weapons capable of taking down a dragon with a single well-aimed bolt. He'd given me orders to stay clear, to focus on burning out the ships that were caught in the open. Let the men deal with the scorpions, he'd said.

But I was done playing it safe. The news had reached us that Rhaenyra and Aegon had finally brought Dorne to its knees, forcing them to bend the knee to the crown. It was the victory we needed, the shift in power that changed everything. And with Dorne out of the fight, I wanted my own taste of glory. My own chance to show them that I wasn't just some pawn in the game.

I was Aemond Targaryen. I was the rider of Arrax. And I would bring the Triarchy to its knees.

So, when I spotted one of their ships skirting the edge of the battlefield, a scorpion bolted to its deck, I didn't think twice. I should have, but I didn't. Arrax let out a low growl, sensing my eagerness, and I urged him forward, feeling the wind whip through my hair as we dove toward the ship.

It was exhilarating, the thrill of battle surging through my veins as we descended. The ship grew larger in my vision, the crew scrambling as they spotted us, but I was already too close. I could see the panic in their eyes, the way they scrambled to load the scorpion, but it was too late. Arrax opened his maw, fire billowing from his throat in a stream of destruction.

But in my eagerness, I didn't see the second scorpion. Hidden just behind the first ship, obscured by the smoke and chaos of battle.

The bolt came out of nowhere, a blur of iron and death streaking toward us. I saw it just in time, yanking hard on Arrax's reins, pulling him into a sharp roll. The bolt whistled past us, missing by a breath, but the force of the movement sent us spiraling, the sudden shift in momentum throwing me off balance.

"Fuck!" I cursed, gripping the reins tighter as Arrax fought to regain control. His wings beat frantically against the air, but the spin had thrown us lower than I intended—too low. We were nearly at ship level now, skimming just above the water, the deck of the ship looming dangerously close.

Arrax's growl rumbled through my bones, and I could feel the tension in him, the panic rising. But he righted himself, wings beating harder now, trying to lift us back into the sky. I could hear the crew shouting below, the clang of metal as they readied their weapons, and I urged Arrax to push faster, to get us out of range before they could take another shot.

But then I felt it.

A sharp, searing pain exploded in my left eye, like a white-hot iron being driven through my skull. I barely had time to register what had happened before the world around me went dark, my vision narrowing to a pinpoint as I let out a scream that tore through the air.

"Argh!"

I clutched at my face, my hand slick with blood as the pain radiated through my entire body, every nerve screaming in agony. My vision blurred, red and black swirling together, and I could hear Arrax roaring beneath me, his body twisting and thrashing as he felt my pain.

An arrow. A fucking arrow.

The bastards had gotten lucky. One of their arrows had found its mark, piercing through my left eye, and the pain was unbearable. I could feel my body going limp, the world tilting on its axis as I struggled to stay conscious, but it was no use. The pain was too much, too overwhelming.

Arrax's roar echoed in my ears, a sound filled with rage and fear, but it was growing fainter, fading into the distance as the darkness closed in around me. I tried to hold on, tried to fight the pull of unconsciousness, but my body was betraying me, the blood loss and shock dragging me down into the abyss.

The last thing I saw before the world went black was the sky above, the stars winking out one by one, like candles snuffed out by the wind.

And then there was nothing.