the tired dragon

132 AC – Shipbreaker Bay

Point of View: Rhaenys Targaryen

The sea was a storm of fire and steel.

Waves crashed against the shore like thunder, tossing wreckage and burning ships into the sky. From above, it looked like the world had split in two—red and black banners flailing in the wind, a thousand men screaming beneath the wings of dragons.

And then came the screams from above.

Rhaenys gritted her teeth, Meleys climbing higher through the smoke. The Red Queen's breath was ragged—blood streaked her flank from an arrow that had struck too deep—but she flew strong. Determined.

. Prince Jacaerys had ordered the strike swift and sharp: the dragons would clear the ships.

Until the screaming changed.

Meleys turned her head, sensing the shift before Rhaenys did.

From behind the cliffs came three more dragons—riders from Dragonstone. Allies. Or so they were supposed to be.

Hugh the Hammer. Ulf the White. Nettles. Dragonseeds.

Rhaenys Signaled to them to descend to help out.

But the dragons didn't descend to help.

They climbed.

And then they turned.

"Mother above..." Rhaenys breathed.

From behind her, Seasmoke came screaming, his rider—Addam Velaryon—veering hard as Hugh's Vermithor dove straight for him, jaws wide.

Addam had no time to react.

Seasmoke was slammed from the sky, wings folding like parchment. He hit the water with a crash that sent up a tower of spray and silence.

Rhaenys' heart dropped.

"They've betrayed us," she whispered.

And then it began.

132 AC – Shipbreaker Bay

Point of View: Jacaerys Velaryon

The moment he saw Seasmoke fall, Jace knew.

It had all been for nothing.

He yanked Vermax into a sharp turn, flying directly into the chaos. Black and red dragons spiraled like dying stars—Meleys above, bleeding fire; Silverwing, riderless now, screaming as she fought Ulf's dragon; Nettles and Sheepstealer circling like vultures, choosing their prey.

"Cowards," Jace spat. "Traitors."

He dove at Vermithor—anything to reach Addam—but Hugh had already spotted him.

The bronze dragon met Vermax in midair.

Jace saw nothing but teeth.

Claws tore through leather and scale. He clung to the saddle, the straps cutting into his arms. Vermax screamed beneath him—then rolled, one wing broken.

They were falling.

He heard Meleys roar, somewhere above him. Then fire—scorching and white-hot—passed by so close it burned the side of his face. The world was a blur of smoke, blood, and wind.

Then—impact.

Vermax hit the sea, hard. The straps snapped.

Jacaerys plunged into the black.

132 AC – The Last Flight

Point of View: Rhaenys Targaryen

She saw Jace fall.

Everything else vanished.

She pulled Meleys hard to the left, flame bursting from the Red Queen's jaws as she barreled toward Vermithor. Hugh wheeled his dragon to face her, grinning like a madman, eyes wide with ambition.

"Meleys," she whispered, "let's give them a death they'll remember."

The Red Queen screamed.

Her claws locked with Vermithor's. Their bodies slammed together midair, and for a moment they didn't fly—they fell, locked in a fiery spiral toward the sea.

Hugh shouted, trying to wrench control.

But Meleys wouldn't let go.

Rhaenys didn't either.

But then the bronze fury bite of her wing and then dragon and rider

Together, they vanished into the sea with flame around and the sea on fire.

Later That Night – Black Council, Dragonstone

Point of View: Aenar Targaryen

The council was silent.

The news had arrived by raven—short, bloody, final.

Jacaerys. Dead.

Rhaenys. Fallen with Meleys.

Addam. Lost at sea.

The dragonseeds? Traitors. Vermithor now with Hugh some where

The candlelight flickered against the Painted Table. Rhaenyra stood frozen, both hands braced against its edge.

No one spoke.

Point of View: Rhaenyra Targaryen

The storm outside mirrored the one within.

Rain lashed the towers of Dragonstone, thunder rumbling like distant drums of war. Servants moved silently, avoiding her gaze. Lords and maesters gathered in the shadows but said nothing.

Rhaenyra stood alone at the window, hands trembling, goblet untouched beside her.

They had taken her son.

And her cousin

"My son is dead," she said aloud, though no one was brave enough to respond. "Jace. My boy. The heir to my throne."

The maester tried to speak, but she silenced him with a look. Her eyes, once bright and royal, were rimmed with fire now. No tears. Not anymore.

"Rhaenys… gone. Addam, lost. The Velaryons bleed. The dragonseeds have turned."

She turned slowly, her voice low and cold, the kind that made steel bend.

"Tell me, which betrayal should I grieve first?"

No one answered. Even Lord Corlys stood silent, jaw clenched tight, his eyes dark.

"I gave them trust," Rhaenyra hissed. "I gave them dragons."

She picked up the goblet and hurled it against the stone wall. It shattered, wine streaking the chamber like blood.

"Bring me the heads of Hugh, and Nettles," she snarled. "I want them dead. Skinned.l and Burned."

A voice spoke from the doorway.

"You will have your revenge. But rage alone won't win this war."

She turned sharply. Aenar stood in the threshold, cloaked in black, his eyes shadowed with years of loss.

"You think I don't know that?" Rhaenyra snapped.

"I think you've lost enough," he said simply. "And you're not done losing."

That struck her harder than any sword.

"I will end it," Aenar said. "Not in months. Not in years. Now."

She studied him. He looked older than he had even a week ago. The weight of time on his shoulders, yes—but also a fire, deep and deliberate.

"You can't mean to fly Balerion again," she said. "He's—"

"Dying?" Aenar finished for her. "So am I."

He stepped closer to the window, gazing into the storm.

"I rode him once into the war for you I'll do so again. This time… I won't return."

"A suicide?"

"No," Aenar said. "A final act of a old man who hates seeing family die"

His voice was quiet, but it cut through the rain. "I will burn them to cinders. Aegon. Aemond and Hugh"

Rhaenyra stared at him. "You mean to end the war alone?"

"If I can," he said. "If not, then I'll die trying. But I will make the realm fear the Black Dread one final time. I will remind them Maegor's blood burns within me"

He turned to her. "Give me leave, niece. One last dance for a old man"

Rhaenyra nodded slowly, and for the first time that night, her voice cracked—not with rage, but something older.

"Then ride, uncle show the why the black dread was so dreaded bring fire and blood."

Hope you enjoyed