The cold air of early morning clung to us like a shroud as we walked, a silent procession toward the waiting dragons. Each step echoed in the stillness, the crunch of gravel underfoot mingling with the distant calls of birds just beginning to stir.
The time had come.
Rhaenyra had laid out the plan with a calm authority that belied the storm brewing within her, taking input from everyone present. Even the lords, who had initially been skeptical, had offered their suggestions with surprising deference. Rhaenyra had accepted their adjustments with a grace that spoke volumes, not only about her tactical mind but about the respect she had earned.
It wasn't just her title that commanded obedience; it was her presence, her ability to lead not just by power but by earning loyalty.
The plan was now etched into my mind, as permanent as the scars of battle that marked the lives of every Targaryen. I had to ensure that every detail was flawless—there was no room for error. The core of the strategy was simple yet fraught with the reality that any of us could die today: Rhaenys and Meleys would fly to Rook's Rest alone. I had seen it, just as she did in the story. Rhaenys would provide aerial support for the troops, keeping them safe until Aegon arrived.
I could still feel the weight of the lords' eyes on me when Rhaenyra informed them that I had foreseen Aegon's presence at Rook's Rest. The air had been thick with tension as she spoke with unwavering confidence, declaring that Aegon would indeed come and that Rhaenys and Meleys would defeat him in battle. But the weight of what I had seen didn't end there. I had also seen something darker: Aemond and Vhagar, descending like a storm upon Rhaenys and Meleys, intent on killing her.
"So this is where I die in your little vision?" Rhaenys had asked, her voice calm, her gaze sharp as steel as she looked directly at me. There was no fear in her eyes, only a deep, piercing curiosity. She hadn't forgotten what I had told Rhaenyra, Daemon, and her when I first arrived—that in my vision, they all died.
I nodded, unable to soften the truth. "Yes."
Rhaenys had given me a sad smile, a smile that spoke of acceptance rather than resignation. "Then I die the death of a dragonrider," she had said, her voice carrying the quiet pride of someone who had long made peace with her fate. "I am okay with that."
"I am not," Rhaenyra had interjected, her tone brooking no argument. Her gaze was like ice as she looked at Rhaenys, her words cutting through the tension. "You will not engage Aemond and Vhagar alone. Is that understood?"
The command in her voice was unmistakable, a stark reminder of the authority she wielded. The Queen that Never Was and the Queen of Westeros faced each other, the air between them thick with unspoken words, the tension almost unbearable as they locked eyes. For a moment, it seemed as though neither would yield, the force of their wills clashing in silence. But then, Rhaenys, her expression still as unreadable as stone, had finally nodded.
"Understood, Your Grace."
Rhaenyra had held her gaze for a moment longer, perhaps to make sure the message had truly sunk in, before nodding back and returning her attention to the map that lay between them. Her next words had been decisive, her strategy clear and unyielding.
"If Aemond plans to set a trap, then we shall set a trap of our own," she had declared, moving pieces on the board with a calculated precision that left no room for doubt. "Listen closely, this is my plan."
Now, as we walked toward the dragons, the weight of that plan bore down on us all, pressing into our shoulders like a physical burden. The chill in the air was nothing compared to the cold certainty of what lay ahead. I had memorized every detail, every contingency, replaying them over and over in my mind until they became as familiar as the beat of my own heart.
This had to work.
There was no other option.
The dragons loomed ahead, their massive forms shifting restlessly as they sensed the tension in their riders. Their scales caught the faint light of dawn, reflecting it in eerie, shifting patterns that danced across the clearing. Meleys, the Red Queen, stood out among them, her crimson scales gleaming even in the dim light. She was a force of nature, her presence dominating the space around her. Rhaenys approached her with the calm grace of someone who had done this countless times before, her hand reaching out to stroke the dragon's neck with a familiarity that spoke of years of shared experience. There was a bond between them, a bond forged in fire and blood, and it was palpable even to those of us who stood at a distance.
I kept my distance, still adjusting to the surreal reality of what was happening. The Cannibal was nearby, his dark, brooding presence a constant reminder of the deadly power I was now linked to. He was a creature of shadow and flame, his scales a deep, ominous black that seemed to absorb the light around him. His green eyes were glowing were like twin embers, burning with a feral intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. He watched me with those intense eyes, a silent challenge in his gaze, as if daring me to prove myself worthy. I had called him the Demon Dragon, and he had accepted the title with a kind of pride that only a creature as fierce and untamable as he could possess. Now, as I approached him, I could feel the connection between us humming with anticipation.
The others were preparing as well. Baela stood beside Moondancer, her young dragon practically vibrating with eagerness, her wings twitching as if the beast could barely contain its energy. Baela's face was set with determination, her jaw clenched, her eyes focused. She was young, but there was a strength in her that belied her years, a fierce resolve that matched her dragon's restlessness. She looked over at me, her gaze steady, and gave a small nod that I returned.
We were all in this together now, bound by the decisions made in that war room and the fates that awaited us on the battlefield.
Rhaenyra was the last to approach her dragon. Syrax, her yellow scales reflecting the dawn, stood at the front. There was something almost ethereal about her, a creature of light in a world growing increasingly dark. Rhaenyra's expression was unreadable, a mask of composure that hid the myriad of thoughts and emotions she must have been feeling.
She paused for a moment, her eyes sweeping over all of us, her gaze lingering on each face as if committing us to memory. When her eyes met mine, they held for a moment, a silent exchange that needed no words.
"Remember the plan," she said, her voice carrying over the distance between us with a calm authority that was impossible to ignore. "We ride as one, but we fight our own battles. Trust your instincts, trust your dragons, and trust each other."
I nodded, along with the others. The gravity of the situation was not lost on any of us. This was not just another battle; it was a turning point. All of Westeros would watch what unfolded today, and it would remember.
Without another word, Rhaenyra mounted Syrax, her movements fluid and practiced.
The rest of us followed suit, each taking our place on our dragons. I climbed up the makeshift ladder with more confidence than I felt, my hands trembling even as my heart raced with adrenaline. Every step felt heavier, the weight of what was about to unfold pressing down on me like a physical force. But I forced myself to keep moving, drawing strength from the sight of the others preparing alongside me. When I finally settled into the saddle, I could barely keep my hands steady as I secured the buckles to my armor, the leather straps biting into my skin as I pulled them tight.
At least I wasn't the only one buckling in today. I caught sight of Rhaenyra up front, methodically fastening her own buckles, her movements precise and focused. There was a calm efficiency to her actions, a steady confidence that spoke of her experience and resolve.
With the last buckle secured, I took a deep breath and settled into the saddle on the Cannibal's back. Beneath me, I could feel the raw power of the beast, his muscles coiled and ready to launch us into the sky. There was an intensity in the air, a charged anticipation that hummed between rider and dragon, a silent acknowledgment of the storm we were about to unleash.
Syrax went first, Rhaenyra's dragon shooting into the sky like a bullet, her gold scales catching the early light as she ascended with a grace that was almost otherworldly. The world below seemed to shrink away as the Cannibal spread his wings, a dark, menacing shadow against the lightening sky. His muscles tensed beneath me, and with a powerful thrust, we were airborne, the ground falling away rapidly as we soared into the sky.
The familiar weightlessness of flight took over, the wind roaring in my ears as the sky opened up around us, vast and endless. The Cannibal's wings beat rhythmically, each stroke powerful enough to propel us higher, faster, until we were soaring alongside the others. The dragons moved in unison, a coordinated force of nature, their presence dominating the heavens as they flew with a purpose that was almost palpable.
Below us, the landscape blurred, becoming a patchwork of greens and browns as we left Dragonstone behind and headed toward Rook's Rest. The sun was beginning to rise, casting long shadows and bathing the world in a golden light. But the beauty of the dawn was lost on me; my thoughts were consumed by the battle ahead, by the role I would play in it, by the uncertainty of what was to come.
The mixture of dread and exhilaration that had settled in my chest only grew as we flew onward. This was no ordinary battle. The stakes were higher than anything I had ever faced. The outcome of this day would define the course of history, and there was no turning back.
And yet, despite the fear gnawing at the edges of my resolve, there was also a fierce determination.
Whatever happened next, I would be a part of it.
I had been chosen, by fate or by the Cannibal himself, to take my place in this moment.
I would not falter.
As we continued flying, the air grew colder, and the anticipation among the dragons and their riders became almost palpable.
This was the calm before the storm, the final moments of quiet before the world erupted into fire and blood.
I gripped the pommels tightly, feeling the Cannibal's heartbeat thrumming beneath me, steady and powerful, a reminder of the life I was now tied to.
He was ready, and so was I.
The battle was inevitable, but as we flew toward Rook's Rest, I knew one thing for certain: history would remember this day.
And it would remember us.
***
We were in a small clearing, just a few miles south of Rook's Rest, surrounded by the dense, silent forest. The sun had barely risen, casting long, eerie shadows across the ground, and the chill of dawn clung to the air, making every breath feel sharp and crisp. The only sounds were the occasional rustle of leaves and the soft snorting of dragons as they shifted restlessly, sensing the tension that gripped their riders.
Rhaenys and Meleys had taken off just a few minutes ago, their silhouettes disappearing into the morning sky, leaving us behind in a silence so thick it felt suffocating. I sat tense on the Cannibal, every muscle in my body taut, my nerves frayed like an overstrung bow. My hands gripped the reins tightly, knuckles white, and I could feel the slight tremor in my fingers, betraying the calm facade I was trying to maintain. The Cannibal was restless beneath me, his massive body coiled like a spring, ready to explode into action the moment the signal came.
It was like sitting on a powder keg, waiting for the fuse to be lit.
To my right, Rhaenyra sat on Syrax, her posture as regal and composed as ever, but I could see the slight tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers flexed against the saddle as if bracing herself. The yellow-gold scales of Syrax shimmered faintly in the dim light, a stark contrast to the dark and menacing presence of the Cannibal. On Rhaenyra's other side was Baela, her young face set in determination as she sat astride Moondancer, the small dragon almost quivering with anticipation, her wings twitching impatiently.
We were all poised on the edge of action, waiting for the moment when everything would change.
The plan was simple: Rhaenys and Meleys would engage Aegon and Sunfyre, just as I had foreseen. The clash between the dragons would be fierce, but Rhaenys was to gain the upper hand, bringing Aegon and Sunfire down. When Aemond arrived, however, everything would shift. Rhaenys was to command Meleys to retreat, using dragonfire to consume a large portion of the surrounding forest, the thick smoke rising into the sky as our signal to attack.
We watched the tree line intently, every second feeling like an eternity, our eyes straining for the first sign of smoke. The quiet was oppressive, the stillness of the forest only amplifying the pounding of my heart, each beat echoing in my ears. The Cannibal's breathing was deep and steady beneath me, a stark contrast to the chaos of my thoughts.
I couldn't afford to make a mistake—every detail of the plan had to be executed perfectly.
"Elizabeth," Rhaenyra's voice broke through the silence, calling my name with a calm that belied the tension in the air.
I snapped my head toward her, startled. Had I already done something wrong? A thousand thoughts raced through my mind, fear and anxiety spiking as I wondered if I had somehow already failed.
Rhaenyra's gaze was steady, her expression a mask of calm control, but there was something in her eyes—something softer, almost vulnerable. I watched her throat bob as she swallowed, a small but telling sign of the emotions she was keeping in check.
"Remember what I said," she repeated, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper meant just for me.
I froze, my mind scrambling to grasp what she meant. She had said so much today, her words weaving through the tension of the battle plans, the commands she had given, the strategies discussed. What was she referring to? Panic began to creep in, my heart pounding harder as I tried to sift through the chaos in my mind, searching for the right memory.
And then, as if she could sense my growing unease, Rhaenyra's expression softened. Just for a moment, the stern queenly mask slipped, and I saw a flicker of something more—something personal, something that tugged at a memory buried beneath the weight of the day's events.
The way she looked at me, the way her eyes lingered with a softness that was rare for her—it reminded me of last night. In an instant, it all came rushing back, cutting through the haze of battle preparations.
Oh.
I remembered the night before, the moment when the world had shrunk to just the two of us, away from the war and the throne and all the burdens they carried. "Come back to me," she had whispered, her voice soft yet heavy with meaning. It wasn't a command but a plea, a rare admission of vulnerability from a woman who so rarely allowed herself to be vulnerable.
She was reminding me of that now, grounding me amidst the swirling storm of anticipation. The anxiety that had gripped me all morning began to loosen its hold, replaced by the warmth of that memory. I could almost feel her lips on mine again, the way she had pulled me close, her fingers tangled in my hair, the way she had looked at me—like I was something she couldn't bear to lose.
My heart pounded in my chest, but now it wasn't just from fear. It was something else, something deeper and more profound. I met her gaze, and she held mine, the corners of her lips lifting ever so slightly as she saw the realization dawn in my eyes.
I gave her a small nod, my resolve hardening into something more than just a desire to survive. I would fight like hell to get back to her, to those stolen moments, to the possibility of a future with her not fraught with death and war.
It wasn't just about not wanting to die—it was about wanting to live.
And Rhaenyra, more than anything else, made me want to live.
We stared at each other, the world around us fading into the background, the weight of what we were about to face suddenly lighter in the wake of that connection. But then, the moment was shattered.
"There's the signal!" Baela's voice cut through the air, sharp and urgent.
Our heads snapped toward the horizon, where thick black smoke was beginning to rise above the trees, dark and ominous against the morning sky.
Rhaenys had engaged, and now it was our turn.
I gripped the pommels of the saddle, feeling the Cannibal's body tense beneath me, his muscles coiling in readiness. His wings spread wide, casting a shadow over the clearing, and I could feel the power thrumming through him, the raw energy waiting to be unleashed.
"Here we go," I muttered under my breath, bracing myself as the Cannibal launched us into the sky and into the fray.