Dawn was only just beginning to break.
The battlefield outside Rook's Rest still carried the lingering smell of smoke from the previous day.
The sulfurous stench of dragonfire…
The wreckage of siege towers leaned crookedly beneath the walls, still smoldering.
Across the plain before Rook's Rest, corpses lay everywhere—soldiers, knights—so mangled it was impossible to tell who was who.
The crows had already begun gathering.
A dense black mass settled atop the battlements, waiting for their feast.
Aemond arrived at the western forest outside Rook's Rest, where the temporary military camp had been established.
He had only just landed atop Lothorne.
He himself had not slept all night. Blood vessels lined his eyes. He had killed Rhaenys, but now what he wanted to know even more was whether Aegon was alive or dead.
At this moment, the Greens could not afford to lose a king.
Otherwise, it would deal a devastating blow to the entire faction.
Aemond also hoped Aegon was still alive. Though his older brother was somewhat foolish…
To Aemond, he was the perfect puppet to control.
So long as he did not personally finish him off…
Aegon would obediently listen to him.
More importantly, he was still his brother…
Outside the camp, the soldiers standing watch had nearly panicked when they spotted the black dragon overhead.
They had thought another Black dragonrider was coming.
Now, the entire army wanted to retreat as well, but with King Aegon gravely wounded, the army had no choice but to remain encamped here despite the danger.
"Is that a Black dragon?" one of the gate guards, a fresh recruit, asked curiously.
"Idiot! That's Lothorne! The prince's dragon!" an older soldier snapped, smacking the back of the recruit's head.
Once the guards recognized that it was Prince Aemond, they all lowered their heads in salute and hurriedly opened the gate.
"Your Highness."
"It's the prince."
"The prince…"
A group of soldiers watched as Prince Aemond walked past them, his armor shattered, silver hair hanging all the way to his waist.
Aemond remained expressionless and gave no response. He simply continued forward.
Nearby, two soldiers crouched beside a tent warming themselves by a fire as they quietly sized up the arriving prince.
"I heard His Grace is still alive?"
"Alive, but barely. Falling from that height and surviving at all is already a miracle."
"His Grace should thank his dragon. Without that dragon of his, he'd definitely be dead."
"What about the dragon? The golden one?"
"Sunfyre? Worse off. I saw him from afar—his belly was nearly torn open, looked like his guts were about to spill out. One eye's gone blind too."
"Seven hells… can it still live like that?"
"No idea. A whole bunch of maesters are surrounding it right now."
"Those maesters can treat dragons?"
"They can treat people, can't they? Why wouldn't they treat dragons?"
"Well… dragons are dragons. Their bodies are probably different from us mortals."
Another soldier walked over and lowered his voice.
"Then tell me this… what kind of man is the prince?"
"What kind? A dangerous one."
"Dangerous? Then why didn't the prince join the battle yesterday?"
"My mate shoved me aside yesterday, but he got burned alive by dragonfire instead." One of the soldiers lowered his eyes gloomily.
The older soldier beside him patted his shoulder in consolation.
"Surviving an attack from two dragons is already lucky enough, lad."
The soldier nodded.
"May the Seven protect us…"
But the soldier who had just arrived spoke again.
"I heard that now… His Grace…"
"What about His Grace?"
"I just heard some nobles and officers talking. They want the prince to serve as regent."
"Regent? Wouldn't that mean—"
"Shh. Keep your voice down."
The three men secretly glanced toward Aemond's back and dared not continue speaking.
Aemond arrived at the clearing where Sunfyre lay.
Sunfyre was sprawled across the open ground, surrounded by several maesters and attendants.
The golden dragon's entire body was soaked in blood. Its scales were shattered, and a massive wound split open its belly, flesh peeled back enough to vaguely reveal its internal organs.
Its right eye remained tightly shut, blood still seeping from the socket. It was clearly blind.
Hearing footsteps approach, the dragon slowly opened its left eye.
Its golden pupil fixed upon Aemond, and it let out a low, mournful cry.
Aemond immediately strode over.
The healers hurriedly stepped aside.
"Your Highness, his injuries are far too severe." One of the army physicians shook his head. "The bones in his right wing are completely shattered. The wound across his belly is too deep, his internal organs are damaged, and the right eye cannot be saved either… We've done everything we could, but…"
Aemond said nothing.
He crouched down and looked at Sunfyre.
Sunfyre looked back at him.
There was pain in those eyes, exhaustion as well… and a trace of pleading.
He did not want to die.
He still did not want to die.
"You saved that fool." Aemond crouched before him and spoke softly.
Sunfyre blinked his remaining left eye, then let out another dissatisfied whine, as though he understood—but disliked Aemond calling his rider, Aegon, a fool.
Aemond fell silent for a moment.
Then he drew the dagger at his waist.
The surrounding maesters jolted in alarm and instinctively stepped back.
Aemond sliced open the palm of his left hand.
Blood immediately welled out.
He held his hand toward Sunfyre's mouth.
"Drink."
Sunfyre froze.
He smelled that familiar scent.
There was something strange within the blood—something that made all the blood in his body boil, something that eased the pain in his wounds by several degrees.
He slowly extended his barbed tongue and gave it a tentative lick.
Then he began to drink.
The blood flowed along his tongue, into his mouth, down his throat, and into his body.
He could feel a warm current surging through him.
He could feel his wounds slowly healing.
He could feel the fire of life beginning to burn once more.
Aemond remained crouched there without moving, allowing him to lick slowly at the wound.
He knew his blood could keep Sunfyre alive.
And of all dragons, he thought highly of Sunfyre—fiercely protective of his rider, loyal, and exceptionally formidable in battle.
The physicians around them stared in utter shock.
"Th-This is…"
"Seven save us…"
Aemond turned his head and glanced at them.
The physicians immediately fell silent under his gaze, too frightened to speak another word as they hurriedly backed away.
Hall had already arrived with the household guards, and he had noticed everything as well.
Hall knew exactly what needed to be done.
Killing a few physicians would hardly be difficult.
But Aemond suddenly spoke.
"Forget it."
Hall looked somewhat surprised.
"If you kill them all, then who will treat His Grace?"
"A warning will suffice. If any of them leak this, execute their entire family."
Hall nodded at once.
"Understood."
Beside them, Sunfyre had finally drunk his fill.
The golden dragon closed his eyes and lay upon the ground, his breathing gradually becoming steady. His remaining left eye shut slowly, as though he had fallen asleep.
Aemond rose to his feet.
Blood was still dripping from his hand.
Hall hurried forward and handed him a bandage.
Aemond took it and wrapped the wound himself.
"Watch over him," he said. "Feed him meat. Fresh meat."
Hall nodded repeatedly.
"Yes, yes, Your Highness. Rest assured."
Aemond turned and walked toward the king's tent in the distance.
Though it was already morning, the inside of the tent remained dim.
Aegon lay upon a campaign bed, his face pale as paper.
His leg had been fixed in splints, his entire body wrapped in bandages, and traces of dried blood still lingered at the corner of his mouth.
Two physicians stood guard nearby, their faces exhausted.
When they saw Aemond enter, they hurriedly stood.
"Your Highness."
Aemond walked to the bedside and looked down at Aegon.
"How is His Grace?"
An older physician spoke first.
"His Grace was fortunate," he said. "Falling from such a height and surviving… with a dragon protecting him… it is nothing short of a miracle."
"But the internal bleeding is severe, and his chest suffered serious trauma…"
The physician hesitated for a moment.
"His Grace must recover properly."
"At the very least, until he heals, he cannot leave the bed, cannot exert himself, cannot… cannot do anything at all."
"And afterward?"
The physician hesitated again.
"Afterward… his body will remain weak."
He did not continue.
This was internal bleeding. Even though Aegon had survived through sheer luck, no one could say what condition he would be left in afterward…
But Aemond understood.
Aegon was ruined.
Even if he lived, he would be a crippled shell of a man.
Still, so long as he had not died, that was enough. The Greens still needed Aegon as their banner.
He lowered his gaze toward Aegon.
Aegon's eyes remained shut, his brow tightly furrowed, as though trapped within some nightmare.
Aemond recalled the battle at Dragonstone not long ago.
Back then, he had thought that although this older brother of his was foolish, he was not entirely bad.
Though reluctant and unwilling in many ways, Aegon had still stood on their side.
---
I will post some extra Chapters in Patreon, you can check it out. >> patreon.com/TitoVillar
---