99 AC / 54 HA
Octavian
A genuine, exhausted smile broke across my soot-stained face. "Lily," I mouthed.
Caraxes let out a desperate, rattling whine upon seeing the visage of his rider a few paces away. The two of them moved forward as I finally lowered my sword. Lily ran to me, engulfing me in a sudden embrace. Despite her smaller stature, she struck me with the force of a falling boulder when we collided.
My surprised grunt quickly melted into a breathless laugh. The sheer relief of finding her alive was intoxicating enough that she, too, began to laugh softly as I held her tight.
"I am glad you are safe, sister," I murmured, smoothing her ash-streaked hair.
She slowly tilted her head upward, her green eyes bright in the gloom. "And I am glad you didn't kill my friend's dragon."
I arched an eyebrow. "Friend, is it? Last I was informed by Agrippa, he suggested you two were rather more than just friends."
Her soot-stained cheeks darkened, but she held my stare. Her defiance was endlessly amusing. I simply reached up and pinched her cheek in retaliation, prompting her to break the embrace with a scowl, rubbing the sore spot.
"Why must you always do that?" she complained.
"Because I can." In moments like these, I truly understood why Father enjoyed teasing us so much.
A heavy, pointed cough interrupted us.
I turned, meeting the bruised, aristocratic features and pale purple eyes of the Valyrian standing a few paces away. "Ah. Daemon Targaryen. You most certainly look as described."
"I would ask that you release my dragon," he voiced curtly, though I could easily read the guarded trepidation behind his eyes.
I was far too exhausted to antagonise the man, but certain boundaries needed to be set in stone. "I certainly will. Provided you ensure he does not incinerate me or my people. Can you guarantee that, Dragonlord?"
Daemon looked me square in the eye, offering a stiff nod before moving to caress his mount through the glowing emerald bindings. I lifted my ashwood wand, silently unwinding the magical constructs. The heavy chains dissolved into mist, and Caraxes immediately let out a pitiful whine, pressing his massive snout into his rider's hands. Daemon spoke to the beast in hushed, rhythmic High Valyrian, calming the creature and assuring him the immediate danger had passed.
My sister tapped my arm, her gaze sweeping over the ruined plaza. "How did this happen?"
"The siege? Or my soon-to-be legendary duel with a dragon?" I asked, a dry smirk touching my lips.
"You know exactly what I mean," she replied, thoroughly unimpressed.
"The beast dove into the city and began burning everything in sight, likely searching for the Targaryen. Since he was incinerating our vanguard, I was forced to ground him. Yet, I cannot claim all the glory. Nearly half the damage to his hide was inflicted by a massive shadow chimera that formed right here in the plaza," I explained.
"Was it a towering shadow demon with the skull of a goat?" she asked, her brow furrowing.
"It was a grotesque amalgamation of dead flesh and dark magic, but yes, it possessed a horned skull. Did you encounter one as well?"
"Yes. It cornered us in an alleyway just a few streets over. But it was suddenly drained by massive shadow tendrils right as I was about to sever its arm," she grunted, her frustration evident.
"It was likely siphoned by the larger abomination I was fighting here. I noticed their behaviour—they react aggressively to magic. The greater the magical discharge in an area, the more intensely the shadows coalesce. That horned demon likely mutated in direct response to you casting spells," I theorised, analysing the dark mechanics of the blood magic.
She chewed on her bottom lip, considering my conclusion. "That does make grim sense."
Daemon finally stepped back from Caraxes' snout, turning his attention to us. "I do not believe I know your name, Roman. Even though you seem entirely too aware of mine."
I offered a tired, genuine smile. "My name is Octavian. Brother to Liliana," I stated proudly.
"He is being deliberately sly with you, Daemon," Lily interjected, crossing her arms. "He is my elder brother, yes, but he is far better known as the Princeps of Rome."
I shot her a sideways glare for ruining my humble introduction. Still, Daemon seemed far more wary of the ashwood wand in my hand than my political titles, his purple eyes repeatedly darting toward the polished wood.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Princeps. I do not know the exact weight of your title—it is foreign to Valyrian ears—but being Ana's brother certainly makes you worthy of respect," Daemon offered, his voice tight and carefully measured.
"Hardly, but I appreciate the sentiment. We can finish the rest of these pleasantries once we are in a more secure environment. Can Caraxes move?" I asked, my gaze sweeping the smoke-filled perimeter.
"He can walk. But he will not be able to fly, not as he is," Daemon admitted, his consternation bleeding through his Valyrian pride.
I looked over the great red beast. Our duel had certainly devastated him, yet circumstances demanded we seek refuge behind the Imperial lines before more horrors crawled out of the dark. I could attempt to mend his lacerations, but I was deeply unsure how effective our healing magic would be against a creature whose very scales were naturally forged to resist spells.
"Lily, help me cast some mending charms on the beast. We need to link up with the legions before the shadows coalesce again," I instructed. She offered a firm nod, drawing her redwood wand to assist.
"Daemon, I need you to assure Caraxes that we mean him no further harm," I warned the Targaryen.
He nodded swiftly, moving back to the dragon's snout and placing a steadying hand against the bloody scales, speaking continuously in that melodic, calming tongue. After a few tense moments, he signalled for us to approach. Lily and I stepped cautiously toward the beast's ruined chest, raising our wands in unison.
"Vulnera Sanentur." A soothing, pale green light washed over the deep fissures in Caraxes' hide. The torn flesh and sheared scales began to knit back together, albeit at an agonizingly slow pace. Before long, Lily's wand sputtered; her magical core, already pushed to its breaking point, simply gave out. She had managed to stop the most excessive bleeding, though the lacerations remained distressingly deep. My own efforts proved only slightly more effective. I stemmed the near-boiling blood flow and closed the worst of the Sectumsempra gashes, but I could not fully heal the heavily magic-resistant hide. Still, Caraxes let out a low, rumbling trill, clearly relieved by the cessation of pain.