Watching Viserion's performance, Drogon nodded gently, satisfied with the results of his training.
After surveying all the large ships from high above and finding no giant crossbows that could threaten Viserion, Drogon finally felt at ease.
He also glanced at the guards on Yunkai's walls. With Viserion's help, Yunkai should be safe.
Having completed his inspection, Drogon was about to leave to check on Rhaego in Astapor when he suddenly saw Viserion in the distance. Instead of continuing his attack on the ships, the younger dragon was flying straight toward him.
*His alertness is decent. He finally spotted me,* Drogon thought, flying to meet Viserion.
Viserion had just burned a catapult and roasted a few men. As he was preparing to move on to the next ship, he glanced up and caught sight of a small black dot in the distant sky.
Recognizing the familiar shape, a sense of familiarity washed over him. He immediately abandoned the ships and flew over to confirm.
Seeing that it was indeed his big brother, Drogon, Viserion let out a cry—half-fearful, half-boastful—and tossed his head toward the burning ships on the sea.
Drogon was reasonably satisfied with Viserion's performance. He hissed twice in approval, then remembered the snacks in his backpack. He snatched a handful of candied dates and tossed them to Viserion.
At the sight of the dates, Viserion's eyes lit up. He opened his great maw, caught them, and chewed a few times before swallowing with satisfaction.
He wondered where his big brother always found such delicious treats. He and Rhaego were constantly tasting things they had never eaten before, all thanks to Drogon.
Before, they had only eaten beef, mutton, or horsemeat. But ever since they tasted the nuts, candied dates, and roast duck Drogon gave them, their palates had become incredibly discerning.
Jhiqui, who used to only be responsible for roasting meat for them, now had to source roast duck and other snacks from elsewhere to satisfy the two dragons' appetites. She complained inwardly countless times, unaware that it was all Drogon's fault for spoiling them.
After eating a few candied dates, Drogon instructed Viserion to continue assisting in the city's defense. He needed to go check on his little sister, Rhaego.
After bidding Viserion farewell, he had only flown a short distance when he suddenly heard a miserable groan. Turning back, he saw Viserion ascending into the sky from a large ship, a spear embedded in his belly.
*That stupid dragon, showing off as soon as he gets excited!* Drogon cursed inwardly as he turned back toward Viserion.
Ordinary spears couldn't harm Viserion; he must have been flying too low to be hit by the crew.
Flying up to his side, Drogon watched the spear wobble violently, on the verge of falling out. Only then did he let out a breath of relief.
The spear hadn't penetrated deeply—it had just nicked the flesh and gotten wedged between scales. Viserion would probably shake it loose in a few more flaps.
Instead of rushing to pull the spear out, Drogon flew above Viserion's head and delivered several fierce swats with his claws. *That'll teach you to show off! That'll teach you!* he fumed.
Viserion had only faced a spear this time. If it had been a scorpion, he would have been skewered instantly. A few bolts like that would have cost him his life.
Having just been wounded, Viserion received no comfort—only a few sharp raps to the head. He hung his head in grievance, not daring to fight back.
The two dragons were still young, their dragonflame limited in power and range. Drogon had instructed them to fly at an altitude where their fire could just barely reach the ship's deck. Any lower, and they would be vulnerable to attack.
Drogon had personally demonstrated the proper technique before letting them go. He was furious that Viserion, in his eagerness to impress, had flown so low that he'd been struck by a spear, rendering all his previous training useless.
He gave Viserion a few sharp swats with his claws. Drogon hissed and snarled, warning him to prioritize survival. If he dared to take such risks again and end up covered in holes, there would be hell to pay upon their return.
Viserion seemed to understand. He nodded repeatedly, a flicker of fear crossing his eyes. The boss's punishments were legendary—not just starvation, but "beating drills" so brutal that anything less than being battered and bruised for days wasn't even considered a punishment.
Seeing that Viserion had taken the lesson to heart, Drogon flew beneath him. His small black claws gripped the spear and gently pulled it free, drawing a spray of blood.
Spear in his claws, Drogon glanced at the massive man surrounded by sailors on the ship's deck. He gripped the weapon with both claws, flew backward a few times to gain momentum, and then with a powerful beat of his wings, launched the spear. It shot forward, piercing the man's chest and pinning him heavily to the deck.
The spear's momentum carried it through the man's body and deep into the ship's planks, where it vanished from sight. A pool of water immediately seeped from beneath the bleeding man, mixing with blood as it flowed across the deck.
"The ship is leaking!" a crewman who had witnessed the brute being pinned to the deck screamed in terror, finally reacting as he watched the seawater spread relentlessly from beneath the fallen man.
The surrounding crew stared blankly at the growing pool of water on the deck, their gazes drifting upward to the sky. They hadn't misseen it—the spear had been hurled by the Little Black Dragon in the air. Not only had it struck their companion with unerring accuracy, but it had also pierced clean through his body and the ship's hull.
They had been cheering just moments before, celebrating their comrade's successful strike against the Great Dragon with the spear. Then, they saw the Great Dragon soar into the sky, only for a Little Dragon to appear from nowhere.
As they watched in bewilderment, the Little Dragon seemed to rap the Great Dragon's head a few times. The Great Dragon didn't dare strike back; instead, it lowered its head, remaining completely still.
Stunned, the crew struggled to believe what they were seeing. At that moment, the Little Black Dragon suddenly ripped the spear from the Great Dragon's body and hurled it, impaling their companion and piercing the ship. They never could have imagined the Little Dragon possessing such immense strength.
*Could that Little Dragon truly be more powerful than the Great Dragon?* they wondered. *Was what we saw just now no illusion? Was the Little Dragon actually disciplining the Great Dragon?*
"Block the ship!" someone yelled, finally snapping the other crewmen out of their stunned gaze at the sky.
*Don't they know I hate spears the most?* Drogon thought fiercely, rubbing his little black claws as he glared at the burly man on the ship.
The sight of Drogon impaling the man also gave Viserion a start. He felt a surge of gratitude that Drogon had avenged him, but he was also in awe of the black dragon's accuracy and power. He wondered when he would ever be able to do that.
The guards on the city walls had also witnessed the scene of Drogon and Viserion together, especially Daario, who had been watching Viserion from the ramparts.
Although Viserion's help in the defense had been invaluable, Daario felt no relief. He wasn't afraid of the Ghiscari attackers; he was terrified that Viserion would be gravely injured on his watch.
He knew all too well how important the three dragons were to Queen Daenerys—they were her children, plain and simple. Before leaving Meereen, she had entrusted him with Viserion's protection. But how was he supposed to protect him? Viserion never listened to him.
Since the siege began, Viserion had performed admirably, incinerating several catapults and inflicting heavy casualties on the crew. But the moment he was struck by the spear had terrified Daario. If something happened to the dragon while he was in charge, how could he ever face the Queen?
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