𝓛𝓾𝓬𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓼 𝓥𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓻𝔂𝓸𝓷
Flying aback Vermithor was far different than Arrax, his wingspan was nearly double in size and his dark bronze scales were a stark contrast to Arrax's silver.

I'd hoped to see the look on Aemond's face when I'd claimed him but I was far too high in the sky to have a care in the world for anyone else other than the fearsome dragon beneath me.

It had been wonderful to walk into my proud family, Rhaena had even jumped into my arms planting a kiss on my lips before my sister and mother when she hadn't so much as held my hand in front of other people before. But all that had been missing was my brother.

I could only imagine my older brother hovering in the back of the room watching me with a prideful look, but he was taken from us all too soon. Now, it was my time to fight, and not even my mother could stop me now with the beast I'd claimed.

In just a week's time, I'd been packed and sent on my way to Harrenhal but the stronghold's history wasn't lost on me.

Lord Larys Strong might've been considered the Lord of Harrenhal but I could only hope one day I could carry my parentage with pride rather than shame. My birth father had burned alive at Harrenhal and though I hadn't held more than a handful of memories of Ser Harwin, he'd always been a comfort to have up until he was gone.

Vermithor swoops down between an array of clouds but we're forced to the side by a flash of red.

Vermithor roars in greeting and once I hear the familiar laughter of a Daemon I know it's friend not foe.

Caraxe's high screech is unlike any other dragon before him, almost like his rider the Rogue Prince who was now outcasted from not only Dragonstone but our family entirely.

No one had forgotten the war crime he'd committed, killing those innocent children. Aemond and Elaena had struggled with it every day. They were closest to Helaena when they escaped Kings Landing, and my poor Aunt hadn't deserved any of this but neither had Visenya, Elaena, Rhaenys, Jace, Aegon, or Viserys.

Caraxes blows a puff of fire into the sky but Vermithor bursts through it, his wings dissipating the flame through the air effortlessly.

As we land side by side Vermithor's deep greeting echoes through the stronghold that was Harrenhal and all its inhabitants look on in horror, unsure at first whether to run away in fear or gawk at the bronze-beast's glory.

"I couldn't be prouder of you, my friend," I tell him, running a hand over his dark scales before descending down the ropes to greet Daemon.

"Ah, young Prince! It's good to see a familiar face and on such a formidable beast at that,"

Daemon is relatively clean despite the random spots of soot on his face but he's decked out in armor from head to toe and the sincerity of what I've signed up for is daunting.

He comes to clasp a hand on my shoulder, sizing me up when he realizes how tall I've grown over the months we'd spent apart.

"You've grown into a man overnight... Jacaerys would most certainly be proud."

Daemon's usual coldness is replaced by an odd tenderness that he'd usually saved for my sisters but I'd suspected with the loss of my brothers he'd begun to realize we were all we had left.

"You honor me, Daemon. I only wish he would still be here to have seen me claim a dragon, to help us restore Mother's crown." I frown, the ache of my brother's absence a pain I knew would never go away.

"He sees it, Luke. And he'll be with us at dawn when those Hightower cunts march to their deaths. They won't be expecting you, that's certain."

I nod, hoping what he says is true and I will not leave my family any more brokenhearted.

As we ride horseback side by side down the back roads of Harrenhal I catch him up on the happenings of Dragonstone and when he asks of Elaena and Aelyx his gaze avoids my own.

"They're doing well. Aemond's taken it upon himself to distract us from what's happened but I'm beginning to think he wishes to distract himself as well." I admit, and at the mention of Aemond, he shifts uncomfortably atop his horse.

"He knows it'll be his brother's heads on spikes soon."

When Daemon speaks he only looks forward, his thoughts wandering but a part of me wonders if we would've lost Jacaerys and Aegon had he never corresponded with the White Worm.

But it doesn't matter because they're gone and nothing can be changed now... nothing.

Upon our entry, Daemon makes a point of walking us by the camp announcing my arrival to the soldiers who stop what they're doing to cheer on one of the remaining Princes of Dragonstone.

Putting on a brave face I acknowledge them all with respect even gritting through the introductions of the handful of Lords backing our cause.

Jacaerys used to tell me it didn't matter what they thought of us but I'd always disagreed. If we were meant to rule them and keep the realm at peace, hearing their thoughts and concerns meant loyalty and trust.

Despite all of Daemon's flaws, he had many friends and those who hated him knew well enough to fear him.

Halfway through dinner, I'm mentally drained. Every mention of Daeron is a thorn in my side reminding me each and every moment why I was here, and what I planned to do to him.

Excusing myself to get a breath of fresh air Daemon notices me take my leave out a side door. I wander to the training yard to release some of my frustrations and I almost wish Aemond was here to swing my sword at.

The sparring swords aren't nearly as heavy as the sword that was presented to me by my mother before I left for battle, and I was itching to draw blood with it.

I toss the light sword to the side and draw my Valyrian blade, holding it up in the moonlight to get a good look at the steel.

The handle was lined with fine jewels encircled with black gems fitting perfectly between my fingers as if it was molded just for my hand.

"You can name it whatever you see fit, my son. Just promise you will return to us,"

I'd known Elaena and Aemond were jealous as soon as they laid eyes on it, staring in awe as I swung it in the training yard in the mornings before I left.

Growing up I'd always trained with Jacaerys and Elaena but it was my Uncle who taught me how to fight with confidence and control but lately, there'd been less and less of the control.

With one last glance around I make sure I'm alone before rearing back my arm for a strike, cutting into the dummy over and over again. Once I've cut that one to shreds I move on to the next picturing Daeron's pleas for mercy as I did so but I know it won't compare to the real thing.

It was Jacaerys who pushed me to claim a new dragon in the first place and despite what everyone said he wasn't here to share my glory and I would never see my older brother proud of the man I would become.

Our children wouldn't grow together, we wouldn't marry sisters as intended, and live out our lives on Dragonstone and Driftmark.

Releasing a low growl I drive my sword through the dummy's chest with all my might but this time I don't have the strength to pull it back out. Dropping to my knees I cradle my face in my hands trying to catch my breath but now that I have a moment of silence the rage settles, finding its home in the pit of sadness that I realized would never go away.

"You should be here, dammit," I mutter to myself, my brown eyes welling with tears. Those same brown eyes that were identical to the ones my brothers wore, the eyes of the father I'd barely known.

It was Jace who had the most memories of our father between us and now he was gone, just as Harwin Strong

Perhaps the curse of Harrenhal was true after all and I would follow them into the great white fire.

But I couldn't leave my sweet sister, my brother, Rhaena... my mother wouldn't survive the death of another son. It was a wonder she walked upright with all the death that surrounded her.

Death.

There's been so much of it and it would only continue if we didn't rip out these usurpers root and stem.

Wiping the tears that have fallen I decide that break is enough, grabbing my sword and continuing my assault on the dummies.

"If you keep it up there won't be any left for the rest of us my Prince."

Daemon's taunting voice is recognizable anywhere, leaving my heart warm with the fond memories of when he used to train Jacaerys and me at Dragonstone.

He'd been better at me than everything, smart, and his charming words like honey to any lady who was nearby listening.

"Come morning it'll be live bodies they're swinging at. That is if they aren't all too sick from filling their bellies with cheap ale." I scoff, avoiding his lavender eyes that only reminded me of my sisters and Mother.

They must've been worried sick about me coming here after the wound of losing Jace had been so fresh.

"It eases the senses. Helps a nervous man get a good night's rest when his thoughts keep him awake. You'll grow accustomed to it, young prince." He addresses me fondly, taking a look at the weapons rack.

"Are you anticipating more battles?" I ask, praying to any god that listened that this war would end sooner rather than later. 

How could we survive more death?

"Peace never lasts long, but gods be good your mother will take the throne once we have that Hightower cunts head. Even if Sunfyre is somehow battle worthy the Usurper won't stand a chance." He speaks proudly, his eye twinkling when he talks about my Mother just as Aemond had when he spoke of Elaena.

The silence stretches between us when my thoughts drift to my mother. I imagined the pain of losing a child was felt much deeper than any other kind of death and I hoped I wouldn't have to know but if there was one thing I could do for her it would be to find my little brother alive.

"Do you suppose they killed Viserys?" I ask him, my voice timid.

Daemon's shoulders go stiff when I bring up my half-brother, a topic he hadn't brought up willingly the entire time I'd been here.

"There was no sign of him... and if they had him those cunts would be using him to sue for peace. But there hasn't been word." His fingers flex around the handle of his sword as he looks up at the sky and I know I've hit a sore spot, unwilling to say what almost rolls off my tongue.

There had been no sign of me.

The morning came quickly and just as Daemon had said I realized now why a soldier drank to the night before a battle to ease them into sleep.

Waking early, I leave the comforts of my rooms at the first sight of dawn, donning my armor gifted to me along with my sword I stare at my reflection in the glass of the window pane for an eternity hardly recognizing the man that was looking back at me.

Today I would get revenge on the Uncle who drove led the charge against my brothers. He would die screaming by the day's end, that much was certain.

When I meet Daemon at the forefront of our numbers we ride for hours to the place of battle nestled between two steep hills where a stretch of land oversaw a cliff into deep crashing waves of water. 

Walking into the light Daemon's a beacon among the crowds of dark-haired soldiers and when he sees me, armed and dangerous his lips tip up into a satisfied grin. Meeting me halfway he keeps his voice low intending what he says only for me, "You're the spitting image of your father. Ser Harwin served under me on the City Watch, he was a true warrior. 'Breakbones' they called him."

Daemon's face pales for a moment and it's as if he's seen a ghost, a memory from his past that he'd long forgotten. He'd not once ever mentioned Ser Laenor or Ser Harwin.

My father.

"I suppose I've had more than one father these past years... is that possible?" I ask him, embarrassed to ask such a question but the Rogue Prince smiles, nodding as he clasps a hand on my shoulder. "I'd suppose it is,"

We outnumbered them by thousands and more importantly by our dragons but now all we had to do was wait in the tree line for the signal given to Vermithor and me.

Vermithor can hardly stand still inevitably feeling my anxiousness but taking a deep breath I focus on the task at hand, watching the sky line for a billow of smoke.

Once we take to the skies our sight is questionable, the clouds and fog a variable we hadn't factored in during our night of plans but I can still hear the battle below us, leading me in the direction of our numbers.

Using the fog to our advantage Vermithor avoids flapping his large wings, merely gliding through the air until we reach the Greens.

"Urnēptre aōla ñuha raqiros,"
*Introduce yourself, my friend.

Ducking through the clouds Vermithor makes himself known with a blaze of marvelous fire, burning alive any who dared get in its path, and the thrill is exhilarating.

Hungry for more we join Caraxes and Daemon circling their numbers, taking lives for the sport of it but we aren't the only ones taking advantage of our dragons.

The blue beast Tessarion was a beautiful sight that much was certain but by nightfall, I would take her rider's life.

Chasing after them up through the fog I lose sight of them but his familiar taunts linger in the air.

"Your brother died a dragon rider's death, aren't you proud Lord Strong!?" His voice echoes through the fog of the morning but I can hear the flapping of Tessarion's wings, close but practically invisible.

"Yknagon hen se kinslayer, Vermithor. He can't hide from you forever," I tell him, a deep growl working through him.

With a few big flaps of his wings, a bit of the fog is dispersed and we climb higher, keeping my eyes peeled for the very reason I'd come this far.

"Tessarion made quite the meal out of him and his pathetic dragon! You see, he never stood a chance!"

My young Uncle's voice taunts me as it comes closer but before I can react the blue beast is shooting up at us from below, her flames hitting Vermithor directly in the chest.

Vermithor bends his neck to snap his wide jaw at her but she swoops out of the way just in time, my bronze beast missing her by mere feet.

I shout in frustration, gripping the reigns to ascend even higher in an effort to break through the morning fog.

"DRACARYS, Vermithor!" I command, my anger shaking my vocal cords as I fight for control.

His burst of flame lights the sky and with the quickly rising sun, Daeron wouldn't have long to hide.

Catching sight of the blue beast I veer in her direction, gritting my teeth in anticipation of finally receiving my revenge.

"I will show you fire and blood, Uncle! Just as you showed my brothers." I call out to him but as I close in on them Daeron turns his blonde head with a smug grin that sends chills down my spine.

Vermithor is moments away from closing her sharp teeth around the small blue dragon when I see just what Daeron's smug had been implying.

Now that we're free from the fog and clouds there's an open shot for the line of scorpions that were waiting for me to fall into my uncle's trap.

I can almost hear the commands from below as the massive spears are shot through the sky but before they all manage to aim and shoot a flash of red comes over the hill and I know help has arrived.

Caraxes destroys a handful of scorpions but it's not enough, a spear pierces straight through one of Vermithor's wings and he lets out a cry sending us spiraling through the air.

As we fall Vermithor struggles to regain our center of gravity but just as we're about to crash into the tree bank we steady out.

Turning to look over my shoulder the cries of Caraxes and Tessarion reverberated through the battlefield, bursts of flames taking out both their soldiers and our own.

"We have to help them, Vermithor, now!" I command and my fierce friend does as he's told seeking revenge for himself as well.

We closed in on them but I couldn't force them apart in fear I'd hurt Caraxes and Daemon just as Aemond had done to Arrax.

With all of us so close together the scorpions stop in fear of hitting their own prince in the crossfire but now that I see an opening I take it, diving straight at the helm using Daemon's distraction to our advantage.

My fingers tighten around the reigns and as the command leaves my mouth my throat burns as if the heat was rising within my own body, watching in awe as Vermithor blows a burst of flame so hot the outer edges of the inferno burn blue.

Hundreds of men are burned to a crisp and for a fleeting moment, the hunger I held for revenge is satisfied but just as fast as it's come it's gone. Those men hadn't killed Jacaerys, Daeron had.

I veer us around once I've put a dent in the Greens' forces, the screeches of both dragons a deafening sound that could only mean trouble.

Daemon uses Caraxes' long neck to maneuver around Tessarion clamping his sharp teeth into Tessarion's neck. Blood cascades through the air, drenching the troops below as the two dragons spiral through the air in unrelenting speed towards the ground.

My chest seizes when I realize we can't reach them in time before they're both crashing to the ground, but Tessarion has the higher ground spitting fire all around just as she had the night Aemond and I had barely escaped their camp with our lives.

Poor Daeron seems to be terrible under pressure, panicking when he can't unclasp the straps on his legs but Daemon is free-moving, already unsheathing his sword by the time Vermithor and I land. 

Though the Greens have half a mind to stay away from us at first the scorpions have had plenty of time to reload with what they have left, taking their aim at us.

"No, no, no- DAEMON!" I call out to him but there's no use over the noises of thousands of soldiers and their singing steel.

Taking off into a sprint I send Vermithor back to the skies in petrified fear I would lose yet another dragon. 

I refuse to lose another dragon, I would not bond with Vermithor to lose him.

Daemon and Daeron are locked in a duel of swords, oblivious to their surroundings and Daeron holds his own but only by a hair having gained a bit of experience these past few months, but it wouldn't save his life.

This time I shout again, my throat raw with my last attempt to warn Daemon, "SCORPION! DAEMON!" But it's too late.

In the same breath that we turn to look at our enemies a spear is flying through the air piercing Caraxes right through his neck.

"NO!" The Rouge Prince cries, his face contorting into an expression somewhere between rage and heartbreak but Daeron takes his distraction for weakness, driving his sword into his side where the thinnest part of his armor resides.

As I reach them I throw my body weight between them, rearing back a fist to land a solid blow against Daeron's perfectly defined Hightower jaw.

Behind me Daemon kneels, holding his bleeding side while he looks on at Caraxes and Tessarion still fighting just above the hill.

"Tell me again how you killed my brother, Uncle. TELL ME!" I scream at him, my heart pounding in my ears. My brown eyes burn into Daeron as Vermithor joins Caraxes on the hill, fighting off the blue beast easily but another deathly spear is sent our way, catching the red dragon before he can escape down the hill.

A deafening silence settles over the battlefield when Caraxes falls lifelessly into the water, his blood swept into the tide below and the world around us comes to a screeching halt.

A high-pitched tone rings out in my ears and it's so loud I don't hear Daeron coming up from behind me until his sword is coming at me from behind, landing a gash against my back that sends me stumbling forward. 

"We weren't expecting you to have claimed a new dragon, Vermithor at that? No doubt my brother assisted you," He huffs out an exhausted breath from fighting Daemon but more soldiers come to their Prince's aid, every Green eager to be the one who ends the Rogue Prince's life.

"Father!" I call out to him and once I've realized what I've called him the warmth that floods his expression is long gone sinking to stone in the face of more enemies.

We were outnumbered and I'd been foolish to disembark Vermithor. Now he and Tessarion were shooting flames at one another above us, the blue beast escaping my dragon's clutches again and again.

But I'm not distracted for long. Daeron's cries before he swings is a foolish move, one his own older brother had taught me to keep away from. Moving swiftly out of his reach we're back to sparring with one another but my hits have more strength forcing him back again and again until I've forced him to the edge of the cliff.

One more swing and he'd lose his footing, he'd fall but Aemond had taught me another thing. 

To enjoy your kill.

"Where is Viserys? What have you done with him?!" I take a fistful of his shirt, yanking him down to drive my knee into his nose and the crunch that comes from his broken bones is satisfying but not nearly enough.

When he doesn't respond he hangs his head, avoiding my gaze but the noise behind us grows, the battle that was hundreds of feet away moving like a tidal wave to avoid the falling flames of our dragons.

"Heh, Viserys? I can't say I have any recollection I'd always gotten the pack of you confused-" His gargled voice gains my attention but I don't catch him going for his knife until he's driving it into my leg.

As I cry out in pain he gets to his feet, taking his chance to grab his sword but the fight comes to surround us and we're both lost in the shuffle of soldiers.

"LUKE! Take Vermithor, and go!" 

I hear him before I see him, spinning me around to look into his panicked eyes, and when I open my mouth to respond he shoves me in the direction of the hill.

"GO!"

Doing as I'm told I strike down any who block my path keeping my eyes peeled for my brother's murderer with Daemon close behind.

When I take a look over my shoulder he only urges me further, insisting that he's right behind me but I note his bleeding side still cradled by a blood-covered hand.

Breaking through the fighting Vermithor lands in the clearing just before us and I move as fast as I can but two figures break from the line following us up the hill.

With Daemon and I both injured they catch up to us quickly and I finally realize it's the False King's hand Ser Criston Cole thirsty for blood and the young Prince Daeron alongside him.

When we meet in the clearing there are no words just cries of rage as we all swing to take life and though my leg aches with pain I force myself to move avoiding Daeron's attacks until he strikes me once more, earning a loud screech from Vermithor just above us. 

Dropping to my knees in pain I throw all of my body weight against his legs tackling him to the ground and when I finally get him within my grasp I'm punching him, over and over and over again until my vision is blurred with tears that I hadn't dared shed.

"WHERE IS HE!? WHERE IS VISERYS!?" I scream at him waiting for an answer that never comes.

I've beaten him so bloody he's dazed and confused and for a fleeting moment I feel sorry for him, fighting his older brother's war only to die for a usurpers claim.

Unsheathing my dagger from my waist I bring it above my head with both my hands, intending my strike to be fatal when I hear my name shouted from behind me.

Criston Cole has somehow managed to disarm Daemon and the brown-haired knight is rearing back his knife to send it through the air straight at me.

Reality comes to a sudden halt just as it had when I saw Vhagar barreling toward us and my body had fallen through the sky.

I'd escaped death once but I wouldn't be lucky enough to escape it again.

With eyes wide moments from death, I nearly accept my fate but Daemon throws himself in front of me catching the knife with his own body just above the collarbone.

My father spins, opening his mouth to apologize but blood floods from his lips instead as he falls to his knees, lifeless.

"No... NO! No, no, no!" I repeat, my wits slipping away just as Daemon's own life and I'm shaking, the dagger threatening to fall from my hands.

I don't have time to mourn, not yet. 

I could make them pay this very moment, I would make them pay.

"The blood of the dragon seems to look just the same as mine," Cole's laughter fills my ears but when we lock eyes I hold my dagger high, certain he's watching before plunging my dagger into his young Prince Daeron's black heart.

Leaning down to deepen the dagger the boy sputters for air, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth just as his dog had done Daemon.

"STOP!" He demands but it's too late, the life is leaving his lavender eyes and I've made Kinslayers of the both of us.

"Your Usurper King will be joining you soon, Uncle," I growl through gritted teeth, watching until the very moment the light leaves his eyes.

Daeron the Daring was now Daeron the Dead.

Ser Criston moves like lightning, his taunting smile long gone as he pushes me aside to assess his prince while I limp toward Daemon.

Heaving his lifeless body over my shoulder Vermithor meets me halfway, his thundering roars vocalizing what I felt within even when I didn't have the strength for any more anger but Tessarion feels the loss of her rider, landing just beside his dead body to nuzzle her nose against him.

I could almost feel bad for them but in the same breath, I felt nothing, engulfed by one too many emotions to decide exactly what to feel.

Daemon and Daeron were dead and Caraxes along with them.

I would take to the skies and burn them all, and this battle would be our last.

***