𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 ━ 𝖩𝖠𝖢𝖠𝖤𝖱𝖸𝖲 𝖵𝖤𝖫𝖠𝖱𝖸𝖮𝖭

𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 ━ 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐲𝐞

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FOUR;
『 AN EYE FOR AN EYE 』

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ㅤ     THE JOURNEY IS QUICKER THAN EXPECTED. Vermax soars across the Narrow Sea, Storm's End, and the Sea of Dorne within two hours. By the time the two young nobles reach Sunspear, it is almost the afternoon. Cerilla squints her eyes as the blinding Dornish sun blinds her. Jacaerys pushed the green scaled dragon forward, lurching them towards the Dornish villages, just outside the great castle walls.

      From where they fly in the sky, it is difficult to see, but not difficult to differ the shining silver armor or King's Landing from the orange armor of Dorne. Even the weapons are different. Aegon's men primarily stick to swords and shields, while the men of Dorne typically use spears, small knives, and bows if they have enough coverage.

      Cerilla points over Jacaerys shoulder to a group of silver-armored men huddled in a circle, kicking and prodding at a group of lowborns wearing tattered clothes. They're in a sort of plaza, standing between buildings in an open space. Jacaerys lands the dragon onto the sandy ground with a thud.

      Once the sand settles, the men can clearly see the dragon in front of them. They stop and turn in their direction, forgetting completely about the men and women they had been hurting. The lowborns scurry off down an alleyway, leaving the knights of the Red Keep to the fate of the princess.

     "I am Princess Cerilla Martell of Sunspear," she says from atop the dragon. "And you are hurting my people." Her voice comes out as a threat. Jacaerys moves aside so that the armored men have a clear view of Cerilla. She sits up straight on the mount, her eyes shoot like arrows into the eyes of all seven men standing in front of her.

      One of the men at the front of the group attempt to lurch forward, sword drawn, pointed in the direction of the dragon. Vermax, without hesitation, snaps his head around and sinks his fangs into the man, through his steel armor and everything. The sword clatters to the ground. The look of pure fear crosses the faces of the other men.

     "Leave one alive." She whispers to Jacaerys. He nods then slides his hand along the green scales. The young dragon seems to purr at his touch.

     Jacaerys' hands grip around the mouth. "Dracarys!" He shouts. Suddenly, a pool of red-hot fire erupts from the dragons throat. He breathes out this fire to the men in front of him. One of the knights, towards the back, manages to just barely escape the flames by pinning himself against the furthest wall.