The Dragon's Legacy

Chapter Ninty-six

Sly could not speak. All he could was to look at him as they sailed him back to Dragonstone.

His brother.

Lifeless.

Back in Stepstones, Daemion was nowhere to be found. Sly never saw him atop of Modread when the mighty dragon was setting flame to the enemy fleet, until he flew like thunder to the hills close to the shore.

Upon finishing their fight, Sly and Ser Walder went to the hills to where Modread jad lamnded on for moments.

The corpses were found. Body of three Yi-Tish men, deserters or common sellswords by the look of their attires, and a Dornish man whose head was cracked open by someone with the might of lion. Same might that had taken the head of Toothless Tommy long ago.

But it simply was not possible.

When they got closer, Modread had raised his neck and his face looked up and his wings grew wide... And let out a groundbreaking roar... A roar that forced all the soldiers to take their helmets off so they could cover their ears... Some could swear waves appeared on the sea as the mighty Dragon roared...

After minutes that felt like hours, Modread looked at the soldiers and roared like an animal... As if he had never seen nor fought by their side. And with that, he clapped his wings and flew over the sea... until he couldn't be seen.

Leaving only a lifeless body behind.

Leaving his rider's lifeless body.

Leaving the lifeless body of his brother.

Leaving the lifeless body of Daemion Targaryen.

Cold. Unmoving. Lifeless.

Gone.

Watching the rising sunrise.

Ser Walder walked and walked... Until he saw him. Until he saw the lifeless body of Daemion The Black Dragon. Lying on the hill alone. His raven hair covered the rocks around him and a pool of blood surrounded him...

And Dark Sister was nowhere to be found. Perhaps the sea had taken it away, so the Prince of Oldtown may be the last bearer of Visenya the Conquror's blade. Perhaps some stray stole the sword away. Or perhaps–

Too many perhaps.

Far too many, only to cloud one truth that Sly wished to cry for but he could not. Sly had lived for fifty years. He lost his beloved Dara. Their daughters. Their son... Their baby boy. But yet he never thought he would see him gone.

Not him.

Not his brother.

Not Daemion.

But gone he was.

________________

The Golden City glew under the rising sun of Yi-Ti.

Empress Amethyst's golden robes glew more than her throne but her might held back what was the most of essentials to her and her people.

Even in front of her sister by not blood, but pain, Zhea.

A month ago Jumong had been sighted crossing the borders from Essos, making his way toward Southern Forts. He has the manpower to become trouble. He was making his way to the palace that he had nearly claimed her life twenty-two years ago, giving her a scar that had become a painting on her face, even now that she was eight-and-forty.

She was wrong.

Her half-brother still had men loyal to him in Yi-Ti and the traitors to the crown that he had freed for years.