The Dragon's Dilemma

Vaelora VI

Vaelora

Vaelora gripped the scales of Blackfyre tightly, her heart pounding in rhythm with the powerful beats of his massive wings. The anticipation of battle surged through her, sending adrenaline coursing through her veins as they soared high above the chaos below. The Triarchy's ships, thousands of them, filled the horizon, their hulls cutting through the water like serrated teeth ready to bite.

"Hold steady, Blackfyre," she murmured, feeling the heat radiating from his massive body. The Cannibal was a creature of legend, his black scales shimmering ominously in the sunlight, his acid green eyes glinting with malice. He had an insatiable hunger, and today, they would feast upon the enemies of House Targaryen.

As they dove toward the fleet, a cacophony erupted beneath them. A volley of scorpion bolts shot up into the sky, dozens of black spears slicing through the air like deadly arrows. Vaelora's heart raced as she watched the projectiles hurtling toward them, the sharp metallic glints catching the sunlight.

"Down!" she shouted, instinctively leaning low against Blackfyre's neck. He reacted without hesitation, tucking his wings and veering sharply to the side. They narrowly dodged the barrage, but not all were so lucky. Ahead, she glimpsed Vermithor, the second-largest dragon, his golden scales glinting as he veered erratically through the onslaught. His rider, Hugh, appeared disoriented, struggling to maintain control as he barely evaded the bolts, the sound of the scorpions releasing their deadly payload ringing in the air.

"Focus, Hugh!" Jace shouted from Vermax, his determination evident even amidst the chaos. Yet Hugh's drunken state was a liability, and Vaelora watched with a mixture of concern and frustration as Vermithor fired off uncontrolled torrents of golden fire. Each blast was powerful, yet wild, igniting ships and turning them to kindling in an instant. The sheer scale of destruction was both mesmerizing and terrifying.

The ships below bristled with scorpions, each man aboard shouting in a mixture of fear and defiance. Vaelora felt a rush of exhilaration as they dove lower, Blackfyre's jaws opening wide, revealing rows of sharp teeth glistening with the promise of destruction.

"Now, Blackfyre!" she commanded, and he unleashed a massive torrent of green flames that erupted from his maw like a tidal wave of fire. The air crackled with heat as the flames engulfed the nearest ship, the wooden hulls igniting instantly. The screams of the crew pierced the air, a haunting chorus that mingled with the roar of flames and the cracking of timber.

As the ship caught fire, men flailed and leaped overboard, only to be met with the unforgiving sea. Vaelora's eyes widened as she watched one man, engulfed in flames, fall to the water, his body steaming as he hit the surface. The stench of burning flesh filled the air, and she felt a grim satisfaction at the sight.

"Burn, you ugly fuckers!" she roared, guiding Blackfyre into another dive, the dragon's massive claws reaching out to seize another target. They swooped down on a ship that had been set ablaze by Vermithor's earlier attack. Blackfyre's flames licked hungrily at the ship's sails, turning them into ashes in moments. Men screamed in agony, their bodies catching fire, the sound of their burning flesh a sickening symphony that echoed in Vaelora's ears.

To her left, Silverwing, a sleek dragon with shimmering silver scales, darted through the sky with an agility unmatched by the others. The rider, visibly inebriated, struggled to control the dragon's movements, but Silverwing danced gracefully among the scorpions, narrowly evading the deadly bolts. With each dive, she unleashed streaks of hot silver flame, the flames slicing through the air like blades of molten metal.