Chapter 15: The Fury of the Mother of All Dragons
The sight of Vhagar, a bronze-and-verdigris behemoth blotting out the morning sun, sent a primal terror through Ciel's small, exhausted escort. Her roar was not just a sound; it was a physical concussion, vibrating through their bones, rattling their teeth. This was not the distant, grieving sentinel they had observed from Harrenhal's battlements; this was focused, terrifying intent. She had found her Aemond.
"To the trees!" Ciel screamed, his voice barely audible above Vhagar's renewed bellow. "Scatter! Use the terrain!" They were caught in a relatively open stretch of land, a small, thin wood their only conceivable cover before the more open salt marshes leading to Antlers.
Prince Aemond, despite his chains and gag, thrashed wildly on his horse, his one sapphire eye blazing with a triumphant, maniacal glee. He knew Vhagar would not harm him; her fury would be directed solely at his captors.
Vhagar did not descend slowly. She plummeted, a mountain of scales and fury, aiming not for Aemond, but for the tight knot of riders surrounding him. Her maw opened, and a torrent of molten bronze flame, wider than any Vermax could produce, washed over the ground where they had been moments before. Trees exploded into cinders, the earth blackened and smoked, and the screams of Northmen caught at the edge of the blast were abruptly silenced.
"Sebastian!" Ciel yelled, his own horse rearing in panic as he fought to control it. Sarx, with a howl that was a mixture of terror and defiance, darted alongside him, snapping at the heels of Aemond's panicked mount, trying to steer it towards the denser part of the wood.
The demon butler was already in motion. As Vhagar's firestorm erupted, Sebastian had moved with impossible speed, literally plucking Prince Jacaerys from his saddle as the young prince's horse stumbled, and then, in the same fluid motion, he was beside Ciel, shielding him with his own body from the searing heatwave. How he avoided being incinerated himself was a question Ciel had no time to ponder.
"The woods offer minimal protection against her, my Lord!" Sebastian stated, his voice preternaturally calm amidst the inferno, his black coat somehow deflecting the worst of the heat. "We must reach Antlers!"
"She'll burn the town to the ground if we lead her there with Aemond!" Jacaerys gasped, his face pale, his eyes wide with the terror he had clearly felt for his brother Lucerys moments before his death.
"Antlers has stone quays, the sea! More options than this open field!" Ciel countered, his mind racing. He was warging with Sarx, pushing the direwolf to guide Aemond's horse deeper into the wood, using every dip in the terrain, every thicket, as momentary cover. Through Sarx's senses, he felt Vhagar's overwhelming presence, the ground shaking with her movements, the air thick with her scent – a mixture of brimstone, ancient reptile, and her own blood from the wounds inflicted at Harrenhal.
Vhagar, seeing her initial blast had missed her primary target, landed with a earth-shattering thud, crushing trees beneath her bulk. She was surprisingly agile for her size, even wounded. She ignored the fleeing, scattered Northmen, her great, intelligent, baleful eye fixing on the struggling group around Aemond. She took a step, then another, her massive head lowering, sniffing the air.
Aemond, seeing his chance, bit through his gag with a savage effort and screamed, "Vhagar! To me, my beauty! Kill these northern dogs! Burn them all!"
Vhagar let out a softer, crooning rumble, a sound almost gentle compared to her earlier roars, and took another step towards Aemond.
"She wants her rider," Ciel gritted. "She won't use her fire this close to him." This was their only, terrifyingly slim, advantage.
"A touching reunion," Sebastian murmured, his eyes glinting. He suddenly produced a length of thin, black cord – something Ciel hadn't seen him carry. Before anyone could react, Sebastian darted forward. Vhagar, startled by his sudden, fearless approach towards her and Aemond, let out a warning hiss, her neck craning.
Sebastian didn't go for Aemond. Instead, with a speed that defied human capability, he looped the cord around one of Vhagar's massive forelegs, near a still-bleeding gash from the Harrenhal stones, pulled it taut with inhuman strength, and anchored it to the thick trunk of an ancient, deeply rooted oak. It was an impossible feat of strength and leverage.
Vhagar roared in surprise and fresh pain as the cord bit into her wounded flesh. She tried to pull free, and the ancient oak groaned, its roots tearing at the earth, but it held, for now.
"What in the Seven Hells was that?" Jacaerys breathed, staring at Sebastian as if seeing him for the first time.
"A temporary inconvenience for the lady," Sebastian replied smoothly, rejoining Ciel. "It will not hold her for long. We must move. Now."
That act of near-suicidal audacity bought them precious seconds. Ciel, Jacaerys, and the dozen or so remaining Northmen of their immediate escort dragged the still-shouting Aemond deeper into the woods, towards the coast. The sounds of Vhagar's titanic struggle with the tree, her roars of fury and pain, and the splintering of wood spurred them on.
They burst from the treeline onto the salt marshes, Antlers a small, hopeful smudge of stone and wood in the distance across the grey, windswept flats. Behind them, a sound like thunder announced that Vhagar had freed herself, the ancient oak torn from the earth. Her enraged bellows were closer now, much closer.
"She's airborne again!" one of the Northmen screamed, pointing back. Vhagar was a terrifying silhouette against the sky, no longer just circling, but flying with a direct, vengeful purpose towards them.
"No time for horses here, they'll bog down!" Ciel yelled. "On foot! Sebastian, take the prince!"
Sebastian, without a word, hauled the struggling Aemond from his horse and threw him over his shoulder like a sack of rebellious potatoes, never breaking stride. The demon's stamina was, as always, limitless.
The flight across the marshes was a desperate, lung-bursting affair. Mud sucked at their boots, the wind tore at their cloaks, and the ever-present fear of Vhagar's shadow falling upon them drove them to the limits of human endurance. Sarx, agile even in the mire, darted ahead, then back, guiding them along the firmest paths, his barks of encouragement mixing with Ciel's shouted orders.
Vhagar, hampered by her wounds and perhaps wary after Sebastian's unexpected attack, did not immediately incinerate them. Instead, she flew lower, her massive claws tearing at the ground around them, trying to herd them, to separate them. Twice, Ciel felt the wind of her passage as she swooped just overhead, her roar deafening. He saw her one good eye, vast as a dinner plate, burning with intelligent malice and a possessive fury for Aemond.
It was during one of these low passes that a Northman, a young man from the Winterfell household guard named Torrhen, son of a man Ciel vaguely remembered from the Dreadfort campaign, stumbled and fell. Vhagar, with a swift, almost delicate movement for a creature her size, snatched him up in her jaws. There was a single, choked scream, then silence. The great dragon did not eat him, but simply dropped his broken form from a height, a clear, brutal message to the others.
Ciel felt a cold fury grip him, but there was no time for grief, no time for rage. "Keep moving!" he bellowed, his voice hoarse.
They reached the outskirts of Antlers, a small, walled port town, its inhabitants already in a panic, stirred by Vhagar's roars and the sight of her approach. The town gates were barred, but the small fishing harbor outside the main walls was their goal. Lord Velaryon, Jacaerys's grandsire, had arranged for a swift Pentoshi trading galley, its captain well-bribed, to be waiting.
"The ship! Is it there?" Jacaerys yelled, scanning the small collection of fishing smacks and coastal traders.
"There!" Ciel pointed. A sleek, dark-hulled galley with the distinctive purple sails of Pentos was indeed anchored just offshore, a longboat already rowing towards the beach.
But Vhagar was upon them. She landed on the muddy beach between them and the approaching longboat, her colossal form a seemingly impassable barrier. She lowered her great head towards Aemond, who was still slung over Sebastian's shoulder, and let out a low, possessive rumble.
"Vhagar!" Aemond, managing to work his head free from Sebastian's grip, screamed. "Take me! Destroy them!"
"A most determined creature," Sebastian observed, his grip tightening on Aemond, preventing the prince from throwing himself towards his dragon.
Ciel knew this was the endgame. They were trapped. Vhagar would not allow them to take Aemond.
His greensight, which had been a chaotic mess of Vhagar's emotions, suddenly cleared, offering a single, stark image: the Pentoshi galley, its sails full, Vhagar far behind it, looking small and distant over a vast expanse of water. But the ship was in stormy seas, and there was a shadow under the waves… a kraken? No, something else. But the immediate future was clear: escape was possible.
"Sebastian," Ciel said, his voice deadly calm. "The Prince is a distraction to her. Can you create a… more significant one?"
Sebastian's smile was terrifying. "My Lord, it would be my profound pleasure. What nature of distraction did you have in mind? Something… theatrical, perhaps?"
"Something that will make her forget Aemond for a few crucial minutes," Ciel specified. "Something that will draw her full attention, her full fury, away from this beach, away from that ship." He looked at the town of Antlers, its wooden houses and thatched roofs. "The town itself is of little strategic value to us once we depart."
Jacaerys looked horrified. "Lord Stark, you cannot mean… The smallfolk…"
"War is about choices, Your Grace," Ciel said, his voice like chipped ice. "Their lives, or Aemond escapes and his terror continues, perhaps costing thousands more. Or we all die here on this beach. What is your choice?"
Jacaerys was silent, his face a mask of anguish.
Before Jacaerys could answer, Sebastian spoke. "A conflagration to draw a dragon's ire? A classic, my Lord. But perhaps… a more personal affront to the beast?" His gaze flickered towards Vhagar's wounded wing, then to a pile of discarded fishing nets and oily rags near a beached skiff.
Ciel understood instantly. "Fast. And ensure she follows you, not us."
"But of course, my Lord," Sebastian purred. He gently deposited the still-struggling Aemond at Ciel's feet. "Do keep a firm hold on our… esteemed guest." Then, moving with a speed that left the Northmen gaping, Sebastian snatched up a sputtering torch from a dropped pack, gathered an armful of the oily nets and rags, and sprinted directly towards Vhagar.
Vhagar, surprised by this lone human charging her, lowered her head with a confused, angry hiss. Sebastian, with a dancer's grace, dodged a snap of her massive jaws, then, with impossible agility, scrambled partway up her wounded foreleg – the one he had briefly snared – and jammed the burning, oil-soaked materials deep into the largest, still-weeping gash on her wing-joint.
Vhagar's roar of agony was unlike anything they had heard before. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated torment that seemed to shake the heavens. She reared back, her massive body contorting, desperately trying to reach the searing pain in her wing. She forgot Aemond, she forgot the ship, she forgot everything but the source of her new, excruciating agony.
Sebastian, having leapt clear just as Vhagar reared, landed lightly on his feet, then turned and sprinted inland, directly towards the town of Antlers, deliberately drawing Vhagar's full, murderous attention.
"Now!" Ciel screamed, grabbing the momentarily stunned Aemond. "To the longboat! Move!"
The Northmen, jolted from their shock, scrambled towards the boat, dragging the captive prince. Jacaerys, his face a mixture of horror and disbelief at Sebastian's actions, helped them.
They piled into the longboat just as Vhagar, now utterly berserk with pain and rage, ignored them completely and launched herself clumsily into the air after the fleeing Sebastian. Her flight was erratic, her wounded wing clearly causing her immense difficulty. She loosed a torrent of flame, not at the beach, but inland, towards where Sebastian had disappeared into the narrow streets of Antlers. Screams erupted from the town as buildings caught fire.
"Row!" Ciel commanded the Pentoshi sailors, who needed no urging. They rowed for their lives, the galley their only hope.
As they reached the ship and were hauled aboard, Ciel looked back. Vhagar was circling over Antlers, which was now wreathed in smoke and flame. The dragon was still roaring, but her movements were becoming more labored. Sebastian was nowhere to be seen.
"Your butler…" Jacaerys began, his voice hushed. "He sacrificed himself… for us?"
Ciel's expression was unreadable. "Sebastian is… resilient." He knew his demon butler was far from dead. He was likely enjoying the chaos, leading Vhagar on a merry, destructive chase, or had already slipped away, his task complete. He would rejoin Ciel when the time was right, as he always did.
The Pentoshi captain, his face pale with terror, gave the order to raise anchor and set sail. The galley, swift and light, caught the wind and began to pull away from the burning port of Antlers.
Aemond Targaryen, now securely chained below deck, was silent, his sapphire eye fixed on the distant, smoke-shrouded coast, a look of utter desolation on his face. He had been rescued by his beloved Vhagar, only to see her consumed by agony and rage, and to be spirited away by his captors.
As Harrenhal had been, Antlers too was now a pyre, a testament to the devastating passage of dragons and the desperate measures of men. Ciel watched the receding shoreline, the column of black smoke a grim beacon. He had Aemond. He was on his way to Dragonstone. But the price, as always, was steep. He had unleashed Sebastian's ruthlessness, sacrificed a port town, and inflicted unimaginable suffering on a creature that was, in its own way, as much a victim of this war as any human.
The greensight vision of the ship in stormy seas, the shadow beneath the waves, flickered in his mind. The escape from Vhagar was complete. But their journey, he suspected, was far from over. And the demons, both within and without, were far from sated.