When Prince Aegon finally regained consciousness, he found himself lying on the open grounds of the Dragonpit. Candlelight lowered its head, nuzzling its bonded rider before retracting its sinuous tendrils.
"Your Grace..." Aegon immediately recognized his savior. Queen Samantha still wore her banquet gown—she hadn't even waited to lower the dragon saddle's ladder before summoning Candlelight to rescue him.
"Thank you... I'm sorry. I failed."
"It's alright." Samantha sighed, looking up at the prince, who stood much taller than her. "Viserys won't blame you. Vermax has grown too wild—it's been years since he tolerated a rider. Viserys was too hasty."
Aegon stared blankly as Vermax's flames dissipated into the air. He knew his greatest objective had ended in failure.
"Aegon..." Samantha stepped closer, her voice soft. "Perhaps, when we return, you could try Syrax. She's gentler, less restless... easier to tame."
"Thank you, Your Grace." The prince's voice was hollow. Noticing Samantha's hesitant expression, he added quietly, "Don't worry. I know my limits."
Limping toward the Silvercloaks' barracks, he was met by two guards wielding long tridents, who escorted him to change his scorched clothes.
Only then did Viserys emerge from Aegarax' lair, having arrived just moments after Samantha. His face was a mask of frustration. "Aegon... sigh."
"You were too impatient, Viserys," Samantha said bluntly. "Vermax has lived in Dragon's Nest for decades. Surely you understand my father's power—and the uniqueness of this Dragonpit." As a Targaryen queen, it was her duty to voice these truths.
"We don't have the luxury of patience," Viserys countered. "Your Grace, House Targaryen has too few dragonriders. We need riders who can mount adult dragons—not just children with hatchlings."
"There's no one else here. Not Father, not my brothers, not even my hotheaded younger sibling. And Aegon... is gone." Samantha's gaze was steady. "Viserys, do you truly distrust my family so much?"
The moment she spoke, Candlelight suddenly raised its head. Its massive eyes gleamed with predatory intent, and its tendrils flared violently, writhing like serpents in the air.
"Peace, Candlelight." Samantha's command was sharp. The dragon let out a low whine, its tendrils reluctantly settling back against its smooth, scale-less hide. "Good." She stroked its snout gently.
"Your Grace, I never meant—"
"I know what you meant." Samantha cut him off. "But rushing this serves no one. My father cares nothing for mortal power. My eldest brother values order above all. Neither will challenge the realm's peace. Work within the rules, and no one can fault you."
Her voice dropped to a whisper only she could hear:
"With each generation, our bloodlines entwine further. One day, Targaryen and Vaelarys will be inseparable. And when that day comes... so long as the one on the Iron Throne carries the blood of both houses, nothing else will matter."
Viserys exhaled. "...I understand."
"Peace and stability are what the realm needs now," Samantha murmured. "The people want no more war."
Just then—a bell tolled.
Samantha's eyes widened. Without hesitation, she yanked down the saddle ladder and mounted Candlelight, her gown billowing wildly. "To the tower. Now."
Viserys barely had time to react before the entire Dragonpit trembled.
Vermithor was the first to emerge from its lair, its earth-shaking roar making the very stones quake.
But the first to take flight was Silverwing.
Vermithor followed, then the rest—one after another, dragons surged into the sky, leaving only Stormcloud and Aegarax behind in confusion.
Viserys's frown deepened. He rushed to Aegarax, intent on mounting it to investigate—only to sense the dragon's refusal. "Not this time."
His curiosity now aflame, Viserys sprinted toward the Silvercloaks' tower, only to be barred by two guards.
"My prince, forgive us—you may use the other tower," one said apologetically.
Realizing something was deeply amiss, Viserys turned and raced down the corridor toward the opposite tower.
High above, dragons circled Silverwing as she landed atop the spire.
The Vaelarys family gathered on the rooftop, where Valar struggled to fasten the last buckle of his saddle. With a fond pat to his old companion's neck, he uttered a command in High Valyrian:
"Sōvēs." (Fly.)