Ice and Fire: Reign of the Dragon.

Chapter 456 The Great Wall is About to Collapse

The snow in the storm area was falling heavier and heavier.

Aegon stood silently at the edge of the Bronze Gate walls, his fingertips almost digging into the blood-stained letter. The Targaryen three-headed dragon emblem on the wax seal was soaked with blood, and the edges of the letter were charred and curled, as if licked by flames.

Sir Cedric Buckler stood behind him, the red-haired youth unusually silent. The torches of Bronze Gate flickered in the wind, casting their shadows, long and short, onto the mottled stone wall.

"My father," Aegon's voice was soft, almost torn apart by the cold wind, "did he say anything when he died?"

Cedric pursed his lips. He recalled the scene the messenger had described: Prince Mecca leaping onto the back of a White Walker's ice dragon, sacrificing himself to take down the White Walker's lord.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, I don’t know,” Cedric said in a low voice. “I only know that Prince Mecca’s heroic figure will be forever etched in legend.”

Aegon closed his eyes, his silver-gold eyelashes casting dappled shadows in the firelight, like ice crystals frozen on the boy's pale cheeks.

That night, the fireplace in the tallest tower of Copper Gate City burned until dawn.

Aegon sat by the narrow window, the cold wind seeping in through the cracks, yet unable to cool the boiling rage in his blood. On the parchment spread out on the table were all the records he had learned from the Great Library of Laurelleaf Tower about Dreamfire, the oldest and greatest dragon of House Targaryen, now Lord of the Dragon Lair, his temperament as violent as the ocean on a stormy night, though after his master's death he refused all dragon tamers' approach.

He remembered the first time his father had shown him the scales of a sheep thief. He was just a clueless child then, and the snorts of the peat-colored dragon had terrified him, causing him to hide behind his father's legs. Meka laughed, lifting him up and pressing him against the dragon's neck: "What are you afraid of? The blood of conquerors flows in your veins! The blood of Prince Dragonzel flows in your veins! You were born to ride dragons!"

He recalled the envy and longing he felt when he witnessed the children of the Vareses riding dragons.

The boy jumped out of the narrow window and slowly paced around the room.

He is thinking.

Outside the window, even the last star was swallowed by dark clouds.

While Aegon was lost in thought, Duncan was also lost in thought.

The tall young man huddled by the fireplace in the Copper Gate City guest room. The weakness from recovering from his illness had not completely subsided, but what troubled him even more was the dilemma he faced.

Should we stay here to protect Aegon as arranged, or should we let Aegon have his way?
Outside the window, the wind and snow lashed against the glass. He could hear Aegon pacing back and forth in the next room, the rhythm like that of a caged beast wandering in its cage.

“A blacksmith’s son shouldn’t get involved in this. I haven’t been knighted yet,” Duncan muttered to himself, recalling the teachings of the stern yet kind knight from Dragon’s Nest: “A true knight protects the weak, not encourages madness.”

But he knew all too well what burned in Aegon's violet eyes. He had seen too many people driven to the brink of despair show the same look in their eyes when protecting everyone as they left their homeland.

"perhaps."

Duncan made his decision.

As dawn broke in the east, Aegon stopped. His legs ached from walking so many steps, but his eyes were no longer glazed.

When Duncan pushed open Aegon's door, the young prince was stuffing things into his bag.

“You should rest.” Duncan blocked the doorway, his tall frame almost filling the entire doorway.

"You talk like you don't need it, you big dummy Dunk, you're not fully recovered yet, are you?"

Without looking up, Aegon said, “There’s no time. I must return to King’s Landing as soon as possible to tame Dreamfire or Wormax. We need more dragons. Dunk, you stay here. Ser Cedric will take good care of you.”

"You? A kid who's not even as tall as my sword?" Duncan deliberately made his voice sound contemptuous. "The Dreamfire will burn you to ashes."

Aegon looked up abruptly, the anger in his eyes startling Duncan. But the next second, the prince suddenly smiled: "Duncan, you blink your right eye when you lie."

The firewood in the fireplace crackled and popped.

“Hoffa told me that Lord Igor said,” Aegon stroked the Valyrian steel dagger at his waist, “that the most dangerous dragons are not the ones that look the most ferocious, but the quietest. Centaurus is mad, but it fears Shadowmourne and Vormisor. Dreamfire is volatile, but it never occupied a dragon's lair as long as Korakshyu was alive.” He looked Duncan straight in the eye. “You and I both know that I must go.”

"Then you must let me stay by your side, Aegon."

Duncan replied without hesitation, "It's my responsibility too." When Cedric entered, he saw the young prince tightening his travel cloak. A map spread out on the table marked every path from Bronze Gate to King's Landing, the ink still wet.

“I am going to King’s Landing, sergeant. Please inform Lord Brynden and Lord Igor,” Aegon said, his voice eerily calm. “I am going to tame the Dreamfire.”

Cedric's green eyes widened: "That's a mad dragon! Ever since His Majesty Baylor..."

“That’s precisely why,” Aegon interrupted him. “I need it, and I need it to fight the Long Night.”

"No."

Sir Cedric beckoned, and several of his retainers and knights blocked the doorway.

"By order of the Marquis of Brynden and His Majesty the King, you are not allowed to go anywhere."

Cedric said with unusual firmness.

at this time.

Inside the command tower of Castle Black, candlelight flickered in the draft, casting distorted shadows of the people sitting around the oak map table.

King Reg I's crown gleamed blood-red in the dim light. On the parchment map spread out on the table, the Great Wall had been marked with many jagged cracks in charcoal by Daniel Mellist.

“The scouts reported this morning,” the Night’s Watch’s acting commander-in-chief’s voice was unusually hoarse, “that more and more sections of the wall are corroding, and the magic of the Wall is in grave danger.”

Demion suddenly plunged a dagger into the map, the tip precisely embedded in the end of a crack. "At this rate, in no more than three days, the corrosion will spread to the entire section of the wall. Then the whole wall will look like a tree trunk hollowed out by worms."

“Collapsed with a bang.” Rickard Stark replied, his grey eyes filled with frost. The heir to Winterfell tapped his knuckles on the table, the rhythm like the beat of a funeral drum.

A sudden gust of wind ripped open the heavy fur curtains, swirling in a few snowflakes. Astor Stark, his beard frosted with ice, remained motionless, yet his voice sent chills down everyone's spine: "The rangers of Sable Hall are back. The walls there are barely standing; they've seen cracks appearing."

A long silence followed. The charcoal in the brazier crackled softly.

“I really don’t want to hear the word ‘retreat’ next,” Jonial said with a wry smile. “Abandoning an eight-thousand-year-old defensive line? Letting those things march straight in? That’s too…”

“It’s a strategic retreat, nephew,” Lusris sighed, pointing out the situation everyone already knew. “Use the remaining time to get all the surviving wildlings, Night’s Watch brothers, and Northern people to retreat south and join the northward-bound army and Igor’s forces. We’ll cover their retreat.”

King Reg I slowly raised his head. Everyone saw the web woven by the bloodshot veins in the king's eyes: "It's not the end yet, Master Queiro, Master Melisandre, can you predict when the Wall will fall?"

"I regret to inform you, Your Majesty, that is not possible," Quiro said weakly. His crystal heart was badly damaged, and he was completely weakened.

"Your Majesty," Melisandre said solemnly, "I can sense that no matter which section of the Wall is being eroded, no matter how the White Walkers search for possible breaches, they will ultimately pull their main force back to Nighthold or Castle Black. This is partly because these two castles contain the richest magical resources, and partly because the dragon riders are also there."

"That makes things easier," Ray said with a smile. "The dragon knights will stay behind to cover the rear. As for the rest..."

A chilling gust of wind swept through the room.

“I will stay and guard Castle Black,” Daniel Mellist said calmly, “with the brothers who volunteer to stay. Both Castle Black and Long Night Keep have wildfire reserves. Although wildfire is difficult to ignite here, we will kill as many wights as we can. Wildfire can also clear away the remaining corpses.”

“Count me in.” Rickard grabbed the dagger on the table and slashed his palm, the blood dripping onto the Wall pattern. “‘Winter is coming,’ the Starks have been chanting this proverb for eight thousand years, not to tell the descendants of the King of Winter to flee when winter truly arrives.”

Astor let out a wild, wolf-like laugh: "Fine! Let the White Walkers have a taste—"

"The feeling of being bitten on the throat by wolves and dragons," Jonial replied, his blood of ice and fire equally excited.

King Reg I unsheathed his Blackfire Sword and laid it flat on the map, its blade slicing across the Great Wall: "Order the entire army to begin their southward retreat at dawn. Dragon knights will provide cover in shifts."

The king paused for a moment: "I'll stay behind to cover the rear, and there's more..." Reg looked at the dragon knights of the Vareses family, unsure of what to choose.

“I, Dan, Lu, and Jonnie will stay.” Ray made the choice for him.

(End of this chapter)